Dodging Prison and Stealing Witches

Chapter 50: Soul Anchors - Part Three

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The gates of Hogwarts stand tall and strong, suffused with magic and strong enough to hold back a small army of sword-wielding goblins, wand-wielding wizards, or muggles wielding whatever happens to be in fashion this century. Hand-forged from goblin silver by the Smith family some two-hundred-odd years before the great betrayal, they alone are worthy of granting Hogwarts the title of 'safest place in Magical Britain.'

The gaps between the bars are quite wide though.

In the weak dawn air of a December morning, a teenage female figure made her way down the path towards said gates. She was invisible to the casual glance, save for a faint outline in the air to mark her passage across the frost-covered lawn.

When she reached the gates, the figure whispered, "Plato!"

On the other side of the gates, Plato the house elf, wearing his Slytherin robes and crest popped into being. He looked around in puzzlement for a moment before the girl said, "Plato, it's me."

"Miss Icygrass." The elf's wide eyes focused on the spot where the invisible voice had come from. "Why is Miss calling Plato?"

"I need you to send an owl to Mister and Missus Granger. It's urgent."

"Right away, Miss. Where is the letter?"

"I haven't written it yet. It needs to come from Slytherin himself."

"Plato understands, Miss. What does the letter need to say?"

The future Lady Slytherin told him.

Plato bowed deeply and popped away.

— DP & SW: NRiCaD —

He didn't pop far. Without the call of their masters to guide them, house elf apparition was quite similar to the wizard version — ie, short-range and magically taxing. Some fifty pops later, Plato arrived on Gairsay Island, right in front of Slytherin Manor, panting heavily. He made his way through the grand ballroom, up two flights of stairs, and into his master's study. A large bookcase on the far wall was crammed with rolled up parchments.

"Master, indisposed," the elf muttered to himself as he trailed a long, bony finger along the shelves. "Plato is not liking this, no, not one bit." He found the parchment he was looking for among the collection and pulled it out. "No master is meaning no gold from sunken ship. No new gold is meaning no new house elves. No new house elves is meaning no mate for Plato. Plato is not liking to wait. Plato is wearing neat new robes like wizards now. Females be loving bad boys."

He left the study and walked down the long corridor to the end of the hallway. There, he opened a set up large double windows, clambered up onto the sill, and called out, "Master's owl! Master needs letter sent!"

The grounds of Slytherin Manor had been transformed since earlier in the term. Gone was the empty pasture, replaced with hardwearing bushes, trees, and other plants — all magical to a greater or lesser degree. From one of these trees, Macavity leapt and swooped up to the window.

"Good birdie," Plato said, attaching the letter to his leg. "Go, swift like wind now. Is being very important."

Macavity made a gesture that could be interpreted as a shrug, turned his back on the little human-like thing, spread his wings, and set off on the heroically long journey to the bottom of the hill.

— DP & SW: NRiCaD —

In Granger Cottage, Clare Cooper was sitting at the kitchen table, groggily sipping from a cup of early morning tea when a tap from the window interrupted her. Minutes later, she'd taken the letter from Lord Slytherin's owl, sent him on his way—probably back to Hedwig—and descended the secret stairs to the Granger's underground workshop.