bioinnovel Chapter 145 The Loyalty of House-Elves
Chapter 145 The Loyalty of House-Elves
Chapter 145 The Loyalty of House-Elves
"Please sit down."
Belvina casually remarked as she took the tray from Dobby and lifted the lid.
The silver plate held soft, delicious bread, a plate of bacon, a serving of fries, and a glass of still-warm milk.
"Thank you for breakfast, Dobby," Belvina said. "Have a seat. You're here for an interview, aren't you?"
Dobby, the house-elf, stared in surprise at his tennis ball-sized eyes. He hadn't expected Miss Black, a fellow pure-blood wizard, to be so easy to talk to.
Few wizards are willing to treat house-elves equally, and many wizarding families mistreat them, such as the Malfoy and Black families.
If it weren't for Dumbledore's strong recommendation, Dobby would never have dared to visit Belvina. Going from Malfoy Manor to No. 12 Grimmauld Place was like going from one tiger's den to another.
Although the Ministry of Magic had long ago issued the "Guidelines on the Rights of House-Elves," no wizard paid any attention to these guidelines, and abuse continued as before, with the Ministry of Magic never enforcing them.
Not only do wizards not care, but even house-elves themselves don't care about the rights and interests guidelines.
To this day, Kreacher's highest honor remains unchanged: when he gets too old to lift a plate, he cuts off his head, glues it to a board, and hangs it on the wall as decoration.
In the lounge on the fifth floor of the castle, Belvina was enjoying her brunch, while the house-elf Dobby sat uneasily in an armchair, his head drooping low, his long, thin nose almost touching the cushion.
Belvina picked up a French fry with two fingers, a rather strange gesture.
She said, "Professor Dumbledore told me that you need a job and only want to serve wizards who pay you a salary."
"Yes, miss," the house-elf Dobby said awkwardly, "Dobby is a free elf."
"Tell me, what salary are you expecting?" Belvina asked, not minding taking Dobby "for free."
If there were house-elves in Fertile Plains, the elderly Marius would have an easier time.
The house-elf Dobby tentatively extended a finger, carefully raising his head to secretly observe Belvina's expression, seemingly worried that his salary demands were too high.
Just yesterday, Dobby used this finger to teach Lucius Malfoy a lesson, sending his former owner flying.
"Ten Galleons?" Belvina asked. Considering the working ability of house-elves, ten Galleons a week is quite low.
Of course, when compared to other domesticated Pokémon, Dobby's salary demands are sky-high.
"No—no, not ten Galleons, it's one Galleon," the house-elf Dobby quickly explained. "One Galleon a week."
Goodness gracious! Belvina exclaimed, "Goodness gracious!"
Even when asked to pay their employers, house-elves remain true to their nature; one Galleon can only buy eight and a half bottles of Butterbeer at the Hog's Head.
"Dobby, I need to confirm with you, do you know how much one Galleon costs?" Belvina said. "Do you know what one Galleon can buy?"
"One Gallon a week"—what an obscure phrase! If Belvina's weekly wage was only one Gallon, her rage would have burned Dumbledore to ashes.
To put it another way, when Belvina and Bassheda made their bets, the stakes were never less than one Galleon.
“I know perfectly well, Miss,” Dobby said, his voice trailing off. “Two Galleons make seventeen Silver Sickles, and four hundred and ninety-three Bronze Nats.”
Belvina slapped her smooth forehead speechlessly. Talking about the purchasing power of Galleons with a house-elf was like casting pearls before swine.
Before today, Dobby, the house-elf, had never had currency and had no concept of purchasing power.
"That's settled then. Ten Galleons a week, no days off all year round," Belvina said. "You'll not only need to take care of a farmhouse, but also an old man."
Although it's still the same heartless capitalist behavior of exploiting house-elves' labor, Belvina felt that at least she could choose between machine guns and streetlights.
Dobby the house-elf waved his hands repeatedly, saying hastily, "That's too much, Miss Black, too much. One Galleon is enough."
Belvina leaned back in her chair, looking at the back of the chair. She didn't speak, but her meaning was clear: if you disagreed, you could leave.
If Dobby ever leaves this office, he'll have trouble finding a job that pays ten Galleons a week, let alone ten Bronze Knuts. Wizards who are willing to treat house-elves equally are few and far between, and those who pay house-elves are even rarer.
"Very good," Belvina said with satisfaction. "The employment relationship between you and me can take effect today."
Belvina then took out paper and pen and began to write a letter.
Dobby, the house-elf, jumped excitedly off the armchair, staring in disbelief at Belvina's retreating figure. He had expected to be kicked out, even imagined being beaten up, but he never imagined his weekly wage would be ten Galleons.
Not only did they treat house-elves as equals, but they were also willing to pay house-elves for their services. Dobby couldn't help but pinch himself—it hurt, he wasn't dreaming.
Black and Malfoy, Belvina and Lucius, all pure-blood wizards, how can there be such a huge difference between people!
"By the way, I heard you've been secretly helping Harry," Belvina asked, as she was writing a letter to Marius.
Explain the origin of house-elves.
"Yes, Miss!" Dobby puffed out his chest proudly. "Dobby has always wanted to help the great and kind Harry Potter!"
Harry Potter was the first person to treat Dobby as an equal!
When the boy Harry Potter, who miraculously survived, was mentioned, Dobby the house-elf instantly became very excited, and his tennis ball-sized eyes welled up with tears.
Dobby continued in a shrill voice, "Harry Potter defeated that guy whose name you can't even mention! To Dobby, Harry Potter is like a beacon of hope!"
Belvina put down her pen and turned to look at the impassioned house-elf.
Goodness, another die-hard Potter fan. Dobby's best destination isn't Fertile Ground, but Autry...
Saint Cachipol village.
Outside that small village is an illegal building constructed with magic, called the Burrow. Dobby can not only form a global Harry Potter fan club with Ginny, but may also meet Harry during the summer holidays.
"I also heard that you were the one who closed Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, and you were the one who cast the spell on the Wandering Ball," Belvina said. "Promise me you'll never help in this way again."
This isn't help, it's downright sabotage! Harry surviving is purely a matter of luck.
Platform 9¾ closed, and Scarface and Redhead took off in their car, nearly costing Mr. Weasley his job.
The spell cast on the Wandering Ball resulted in Harry Potter breaking his arm and having to be admitted to the school hospital, indirectly leading to Colin Creevey being petrified by the Basilisk.
Dobby, the house-elf, suddenly burst into tears, which streamed from his tennis ball-shaped green eyes and slid down his long, thin nose.
Dobby sobbed, "Dobby—Dobby hopes—can help Harry Potter Hogwarts—Hogwarts is dangerous this year, someone is plotting a conspiracy—Harry Potter won't be harmed if he can't go back to school!"
"..." Belvina hesitated, wanting to speak but stopping herself, yet still wanting to speak.
Belvina was deeply shocked and utterly bewildered by the way the house-elves helped her.
Belvina really wanted to know: what was Dobby's underlying logic, what was his top-level design, what was his thought process, and what were the key points in his process?
"Then how do you know about this? Do you know about that diary?" Belvina asked, already knowing that the diary originally belonged to Lucius Malfoy.
The Black family has house-elves, Regulus stole Voldemort's locket, the Malfoy family also has house-elves, and Lucius has Voldemort's diary.
Such a coincidence made it hard for Belvina not to draw conclusions, but it turned out she was overthinking it.
Dobby, the house-elf, suddenly became terrified. He seemed to want to smash his head with a hammer or iron his ten fingers.
"Calm down! You're no longer a Malfoy elf! Now, I'm your employer," Belvina said in a commanding tone. "You cannot harm yourself without my permission."
The little elf who wanted to torture himself finally quieted down. Dobby's magical contract with the Malfoy family had been dissolved; he was just used to it and hadn't changed it yet.
"It's Mr. Malfoy, Miss!" Dobby shrieked. "Mr. Malfoy never pays any attention to Dobby, so Dobby overheard his plan. He wants to get rid of that diary! The diary given to him by someone whose name he can't even mention!"
Dobby thought for a moment, then said, "Mr. Malfoy knew perfectly well that the diary was under a dark spell! He even said he wished he could bring it into Hogwarts!"
Upon hearing this, even the usually sharp-tongued Belvina was at a loss for words.
It's not fair to say Lucius Malfoy was stupid; he simply made the mistake that most wizards make: ignoring the existence of house-elves.
The owner of a house-pom ...
However, the magical contract that forbids keeping house-elves has loopholes. The elves can misinterpret their master's commands or indirectly reveal their master's secrets.
That's exactly what Dobby did; he indirectly leaked Malfoy's secret plot to Harry.
From the Malfoy family's perspective, Dobby's leak was disloyal and treachery; from Dumbledore and Harry's perspective, Dobby's actions were a move from darkness to light, a case of being in the dark but yearning for the light.
This also served as a reminder to Belvina not to neglect house-elves like Voldemort and Malfoy did, and not to take their loyalty for granted.
"This is the address." Belvina handed Dobby a letter and a note. "When you get to Fertile Plains, find Marius and show him this letter."
The house-elf took the letter and note, bowed, and left the room.
Belvina thought about what the house-elf had said at the end, and a smug smile crept across her face.
By using a very special diary, Lucius Malfoy offended both Dumbledore and Voldemort at the same time. He really is a master of courting death!