Hermione paused, watching the faint light kindle behind the house-elves' eyes.
She pressed on.
"And," she said, her tone shifting, her voice dropping into something solemn and certain, "there is a more important matter now. Something that concerns the honor of all of Hogwarts. Something that needs your help."
"Hogwarts's... honor?"
The house-elves stared at her, confused.
"Yes." Hermione's gaze sharpened. "The Triwizard Tournament isn't just a competition between champions. It's a full contest between three schools of magic. Professor Holmes believes we need to send our finest chef to represent Hogwarts and give the others a little something to think about."
She drew a breath and said it like she meant every word:
"The outcome of this contest will reflect directly on Hogwarts's name. We cannot lose."
Those words moved like a key, sliding precisely into the oldest and most unshakeable lock in the house-elves' hearts.
This was no longer a personal request.
No longer charity wrapped in pity.
This was a summons from the castle itself.
A call to defend the glory of Hogwarts , the glory their families had served, generation after generation, for as long as any of them could remember.
In the corner, Dobby stopped wiping Winky's tears. His tennis ball eyes went wide. He forgot to breathe.
Qian's small frame trembled with barely contained feeling, the white hat on its head quivering along.
"You mean..." Qian's voice shook with something sacred, something it could hardly believe. "Hogwarts's victory... needs... needs our recipes?"
"More than just recipes." Hermione's voice rang with conviction. "The professor believes that Hogwarts's true magic doesn't live only in wands. It lives in the hearth fires and the fragrance of this kitchen."
"He needs Hogwarts's most loyal guardians — armed with the skills your families have handed down for generations — to win this secret battle. For him. For Hogwarts."
"So today's tea party is actually a secret pre-competition consultation. The professor wants to hear from Hogwarts's finest chefs. He wants your best ideas." She looked around the room. "So. Who wants to be part of this?"
What answered her was not hesitation.
It was a mission, ignited all at once.
"For Hogwarts!"
Qian shrieked the words. It snapped its spine straight, wheeled around, and unleashed a volley of commands in a voice sharp and blazing as a battle cry , a voice none of them had ever heard from it before.
"Pili! Now! Bring out the caramel pudding you made for the Headmaster's birthday banquet! For the glory of Hogwarts!"
"Toki! The mini meat pies Professor Holmes loves! Bake the finest batch of your life!"
"Wimpy! Stop hoarding that jam! Let them see what the Hufflepuff larder is made of!"
"And Lee! Cantonese dim sum! Let those unsophisticated foreigners find out what real pastry tastes like!"
"Get the Dutch braised noodles out too! Move! Move! Move!"
The kitchen, dead silent a moment ago, exploded.
House-elves threw themselves into motion, faces alight with pride and joy. The strained atmosphere didn't fade , it vanished, like smoke in wind. A long table appeared, draped in white linen and piled with pastries so precise and beautiful they looked less like food than like art.
At Hermione's gentle urging, the most gifted of the elves settled around the table, flushed with a shy, trembling kind of excitement.
Dobby stayed in the corner with Winky.
The party turned out better than any of them could have expected. Ron told a terrible joke about a Norwegian Ridgeback that mistook its own tail for a sausage, and three of the house-elves dissolved into helpless giggles. Harry was ambushed by enthusiasm from every direction , his hands were full, his pockets were stuffed, and at some point honey cake frosting had found its way into his hair. Hermione fell into a deeply earnest conversation with Lee, the elderly elf who specialized in Chinese cuisine, debating the precise application of a cleaning charm to remove lotus leaf residue from the inside of a bamboo steamer.
The kitchen smelled like warmth again, and the air hummed with life.
In the corner, Dobby was still keeping watch over Winky.
After a cup of hot milk, she had steadied a little. The wailing had stopped. Now she only murmured in fragments, her voice as thin and small as a moth at a window, breaking apart between sobs.
"...Master's body... carries the smell of the Dark Mark..."
"...A powerful spell... Master needs it... and fears it..."
"...Master needs Winky... Only Winky knows that secret..."
The pieces drifted through the air and found Harry's ears.
He'd been working through a basket of soup dumplings. He stopped.
Dark Mark.
Powerful spell.
Mr. Crouch's secret.
His chest clenched hard. The dumpling in his mouth turned to nothing. He edged instinctively toward Winky, just one step, just enough to hear better ,
The heavy wooden door slammed open.
BANG.
No hand had touched it.
A tall figure stood in the doorway, backlit, one leg dragging. Unmistakable silhouette. Unmistakable gait.
Mad-Eye Moody.
His electric blue magical eye was already moving , spinning in its socket like something caged and furious, throwing off a faint, low buzz. It swept the room in a single pass. Every elf. Every pastry. Harry. Ron. Hermione.
"Party?"
His voice came out in its usual ruined growl.
"I've detected an unauthorized magical gathering. And a serious violation of kitchen regulations."
His normal eye was sharp with suspicion. His magical eye turned slowly , slowly and precisely , and stopped.
On Winky. Trembling in the corner.
The kitchen fell completely silent.
Every house-elf shrank where they stood. Necks pulled in. Bodies contracted toward the walls. The crackling of the hearth fire disappeared. Even the air seemed to harden, temperature dropping without warning, the warmth of moments ago gone as if it had never been there.
Moody's presence pressed down on the room like something enormous and cold.
He moved toward Winky. His wooden leg struck the stone floor with each step. CLUNK. CLUNK. CLUNK. Slow. Measured. Inevitable.
Each one landed on every heart in the room.
He stopped in front of her. His shadow swallowed her whole.
"You." His voice was sandpaper on rotting wood.
"The Crouch family's elf."
His blue eye moved in its socket like a beetle sealed inside glass, battering silently against the walls.
Around the kitchen, house-elves had frozen mid-motion. One still held a baking tray raised at shoulder height. Another had its mouth slightly open, a gasp arrested mid-breath. They were figures in a painting , the helpless background details of something terrible.
Harry and Hermione moved at the same moment.
No plan. No words. Just instinct.
Harry from the left. Hermione from the right. They came together like two halves of a door closing, and they put themselves between Moody and Winky.
A barrier.
Thin. Fragile. Furious. Absolutely unmovable.
"Deputy Head Moody."
Hermione's voice was controlled. Barely. Each word placed carefully, like stepping onto ice she wasn't sure would hold.
"As you can see, Winky is very unwell. What she needs is a Healer , not an interrogation."
Harry's hand was wrapped around his wand inside his pocket. The cold of the wood against his palm was the only thing keeping his heartbeat from running away with itself.
"She's just a frightened house-elf," he said, voice low and steady. "You're going to make it worse."
Moody's magical eye passed over both of them.
The way it moved, they weren't people. They were objects in the way. A chair. A coat rack. Two things to be assessed and stepped around.
No anger. No recognition. Just flat, glacial indifference.
It was colder than fury would have been.
He stepped forward. His wooden leg hit the floor. CLUNK.
His shadow fell over Winky completely, swallowed her up.
He bent down. Brought his face close to hers , that small face blotched with tears and damp with the wine she'd drunk, still shivering.
His voice came out slow and rough, each word ground out like stone against stone.
"Wand, elf."
"Your master's wand."
"Tell me — in that forest, what did it do?"
Not what did he do.
What did it do.
➤ Next: A Complete Loss? Hermione's Cooking Competition Gets Instantly Rejected!
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