Large bat-like ears. Bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls. A thin, bony little body and a long, flat nose.
These unmistakable features defined the House-elves known throughout the wizarding world.
One thing worth noting was that you could not tell their age or gender from appearance alone. The only clues lay in the old garments they wore, which signified their status and position.
Female House-elves tended to choose brighter, lighter fabrics, sometimes even cutting them into skirt-like shapes with an obvious feminine touch.
Male House-elves, on the other hand, were particularly fond of socks with a few holes in them. To them, that carried a certain... masculine House-elf charm.
You could also judge a House-elf's standing by how intact and clean their clothing was.
Millie, who stood out clearly from the others, was a perfect example.
Although her cloth had faded from repeated washing, it was noticeably cleaner and more presentable than the rest. At the very least, there were no holes or loose threads.
More than that, what she wore was not just any scrap of fabric. It had been carefully trimmed into the shape of a scarf.
Draco bent slightly, shortening the distance between them.
"I've heard that among House-elves, the closer something is worn to the head, the higher the status it represents."
"You are correct, sir. You are just as Dobby described, knowledgeable even about our affairs."
Even though the other House-elves were still in turmoil from Draco's earlier remark, neither Draco nor Millie showed any intention of intervening. They seemed to tacitly ignore the chaos around them, as if it were perfectly natural and would settle on its own given time.
The contrast between the calm conversation here and the disorder nearby felt like two separate worlds.
Hermione, standing to the side, finally broke in with a strange expression.
"Status? Draco, what are you talking about?"
"Simply put, if a House-elf were ever able to wear a hat as clothing, that would probably correspond to the level of Dumbledore in the wizarding world. In other words, a scarf is second only to a hat."
"Closer to the head... that's what it means? The books never mentioned anything like that."
It was the first time Hermione had heard such an explanation. She blinked, clearly intrigued.
Although House-elves were now treated as servants in the wizarding world, it seemed their traditions and cultural hierarchy had not disappeared.
Millie confirmed it.
"Yes. But unfortunately, no such figure has appeared yet."
Draco could not be sure whether he imagined it, but when Millie said that, her large green eyes seemed to flicker for a moment.
And just as he tried to examine her more closely, she deliberately avoided his gaze.
A coincidence?
Or perhaps one of the House-elves' unspoken secrets...
...
After Draco and Hermione sat down, the House-elves finally began to calm themselves.
Once they had regained their composure, they displayed the hospitality befitting the masters of a kitchen.
Their magical cooking was faster and more efficient than that of Muggle chefs, yet even more delicious than the dishes prepared by wizard cooks. When they truly applied themselves, Hermione finally understood why wizards could not do without House-elves.
When it came to domestic magic, House-elves were unrivaled.
As one exquisite dish after another, followed by delicate desserts, was brought to the table, Millie stood at the side like a head chef, personally introducing each dish and explaining how it had been prepared.
Gradually, Hermione began to notice something.
The House-elves' attitude toward Draco was far warmer than she had expected. It was completely different from the reception she had received on her last visit.
When she had first come here to talk about the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare, what she received in return had been wariness and even fear.
Draco, on the other hand, was being met with respect and a strange, complicated emotion she could not quite put into words.
Hermione did not feel jealous.
She felt puzzled.
As if sensing her thoughts, Draco gently set down his cup of hot tea.
"Probably Dobby."
"Dobby... the House-elf you mentioned before."
"That's right. Perhaps he did something. Or rather... said something. Isn't that so, Millie?"
Noticing the questioning looks from the two guests, Millie performed a very proper wizarding bow. It was clear that before coming to work in the Hogwarts kitchens, she had once served a noble family.
"Yes, sir. Just as you said, Dobby told us many things. Everything that happened after he came to know you."
Draco, who understood Dobby well enough, could easily guess what those stories had contained.
If Dobby had still been in the Malfoy family, he might have restrained himself somewhat. But in front of these hundreds of House-elves without masters, that unconventional House-elf likely had far fewer reservations.
Equality. Respect. Even friendship.
It was very much in the spirit of Hufflepuff.
Perhaps such ideas could not overturn centuries of ingrained beliefs overnight. But at the very least, in the eyes of these House-elves, Draco clearly enjoyed a great deal of goodwill.
It even seemed to make them temporarily forget Hermione's previous "nonsense."
It had to be said.
In his own way, that troublesome Dobby who so often gave Draco headaches had, this time, done him a considerable favor.
An unexpected gain.
In any case.
After observing the House-elves hovering nearby, wanting to approach yet not daring to, Draco began to consider whether it might be time to accelerate his original plan.
And it was at that moment that his gaze suddenly stilled.
He had spotted someone.
"That is?"
"Draco?"
"No. I just noticed someone interesting."
Although House-elves generally looked much the same, Draco recognized this one from a small detail in her clothing.
There, clearly embroidered on the fabric, was the emblem of the Ministry of Magic.
The House-elf of the former Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, recently dismissed from the Ministry for certain reasons.
Barty Crouch.
Winky.
...