Harry Potter and the Great Old Ones

Chapter 285 Slavery

The Sorting Ceremony ended quickly, and apart from Colin Crevy's younger brother, Daniil Crevy, also being sorted into Gryffindor this year, there was nothing particularly noteworthy—

After the Sorting Hat shouted "Gryffindor," Danis Clifton was overjoyed. He took off the hat, put it back on the stool, and hurried over to sit with his brother.

At this moment, Harry, Tyrell, and the other Gryffindor students joined in the applause.

"Colin, I fell into the lake!" Danis Crivey plopped down in an empty seat and exclaimed in a shrill voice, "That was amazing! Something in the water grabbed me and pushed me back onto the boat!"

"That's so cool!" Colin exclaimed, just as excited as his brother; the two brothers were practically identical. "It's probably a giant squid, Dennis!"

"Wow!" Dennis exclaimed. He had just been thrown into a deep, stormy lake and then pushed out by a giant lake monster. He felt that this was an experience that no one would even dare to dream of.

“Dennis! Dennis! See that boy over there? The one with the black hair and glasses? See him? Do you know who he is, Dennis?” Colin Creevey said, pointing at Harry.

This made Harry awkwardly look away, staring intently at the Sorting Hat.

“You know what, Harry?” Tyrell said with a hint of malice, “you’re going to be more famous than ever before by the end of this term.”

"Huh?" Harry was clearly confused. "Why?"

"Hehe." Tierra chuckled, saying nothing, but instead turned her gaze to the Sorting Hat.

The sorting ceremony continued, and the freshmen, both men and women, walked towards the three-legged stool one by one, their faces showing varying degrees of fear.

The line was slowly shrinking, and Professor McGonagall had finished reading the names on the list that started with L.

"Oh, come on," Ron moaned, rubbing his belly with his hands.

“I’m telling you, Ron, the Sorting Ceremony is much more important than dinner,” said Nick, who was almost headless.

At this point, Laura Madeleine was assigned to Hufflepuff.

"You're dead, of course you'd say that," Ron retorted.

“I hope this year’s Gryffindor freshmen are all outstanding talents,” Nick said, almost headless—at which point Natalie McDonald joined the Gryffindor table, and Nick applauded enthusiastically. “We don’t want to break our winning streak, do we?”

Gryffindor has won the House Cup for three years in a row.

"Graham Pritchard!"

"Slytherin!"

"Olaquelke!"

"Ravenclaw!"

Finally, the Sorting Ceremony ended with Kevin Whitby's shout that he had been sorted into Hufflepuff.

Professor McGonagall picked up the Sorting Hat and the stool and took them away.

"It's about time," said Ron, picking up his knife and fork and gazing longingly at the golden plate in front of him.

Professor Dumbledore stood up. He smiled at all the students, opened his arms in a welcoming gesture. "I only have two words to say to you—" he said, his deep voice echoing through the Great Hall, "Eat!"

"Yay, yay!" Ron cheered loudly, holding up his knife and fork, watching as the empty plates suddenly and magically filled with food.

Nick, who was almost headless, looked sadly at Ron, seemingly saddened by the fact that some Gryffindor students nowadays valued food more than honor.

"Ah, that's better," Ron mumbled through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

“You know, you guys are lucky; the party almost fell through tonight,” Nick said, looking almost headless. “There was a mess in the kitchen earlier.”

"Why? What's going on?" Harry asked, mumbling, with a large piece of steak in his mouth.

“It’s Peeves causing trouble, of course,” Nick said, shaking his head so that it shook dangerously—he quickly pulled his ruffled collar up a little to protect his neck. “They’re arguing about that again, you know, he wants to go to the party… well, that’s impossible, you know his manners, completely ill-mannered, he throws food everywhere. We had a ghost meeting, and the fat monk was in favor of giving him the chance, but Blood Man Barrow was adamant in his disagreement, and I think he was very wise to do so.”

"No wonder, we thought Peeves was mad about something," said Ron glumly. "What was he doing in the kitchen?"

“Oh, the same old thing,” Nick shrugged. “Complete destruction, utter chaos. Pots and pans everywhere, the whole kitchen flooded with soup. The house-elves are terrified—”

clang-

Hermione knocked over her tall gin glass, and pumpkin spilled all over the tablecloth, staining the white linen with a long orange stain that stretched for several feet, but Hermione ignored it.

"There are house-elves here too?" she asked, staring at Nick with horror. "In Hogwarts?"

"Of course," said Nearly Headless Nick, somewhat surprised by her reaction. "I doubt there's a house in Britain with more house-elves than this one. Over a hundred of them."

"I haven't seen any!" said Hermione.

"Oh, they rarely leave the kitchen during the day, do they?" Nick said. "Come out at night to clean up... to tend to the stove and things like that... I mean, you're not supposed to see them, are you? The mark of a good house-elf is that you don't even know they're there, right?"

Hermione stared at him as if that was something

“But do they get paid?” she asked. “Do they have holidays? And…do they have sick leave, allowances, all that?”

Nick chuckled so hard that his ruff tilted and his head tumbled down, dangling there by an inch or two of dead skin and muscle still attached to his belly.

"Sick leave and allowance?" he said, lifting his head back onto his neck and securing it with the ruff. "House-elves don't need sick leave and allowance!"

Hermione looked down at the barely touched food on her plate before placing her knife and fork on it and pushing it away.

“How does it feel, Hermione?” Tierra said, continuing to cut her steak. “How does it feel to have all the conveniences and enjoyment you’ve ever had, all built on the exploitation of others?”

"Every bite of steak we eat, every dish we enjoy, is imbued with the blood and sweat of house-elves."

“The entire wizarding society is built upon the bones of countless other intelligent beings,” Tierra said, cutting off another piece of steak. “No matter how much they try to whitewash it, no matter how much they praise the so-called ‘loyalty’ of the house-elves, one thing remains unchanged—”

“This is slavery! This is utter slavery,” Tierra said firmly to Hermione. “This is a grotesque and evil government, this is… a land where evil flourishes!”

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(End of this chapter)