The Return to Hogwarts

Click——

The rusted doorknob had broken off, and a flurry of rustling noises came from the pitch-black classroom. Amosta was about to push the door open when Hermione suddenly stopped and pressed him for an explanation.

"Oh--"

Amosta glanced at the little witch who was looking at him with a worried expression, hesitated for a few seconds, and said in a tone that was hard to describe.

"A house-elf is hiding in the classroom—"

"House elves!"

The little witch's delicate features suddenly opened up, and Hermione was so surprised that she couldn't breathe, and subconsciously repeated it.

"Yes--"

Amosta nodded slightly.

"This house-elf is probably giving birth, and it seems to be having a difficult birth. I'm afraid she won't make it through this ordeal without help."

House-elves. Difficult birth.

In the dim light, Hermione gaped in shock.

"But how did it get here!"

Hermione completely forgot Professor Blaine's instruction to leave, and ran over much more nimbly than she had left. She reached Professor Blaine in a few strides, her bright orange eyes wide open.

"Why isn't anyone helping it, Mrs. Pomfrey? Shouldn't it be at the school clinic?!"

"The school hospital serves faculty and staff, and you little wizards, Miss Granger—"

Professor Blaine was amused by Hermione's appearance, and he chuckled.

"House-to-elves are not hospital patients—"

"Oh, doesn't anyone care about them?!"

Hermione immediately remembered Sirius Black's house elf, Deklee, who, despite his frail old age, still prepared a sumptuous meal for them, and the house-elf, Twinkle, who, on the night of the Quidditch final, had done nothing wrong but was accidentally burned by Professor Blaine's magic while following orders, resulting in serious injuries, and was ruthlessly abandoned by Barty Crouch, the Director of the International Magical Co-operation Division.

Hermione screamed angrily.

"Oh, even if Hogwarts is like outside, not giving house-elves holidays or wages, surely someone should have considered this situation, right? Hagrid, it should go find Hagrid. Hagrid has a special fondness for magical creatures; he always helps them. I—I'll go find him right now!"

"Objectively speaking, Hagrid is more interested in magical creatures that look extremely dangerous; he probably has little interest in creatures like house-elves—"

Amosta said rationally.

"Don't bother, Hermione. By the time you get Hagrid, that poor house-elf inside will probably be dead. Let me see if I can offer any help to this little elf first—"

Chapter 528 Delivery

2023-10-11

"But--"

Hermione looked completely flustered, as if she had lost her composure entirely. This was understandable, given that Hogwarts had never taught her how to handle such situations.

Professor Blaine, having regained his composure, pushed open the door with a jarring noise.

A strong, almost suffocating smell of rotting wood hit them, and Hermione, coughing repeatedly, quickly covered her mouth. Professor Blaine had already stepped into the classroom, and seeing this, Hermione suppressed her unease and quickly followed.

There was no light in the room, only the extremely thin moonlight filtered through the curtains. It took Hermione a while to adjust her eyes to the darkness. She squinted and looked around carefully, discovering that it was a semi-circular room, quite different from the classrooms they usually used.

In the center of the classroom was a pile of rotten wood, which must have been the remains of the rotten desks and chairs.

Over the millennia, Hogwarts has had many such classrooms, once in use but abandoned for inexplicable reasons, sometimes for centuries. The classroom they were in now had probably been abandoned for quite some time, and even though the view was terrible, Hermione concluded this by the soft texture of the accumulated dust on the floor as she stepped on it.

Unfamiliar surroundings can be unsettling, and Hermione wanted to find something to rely on. She instinctively reached out to tug at Professor Blaine's sleeve, but as soon as she raised her hand, she angrily lowered it again—the thought that the school so disregarded the rights of house-elves that a pregnant elf had to hide in such a place to give birth made Hermione grit her teeth in anger.

Amostella drew his wand, its tip emitting a soft white light. He focused his gaze on a raised curtain, the very source of the intermittent wails and cries.

"Come out, little one—"

By the light of her wand, Hermione noticed a dark, distinct mark on the ground between the pile of rotting wood chips and the curtains. She squinted and looked closely, and when she realized what it was, Hermione's expression suddenly turned distressed.

Those are bloodstains!

The bloodstains from the house-elf mingled with the dust on the ground. Before they came in, the house-elf had crawled out of its nest, which it had made from a pile of sawdust and a few scraps of cloth, and hid behind the curtains.

House-elves cannot disobey their masters' orders. At Hogwarts, the young wizards and the school's staff are the masters of the house-elves.

Then, the decaying curtains swayed, and a weak little creature crawled out from behind them using all four limbs.

The moment Hermione saw the little creature, she immediately covered her mouth to stop herself from crying out, but her eyes still welled up with tears.

The house-elf was only wearing what looked like an apron, its only clothing, and now it was soaked and stained with blood. Something was protruding from the elf's lower body; Hermione thought for a moment and realized what it was.

"Great, great Professor Blaine. Respected Miss Witch--"

Even in this condition, the house-elf, trembling, clung to the wall, trying to get up and salute them.

"How can Ruijia serve you?"

"This is how the house-elf, pale from excessive bleeding, spoke weakly."

"Lie down!"

Hermione's tears immediately streamed down her face, and she screamed almost at the top of her lungs.

"What can we do, Professor Blaine? We have to help it!"

"Calm down, Miss Granger—"

Amostah glanced at Hermione, adopting the serious tone he usually used in the classroom. He looked at the house-elf, his brow furrowing unconsciously.

"Your name is Ruijia, right?"

Rega nodded timidly, but when it saw the great Professor Blaine approaching, it panicked.

“Oh, Rega is filthy, the great Professor Blaine—”

Ruijia cried,

“Rega is not a qualified elf. Rega has caused trouble for the great Professor Blaine and Miss Witch.”

"what are you talking about!"

Hermione was almost driven crazy by Rega. She really wanted to ask the little elf if it even knew what it was going through, since it was still apologizing to them!

"Lie down, and move slowly. That's my order, Ruijia--"

Amosta glanced at the agitated Hermione, his voice calm and steady.

"And you, Miss Granger, if you can't control your emotions, then I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave."

Hermione's sobs were abruptly cut off as she turned to glare at Professor Blaine, her eyes filled with disbelief and anger.

Did Professor Blaine feel nothing at all upon seeing this scene? Did he, like those wizards, believe that commanding elves was perfectly reasonable?

While still sobbing softly about the trouble it had caused the great Professor Blaine, and how it was an incompetent and shameful little elf, Riga was also forced to obey Professor Blaine's instructions and slowly lie down on a clean, soft mat that had suddenly appeared behind it.

"Shut your mouth, don't waste your energy—"

Amostah gave Rega a second command. He squatted down next to the little elf, glanced at it a few times, and looked slightly serious.

Hermione took a few deep breaths to calm herself down. She knew very well that Professor Blaine was the only one who could be of any use here.

"What exactly happened, Professor—"

Hermione pressed her lips tightly together; she couldn't even bear to look at the bloody scene. She could only stare at Professor Blaine's serious profile and Rega's pained face, her voice trembling.

"Hmm—based on my judgment."

After a moment's hesitation, Amosta said

"Simply put, its offspring was too big, and got stuck."

"What should we do now?"

As it turns out, no one is a jack-of-all-trades; there will always be things you're not good at.

Amosta scratched his head, looking quite troubled.

Which respectable wizard has ever done such a thing?

The house-elf's child was feet-first. He wanted to pull Riga's child out directly, but that rough method would probably kill both elves.

The cushion that Amosta had made was already stained red with blood. Judging from the situation, the house-elf probably wouldn't last much longer, so there wasn't much time to hesitate.

“Miss Granger—”

Professor Blaine's voice remained steady, which calmed Hermione, who was feeling very anxious. She said breathlessly,

"What can I do, Professor?"

"this--"

Amostella rummaged through his pouch and pulled out a bottle of potion shimmering with a blue aura, handing it to Hermione.

"Giving this medicine to the little elf should probably help it regain some of its energy--"

Hermione took the potion and hurriedly uncorked it. She carefully placed one hand under Ragnarok's head, gently lifted it, and used the other hand to bring the potion to Ragnarok's mouth. The elf clearly knew what Professor Blaine and the little witch were about to do; she looked terrified, as if considering it a shameful waste for an elf to drink a wizard's potion.

However, Hermione didn't give it a chance to refuse; she poured the potion into the house-elf's mouth without saying a word.

At the same time, Amosta stood up, took out his wand and traced intricate and mysterious trajectories in space. The dreamy and dazzling starlight emanating from the tip of the wand drifted towards Rega like falling snow, and quickly merged into Rega's overburdened body.