Chapter Text
"Erh, uncle Moony?" Harry asked timidly.
He immediately regretted the question when all eyes landed on him. The three aggressive house elves scared him. He felt sorry for his animal companions, found Sirius' sheepishness funny and was rather shocked at how fiercely annoyed uncle Moony looked with his glowing yellow eyes, arms full of shopping bags and a mighty glower on his face.
Moony sighed harshly. "Yes, cub?"
"Did Morgana really have a beard?"
Sirius choked down his laughter under the threatening growls of all three house elves and a snarl from Moony.
Harry stood frozen in place, not daring to bring any more ire over himself than he already had.
"I have no idea," Moony eventually said. "I was a bit flustered. Morgana's name, when used in cursing, is usually followed by words not suitable for little ears so I went for the most common, but forgot it's only used with Merlin."
"Merlin's beard!" Harry called out, happy to know something about wizarding culture.
"Young master Harry bes never to be growings up to have beard if young master Harry not bes be explaining himself," growled one of the house elves, supported by firm nods from the other two.
Harry blushed. "Erh, whoops?"
•《¤》•
The Potter house elves were odd. Sirius remembered how shocked he was the first time he was invited over to James' house and one of the house elves berated the two boys almost to tears for causing a relatively small explosion in the foyer. The elf then proceeded to make both boys throw knives at targets until their arms were numb and sore, critiquing their techniques all the while. It was the single oddest punishment Sirius had ever gotten from a house elf. In particular because the elf thought it up himself on the spot and never once consulted his masters about it, which was apparently normal for the Potters.
All the Potter elves, the many dozens of them, had odd names, dressed like Roman nobility and regularly had sparring sessions in a clearing in the forest behind the manor where they wore a mix of proper, fitted house elf armor and scavenged household items like pots and colinders. They were all perfectly trained in sword fighting, dodging, battle formations... Nobody knew how many they were or what they all did all the time, since the Manor wasn't big enough for all of them to be needed to take care of it.
James had no idea why they were so odd and neither did his parents. The portraits either sniffed disdainfully or smirked and winked when asked. None of them gave any explanation. They probably didn't know either.
Sirius had convinced himself, or let himself be convinced by James, that the oddity of the Potter elves was one of those unsolvable mysteries that he'd be better off not thinking too hard about. Now, when he finally had the answer, he wished he had never bothered to ask the question.
"We's be undead," said the Potter head elf, Crucius. He stood inbetween his two fellows, posture proud and militaristic, wearing his fitted chainmail with a broken pot tied to his head. One of his long, leathery ears stuck out from a hole in the pot. "Wes be takings care of Potter Manor since before Potter Manor bes renamed! We bes raised to unlife by good master Ignotus Peverell himself! We bes be help to raising little girl Iolanthe into proud Lady Potter and wes be raise all Potters right here in Potter Manor!"
Sirius felt faint. No wonder the elves were barmy. They had been cleaning the same house for more than a thousand years! He was glad the militant little things had allowed the group to relocate and drink tea in the southern drawing room, for if he had to listen to this rant standing up, he was sure his knees would buckle from the shock and he'd fall gracelessly on his ass.
"Yous be lettings pets to destroy vase made from bones of Fridwulfa Potter's first slayings of bad Norsies!" screeched Crucius. "Yous be lettings bad ghostie escapings philactery from blastings death magics all abouts! Hes be haunting toilet in elf sleepie house now and wes cannots into bathroom break until Foul man bes back in boxie!"
Harry winced. The snake, pookie and valraven all bowed their heads, if not truly ashamed, then at least pretending to be. Remus grimaced, but most likely it was because the elf's high pitched voice hurt his sensitive hearing.
Sirius was mostly hung up on the fact that some Potter made a vase from the bones of her enemies, which he really had expected of his own family and not at all from the Potters, and- Well... Sirius really didn't want to unpack the philactery comment. That was that horrid egyptian thing curse breakers threw fits about, wasn't it? What was such a thing doing in a hallway in a family manor instead of buried in curses in a crypt somewhere?
The smallest of the three elves, Hangda, wiped an angry tear from her eye. "Wes be not so angery for many tens of years," she seethed. "Small master must bes show more respect! This bes be house built by Goderic 'the Gryffinsdour' Peverell!"
Everyone but the elves seemed taken aback by this declaration.
"Godric Gryffindor was a Peverell?" Remus blurted.
"It is not bes be important!" screamed Hangda shrilly, causing Remus to audibly whimper. "Goderic bes be makings a rule for parselspeakies when stayings in Godric's Hall. They no bes fightings and they no bes eating decorations and if theys be naughty, theys be make sleepings out in trees, snakies and humansies and pookies and valravensies all!"
The third house elf used the opportunity while their audience were too gobstopped to interrupt to add his own grievances. Sirius had never seen this elf when he lived here with James and Dori and Monty, and even after living in Potter Manor for months with Harry, he had never heard this elf's name and had no idea what he did at the house. He looked older than the other two, but considering the revelation that all three elves were undead, that probably didn't mean much.
"Drownsie bes be told by good master Goderic to bes be tyings bad parselmouthings in little parcels and send with slow horsie over hill to Slytherin Keep for spankings," he declared solemnly.
"Spankings!" yelped Harry, hastily piling tasseled little pillows around himself to hide his bum from the threat.
"At Slytherin Keep?" Sirius added, incredulous.
"Nice master Sally and nice master Sally's babylings bes be forgettings snakesies all the time. Good master Godric bes be sometimes looking after baby Slytherins and theys be whinies and naggins until good master Godric bes be sendings whiny bratties home for to be spankings," explained Drownsie. "Drownsie bes be rolling bratties and snakies in blankies and tyings up for to be bringings home in shame."
"You tied up Salazar Slytherin's snakes and children and sent them back to him with muggle horses?" Sirius clarified.
Drownsie, Hangda and Crucius all nodded.
"When theys be little bratties, yes, wes be doings," confirmed Hangda snootily. She shook a tiny fist at Harry. "And wes be doings again if little master Harry bes be little brattie, breakings things and making races in hallways."
Harry shook his head with wide eyes. "I won't do it again, I promise! It wasn't..." He sniffled, eyes going shiny. "It wasn't what I wanted, I swear."
Hangda and Drownsie softened a bit.
Crucius sneered. "Yous bes be shooing bad ghostie back in philactery and fixings smashedy vase of Fridwulfa."
Harry nodded fervently, almost sobbing.
Sirius felt for him. Crucius had made all the Marauders bawl with shame countless times. Granted, none of the Potter elves had ever mentioned masters or events from further back than James' great-great-great grandfather, so this guilt trip was far more brutal than Sirius would have ever expected. Then again, as far as Sirius knew, he and James and the boys had never managed to get the house elf quarters haunted, so maybe the occasion warranted a stricter method.
"Yous bes be explainings to snakiespeakies theys bes be good and not breakies nuffin and no bes runnings in hallway."
Harry nodded. "Yes, I'll explain everything. I promise."
Crucius stared at him suspiciously for a moment, then a chilling smile split his face, showing off what Sirius was pretty sure were serrated teeth that shouldn't be found in the mouth of any house elf, undead or not.
"Good. Yous be makings promise. Crucifidus and Hangdaran and Drownetsie bes be acceptings yous promise."
Magic flashed between Harry and the house elves. Satisfied, the three elves snapped their fingers and disappeared.
Harry's lower lip wobbled. He turned sad puppy eyes on his godfather. Sirius expected a complaint or a question about any of the many shocking things mentioned by the elves. What he didn't expect was of course the one thing Harry did ask.
"Were they really named after the ways they were killed in?" asked Prongslet in a small voice and then burst into tears.
•《¤》•
That night, Sirius and Remus shared a bottle of firewhiskey. They'd taken turns cheering Harry up, told him many Marauder glory stories for bedtime and eventually left him in bed with a massive snake neither of them knew the origins of wrapped around him, Nefariel perching on his headboard and Mordrath nesting in a little basket on his nightstand. Neither Marauder had spoken anything of substance to the other since the house elves gathered them all for an epic scolding.
"So..." began Sirius, unsure what to say.
Remus smiled wryly. "So, the Potter elves are undead and centuries older than anyone expected and due to Harry and his pets all speaking parseltongue, the elves have reverted to house rules set by Godric Gryffindor to keep Salazar Slytherin's kids and all their various snakes in check while he babysits them."
Sirius took a swig from the bottle. "Right," he said, handing it over. "Potter Manor is the legendary Godric's Hall renamed."
"Godric Gryffindor was a Peverell and Harry is probably the Heir of Gryffindor," added Remus, wiping a spilled drop from his chin.
"Damn," said Sirius. "Didn't think of that."
They sat in dazed silence for a while.
"I wonder what happened to all the other Potter elves? There were at least thirty, I think."
"Ask them?" suggested Remus.
Sirius shuddered. "Maybe in a few days."
•《¤》•
Voldemort huddled in his basket, feeling warm and hopeful. He stared at the ceiling. One thought went round and around in his head. A thought of something he'd long given up trying to find. Something he'd dreamed of as bombs rained down around his orphanage.
...over the hill to Slytherin Keep...