A Bag of Galleons

The first time he stepped into the large, gloomy looking manor, he knew he was about to have the worst life he could get, but he was not one to complain. He was brought up to do his job well and sounding empty gongs was something he never did, as he was after all, a house elf.

He first entered the wizarding world looking for a job to support his family. And though the elf community of which he came from told him that wizarding families treated all elves like slaves, he knew it was a sacrifice he had to make.

So, on the day his son was born, he told his wife he was going to meet with the Trader. The Trader was a man who dealt with all the magical creatures’ trades, whether it be mystical objects of magical creatures itself.

For elves, he would pay them 100 hundred galleons and give them a home to work in for the rest of their lives. It was a one time pay for a life time of work and hardship, but the elves knew what they were signing up for, and their loyal innate nature made them live up to their part of the deal.

Castel was like many of the elves who sought out the Trader and brought home the bag of galleons. A week later, he was called to meet the Trader at a small town near his community, where he was given paperwork to sign before he was told that he was going to meet his new master, and that the black car waiting outside the tavern was for him.

As he got into the car, Castel knew he was never going to see his family again, but he had a gut feeling that someday, he might meet his son. And though he could not be a father to his son, he knew he had provided enough for his wife and child to survive for a long time. He also secretly hoped that his son would not have to be a house elf like him, but his hope was merely a bubble waiting to be burst for a magical creature like him.

20 years later, Castel received a letter from his wife, which he had to sneak into a dusty old cupboard to read. It said on the letter that his son was going to look for him and bring him home. His wife mentioned that she did all she could to stop him but his son was as persistent as he was.

Partly proud that his son took after his determination, he knew that that determination was going to lead them into a spiral of problems, but it was out of his control. He could only hope that his son would never find him and that he would not cause a domino affect that would cost Castel a week of blistered fingers and toes.

Unfortunately, Castel underestimated the intelligence of his son, and found out from his fellow house elves that his young boy had met up with the Trader for information. And on that very same evening, Castel opened the front door of the Malfoy Manor to a young house elf with perky ears, in a well dressed suit, who smiling widely at him.

“How may I help you?” Castel asked, hoping it was not his son he was speaking to, even though he knew it was.

“I’m looking for my father, his name is Castel,” the young house elf replied.

“Dobby?” Castel asked softly, as he took quick glances around the front porch.

“Father?” Dobby replied excitedly, and a little too loudly.

“Hush now,” Castel said as he exited the house and led Dobby behind a large rose bush. “What are you doing here? You should go home!”

“I’m here to bring you home father,” Dobby replied, still with a smile on his face.

“I can’t go home, it’s not part of the deal. You have to leave Dobby, leave now!”

“But you’re getting old. You can’t keep working. Surely there’s a way to let you go home. I even have a bag of galleons to free you!”

“Money won’t free me Dobby, I can only go if my masters give me new clothing,” Castel explained, still in whispers.

“Then lets ask them!” Dobby replied, and immediately walked into the sight of a little boy.

“Hey! Elf! Who are you? You don’t work here,” the boy shouted as he ran over.

“I’m Dobby, Castel’s son. And you are?” Dobby asked the blond headed boy, who was around the age of 9.

“I’m Draco. Your father’s young master,” Draco replied slowly, emphasizing each word as he spoke.

“Well, I’m here to ask you then to let my father come home with me,” Dobby said boldly, as Castel failed to silence him in time.

“Castel is not going anywhere. Now, go fetch me a glass of orange juice, elf,” Draco ordered.

Castel was about to rush off to the kitchen when his son demanded, “You do not speak to my father like that. You have to show some respect!”

Draco merely laughed. He then gave Castel a hard kick in the stomach and when Dobby wanted to react using his magical abilities, Castel shouted, “Dobby, enough! No more of this nonsense!”

“But father-“

“You do not know how this works. Clearly you do not understand my part of the deal. Now please, leave. And don’t cause any more problems for me,” Castel said, as he looked away from his son. He was sure to put a hint of disappointment in his tone, but he started regretting doing so immediately.

“Problems? What problems?” A voice came from behind them that very moment, and Castel recognized the intentions behind it.

Still stubborn and determined to bring his father home, Dobby immediately replied, “The only problem is that my father is too old to work and I want him to come home.”

“Well, of course he can, if you would take his place,” Lucius Malfoy said with a smile so false that even a troll could tell that he was pulling a con, but Dobby however, was too ‘intelligent’ to even spot a con and agreed before Castel could even object.

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Little B

“Father! Father! Look!” Little B ran into his father’s meeting with the Minister of Magic, looking rather preoccupied with the gold button he was holding up high.

“It’s a button! I found… a button.” Little B looked around the room, and the men in suits were staring back at him. And then looking at his father, he knew he had done something wrong, even though he did not know what it was.

Taking him roughly by the wrist, his father pulled him outside and shouted, “Nancy!”

A young lady hurried to them, apologizing as she mumbled something about losing him. But his father merely grunted as he shoved Little B to Nancy and disappeared behind the white wooden doors.

“You have been a bad boy Little B!” Nancy said as she looked into the eyes of the confused child.

“I did something wrong,” Little B said as he dropped his head, along with the gold button in his hand.

Nancy sighed as she took him by the hand and pulled him along the red carpeted hallway. She then brought him to his father’s office where she sat him down, gave him some cookies and milk, and told him not to move.

Little B did as he was told, as he knew he was already in big trouble. He wished his mother was around, so he could ask why his father was angry with him, but she was away, visiting his sick aunt.

Little B had never followed his father to work. He was not allowed to. But since his mother was away, they had no one to look after him and his father was forced to bring him along. This was his first day in his father’s office, and he somehow knew it would be his last. His father would rather put him at a muggle daycare center than take him to work after what had happened today.

Overwhelmed with confusion, Little B quickly wiped the tears off his cheeks.

“Man do not cry! Father says so,” he told himself as he waited.

Little B waited till his father returned, but he did not say a word as he watched his father work. He did not mutter, or grumble. He did not even raise his hand when he got thirsty. Little B waited till the clock chimed at 5 p.m, when he hurriedly followed his father out of the office, ready to head home.

It was not till they reached the floo network that his father saw him and muttered, “Ah, at least you are smart enough to tag along. I would have left you behind if you have not.”

Those words left a sting in his little heart. Did his father actually forget about him?

Little B did not say anything as he hurried into the chimney, next to his father, and held on to his father’s cloak.

Moments later, they had arrived home, and before he could speak, his father waved him away.

Little B retreated to his room, changed into a new set of clothes and sat on his bed, waiting to be called for dinner. And then the knock on the door came.

“Dinner time Little B,” his old and fragile house elf said.

Little B then smiled to himself. Maybe at dinner time, he could talk to his father and say he was sorry, then his father would not be angry with him anymore. With hope, Little B hurried to the dinner table and waited.

After all the food was served, Little B waited for his father to join him, but his father never came.

“Is father coming for dinner?” Little B asked the house elf, but the house elf shook his head sympathetically at him.

Unwillingly, he waited no longer and finished up his meal. He then let the house elf help him in the shower, and get ready for bed. But just as he was about to tuck himself in, his house elf came with a parcel in hand.

“From your mother,” he said, and then he left.

Little B excitedly ripped it open to find a color changing quill and a letter attached to it. He may not be very good at reading, but he knew his mother’s letter would not be hard.

‘ Happy Birthday Little B!

You are mommy’s big boy now! How is it like being three years old?

Mommy is really sorry. Mommy wish she could be there to blow the candles off your cake with you, but your aunt is very very ill.

You must hang in there Little B. Mommy will be back soon, and then mommy can continue your favourite bedtime story about Little Barty!

I hope you like your present. You can draw a picture for mommy with it!

I love you Little B. So so much! ‘

“There’s no cake, mommy,” Little B said in response to the letter.

And then folding the letter, he slid it under his pillow and rested his small head.

Pulling up the blankets to his chest, Little B recited, “There was once a boy named Barty Junior. He was a very happy boy. His mommy loved him so much, and his daddy too. His daddy was an important man, that was why he can’t take Barty to the park. But Barty don’t have to worry, cause he has his beautiful mommy to take him. Barty loves his mommy, and his daddy. And Barty will always be a happy little boy…”

His Only Way Out

BAM! His room door slammed open.

“Mother is calling you down for tea,” his older brother said, chuckling at the decorations in his room.

“Come on, you can’t possibly be competing we me Reggie,” his brother continued.

“There’s no competition. If you can put up your Gryffindor banners, why can’t I put up my Slytherin ones?” Reggie said as he jumped onto his bed, ready to place a huge green and silver banner on the wall.

His brother simply laughed and headed to his desk. “Don’t touch my things!” Reggie said immediately.

“Relax, I just find this scrapbook interesting.”

From the corner of his eye, Reggie watched his brother flipped the book open, and the playful smile on his face immediately disappeared.

“You can’t be serious. A scrapbook on him?!”

Reggie simply shrug as he finally got the banner to stick on the wall.

“You’re like a stalker you know that,” his brother added.

“I’m not stalking. It’s all over the newspapers. I just cut em’ out so I know where he is and what he’s doing. I even showed mother and-“

“Of course you showed mother. She’s stalking him too!” his brother interrupted. And the tone of his voice was in no joking manner.

“No she’s not. She says it’s good to know as much about him as possible, if I want to be a death eater one day.”

“Don’t tell me you’re still going about that death eater thing.” His brother shook his head.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Reggie asked.

“Because he kills people Reg. What’s wrong with you?!” His brother was angry again. He was always angry whenever they spoke of the Dark Lord.

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Reggie spat as he yanked his scrapbook from under his brother’s hand.

“I’m just trying to help you understand Reg. Stop being so stupid!”

“I’m stupid? Well, if I’m stupid, then you’re dishonorable! Not only to our parents but to our entire family! If you keep this up, father will disown you.” Reggie was furious. How dare he call him stupid.

“I don’t care if I’m disowned! I don’t care if they burn my picture on our family tree!” His brother pointed at the embroidered family tree, on the wall across his room door. “I just don’t want to see my brother get hurt!”

“Don’t worry, I know how to take care of myself.” Reggie narrowed his eyes at his brother before he headed for his room door. He had enough. He didn’t want to argue with his brother who didn’t understand.

“Fine! But remember this, once you’re in, you cant get out. He’ll kill you if you try!” his brother shouted as Reggie stormed down the stairs.

Reggie was no longer in the mood for tea, but he wasn’t going to stay in the same room as his brother. What did his brother know anyway? He was a dishonor to their family, and a stupid Gryffindor on top of that.

Reggie was about to enter the living room when he heard another voice calling to him. It was not his brother’s, but it was familiar all together. Reggie stood on the spot, trying to figure out who it was. And when he did, he saw the house elf he always called friend, standing in front of him, in a blur.

“Master! Master! You must wake up!” the house elf shouted in fear, as the heads of the flesh-less inferi could be seen bobbing in the dark waters towards them.

“Kreacher,” he croaked, trying to sit up.

“Master Regulus! Let’s go!”

“What did I tell you Kreacher?!”

“But Kreacher can’t leave. Kreacher can’t leave master!” Kreacher had tears streaming from his big tennis ball like eyes, as he clutched onto the locket tightly.

“Kreacher, you must!”

“But master-“

“NO BUTS KREACHER!” Regulus took the house elf by the shoulders and shook him.

“Mas-mas-master,” Kreacher chocked as he sobbed.

“You have been a good friend Kreacher, but now, you have to be a good servant and leave. Do not let him find you and destroy that locket!” Regulus ordered.

“You have been a good friend too Master Regulus. And Kreacher will try,” Kreacher said with a firm nod. But before he left, he wrapped his arms around Regulus, and Regulus weakly returned it.

Moments later, there was a pop and he was alone. Alone on the island where he was sure he was going to die.

As the burning sensation in his chest started to rise to his throat, Regulus forced his weak body towards the edge of the man made island.

With his hands cupped, he hoped to have a last quench at thirst, but as he dipped his hands into the icy cold water, bony fingers grabbed onto his wrists and pulled him in.

Into the dark waters, he felt them wrap their skeletal bodies around him. The inferi weren’t strong, but they were many. As his vision plummeted into darkness, the last sensation of cold water down his throat was the sign of his impending death.

In was through the relief of pain that he remembered his brother’s words. He was right all along. And he should have listened. He was indeed stupid. How he wished he could turn back time and tell his eleven year old self to take heed of Sirius’ words. Now it’s too late. He was already in, and the only way out was through death.

(On life and stuff requested a story on Regulus Black, you can request yours too in the comments below!)