The Old Ones of Hogwarts

Chapter 73, Section 72: It Will Be a War [3rd Update]

I'm not in a good mood.

Ian walked through the corridor below the auditorium, where torches burned brightly on the walls on both sides, and the various decorative paintings depicted countless delicacies vividly.

Upon arriving in front of a giant fruit painting, Ian scratched a pear in the painting, and the pear, painted with paint, seemed ticklish and wriggled into a doorknob.

Open the door and go inside.

A room with a layout identical to the auditorium appeared before Ian's eyes. It was incredibly spacious, with various copper pots and iron cans hanging from the high ceiling.

They sway gently in the occasional breeze, making a pleasant tinkling sound.

On the enormous stone stove, the flames, under the influence of magic, automatically adjusted their size, cooking all sorts of delicious food, from traditional English breakfasts to exotic dishes.

I don't know which groups are receiving this extra meal.

"He's a first-year wizard!"

"The gentleman at the Ravenclaw table who loves steak!"

"He's so clever; he discovered Hogwarts' kitchen on the very first day!"

The room was also filled with many strange creatures, with huge ears that were disproportionate to their heads, and eyes that bulged out of their faces like frog eyes, about the size of a fist.

With pointed noses, chopstick-like hands and feet, and their signature linen clothing, they are the famous house-elves of the wizarding world, the daily losers whose minds have been magically altered for generations.

Before Ian could even greet the house-elves, a figure carrying a large basin emerged from the slaughterhouse. He was a considerable adult taller than Ian.

Ronnie Ehrlich.

Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

This is the second time Ian has encountered this professor.

Good evening, Ian.

He was carrying a basin covered with an oilcloth, which smelled fishy and foul. When he saw Ian at the front door, he actually called out Ian's name accurately.

Good evening, Professor Ehrlich.

Ian responded politely, but he was also somewhat puzzled. He had clearly seen this professor at noon...

The other party still maintained an even more aloof attitude than Snape.

Why are they suddenly so enthusiastic?

"Go back soon, curfew is coming soon. Although I completely approve of the little wizards' night outings, Administrator Filch will definitely not let you off the hook."

"Be careful, that Squib has no good intentions towards us wizards." Ronnie Ehrlich even patted Ian on the shoulder as he reached the front door, beaming with a smile and looking to be in a very good mood.

"I'll be wary of that," Ian nodded.

Ronnie Ehrlich seemed very satisfied with Ian's choice of words.

"Don't be late for Defense Against the Dark Arts class tomorrow. I've prepared some great practice tools for you."

The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher patted Ian approvingly on the head, then carried away the large basin of unidentified, foul-smelling liquid that was still oozing blood from him from the kitchen.

"Sir, what would you like to eat? Sibyl and Sibyl's companions are honored to serve you!" The house-elves only dared to approach Ian after Ronnie Ehrlich left.

"Steak, and a glass of lemonade, no honey." Ian's choice elicited cheers from the house-elf named Sibby, and several house-elves began to bustle about.

"I knew this gentleman liked steak. Sibyl is a good house-elf who knows how to observe!" The house-elf with the biggest ears is Sibyl.

He selected a large, fine fillet for Ian and began cooking it on a sizzling hot iron plate, while another house-elf respectfully handed Ian lemonade.

"That's the taste! Awesome!"

Ian's face looked slightly contorted, but his tone was one of great satisfaction.

"Lavi knows that the master loves sour lemons! Lavi is a proper little elf!" The house-elf who handed over the lemonade cheered happily.

House-elves are dedicated and wholeheartedly devoted to serving wizards from birth. They are responsible for many of the chores, tiring tasks, and dirty work at Hogwarts.

It appeared quietly.

It's disappearing quietly.

What remains are only the most perfect work results.

Many young wizards may not even notice their existence during their years of study, only hearing about how diligent and excellent the Hogwarts elves are.

In fact, it's not just these strange creatures at Hogwarts; house-elves in other places are almost all of the same kind of personality, and they regard serving their servants as an honor.

This is "code" that has been magically written into the "genes".

It was the fruit of victory reaped by the wizards after the end of the ancient war.

"Yes, it's great, I really like it." Ian gave a thumbs up, making the house-elf named Rabi hold his hands as if he was about to faint from happiness.

"Rabi was praised by the Ravenclaw master! Rabi thinks the master is such a kind little wizard!" Rabi's high-pitched voice was full of excitement.

That's just how their species is; they feel happy when praised and joyful when they work. The one Harry Potter encountered was probably a result of a genetic mutation.

"Give me another one!"

As a beneficiary of the system, Ian certainly didn't want to change anything. If the work made the house-elves happy, how could they be considered abused?

Those calls to liberate house-elves may not be a betrayal of wizards, but in Ian's view, the most likely outcome would only be another round of war.

That's just how nature works.

The top of the food chain will never allow races to coexist.

"Sir! Your steak!"

The house-elf Sibyl presented the perfectly cooked steak with exquisite plating, carefully placing the knife and fork on it, and like a precious treasure, to the table where Ian was sitting.

"Your craftsmanship is amazing!"

Ian didn't hold back his praise, giving the house-elf Sibby a thumbs up, and Sibby, like another house-elf, danced with joy.

Simple praise can make these little elves happy; often, people don't live as comfortably as they do.

"We hope you'll come again next time, sir! The rabbi is always ready to serve you!"

"The same goes for Sibyl!"

Before Ian prepared to leave.

Several little elves stood happily at the door to see him off.

"Thank you to our ancestors, thank you to the founders, thank you to Hogwarts." Ian, with the lazy gait characteristic of someone who has just eaten and drunk his fill, returned to Ravenclaw carrying Snape's notes and textbooks.

There was no one around.

A curfew has been imposed.

"I've been waiting for this opportunity all day. Now you should answer me why," the bronze eagle head on the gate asked, but didn't pose any interesting questions.

"what?"

Ian, who was prepared for a philosophical debate, was completely stunned.

"Is this a test?"

Ian tentatively probed in a low voice?

My heart was pounding.

"No, I'm just holding a grudge."

The bronze eagle head on the door knocker shook its head.

The voice remained gentle.