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The House Elf Placement Agency


“Welcome to the House Elf Placement Agency!” the witch at the reception desk was bright-eyed and cheerful. She grinned as Remus and Lyall Lupin stepped through the door, a little bell jingling overhead. “How can we help you?” She tilted her head to one side, her smile still ridiculously large.

Remus pulled Lyall along up to the desk. “We would like to get a House Elf, please,” he said.

“We’re just looking at a house elf,” corrected Lyall. He looked at the receptionist. “We’re only looking today.”

The receptionist kept her smile firmly in place and reached to a stack of papers in the corner of her desk, shuffling about through them until she’d found the form she was looking for. She drew one out of the stack and placed it onto the counter in front of herself, along with a long red quill and ink pot. “There we are,” she said, “Just fill out this form and turn it in and I’ll be able to help you further from there.”

“Thanks,” Remus said, taking the form, quill, and ink pot.

They sat at a little table across the room from her, by the windows that looked out over Diagon Alley. Witches and wizards were scurrying about the little alley, collecting all of the things they needed for the new term at Hogwarts, which would be starting in just a week. Remus couldn’t believe how quickly the end of the summer had come - it had been a flash ever since James and Sirius had come by the Lupin’s house. He’d heard from James a couple times - with little notes scribbled in the margins from Sirius - and gone through the July and August full moon cycles without any problems, still cleaning the house and feeding Lyall.

As they filled out the form, Remus said, “Look, dad, I know you don’t want a house elf, but I think it’ll be mighty good for you. And all the galleons you’re saving from not having to buy muggle pub chicken will help to pay the agency.” He’d been begging Lyall to agree to the idea of a house elf since he’d returned from the July full moon to find a couple new containers from the muggle pub, purchased because he’d managed to burn the stewpot that Remus had prepared for him.

Lyall sighed, “I know… I know.” Lyall looked at his hands as Remus’s quill scratched across the page. “I feel like I’m… replacing her.”

“Replacing Mom? With a house elf? You aren’t!” Remus said, shaking his head, “And she would agree with me if she was here. She’d want to know you were being taken care of. And seeing as I’m not always going to be home to do it… well, the elf is the best option for it.”

Lyall nodded.

“Do you want a boy elf or a girl elf?” he asked, looking at the form.

Lyall shook his head, “I don’t want an elf at all.”

“Dad, we’ve been over this,” Remus said patiently.

Lyall sighed,”I’m only looking. I’m not getting the elf today.”

“Okay so do you want to look at a boy elf or a girl elf, dad? It’s not that hard a question…” Remus’s voice was pleading.

“There’s no preference,” Lyall said shortly.

“Alright…” Remus continued on filling out the form. Finally, he got up and went back up to the receptionist. “Here’s our form, filled out”

“Hmm, let’s see, who would be a good fit for you,” she murmured, and she rubbed her chin, and looked over the form for a long moment. Then she waved her wand so that it flew off and filed itself in a great big drawer across the room before looking the two of them over for a moment before getting up and going over to pull a drawer and waved her wand again. Papers flew in and out of order, flashing photos of elves at her quickly, and she would murmur little things about each. “Oh no - most definitely not - perhaps, but let’s keep looking - she’s been placed already, hmm.. Perspective masters… maybe… Oh! But yes, of course.” She caught one of the pages up from the drawer, a smile upon her face. “Here we are. Yes, this is perfect.” She looked over at Remus and Lyall. “Come with me,” she said, and waved them to follow her behind the desk to a little room.

Lyall and Remus followed uncertainly.

“Tizzy!” she called when they’d stepped into the room.

There was a crack and the tiniest elf that Remus had ever seen appeared. If she was even a foot tall he would have been quite surprised to hear it. She wore a little toga ‘round herself and her ears were nearly as big as she was tall. “Tizzy,” said the receptionist, “I believe I have found you a house to serve.”

Tizzy’s long ears twitched with excitement and she looked up at Remus and Lyall with an expression close to euphoria, her little fingers clutching her lower jaw. She quickly swept her ears about herself, dropping into a low and wobbly bow. “Tizzy is at your service,” she squeaked in an itty bitty voice that was something like the tinkling of a bell. “Tizzy is pleased to is be having masters to serve at last! Tizzy is been dreaming of the day for such a lot of days!” She raised herself up and clutched her fingers together, “And masters is looking so nice!!! You is good wizards, Tizzy can tell! Tizzy can tell!” She nodded happily.

The receptionist smiled at Remus and Lyall. “Tizzy, this is Remus and Lyall Lupin.”

Remus looked up at Lyall, whose eyes had softened from the stubborn look he’d worn all the way to the Elf Placement Agency office. Remus smirked as Lyall knelt down and held out a hand to Tizzy. “Hullo,” he said to her, seeming rather transfixed by the itty bitty elf.

Tizzy looked positively delighted, “Master is shaking Tizzy’s hand!!” she squealed with excitement and quickly rushed up and grabbed onto Lyall’s index finger with both her hands and shook ecstatically. “Tizzy is to be taking good care of you! Tizzy is very, very good at making biscuits. Does Master Lyall like biscuits with his tea??”

“Very much,” Lyall said, nodding.

“Oh then Tizzy will make Master so many biscuits in so many flavors!” she squealed with excitement. “Tizzy can make stew and roast and warm bread and Tizzy is good at cleaning and soaking and scrubbing and Tizzy is so very, very good at sewing and --”

As Tizzy listed all her myriad of skills as an elf, Lyall’s eyes widened and a smile grew on his face, as he nodded and listened very intently to the elf’s unending prattling. The receptionist looked at Remus, “What do you think?” she asked.

“I don’t think he’s just looking anymore,” Remus replied, and he handed her the little pouch of galleons they’d just withdrawn from Gringott’s.




James sighed as Sirius continued to go on about Kreacher having gone through his things. “I made him put the letters back,” he said, “And I know the one on top was one from Lilly, so I don’t think Kreacher saw anything worth reporting back before I caught him. I commanded him not to touch them again so he can’t very well go looking through them again, so I think we’re okay but still, just in case, ought’nt we tell your parents?”

James shook his head, “For the hundredth time, Sirius, no! Everything is fine! Mum said that nobody can get on the property unless the Secret Keeper tells them where it is. So even if you went and you told them yourself where it is, it doesn’t matter ‘cos you aren’t the secret keeper. Bloody hell, I thought you knew how this Fidelus thing worked?”

“I do, I just - what if they find some way? What if - I dunno - what if they come and they stand outside and they wait until the Secret Keeper does come? Who is the Keeper anyway?”

James shrugged, “I dunno! Whoever wrote the note that mum has is, but I dunno who it ruddy is. Only my dad knows and he’s forbidden to tell anyone - even mom! Even Dumbledore doesn’t know!” James paused, “Honestly, though, between you and I, I’m pretty sure it’s Kingsley Shacklebolt.”

Sirius sighed. “I just don’t like it that Kreacher was going through my stuff.”

“Yeah I’m sure not!” James said, “I wouldn’t either. But we’re safe here, Sirius, nothing can come get us on the property.”

Sirius nodded, “Alright. I’ll calm down. I’m sorry, I’m just worried. I dunno what they’ve been saying but I’ve had a weird feeling all summer about it. Mum and Dad obviously were talking something about it because Regulus asked me about if I was still mates with you or not and he seemed really interested in it. Then I saw Dad looking at Diagon Alley --”

“He could’ve been looking for anything…”

“He was looking for me, James,” Sirius said, “And if Abraxas Malfoy and Fenrir Greyback are looking for your dad for the Dark Lord, then I promise you so is Orion Black. So is Walburga Black. And they’re lucky because unlike Malfoy and Greyback, they have an inside line that could potentially lead them directly to your door step. Me.”

James sighed.

“It’s true. There’s got to be a reason they were willing to let me back in the house after what I did at the hoildays,” Sirius said.

“Maybe because you’re their son??” James said.

Sirius snorted, “I haven’t been their bloody son in two years, James. The moment the hat yelled Gryffindor I was dead to them.”

James rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, staring carefully at the book on his lap, not knowing how to address the words Sirius had just said.

Sirius clearly understood James’s sentiment, and he looked at his own book for a few minutes, letting the moment pass. After a long moment, Sirius said, “Can you believe we’re about to start our third year already?”

“Not at all,” James replied, shaking his head. “It’s gone like a lightning bolt.”

“It certainly has,” Sirius said.

James tossed the book onto the floor. “I’ve read Fantastic Beasts like a hundred times,” he said, “When I was a child,” he added pointedly. “Why are they bloody assigning it to third years?”

Sirius shrugged, “Dunno. Maybe we’ll get to see an Ashwinder, though, wouldn’t that be brilliant?”

“Yeah, it would be kind of cool to see some of the creatures in the book, but they would never bring the really cool ones to school ‘cos they’re so dangerous,” he said the word in a sort of mocking tone, with a roll of his eyes.

“Dunno if Dumbledore knows the meaning of the word dangerous, does he?” Sirius laughed.

“Doesn’t seem to,” said James, smirking.

“Judging by the look of him, Kettleburn doesn’t seem to, either,” said Sirius.

James snorted.

“It’ll be bang-on to have other classes anyway,” Sirius said. He pushed James’s Divination book off his lap and grabbed the new Defense Against the Dark Arts volume. “I suppose Professor Blythe won’t be back after… you know… Derek.”

James shook his head, “I doubt it.”

“Wonder who this year’s teacher will be?” Sirius murmured, flipping through the pages of the book.

James shrugged.

“We’ve got to finish the ruddy map, too,” Sirius said.

“Absolutely,” James agreed. “If we wait too long, it’ll be no use.”

“It’s our greatest priority!” Sirius nodded.

“After becoming animaguses, that is,” James said with a smirk.

“Yes!” Sirius agreed. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll get Remus to help us and it’ll be ruddy brilliant.”

“Ruddy brilliant,” echoed James.




Mrs. Potter set a lovely picnic table for the last night of summer. The long table was surrounded by several members of the Resistance - Charlus’s greatest friends among them - and coated in a grand assortment of chicken, roast vegetables, and pasties. Dora ran about, waving her wand at the various bowls and platters to serve each of her guests, her hands running over James’s shoulders as she passed him by. She bent forward and kissed the top of his head as he excitedly yelled about quidditch to Sirius, boasting of his grand plans for the coming term.

The fairy lights over the table were strung tree to tree and mirrored in the bowl of pumpkin juice. A breeze moved through the trees, rustling the leaves, and James and Sirius had chosen a selection of records to play through the chronograph over the party, the great horn echoing out over the party, mingling with the crickets and the bullfrogs and the laughter.

Charlus was raising a cup of mead, smiling at Ted and Andromeda Tonks while Kingsley Shacklebolt had his arm over the shoulders of the auror Alastor Moody. Sirius was shaking a toy hippogriff over the little bassinet that held baby Nymphadora while he listened to James prattle on and Minerva McGonagall talked with Fabian and Gideon Prewett, whose names the boys recognized from the pages in the Trophy Room passageway walls.

It was nearing ten o’clock at night when Charlus stood up, raising his glass and tapping it with his fork to gather the attention of the others at the table. Everyone looked up at him and Dora sent a spell to the record player, stopping the music. “Here we are,” Charlus said, “A great lot of nutters trying to stand up to dark forces… and the effects of too much mead.”

“There’s never too much!” cackled Alastor Moody, waving his cup to the air.

Kingsley Shacklebolt chuckled and took the cup. “Perhaps there is, Alastor,” he said, grinning.

Charlus smiled, “Don’t worry, I won’t go on and on, I’ll let you lot get back to your conversations, but I was sitting here and looking about at you all, and I realized something… Moments like this, these are what we’re fighting for. We’re fighting a darkness that wants to put an end to love that produces things as beautiful as that --” he waved a palm to the baby at the end of the table, to James and Sirius and the little toy hippogriff. Charlus shook his head, “That ol’ devil… he doesn’t understand that. He never could. But we do, and that’s what makes us strong.”

“TO BLOODY LOVE!” shouted the intoxicated Moody.

Kingsley snickered, “And vigilance.”

“CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” Moody added.

Even James and Sirius had a good laugh on that… and soon they were in James’s bedroom, kneeling on the bed and doing impressions of the auror, long after having been herded to bed by Dora Potter because next morning they’d be on their way to the Express… to Hogwarts.