Lily Evans and the Marauder's Secrets

Chapter 18: Midnight Sandwiches

Author's Note: Read [bracketed] text as struck-through :)

***

A painting of a bowl of fruit hangs on the wall in front of us.

I'd followed Potter back down two flights of stairs, ducked behind one tapestry to hide from Filch (even through as Heads we're technically allowed out past curfew if we have rounds, it felt silly to test that rule THIS late in the night), and took a corridor off the Entrance Hall that seemed to burrow into the ground under the school.

And now, the bowl of fruit.

I watch in scandalized disbelief as Potter reaches out with a finger and tickles the pear, which giggles and squirms and turns into a large green doorknob. Potter takes it confidently, and when he turns it, the whole painting swings out.

I raise my eyebrows, but he just says, "C'mon," and slips inside, leaving me no choice but to follow.

Inside, I find a large room, stretching away into darkness. The only source of light is from the low-burning fire in a huge stone fireplace off to the left, faintly illuminating many clean wooden tables lining the walls, stacks of gleaming silver pots and pans, and, just on the edge to the firelight, four long tables identical to the House tables upstairs in the Great Hall. The whole place smells like wood smoke and butter and yeast and warmth.

"Welcome to the kitchens," Potter says, sweeping a hand out at the room.

"How in the name of Merlin do you...?" I shake my head. "You know what? Never mind. I shouldn't even be surprised, with all the things you get up to. Of course you'd know how to break into the kitchens. Of course."

"Who is in the kitchens so late at night?" The sudden voice makes me jump. A light appears at the far end of the room, bobbing and weaving through the tables and large mixing bowls. It hovers along much lower than it should, maybe around knee-height. "No one is supposed to be in here, no one excepting Noddy and the other house-elves... oh! Mister Potter!" The light stops just a few feet in front of us and now I see it's being carried by a house-elf, dressed for bed in a white pillowcase stamped with the Hogwarts crest and an orange tea cozy for a night hat. "I has not been seeing you for a while!" The elf squeaks, bowing to Potter, holding the candle out to the side. Then he looks at me with large brown eyes. "And Miss Evans!"

I start. "Have we met?"

The little elf looks affronted, eyes going, if possible, even wider than they naturally are. "I should think not. Noddy is most careful to go unseen by the students. 'Tis a mark of a good house-elf: unseen and unheard."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't mean to imply you're a bad house-elf. I only meant - how do you know who I am?"

"We house-elves know all the students," Noddy says sniffily. "But even if we didn't, Noddy would know you, miss! You is the Head Girl, you is. And Noddy is hearing much of the staff talk about you often."

"Oh," I say, unsure how I feel to know the staff talk about me enough this house-elf has heard them gossiping. "All good things, I hope," I say.

Noddy bobs his head. "Yes, miss, all good things." Then his nose reddens in a kind of blush. "Well, mostly good things. Noddy – ahh – shouldn't be saying more, but it wouldn't be all truthful to say all good things. One professor..." he trails off, twisting the corner of his pillowcase.

"It was Professor McGonagall, wasn't it?"

Noddy says nothing, his eyes darting to Potter for help.

I smirk. "I knew it."

"But what is you doing here so late?" Noddy asks again, returning to his original query.