Hokey's Funeral

As April arrived, Hogwarts received more and more rain and sunshine, and the leaves in the forest turned emerald green, glossy as if they were shimmering with water.

Easter Holiday is not easy. Third graders have never done so much homework. It seems that the professors are starting the prelude to final exam review. All the knowledge of the whole year has been crammed into the Easter Holiday homework, even more than during the Christmas break.

"You call this a holiday?!"

One day after lunch Seamus Finnigan yelled in the Common Room, "The exams are still a long way off, what are they doing?"

Nobody paid him any attention. Compared to Seamus Finnigan, who hadn't attended Quidditch Teaching Class and wasn't Quidditch player, everyone else was far busier.

The Quidditch final was scheduled for the first Saturday after the Easter Holiday, and Harry and Ron had to squeeze in homework in between their daily Quidditch practice, not to mention their endless tactical discussions with Wood, even though they seemed to enjoy it.

Oliver Wood, the Quidditch captain of Gryffindor, is about to graduate, while Marcus Flint, the Quidditch captain of Slytherin, has already repeated a year. Predictably, this will be the last battle between these two old rivals.

Slytherin once had a glorious era, Gryffindor has been unparalleled in recent years. For the older generations of young wizards, this competition will mark the end of their era. Regardless of the outcome, the future of the house will be entrusted to the next generation of young wizards.

Even Percy seemed to have a similar idea. Every night, when Wood and the other players discussed tactics in the Common Room, he would always ask the people playing Exploding Snap to stay away.

In everyone's memory, no match has ever begun in such an atmosphere of anticipation and tension.

Hearing Seamus's complaint, Loren yawned lazily and continued flipping through the thick book in his hands—"Psychological Study of House-elves."

He also had similar books on hand, such as "Pet or Slave" and "History of House-elf Domestication".

These were the books Hermione had asked him to help her look through. Of all the third-year wizards, none were as busy as Hermione, even though she had dropped out of Divination Class and Muggle Studies, she still had a lot of classes.

The complex Arithmancy, and the obscure Ancient Rune, occupied her main focus.

In addition to her studies, she often discussed grand topics with Professor Bubage, such as the harmonious coexistence of Muggle and wizards, and the future development of the two societies...

Recently, the topic of House-elf -House-elf has been added, which has led to discussions about other non-human intelligent races, such as fairies, giants, Veela, Centaur, Unicorn, Vampire, Werewolf, Mermaid, and even Acromantula...

Inspired by Hermione, Loren discovers that the social reality of the Wizarding World is more complex than he imagined. The differences in interests among various parties are not only due to the different wizarding classes, but also to dozens of races with independent intelligence and humans, who are further divided into wizards and Muggle.

Wizards are further divided into Pure-blood, Half-blood, etc.

Loren increasingly believes that a massive war will ensue in the future, not just between wizards and Muggle, but also between humans and other intelligent beings. The world is like a pressure cooker that is gradually boiling over, and the tentacles of Muggle society are constantly reaching into what was once a mysterious territory, as if adding pressure to the cooker, which will inevitably explode and cause chaos sooner or later.

But that would be hundreds of years from now, and it's none of his business anyway.

Loren turned the page and saw this passage in the upper left corner. A strange look appeared in his eyes. "In the 18th century, a House-elf once proposed from the perspective of House-elf that if a wizard master wanted to punish House-elf, he should choose the cruelest punishment. When the wizard master could no longer bear his own cruelty, he would understand the House-elf."

"This is absolutely insane! It sounds like someone is letting you get beaten up, and then they'll stop when they get tired!"

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed tightly as she listened, and she even put down the Professor Bubage's Travel Notes she was reading. "I simply can't believe that any living being would have such an idea?"

"Hermione, should we write this down in your notebook?" Loren asked.

Hermione hesitated for a moment. "Yes, we'll go find Professor Dumbledore once we've collected enough cases, and ask if there's anything that can help Hokey."

Loren nodded noncommittally, tapped the page with his wand, and used Reparation Charm to leave an identical page in place. He then flattened the page onto the notebook, cast a Sticking Charm, and a page of the notebook was done.

By the time Loren finished reading "Psychological Study of House-elves," Hermione's notebook was mostly covered in glue.

The House-elf featured in this book are all psychologically twisted, but according to the author's preface, these twisted mindsets are not uncommon among House-elf. With just a hint, even if they have never been exposed to similar ideas before, House-elf can quickly become die-hard followers of these ideas.

Harry and Ron came over a few times along the way to borrow Potions Master homework for reference. Later on, they stopped pretending and sat opposite Loren and Hermione, openly copying the homework.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, the sunlight had already dimmed. Prefect Percy returned from outside and walked seriously toward the four people sitting together. "Hermione Granger, Professor McGonagall asked me to tell you that Headmaster Dumbledore is looking for you and needs you to go to the Headmaster's office."

The four of them looked up at him, bewildered.

Percy paused, then looked at the other three. "Professor McGonagall instructed that you can go as well. Today's password is Edinburgh Rock, so hurry up."

The four hurriedly arrived at the monster statue, said the command, and rode up the spiral staircase.

Ron then came to his senses and asked, puzzled, "It's a bit strange. Why did Dumbledore specifically seek out Hermione and say we could go too? I mean, it's usually Harry and Loren who are more familiar with the headmaster."

Hermione blinked thoughtfully, a hint of unease creeping into her eyes.

A minute later, the group pushed open the Oak Door to the Headmaster's office and saw Dumbledore standing by the office window. He was wearing a somber grey robe, a black turban, and a pearl brooch, and was intently looking at the grounds outside the Castle.

The Fawkes on the branch winked at the group, but no one could understand what it was trying to say.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, is that you looking for us?"

Loren noticed an ornately carved Pensieve on the desk, engraved with mysterious Runes, and next to it a small wooden box, the contents of which he wondered.

"To be precise, we need to find Hermione."

With an apologetic look in his Dumbledore turned to look at Hermione earnestly and said softly, "I'm sorry, just yesterday, Hokey passed away."

Hermione was stunned for a moment, not quite reacting.

Harry and Ron exchanged a quick glance, both wondering: Who is Hokey?

Loren glanced at the wooden box on the table a few more times, and he roughly guessed what was inside.

"I originally planned to bury her in the Smith Family Cemetery, but I heard from the people in the area that they don't have a tradition of burying House-elf. Only Hepzibah's great-grandmother once cut off the head of a House-elf and put it in her coffin..."

Dumbledore, "So I brought her ashes back, and I intend to ask Hagrid to bury her in the Forbidden Forest."

Hermione's eyes gradually focused, and she seemed to have thought of many things in an instant, her expression somewhat blank. "I... I thought I would be very sad, even cry..."

"But I'm not as sad as I thought. I've never met Hokey. Even if she stood in front of me, I wouldn't recognize her... In fact, I've hardly ever met any House-elf."

"Just a moment ago, I was thinking about saving her from Azkaban ..." Hermione's voice began to tremble with tears. "Professor, am I a hypocrite?"

Loren looked at the girl with a pang of sympathy.

She was certainly not hypocritical; she only knew the name Hokey and some of her experiences, yet she was willing to put her words into action to save a House-elf she had never seen before.

Upon suddenly learning of Hokey's death, she felt a pang of guilt because Hao Qi didn't seem particularly heartbroken, and even began to doubt herself.

If this is a hypocrite, then what about everyone else in the world?

"I don't think so..." Dumbledore said softly, patting Hermione's hair. "We can go see Hokey now, see this poor House-elf, in the memories that haven't faded yet."

Harry glanced at the Pensieve on the table and roughly understood what was going on.

"Sorry..." Ron forced himself to speak, "I still want to ask, who is Hokey?"

"This is a poor House-elf ..." Dumbledore said softly, "Her master is a very old and very wealthy Witch Hepzibah Hepzba Smith."

Dumbledore took out a small Crystal Vial containing a wisp of silvery memory smoke. He tapped the bottle with his wand, the cork flew off, and the memory swirled into the Pensieve.

"Let's begin..."

Loren and Hermione already had a general idea of what had happened, while Harry and Ron, somewhat puzzled, approached the Pensieve with skepticism and ventured into the ethereal silver ripples.

For the next half hour, Dumbledore led them into the memories of the House-elf Hokey, into the Smith House's old house.

They met Hokey, a House-elf was incredibly thin and aged, far beyond what they had ever seen in Dobby.

The old Witch Hepzibah was a very fat old woman. In Hokey's memory, she wore an exquisite ginger-yellow wig, her aged cheeks were covered with rouge, and with her bright pink robe, she looked like a melting ice cream.

All of this dressing up was for the purpose of meeting Tom Riquill, a handsome, tall young man who had just graduated, and who was elegant and polite.

He hasn't changed much since the student-era Voldemort that Harry last saw in the Pensieve.

Hepzibah, obsessed with Tom Riquill, lost his mind and showed Voldemort his treasured Slytherin's Locket and Hufflepuff's Goblet...

Seeing Voldemort greedily playing with the treasures, a terrifying red light flashing in his eyes, Ron shuddered. "My God, was he already this terrifying back then?"

"In fact, what is even more terrifying than that is his heart," Dumbledore said.

The memory that followed was even more hazy, like a distorted black and white membrane, with twisted ripples at the edges of my vision:

Two days after Voldemort left, they saw the aged Hokey add several spoonfuls of strangely colored sugar to her cocoa tea, which Hepzibah drank and died immediately...

Footsteps made a soft sound on the grass. In front of them walked an old wizard wearing a black scarf, with a burly man beside him carrying a small wooden box. Four young wizards followed behind him, and the six of them walked on the clearing at the Edge of the Forbidden Forest.

"Voldemort altered Hokey's memories, pinned the crime of killing Hepzibah on her, and took Hufflepuff's Goblet and Slytherin's Locket," Harry said angrily. "He was a bad guy from the start!"

Loren, holding the still somewhat sad Hermione's hand, didn't say anything. He didn't know Dumbledore intended to reveal to Harry; perhaps he had other plans, so it was best not to say more.

Ron kept his head down ever since he left the Castle. He seemed to be thinking about something, and he would often look at Dumbledore's back with a look of surprise and doubt, but he didn't dare to ask.

Hagrid solemnly cradled Hokey's ashes, his voice deep yet resonant. "The poor little thing reminds me of Aragog. They recently ended another hibernation. It was very old, and I know it was nearing its end..."

The four young wizards fell silent. None of them liked Aragog; Harry and Ron wished it would die sooner.

Loren even considered taking advantage of the situation, but then he remembered that Loren was Hagrid's friend and thought it wasn't a good idea.

Finally, they dug a small pit in a clearing in the Forbidden Forest and buried Hokey's ashes. According to the funeral procedure, they should have recounted Hokey's life story, praised her spirit and character, and hoped that she would find solace and quiet joy in the afterlife.

But no one spoke.

Hermione held Loren's hand, feeling a sense of peaceful tranquility in his palm, and a glimmer of light flickered in his eyes.

Hagrid diligently dug the hole and filled it with soil, a sorrowful expression on his face as he worked.

That wasn't out of sorrow for Hokey, but for Aragog was nearing the end of his life.

Professor Dumbledore's eyes showed compassion, not for Hokey, but for the many victims who had died because of Voldemort.

Harry and Ron were whispering about Horcrux. They had never heard of Hokey before, and while they felt some regret for her death and condemned Voldemort, that was all.

Loren's gaze was calmer, though he was somewhat worried about Hermione's condition.

What about yourself?

Hermione asked herself silently.