Midnight Snack

Making sure the girls are sound asleep, Rowan slips off to the bathroom to teleport away. Opening her eyes, she alertly scans the hallway at the bottom of the grand staircase. She shivers and tugs her thick bedrobe tighter around herself. The passageway is a broad stone corridor, brightly lit with torches, and decorated with cheerful paintings that mainly display food.

Early on, Rowan had somewhat recalled the route to the kitchen. She had gotten lost a couple of times until she found the right path. Though she had found the correct path to the kitchens, she hadn't actually had an opportunity to visit. However, she was starving! In a loud emphasis of agreement, her stomach loudly growled with hunger.

Hurrying down the hallway, Rowan stops at a painting of a gigantic silver fruit bowl. She gently stretched out her forefinger and tickled the huge green pear in the painting. The pear began to squirm, chuckling childishly until a large green door handle finally appeared. She seized the handle and pulled the door open wide enough to step inside.

The door swung shut gently behind her as Rowan gawked at the view. There is an enormous, high-ceiling room even higher than the Great Hall. There are countless mounds of glittering brass pots and pans heaped around the stone walls, and a great brick fireplace at the other end.

Instead of an enchanted ceiling showing the sky, there are four empty tables positioned exactly beneath the four House tables above in the Great Hall. At the moment, the kitchen tables are clear of food, but the kitchen tables are jointly connected to those in the Great Hall. The dishes are sent up through the ceiling to their counterparts above. The kitchen is neat and tidy without a dirty dish or crumb in sight.

Delighted at the scene Rowan almost fails to spot the hundreds of tiny house elves staring back at her. They all happily beam at her, bowing and curtsying. "I had forgotten all about them," she embarrassingly thought to herself.

All the Hogwarts house elves wear tea towels stamped with the Hogwarts crest which are tied around them like togas. Some wear shorts or skirts others have on mismatching socks, small hats, and an assortment of items to make themselves their strange little suits.

Seeing them still bowing and scarping Rowan tactfully decides to get to the point. "Er, if it isn't too much trouble to ask might I be able to borrow available ingredients and use of the kitchen?"

The house elves look visibly stunned and horrified at the mere suggestion.

"We are here to serve," piped up in protest, a tiny female house elf with blue, watery eyes.

"Yes, but I am not certain if you are all familiar with the dish I will request," Rowan tried to say, failing miserably to sound sympathetic. "I mean no insult."

The house elves look largely affronted still, but the water-eyed female tugs nervously on other large bat-like ears. The pink bow in her hair flutters as her long nose nervously twitches. "Er, I suppose just this once it might be fine."

"Thank thee kindly, my dear," Rowan sighed in relief as she proceeded to roll up her sleeves. "If you would direct me in the right direction, I would greatly appreciate it." She paused to add almost as an afterthought. "And might I have the pleasure of learning your name?"

The house elves startle at the question as they are largely taken for granted. Most of the students that sneak down into the kitchens never ask for their names. There are exceptions but they are largely taken for granted even by the professors.

"Toppy, Miss," the watery-eyed female house elf squeaked breathlessly and bowed until her long, thin nose nearly touched the stone floor.

"Yes, well, thank you, Topsy," Rowan said allowing herself to be led to the oven. She smoothly requests a list of ingredients which are swiftly collected by a swarm of house elves.

Before Rowan can use the nearby chopping board and knight, one of the house elves panics. "Please you mustn't. We can do that!"

Rowan stopped at witnessing the utterly horrified and rather distressed expressions on the house elves face. Tactfully taking a step back, she pointedly says, "Alright, I am more than willing to give cooking instructions. However, I will step in to show you if there is a mistake. I won't accept any subpar results."

The house elves happily accept the terms as Rowan proceeds to slowly and clearly instruct the house elves on how to prepare and cook the meal. Overall, the house elves did an excellent job, but in the end, Rowan was forced to fry the food in the pan as the elves were not able to properly toss and swish the food in the round deep pan.

The house elves watch with rapt anew as Rowan manually and rather expertly fries the food. A wonderful scent begins to waft through the air as the meat glistens and the vegetables glitter. The mouth-watering scent even causes the elves to swallow their drool.

Once finished, Rowan carefully sets the pan on the counter. The house elves flinch a little feeling they had failed in their task to serve. Feeling rather ashamed, they don't even let out a squeak at Rowan serving herself a plate of food.

With a plate full of food, Rowan kindly invites them to join her. "Please have a taste and let me know, what you think?"

The house elves all share a wry glance at the unusual request. After fidgeting for a moment or two, the house elves are unable to resist. The house elves fill with delight as they each take a spoonful of food. They had never tasted vegetables or beef cooked in such a manner. Moreover, the (Chinese) spices used were almost wholly unknown to them.

A male elf with rather pointed ears excitedly licks his spoon clean. "This is most excellent! May we use this recipe, Miss?"

"Actually, I was wondering if we could make a deal," Rowan swallowed a mouthful of food. "By the way what is your name?"

"Habbey, Miss," the male house elf joyfully replied as his wing-like ears eagerly quivered in delight.

Ignoring the fact that his ears reminded her of a certain fictional flying elephant, Rowan carefully says, "I will gladly come down here at least once a week to teach all of you new recipes. However, in exchange, I would be delighted to see a few of these new menu items at lunch or dinner."

The house elves glance at each other before nodding firmly in agreement. "We only live to serve, Miss," Habbey resolutely answered with the other house elves squeaking firmly in agreement.

"Excellent, then I shall say out loud a couple of recipes down that don't require my being here," Rowan said. "Now if someone would just jot them down while I eat that would be great."

A few house elves rush off and soon between mouthfuls, Rowan describes on how to make a tres leches cake, risotto, pizza with a soft, thick crust, vegetable curry, and spaghetti with rich sauce and meatballs. The house elves are in awe as they crane over each other's shoulders to memorize the new recipes.

Seeing their enthusiasm, Rowan carefully suggests, "Seeing your fervor, might I suggest that one or two of you go and speak to Headmaster Dumbledore? I am certain he would be more than willing to grant all of you one day off per month and a galleon per week for your own personal use."

The house elves instantly take a step back and eye Rowan warily in utter mortification.

"Please don't misinterpret my words," Rowan hastily explained. "It is all to help you to better the art of service. The money is to be used to purchase ingredients or spices that may not be readily available including a suggested list of cookbooks to better thine knowledge. And as for the day off, well, how can you compare your level of service without tasting the works of other competitors?! I don't offer freedom, but the prospect of how to better thy service skills!"

The house elves seem utterly shocked as if the idea had never occurred to them. The idea is simply mind-blowing to them. Had they really been left behind and were no longer able to properly service their masters? The very thought caused their bodies to shake with fear as for the first time in their lives real curiosity and interest are born all in the name of improving their art of service.

"I mean, that's what all the muggle butlers do," Rowan persuasively said. "Not only are they dressed impeccably, but they train for years in every art to master the art of perfect service. Surely, you aren't any less capable, are you?"

"But we only live to serve!" Toppy protest in indignation echoed by the outraged cries of the other house elves.

"Exactly, it is a new age, and you simply cannot be content to remain as in the past or else you will be left behind," Rowan passionately argued. "To better serve as house elves, you must all up your art of service so to speak."

The house elves whisper in fervent undertones until they finally come to a determined conclusion. They all push Habbey forward, who stumbled to the front. He straightened up with a somewhat pale, sickly expression, "We have considered thy argument and, we have concluded that we can only ask for two silvers per month."

Habbey shuddered violently at the mention of money as do the other house elves. "Though we shall abide to take one day off per month in shifts," Habbey muttered.

"Most excellent," Rowan said with a slightly devilish smile. All the while darkly thinking, "That ought to stump, the old goat!"

With a content sigh, Rowan licks her lips clean and pats her full belly. "Well, I best be going," she said and rose to her feet only to find a crowd of house elves surge forward with cream cakes and pies.

"Goodness, no, I just ate," Rowan firmly refused and began to look a little green at the sight of so much food. "But I look forward to seeing you all sooner rather than later."

"We shan't fail to serve!" The house elves proudly chorused.

Waving goodbye, Rowan exits the kitchen into the brightly lit hallway. Once out, she teleports back to the girl's bathroom. With a happy sigh and a full tummy, she snuggles up in her bed. Because sometimes, the best kind of food is a late-night snack. And with that last happy thought, she fell sound asleep.