Behind the brick wall lay a vast chamber, and when Evan stepped inside, he was met with an astonishing sight. Before him, a colossal wall loomed, adorned with a peculiar display. Upon closer examination, he discerned that the wall was covered densely with the crumpled heads of house-elves, all sporting the same unsightly, oversized noses.
These renditions were far more lifelike than the rows of house-elf heads Evan had previously encountered at the Black family's ancestral mansion. Preserved under cryogenic enchantments, they appeared eerily lifelike, their eyes fixed indifferently on the intruders.
Many of the house-elves bore twisted smiles on their humble faces, their mouths grotesquely upturned. However, far from conveying any sense of kindness, these smiles sent shivers down one's spine.
Try to imagine the overwhelming sensory assault, shock, and pressure induced by thousands of grotesque heads piled together. Without knowledge of house-elf burial customs involving the hanging of heads on walls after death, Evan might have mistaken this place for the lair of the most malevolent dark wizard. Only psychopaths could conceive of such a macabre display.
Separated by a single wall, one side housed the Hogwarts food storage cold chamber, while the other resembled a chamber of horrors, a grotesque gallery of severed heads.
One could only wonder if students, upon witnessing this gruesome spectacle, could ever again consume the meals prepared by the house-elves.
As Evan ventured further into the room, Dobby trailed behind him. The house-elf let out a shrill squeal, covering his eyes with his right arm as he entered.
Dobby's other hand clutched Evan's coat, trembling as if gripped by terror. "Master Evan, let us retreat! This place unsettles Dobby."
"Unsettled?" Evan inquired. "Aren't house-elves known to have the tradition of decapitating themselves and hanging their heads on walls after death?"
From what he knew, most house-elves harbored this grisly inclination, much like Kreacher, whose ultimate aspiration was to sever his own head and join his ancestors adorning the walls of the old Black family estate.
"Dobby despises that tradition," the house-elf replied in a shrill voice. "Dobby does not wish for his head to be displayed here! Dobby is a free elf, and when he departs this world, he wishes to be buried like a wizard. Please, Master Evan, let us return to the house."
"Wait a moment, we should explore further," Evan said, amused by the trembling house-elf at his feet. He led Dobby past the rows of house-elf heads, wand held high as he scrutinized his surroundings.
The vast chamber exuded an eerie stillness and chill, a result, perhaps, of regular maintenance that left no trace of dust on the floor. Only the disembodied heads on the walls hung there in silent, enigmatic contemplation, each with its own peculiar expression.
Some house-elves appeared solemn, some smiled, some radiated anger, and others displayed humility.
In many respects, this chamber served as a sacred haven for Hogwarts' house-elves. The heads on the walls bore witness to the passage of time and the evolution of wizardry.
House-elves from different eras were attired differently, each bearing unique facial expressions. The ancestors of the house-elves Evan initially encountered were brimming with confidence, adorned with extravagant jewelry that seemed to exude magical power.
It was evident that during that era, house-elves were relatively affluent, amassing personal belongings and enjoying a status on par with wizards. This marked an early period in magical history, when house-elves remained free and independent, their gentle, peace-loving nature and formidable magical abilities forging a close bond with wizards. During this era, house-elves willingly accepted the employ of human wizards, serving as their magical assistants across various fields.
Evan continued his progress, his mind tracing the history of the house-elf race as recorded in books. The further he ventured, the closer he approached modern times, the more subservient the house-elf expressions became. Extravagance gave way to humility, and embellishments disappeared.
Here, house-elves were no longer a free species but rather a resource for wizards. A section of the wall featured heads of house-elves who bore incomplete or damaged visages, as if they had endured brutal abuse, their magical essence permanently scarred.
This dark era corresponded with the zenith of pure-blood supremacy and dark magic, a time when house-elves suffered relentless persecution. Even students indulged in cruelty, tormenting schoolhouse elves for sport.
The plight of house-elves mirrored that of other creatures during this period. Many non-human intelligent beings rebelled against the oppressive rule of human wizards, most notably the Goblin Rebellion, which erupted on several occasions.
The most significant uprising unfolded in 1612 when goblins transformed Hogsmeade's Tavern into their command center to wage war against the wizarding world. Initially, goblins concealed themselves behind a façade, pretending to be allies of the wizards. However, they secretly united with giants to incite chaos.
When the Ministry of Magic's forces engaged the giants in battle, the goblins betrayed the wizards. The sudden shift in allegiance left the wizards reeling, with many perishing in the conflict. Goblins swiftly seized control of the Ministry of Magic, Diagon Alley, and even targeted pure-blood wizarding families.
The most intense phase of the war centered on the siege of Hogwarts, where house-elves played a pivotal role. They were the sole non-human magical beings who did not betray the wizarding community during the Goblin Rebellion. Promises made by the Ministry of Magic and the pure-blood families of the time likely secured their allegiance. The specifics of these promises remained elusive to Evan, but the consequences were clear: the house-elves who aided the wizards during the war saw no improvement in their status; rather, they experienced harsher slavery and persecution, with no one to champion their cause.
In the eyes of goblins, these house-elves were treacherous turncoats undeserving of forgiveness, culpable for their own suffering. To human wizards, house-elves were mere possessions, personal property subject to their whims, including death, irrespective of the house-elves' self-perceptions.
Following the Goblin Rebellion, house-elves endured somber, harrowing lives. However, as the era of pure-blood supremacy and dark magic waned, their status experienced modest improvements. While they remained wizards' slaves, instances of inhumane treatment dwindled. Nevertheless, mistreatment, as evidenced by Dobby's prior ordeal at the Malfoy residence, persisted. What made this situation even more disconcerting was that both pure-blood wizards and house-elves had come to accept such treatment as the norm.
Evan harbored hope that Hermione's campaign for house-elf rights would bring about change, though he recognized the odds were slim to none.
He pressed onward for approximately five minutes, reaching the room's far end. Here, the wall no longer bore house-elf heads but instead revealed a stone staircase descending into darkness. At the foot of the stairs, a hefty iron door stood firmly shut.
"Where does this door lead?" Evan inquired, scanning his surroundings vigilantly, sensing that something was amiss.
The room was entirely clear, and only this passage extended onward. Nevertheless, Evan couldn't shake the feeling that things were not as straightforward as they appeared.
"I do not know, Mr. Evan. Dobby has never ventured here before," Dobby responded, gazing at the dimly lit tunnel with trepidation.
"We shall investigate later," Evan mused. "However, it strikes me as odd that this cold storage maintains such a low temperature, yet I sense no magical aura here. Furthermore, the temperature in this tunnel seems to be rising."
Evan shut his eyes briefly, attuning himself to the shifting magical currents in the atmosphere. He led Dobby away from the tunnel's entrance.
After a few steps, Evan halted before a row of shelves bearing the heads of mutilated and persecuted house-elves. All the heads on these shelves displayed varying degrees of organ damage, akin to Moody's scarred visage. Strangely, they were tinted with a sinister, pale blue hue, lending them an eerie countenance.
These heads, resembling desiccated corpses, glared at Evan and Dobby with bulbous, malevolent eyes, their gazes brimming with hostility. It was disconcerting to see such expressions on typically submissive creatures like house-elves. Even if their masters had taken their lives, they should not have borne such resentful countenances.
Dobby let out a wail and once again covered his eyes.
Evan, however, paid no heed. While passing by, he initially surmised that a malfunction in the embalming potion's formula might have rendered these house-elf heads grotesque. But now, it appeared that an altogether different enchantment was at play here, one that enveloped the vicinity in an eerie chill. Evan needed to exercise caution in this unfamiliar environment, considering the unknown variables at play.
With a suppressed sense of dread, he used his wand to tap the heads of the blue-hued house-elves on the shelves one by one.
"Master Evan!" Dobby cried, concerned about Evan's actions.
When Evan's wand connected with the head of the third house-elf from the left, lacking a nose, the elf's previously closed eyes snapped open. It glared at Evan with a malevolent scowl, seemingly intent on devouring him whole.
Evan instinctively stepped back, witnessing three clusters of sinister green magical flames emerge before him. As Dobby screamed, Evan swiftly lowered his head, narrowly avoiding the magical assault.
Reacting swiftly, Evan cast a protective enchantment around himself. The remaining two clusters of flames collided with his magical barrier, emitting muffled blasts.
A few seconds later, Evan rose from the ground, his heart racing as he observed the shelf before him.
He had not anticipated encountering such an ambush, and he was fortunate to have reacted quickly. One could not afford to underestimate any location.
He fortified his protective enchantment once more, resuming his efforts to uncover the mechanism. This time, fortune favored him. As his wand made contact with the head of the fourth house-elf, one missing a nose, the entire shelf shuddered and shifted to the right, revealing a concealed passage leading downward.
Dobby let out another squeal, astonished by the sudden appearance of the hidden passage.
For Evan, a seasoned explorer of Hogwarts, such discoveries were not uncommon. In the castle, any location held the potential for hidden passages, even bedrooms and the headmaster's office.
"Let's explore," Evan declared, maintaining his vigilance. He illuminated the passage with the glow of his wand and guided Dobby down the stairs.
The passage extended in both directions, the stone stairs paved with the characteristic dark stone of Hogwarts Castle. It exuded an ominous cold, seeming to absorb all available light.
The deeper they ventured, the lower the temperature plummeted. Evan noticed that each breath now formed visible white mist. The ground grew slippery, a thin layer of ice covering the surface. Under the faint wand light, everything appeared to emit a strange greenish hue—the color of frost, the domain of ice.
It was as if they had entered an isolated ice cave, with the cold from the storage chamber above being transmitted here. Evan couldn't fathom what lay beneath.
"Master Evan," Dobby stammered, "Dobby feels terribly cold, exceedingly uncomfortable."
Evan glanced down to find the house-elf trembling at his feet, curled into a ball.
After a moment's consideration, Evan gently touched his wand to both his and Dobby's heads. A soothing warmth radiated from the point of contact, akin to a stream of hot water coursing through their bodies, dispelling the surrounding chill and providing comfort to both himself and Dobby.
As the cold receded, so did the unease and fear. The dark confines of the frigid passage seemed less foreboding.
Dobby's previously contorted expression gradually smoothed out, though Evan remained vigilant.
He could sense the presence of a peculiar magical force responsible for the cold, and the diminishing temperature was a testament to its strength. Evan couldn't shake the memory of the persecuted house-elves and the apparent trap, prompting him to exercise utmost caution in this unfamiliar environment.
In the eyes of goblins, house-elves were deemed cowardly betrayers, forever unworthy of forgiveness. They bore the full brunt of blame for their brutalization and wretched lives.
To human wizards, house-elves were mere chattel, personal possessions subject to the whims of their masters, even to the extent of life or death. Their self-perception held no sway.
Following the Goblin Rebellion, the lives of house-elves became characterized by misfortune and darkness. Fortunately, with the demise of the era of pureblood supremacy and dark magic, their status witnessed modest improvement. Instances of inhumane persecution grew rarer.
Nevertheless, as evidenced by Dobby's prior mistreatment in the Malfoy household, they still suffered abuse. What made this situation even more disheartening was that pureblood wizards and house-elves had grown accustomed to such norms, taking them for granted.
Evan held hope that Hermione's Elves Advocacy would instigate change, although he harbored no illusions about the likelihood of success.
He continued to advance swiftly for about five minutes, eventually reaching the room's far end. Here, no more house-elf heads adorned the wall. Instead, a stone staircase descended downward, culminating in a heavy iron door securely sealed at its base.
"Where does this door lead?" Evan queried, his senses acutely attuned to his surroundings, an unshakeable feeling that things were not as straightforward as they appeared.
The room remained entirely unobstructed; only this passageway stretched ahead, yet an inkling of unease persisted.
"I do not know, Mr. Evan; Dobby has never ventured here before," Dobby replied, gazing at the dimly lit tunnel with awe.
"We shall investigate later," Evan suggested, but then a flicker of insight crossed his mind. "Wait a moment, considering this cold storage's ability to maintain such a low temperature, there must be magic at work here. However, I sense no magical presence. Strangely, the temperature in this tunnel appears to be rising."
Evan closed his eyes, intently feeling the shift in magical energies within the air, and guided Dobby back a few steps.
Soon, they arrived at a row of shelves brimming with the heads of mutilated and persecuted house-elves. Each head displayed varying degrees of organ loss or damage, akin to the scars on Moody's visage. What's more, they bore an eerie light blue hue, lending them a disconcerting appearance.
These heads, now resembling desiccated corpses, stared at Evan and Dobby with malevolent, bulbous eyes filled with animosity. Such expressions should have been alien to submissive creatures like house-elves, even if their masters had ended their lives.
Dobby wailed and once again covered his eyes, but Evan paid him no mind. While passing by earlier, he had attributed their grotesque appearance to issues with the embalming potion's formula. However, it was now evident that something more sinister was at play, with the rich magical presence in the vicinity suggesting a deeper mystery.
Despite his growing nausea, Evan summoned his resolve, using his wand to gently tap the heads of the blue-tinted house-elves on the shelves one by one.
"Master Evan!" Dobby looked on with concern, unsure of Evan's intent.
When Evan's wand made contact with the head of the third house-elf from the left, one lacking a nose, the elf's previously closed eyes suddenly snapped open. It glared at Evan with a malevolent scowl, as if harboring an insatiable desire to consume him.
Instinctively, Evan stepped back, witnessing three clusters of eerie green magical flames manifest before him. As Dobby screamed in terror, Evan swiftly lowered his head, narrowly evading the magical onslaught.
Reacting with haste, Evan cast a protective enchantment around himself. The remaining two clusters of flames collided with the magical barrier, emitting muffled bursts of sound.
A few seconds later, Evan rose from the ground, his heart pounding as he regarded the shelf before him. He hadn't anticipated this ambush and was fortunate to have reacted swiftly. Regardless of the location, complacency was not an option.
He fortified his protective enchantment once more, resuming his efforts to unveil the concealed mechanism. This time, fortune favored him. As his wand landed on the head of the fourth house-elf, one missing a nose, the entire shelf shuddered and slid to the right, revealing a hidden passage that led downward.
Dobby squealed in astonishment, taken aback by the sudden appearance of the secret corridor.
For Evan, a seasoned explorer of Hogwarts, such discoveries were par for the course. In the castle, every corner held the potential for hidden passages, including bedrooms and the headmaster's office.
"Let's venture forth and explore," Evan proposed, maintaining his vigilance. He increased the luminance of his wand and guided Dobby down the stairs.
The passage stretched in both directions, the stone stairs composed of the characteristic dark rock unique to Hogwarts Castle. It exuded an eerie coldness, seemingly absorbing all light.
The deeper they descended, the lower the temperature plummeted. Evan soon noticed that each exhalation produced visible white mist. The ground grew slick, a thin layer of ice covering the surface. In the faint wand light, everything bore a strange greenish hue—the color of frost, the realm of ice.
It felt as if they had entered a secluded ice cavern, with the chill from the storage chamber above extending into this subterranean passage. Evan could only wonder what lay further below.
"Master Evan," Dobby stammered, "Dobby feels terribly cold, exceedingly uncomfortable."
Evan observed the house-elf shivering at his feet, curled into a ball.
After a brief moment of contemplation, Evan gently touched his wand to both his and Dobby's heads. A soothing warmth emanated from the point of contact, akin to a stream of hot water coursing through their bodies. It dispelled the surrounding cold, bringing comfort to both himself and Dobby.
As the cold abated, so too did the unease and fear. The dark confines of the frigid passage seemed less menacing.
Dobby's previously contorted expression gradually smoothed out, yet Evan remained cautiously vigilant.
He could sense the peculiar magical force responsible for the cold, and the diminishing temperature hinted at its potent influence. Evan couldn't shake the memories of persecuted house-elves and the lurking trap, compelling him to exercise utmost care as they delved further into this unfamiliar terrain.