LeadVOnEDodging Prison & Stealing Witches
Book 3 - Nature Red in Cloak and Dagger
Ch.50 - Soul Anchors - Part 3
The gates of Hogwarts stand tall and strong, suffused with magic and strong enough to hold back a small army of sword-wielding goblins, wand-wielding wizards, or muggles wielding whatever happens to be in fashion this century. Hand-forged from goblin silver by the Smith family some two-hundred-odd years before the great betrayal, they alone are worthy of granting Hogwarts the title of 'safest place in Magical Britain.'
The gaps between the bars are quite wide though.
In the weak dawn air of a December morning, a teenage female figure made her way down the path towards said gates. She was invisible to the casual glance, save for a faint outline in the air to mark her passage across the frost-covered lawn.
When she reached the gates, the figure whispered, "Plato!"
On the other side of the gates, Plato the house elf, wearing his Slytherin robes and crest popped into being. He looked around in puzzlement for a moment before the girl said, "Plato, it's me."
"Miss Icygrass." The elf's wide eyes focused on the spot where the invisible voice had come from. "Why is Miss calling Plato?"
"I need you to send an owl to Mister and Missus Granger. It's urgent."
"Right away, Miss. Where is the letter?"
"I haven't written it yet. It needs to come from Slytherin himself."
"Plato understands, Miss. What does the letter need to say?"
The future Lady Slytherin told him.
Plato bowed deeply and popped away.
— DP & SW: NRiCaD —
He didn't pop far. Without the call of their masters to guide them, house elf apparition was quite similar to the wizard version — ie, short-range and magically taxing. Some fifty pops later, Plato arrived on Gairsay Island, right in front of Slytherin Manor, panting heavily. He made his way through the grand ballroom, up two flights of stairs, and into his master's study. A large bookcase on the far wall was crammed with rolled up parchments.
"Master, indisposed," the elf muttered to himself as he trailed a long, bony finger along the shelves. "Plato is not liking this, no, not one bit." He found the parchment he was looking for among the collection and pulled it out. "No master is meaning no gold from sunken ship. No new gold is meaning no new house elves. No new house elves is meaning no mate for Plato. Plato is not liking to wait. Plato is wearing neat new robes like wizards now. Females be loving bad boys."