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"I'm going to go to the kitchen and see if there are house-elves in it, as long as I can't go to the library," says Bella. "You want to come?"

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She hesitates, then shakes her head.

"Nah, go ahead, I better unpack. And I wanna be here in case Nike shows up."
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"Okay." Bella points at Euterpe. "You be friendly with her eagle, okay?"

Euterpe whinny-hoots.

"I'm going to take that as a yes." And she's off to the kitchens.
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The kitchens are moderately difficult to locate.

They do contain elves - small large-eyed floppy-eared personlike creatures wearing a ragged but meticulously clean assortment of (sometimes not very) clothing-like items.

They also contain one human, not very much older than Bella. He glances up once when she enters the room, and then goes right back to washing dishes by hand while the elves cluster around her.

"Is miss lost?"

"Does miss want something to eat?"

"There are lots of snacks for miss if she wants them!"
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"I'm Bella," Bella tells the elves. "I don't need a snack, I just wanted to meet some elves. I've never met any before, you see, and I only found out about you a little while ago." She peers at the human, but doesn't address him.

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"Now miss has met some elves!" says an elf.

"Would miss like a snack anyway?" asks another.

"There are lots of snacks for miss," a third reminds her.

The human boy continues to wash dishes; one of the elves who is at the fringe of the Bella-centric cluster darts away to help rinse and dry.
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"I'm not hungry," says Bella. "Are you all very busy? I don't want to interrupt you if you don't have time to just talk."

"Us is kitchen elves, miss, kitchen is always busy except when it's time for sleeping," says an elf.

"Library elves," says one derisively, "sometimes have spare time."

"Oh," says Bella. "Well, all right, thank you for letting me know."

"Would miss like a snack to take to the library?" asks an elf. "There is gingersnaps and fresh potato chips!"

"...I will try a little bit of each," Bella says, tempted. "I can't go to the library, though, it's closed till tomorrow."
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"I helped with the gingersnaps," says the human, not looking up from his washing but smiling down at the dishes. The elf who's helping him gives an exaggerated sniff of disapproval, then looks up at him with a smile, as though sharing some private joke.

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Bella accepts the offered snacks in their little Chinese takeout style boxes. "You just like to cook?" she guesses. She eats a gingersnap. "They're yummy."

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"I love to cook," says the human, grinning.

"Feral Orphan comes and helps every chance he gets," says the elf who's drying dishes. "But only when he is allowed."

This is clearly another joke between them.
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"...Feral Orphan?"

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"Yep," says the human. "You can call me Feral."

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"Is this just another case of magic people naming their kids funny things, because that doesn't sound Greek or old-fashioned."

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"Nope," says Feral. "Muggle-born. The name says it all."

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"It... really doesn't," Bella says.

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"Does too," he snorts, and goes back to his dishes.

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"Well, I mean, it's a phrase, it means a thing, but it doesn't explain why you'd be named that."

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"'Cause I am one," he says. "No name, no parents, gotta have something to write on the forms."

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"And they didn't just call you the wizard equivalent of John Doe? Seriously?"

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He grins. "Well, they could've. But Feral Orphan's what they wrote down first, and I like it better."

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"You've got funny taste, Feral," laughs Bella.

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"You are not the first person to say that!" says Feral, grinning. "Now scram or start helping with dinner, we've got sh—stuff to do around here."

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Bella laughs, and she thanks the nearest elf for the snacks, and she scrams.

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