Freedom to the Oppressed

Disclaimer:See Chapter 1


Harry was woken early the next morning by hordes of tiny feet pattering along the corridor outside his room. This was soon followed by scraping and clanging sounds from the kitchen beyond, as well as mysterious little popping noises. Harry stretched his small body, yawning hugely. He hadn't had enough sleep, but was nevertheless determined to get up, incorrigible little boy that he was.

He sat up in bed, rubbing his tired eyes with the heels of his hands, and looked around the small room that he'd been given to sleep in. To him, having slept in a cupboard for every night that he could remember, it was like a palace. He swung his legs out from under the soft sheet; he was pleasantly surprised when his legs touched the floor. The bed was made for House Elves – and Harry was precisely the size of an average sized Elf.

A knock sounded faintly against the wooden door. Harry glanced up, calling 'hello' in a tired little voice. The heavy door swung open, revealing a short, slightly plump House Elf with dark hair tired back in a bun, carrying a tiny bundle in the crook of each elbow. When one of them squirmed and mewled quietly, Harry realised that they were babies.

"Good morning, Harry Potter. I is Dinky," she said, shifting one of the infants slightly. "These is Ducky and Tucky," she said, lifting each baby in turn. "I is hoping that you is all better now, and you is sleeping well."

"Yes, thank you, and you?" Harry's manners had to be impeccable. If they hadn't been, Uncle Vernon would have hit him.

"I's sleeping very well, thank you Harry Potter." She smiled warmly at him. "Well," she continued, "I will be getting Oree now, to tell her that you has awoken." She gave a little bob of her head, and turned into the corridor. She walked briskly away, expertly balancing her babies.

It wasn't long before Harry heard a light popping sound from outside his bedroom. Oree bustled in, again wearing her tea-towel toga, but also with one half of an oven mitt tied around her waist like an apron.

"Ah!" she exclaimed, gathering Harry into a hug. "You is awake! Oree is most pleased."

"Good morning, Oree," said Harry, struggling to maintain his politeness in the face of Oree's boundless enthusiasm.

"And to you, Harry!" Oree beamed. "There is much that Oree and Harry Potter need to be doing today." She seemed very excited about the prospect. She glanced at the pyjamas that Harry was wearing – the clothes she had found him in. "First things is first," she said, "you is needing some clothes."

Deftly untying her apron and setting it down on Harry's bedside table, she set about pulling several objects from a pocket sewn onto her toga. The first was a measuring tape, with which she began to measure Harry's height, the length of his legs and arms, and around his waist (she tutted at this; something about needing to feed him up) and noting down the measurements with a pencil she'd pulled from her pocket. The paper she used was unusual, nothing like Harry had seen at the Dursleys. It was all crinkly and yellowy.

"Right," she huffed, apparently finished. "Oree will quickly make something for Harry to wear today, until she can make some more. Wait here, Harry," she continued, "get some more sleep maybe. You is still tired. Oree will be back with some new clothes." She shuddered slightly as she said this, which Harry didn't really understand, but he decided that it didn't matter, and he lay back down to sleep as Oree sprinted headlong out of his room and down the corridor.

Harry followed Oree around for the rest of the day. The clothes she had made for him consisted of a loose fitting pair of cotton trousers and a slightly too big light shirt made from a similar material which slipped easily over his head. She also added a pair of soft slippers, which Harry delighted in pulling on and off over and over again. The new clothes weren't too dissimilar from pyjamas, but Harry didn't care. He loved them – they were better than anything he'd ever been given at the Dursleys. Oree took the Dursley pyjamas from him once he'd changed, and wrinkled her nose in distaste, before carrying them away, delicately holding them between finger and thumb as far from her body as possible. For the rest of the day, Oree gave Harry a tour. First she showed him around the kitchen, which he hadn't had time to properly see the night before. As well as the tables and piles of pots in the main central room, there were many alcoves, some very large, leading off, containing all manner of things. One was almost unbearably hot, and housed a gigantic bread oven. Oree introduced a kind-looking House Elf called Bastey to Harry, saying she was in charge of baking all the bread. Another alcove was lit only dimly, and was filled with odours both sweet and pungent. Piles upon piles of green herbs filled this alcove – on shelves, in barrels, and hanging from racks. Next she showed Harry around the scullery, which housed one huge porcelain sink, set into the centre of the stone floor. Golden dishes so clean they sparkled were stacked on shelves around the edge, in piles teetering upwards towards the ceiling. She also showed Harry the little office at the back of the kitchen, in which Fenodery was carefully writing something in an ancient-looking tome that was bigger than he was. Oree explained to Harry that Fenodery was in charge of all the House Elves of Hogwarts, and he had to keep careful records of all that happened.

Harry was most excited, however, when Oree led him out of the House Elves' domain and into the main body of the school. She led him up a narrow winding staircase beside Fenodery's office, which opened up into a small, wood panelled room. A deep red carpet covered the floor, and was so thick that it seemed to come up to Harry's ankles. A slight clicking noise sounded, and Harry turned around to see Oree pulling a painting across the entrance to the staircase they'd used. Harry was about to ask why she'd done that, but then he noticed something rather odd. The man depicted in the portrait was fast asleep, but Harry could clearly see his chest moving up and down, and his thick moustache rustling as he breathed.

"It's moving!" exclaimed Harry. Oree shushed him, and nodded.

"Magic is doing things like that, Harry," she responded quietly. "We must be keeping you hidden though – so you must be quiet. Oree will make you unseen with her, until you is able to do it yourself." She held out her hand. Harry grasped it tightly with his small fingers, and as he did so a tingle went up his spine and his hair stood on end. Oree's long white hair also floated slightly, as if in a stiff breeze. Beyond that, he didn't feel any different, and looking down he didn't look any different, but he somehow knew that he could be right under Uncle Vernon's nose right now and stick out his tongue, and his uncle would have had no idea.

Oree approached a door at the other end of the room, still holding onto Harry's hand, and cautiously pushed it open.

Seeing that the coast was clear, she pushed it wide open, and led the way through.

Harry's jaw dropped in awe at the sight that greeted him. Thousands of candles floated above great wooden tables, far below a ceiling that seemed to Harry too high to be possible. Blue sky shined down illogically from the ceiling, fluffy white clouds meandering their way across. Brilliantly coloured banners hung on the walls, and the massive doors at the far end seemed to glow in the light streaming from the ceiling.

Oree turned to Harry, grinning in amusement at the expression on his face.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Harry."

xxx

Professor Dumbledore sat in his office, fingers steepled, behind his grand oak desk. He ran a finger down the list of students attending Hogwarts that year. Nothing caught his attention as out of the ordinary. He smiled slightly, reaching down to pull up his bright yellow and blue striped socks, which had slipped slightly too far down his ankles.

An awful racket suddenly flooded the room. Albus righted himself hurriedly, narrowly avoiding whacking his head on the edge of the wooden desk. He stood, racing around the desk in a swirling flurry of purple robes, then lowered himself in front of the perpetrator of the noise. A small silver instrument, shaped like a tiny trumpet on wheels and sounding like a foghorn, was rattling around on top of its spindly wooden table blaring with all its might. This little device was connected to the enchantments woven about the Dursley home, and indicated any life-threatening suffering of the inhabitants. Dumbledore jumped to his feet, bellying the infirmity of age, and dashed over to the fireplace. He grabbed a small snuff box off the mantelpiece, popping it open and tipping floo powder into his palm. He cast the powder onto the embers, which glowed green and flashed into life.

"The Three Broomsticks," he stated clearly, stepping into the flames. It was, you see, the fastest way out of the castle grounds, and therefore the fastest way to leave the Anti-Apparition Jinx. As soon as he stepped out of the public hearth at the pub, he Disaparated, ignoring the surprised looks of the pub's patrons.

He reappeared with a very slight pop on Privet Drive. Immediately he recognised the problem registered by his instrument. Smoke billowed endlessly from the open windows of Number 4, standing glaringly out of place among the neatly tended hedges and lawns. Crowds of Muggles, mostly elderly, huddled outside the building, clustered around something on the pavement in front of the burning house. Dumbledore, thinking quickly, transfigured his clothes into the uniform of the Muggle fire brigade, Disillusioned his beard, and approached the scene before him, after transfiguring a nearby car into a fire engine. He called as he drew near.

"Stand back everyone, please!" The crowd looked up unanimously, grudgingly moving away from the object lying on the pavement. Taking care to obscure the fact that he was definitely much too old to be a fireman, Dumbledore crouched over the body of Vernon Dursley, sprawled on its face at the end of the garden path. Very much dead. A deep curse wound ran down the centre of his back, raw and weeping blood. Parts of his spinal column were visible, and they looked severely damaged. Vernon Dursley had suffered terribly as he died.

A shout, a man's voice raised in anger, sounded from inside, reminding Albus of the other Dursleys. He jogged into the building, through a door which had been blasted inwards off its hinges. A Revealing Charm alerted him to three presences within the house. A whimper sounded from upstairs. Albus followed it blindly, his vision obscured by smoke. The walls were burning; great pillars of flame eating upwards. Albus immediately attacked them with water from his wand as he passed. Low talking could be heard as he reached the landing, just about audible over the roar of flames. One door at the end of the landing was pulled tightly shut, the only one not burning. Albus held his wand up in front of himself, breathing deeply, and blasted the door to pieces. Immediately he took in the scene which presented itself to him.

A dark-robed man stood in the centre of the room, masked and with wand drawn. Kneeling in the corner, on the other side of a double bed, was Petunia Dursley, bravely shielding her young son. She crouched in front of him; arms stretched backwards, wrapping protectively around him.

"What is this?" Hissed the figure in a cultured voice as Dumbledore stepped into the room. He whirled around, lips beneath his mask already forming the deadly incantation, but Dumbledore was too quick. He hit him with a non-verbal Stunning Spell so powerful that the figure was knocked backwards off his feet, lading spread-eagled on the bed. His mask slipped off, revealing the haughty face of Lucius Malfoy.

"Wh- who are you?" asked Petunia in a quavering voice. In reply, Dumbledore removed the Disillusionment Charm from his beard and returned his clothes to their original state, and Petunia's eyes widened in recognition.

"Th- thank you for saving us, Professor Dumbledore," she said, seeming to allow him some grudging respect.

"Let's go outside, before the building collapses," said Albus firmly. He followed them from the room as they staggered out. He cast a general repelling charm on the crowd that stood outside from the landing window, and they began to disperse quietly, all simultaneously remembering that they had left their ovens on and didn't want their houses to burn down too.

As Petunia and Dudley stumbled gasping into the fresh air, Albus set about putting out the remainder of the fires. It was easily done. Non-enchanted fire could not repel even the weakest of Quenching Charms. When Albus turned back, both Petunia and Dudley were sitting quietly beside Vernon's dead body, Dudley ensconced in Petunia's arms. Unreadable emotions crossed her face as she stared down at his corpse.

Albus cleared his throat.

"I'm terribly sorry, but I must interrupt. I have important questions."

Petunia said nothing, so Albus continued.

"What did the man want?"

"H- he asked where Harry was," she choked out. Then both she and Dumbledore started when a loud siren rent the quiet air. A fire engine turned into the street, and began to slow down in front of the wreck of the Dursley's house. But it soon sped up again, as Dumbledore's Muggle Repelling Charm took effect.

"And where is Harry?" the old wizard pressed, turning back to Petunia.

At this Petunia let out a sob. "I don't know," she whispered. "He disappeared a few days ago." Her voice rose slightly. "I wanted to write to you to ask for help, but Vernon f- forbade it. He said he'd h- hurt D-Dudley." She began to cry silently. "I did care about Harry. But Vernon hated him. He m- made me give him chores. He h- hit him. He threatened to take D- Dudley away if I didn't let him." Petunia sounded like she was pouring out her soul to Dumbledore after years of suffering in silence. Which, he realised, she probably was.

"There was s- something," she continued. "Like a little person. I think it took Harry away."

"Very well. Thank you Petunia." Dumbledore's mind was in turmoil, but he put up a calm front for Petunia's benefit. "I must contact the Ministry of Magic to get your assailant apprehended, and to place enchantments for your protection. After, I shall help you repair your home." And after that, he wordlessly added, I'll search frantically for Harry. And try to work out how on Earth all of this happened. Although, he wryly admitted to himself, he thought he knew exactly where Harry was.

xxx

Narcissa Malfoy glanced up in anxious alarm from her book as a sharp sound echoed across the silent library. On the small marble-topped table beside her, her wedding ring was rattling violently. She'd taken it off, glad of the respite from its cloying closeness, as she always did when her husband was away.

But now she touched it willingly, allowing the charms imbued within it to take her as she closed her eyes.

A grainy image filled her mental vision. A man she knew immediately as her husband was facing an unfamiliar old man wearing Muggle clothing across a burning room. She had a brief moment to muse on how useful Lucius' trick to keep tabs on her had turned out to be. He hadn't reckoned on her being powerful enough to replicate and reverse his enchantment.

She saw her husband begin to say a spell, but the stranger was quicker. Lucius flew across the room, landing limply and collapsing. But she knew he wasn't dead, as her vision continued. The stranger waved his wand over himself, revealing who he truly was. She was very surprised when she saw it was Albus Dumbledore, complete with unruffled beard and carefully placed half-moon spectacles. She smiled weakly, and withdrew from the vision.

"Mummy?" a quiet voice asked. Looking down, Narcissa saw her young son gazing up at her worriedly. "What's the matter?"

Narcissa realised then that tears of joy were streaming down her cheeks. Reaching down, she picked up the small boy and hugged him close to her.

"Nothing, my darling." Her tears flowed faster, as she began to smile. "My darling Draco, we are free, you and I!"


AN: Hope you enjoyed this chapter :) Please review…