Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just so we're clear on that point.
Beta read by the awe-inspiring Nyx the Author! Thanks a ton!
I got my hands on the Time Stone, and pushed the narrative one month ahead, FYI. Now on with the show!
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Chapter 6: Birthday Visitors
It was the break of dawn on the last day of July, and Harry was in the kitchen. A month had passed since he and Kaecilius had discovered the boy's aptitude for telepathy, and Harry had been working hard on the ability. Harry woke early every morning to focus on his mental communication, trying to make it work as smoothly as possible. To his delight, he had gotten to the point where his aunt and uncle wouldn't even notice that they couldn't 'hear' his voice when he spoke. As long as his back was to them when he 'talked', they thought of it as his normal voice. Dudley never spoke to Harry anyway, and if he had, Harry doubted his cousin would have noticed even if he'd been speaking Swahili backwards.
On this morning, Harry was making a hearty breakfast for his uncle and cousin, while preparing something with less cholesterol for himself and Petunia. He heard his aunt hiss behind him, "Don't burn the bacon!"
Yes, Aunt Petunia, he replied, never turning from the oven. Honestly, he'd burnt the bacon once over the past 4 years, and that was only because Dudley had knocked him to the ground while he'd worked. He doubted his aunt had a track record as good as his.
Speaking mentally with his relatives was always a strange experience. As Kaecilius had taught him, being able to create that telepathic connection with someone meant he had to empathize with them, seeing life from their perspective. Empathizing with people who had made his life miserable for years was easier said than done. And while everyone had some desires and inborn traits in common, Harry had started to recognize some aspects, or mental flavors as he'd begun to think of it, that were wholly unique to each person.
Petunia had a certain bitterness to her soul, as if she knew full well that the life she'd chosen for herself was less than it might've been, and she hated that she had no one to blame for her lack of fulfillment besides herself. Harry suspected that she knew all about Dudley's juvenile delinquency, but was at a loss for how to curb it. He had to adjust how he thought to her in order for her to hear him well, and it always left a sour feeling in his stomach afterwards.
Uncle Vernon stomped into the kitchen then, huffing an irritated, "Coffee, boy!" as he waddled in.
Coming, Harry said, striving not to sound exasperated. Vernon craved two things above all else: respect and the freedom to do whatever his selfish heart desired. Harry was sure, after having meditated on his soul for the past month, that his uncle would have happily left Petunia years ago if anyone had shown the slightest romantic interest towards him. To reach his uncle's mind easily, he usually added a touch of humility and submissiveness to his focus.
Dudley wandered into the dining room a few moments after his father, blinking heavily and licking his lips at the smell of the greasy meat being fried. He was becoming his father in all but name, both in personality and in stature. Harry had more than once tried to direct a thought only at his uncle, and accidentally included his cousin in the message because their ugly souls were so similar.
That was both a bonus and downside of his dedication to telepathy. If he focused on one person alone, he could send a message just to them. Harry guessed that their neighbors thought the entire street was haunted, based on how much Harry had practiced yelling out at passers by mentally. They couldn't recognize his voice, since his relatives had harshly discouraged him from talking to anyone in the area growing up.
The downside, however, was how difficult it was to broadcast a message to multiple people. He'd been practicing his focus on the things Kaecilius had drilled into his head: the need for comfort, shelter and safety, affection, security, self-esteem. These things were nearly universal, and everyone desired them to varying degrees constantly. It was being able to focus on all those things at once, and also accounting for the mental flavors that he'd noticed in individuals, that was difficult.
He'd recently derailed all five members of Dudley's 'crew' as they chased after a younger child, trying to steal his pocket change. He didn't think it counted as much of an accomplishment, though. They were all single-minded in their task, so connecting to all of them had been simpler, and pretty much anyone will be distracted if they hear the word FLIBBERTIGIBBET shouted into their mind. It was all he could think of at the time.
Harry was just sitting down to his oatmeal and fruit when his uncle cleared his throat officiously and asked, "Now, is everyone prepared for today?"
Harry looked up in confusion. His birthday? His relatives had certainly never celebrated it before, and though Harry's new independent streak had gotten his uncle to back away a bit, Harry doubted it would also get the man to buy him any presents.
"Yes, Vernon!" his aunt cooed. "Your suit is dry cleaned and hanging in your closet, and I'll be sure to give everything a good polish while you're at work."
Oh right, Harry thought. They were having that stupid dinner party with some potential clients. Harry tuned out their irritating back and forth, answering questions that Uncle Vernon put directly to him while making sure he kept his face towards his plate to ensure no one saw that his lips stayed closed the whole time. Once his uncle had left for work, his aunt turned to him, her face pinched as if she'd had a sour candy stuck under her tongue for too long. "Now," she said. "Go water and trim the garden. It needs to look spotless. None of your lollygagging."
Harry nodded and went upstairs to put on his shoes. He'd enjoyed the last month's uneasy peace where he only had to do a few chores a day. He supposed he'd go along with what she said until he got tired, and then see if she tried to test him again.
Once he got outside and began to work, he could let himself drift out and meditate, thanks to the mostly mindless task he'd been assigned. He pondered a problem he'd been encountering over the past few weeks. Once Hedwig had come and stayed the night early in July, he decided to send letters to Ron and Hermione, having neglected it in favor of working with Kaecilius. Once he tied them to her leg and set her off, however, she had returned only a few hours later, looking ruffled and aggravated. Harry knew that she couldn't have made it to either of his friends in that amount of time.
He tried to talk with her mentally, and was able to connect with her easily with the bond they already shared. The problem was, even though she was an exceptionally intelligent owl, she was still an owl. She could communicate limited emotions and an occasional flash of an image, but trying to actually speak with her was an exercise in futility. All he'd understood from the attempt was that something took his letters, and Hedwig hadn't seen how it happened.
Harry had discussed the problem with Kaecilius, and the man hadn't known what to do about it. He hadn't been willing to deliver letters for Harry, seeing it as beneath him, but he said he would be willing to have his mentor talk to Dumbledore. Harry hadn't wanted to kick up a fuss, so he declined the offer.
Not for the first time, Harry wished Kaecilius would trust him with a sling ring. He happily imagined what it would be like to open a portal in front of the Weasleys' or Grangers' mailboxes and toss his letters in. His teacher was stubborn, though for a number of reasons.
As he'd mentioned the first day Harry brought it up, Harry had a lot on his plate as it was. He also wasn't willing to risk Harry putting any part of his body through the portal, as he was unsure if even putting a finger near the portal would take away his home's protections. Finally, he wanted to ensure that Harry's training with sorcerers remained a secret for as long as possible. He feared the wizards would lose their minds at the thought of their "boy who lived" consorting with muggles who could use magic. If Harry began showing off types of magic that no wizard could replicate, like a glowing portal to another place, it wouldn't take long for him to be vilified.
So Harry was stuck here for now, cut off from his friends. He wondered if this was why he hadn't received any post from them either. It wasn't like Hermione not to bombard him with words, in verbal or written form, and she had said he'd hear from her soon. Ron, for all his lack of drive to write essays or homework, had promised repeatedly to write every week. For one of his friends to break their promise, he'd be disappointed but not terribly surprised. For both, though, he suspected interference.
He finished his work in the garden and collected his tools, preparing to go inside to the cool of his room. As he passed one of the bushes by the sidewalk, he stopped and did a double-take. There were a pair of huge green eyes peering back at him from the foliage. He blinked a few times, and when he refocused his gaze, the eyes were gone.
All right, a break was absolutely in order. He hustled inside quietly and went upstairs, trying to avoid detection. He made it to his bedroom, closed his eyes, and focused inward. If he was seeing things, he definitely needed to clear his mind and see if there'd been any more contamination from the fragment of Voldemort's thoughts.
After a few moments of concentration, he let out a quiet breath and performed the spell Kaecilius had taught, now a familiar routine. He felt his consciousness rush inward and took a look at his mind.
Only a month of work with his teacher had done wonders, but there was still a long way to go. The walls and ceiling of his mind, which he'd learned represented the stability of the mind itself, were no longer crumbling and broken. Some of his memories, though far from all, were now darting around in the air as they should. And the intruder that had caused all the damage was different now too.
Where once it had appeared to be slammed into the floor of the cavern, inextricably cemented to the surface, now it floated a few inches above the surface. When Kaecilius had divined what information was stored inside the block, he had suggested that Harry keep it until he had squeezed everything useful out of it. He taught Harry how to separate it from his own mind, but there had been a hitch.
When they had finally managed to raise it into the air, there was what appeared to be an anchor at the bottom of the structure, securing it to Harry's mind. What was worse, the anchor appeared to be similar in consistency to the intruder, yet somehow actively malevolent. Anytime Harry or Kaecilius approached the anchor, it gave off chilling waves of fear and hatred, warding them away. The anchor gave a way for the piece of Voldemort's remnant to continue spreading the oily slicks it gave off, and it had become a regular chore for Harry to return to his mind and clean away the spread.
His teacher was very worried about what could have created the anchor, but at this point it wasn't causing any harm by itself, so they had agreed to keep a wary eye on it and focus on other things they could control.
For the moment, Harry inspected the spot where the anchor reached the floor, searching for anything that might be making him hallucinate. It looked unchanged from when he'd worked near it the day before. Nothing was present that could make him see things that weren't there. Mentally shrugging, Harry was about to start on fixing more of his memories when a loud bang in the real world jolted him back to awareness.
He opened his eyes to see Aunt Petunia glaring at him from the door she'd thrown open. "What did I tell you about your laziness?" she screeched. "Get up and help! Your uncle is working hard to land a very profitable deal, and you will pull your weight for once!"
Harry sighed quietly. With her looking directly at his face, he couldn't risk speaking to her without opening his mouth. "W-w-what sh-should I d-do now?" He asked, wincing internally.
Kaecilius hadn't been lying about the stutter. Because he'd focused so much on his telepathic projection, his physical speech had suffered. To Harry's mind, the trade-off had been worth it.
"Dusting, sweeping, and mopping, you witless child!" she replied. "Every room downstairs where our guests could possibly visit! Now!"
She swept away in a self-righteous huff before he could say anything else. Now that he was sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him, he supposed it wouldn't do any harm to follow her instructions. He knew as soon as the time for the dinner drew near, she'd rush him up the stairs and warn him against making any sounds, which Kaecilius' silence spell would take care of anyway.
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After two hours of whirlwind cleaning, she did just that, pushing a sandwich and orange into his hand with a harried look. He happily entered his room and shut the door, ready to work with his teacher.
Kaecilius was indeed standing by the window, waving his hands to erect the usual spell, but his attention was not on Harry. Rather, it was on a tiny figure hunched over in front of Harry's bed. It had tan, leathery skin with floppy, bat-like ears and huge green eyes. Clearly, this was the source of his arboreal observer earlier. It had been staring, frightened, at Kaecilius, but as soon as it caught sight of Harry, its face lit up with a gleeful smile.
"Harry Potter, sir!" it exclaimed happily, with a voice that reminded Harry of a squeaky dog toy. "Such an honor it is to meet you!"
It threw an uncertain glance at Harry's mentor and added, "...and your guest."
Kaecilius gave a humorless laugh and turned his eyes to Harry. "I don't suppose you know this creature?" he asked doubtfully.
Harry shook his head, completely mystified. He turned to the small creature. Focusing on the mind of something non-human would be a tricky thing, but he could only try. Hello… who are you? He directed the thought as best he could.
The creature spasmed, batting frantically at his ears and looking around wildly for the source of the voice. "There is a ghoul in the great Harry Potter's room, asking about Dobby!" It shrieked.
All right, Harry thought to himself. At least I have a name to work with. He focused on the being named Dobby once more.
Dobby, he said. There's no ghoul. It's me, Harry Potter. I'm speaking to your mind. Can you hear me well?
Dobby locked his eyes on Harry's, confusion and adoration battling for supremacy on his face. "The incredible Harry Potter can speak without words?! Truly your legend falls short compared to reality! Yes, Dobby can hear you quite easy!"
Harry fought off a blush at hearing such praise from someone else, and Kaecilius looked at him pointedly. "This is what I was warning you about," the man said. "Your people may not be as… excessive… in how they esteem you, but when people see you speaking telepathically, they will hold you up even higher than before. Prepare for it now."
Harry nodded, only half listening as he considered the puzzle that was Dobby. How can I help you, Dobby? Why are you here?
Dobby shook his head vigorously. "Oh NO, great Harry Potter. Dobby is here to help YOU, sir! To help and to warn the magnificent Harry Potter!"
Harry cocked his head. Warn? Warn me about what?
Dobby looked furtively around the room, as if checking for spies hiding in the closet. "There is a plot afoot, sir, a terrible plot. Harry Potter MUST NOT go back to Hogwarts!"
Harry looked over at Kaecilius, nonplussed. The man only shrugged back. Harry asked, What kind of plot? What's going to happen?
To the shock of both humans, Dobby screwed up his bottom lip and made a flying leap onto Harry's nightstand. He grabbed the desk lamp that sat on it and began energetically beating his head against its base.
Harry raced over and wrestled the lamp from Dobby's grasp. What is wrong with you? Harry exclaimed. Why would you do that?
Dobby rubbed his forehead, shaking his head. "Dobby cannot say, sir. Please do not ask Dobby! Dobby will have to punish himself most severely when he gets home as it is."
Harry was very confused now. Why? And for that matter, what exactly are you?
Dobby looked down to the ground. "Dobby is a house-elf, Harry Potter. We house-elves is bound to one family and one house for all our lives, taking care of anything they need. And… and Dobby was not told he could be here. Dobby will have to shut his hands in the oven tonight."
Harry exchanged looks of horror with his teacher. No! But… but won't your family be upset if you hurt yourself?
Dobby, still looking sadly at the floor, shook his head. "Oh no, sir. Dobby has to punish himself regularly. Sometimes they remind Dobby to do extra punishments, just in case."
Why don't you leave?
"Dobby must be freed by his master, Harry Potter. If they gives us clothes, we are set free. Unless that happens, Dobby will serve them until the day he dies."
Harry looked desperately to Kaecilius. Can't we do something, sir? There must be some spell to set him free. He's a slave!
Kaecilius shook his head, looking quite perturbed. "I agree that Dobby here should be freed from such an abominable state. There is one large thing stopping us, though. I don't know the first thing about what kind of bond is holding him to his family. I might try to help, and end up killing him. For all I know, he and his kind might be homunculi."
A what? Harry asked.
"A homunculus is an alchemical creation, made by man in his image, but smaller. I have heard rumors of some magicians keeping them as servants, though I've never seen one before. If Dobby here is one, that means the only reason he can exist is because he draws power from a magic user. Separating him from the source of that magic might kill him. I just don't know."
Harry sagged in defeat. If I can find more information at Hogwarts, could you help him?
Kaecilius lay a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "I will do everything I can. No one deserves to suffer like that, human or no."
Harry turned back to Dobby, ready to apologize, and was surprised to find large tears streaming down the house-elf's face. Dobby, I'm sorry. I'll find out how house-elves came to be, and I will find a way to help you. Please don't cry.
Dobby began to sob, clutching himself. Harry only then noticed that Dobby was clothed in a dirty pillowcase, which only made Harry angrier on the being's behalf. "D-Dobby never knew how w-wonderful the g-great Harry Potter is," the little figure choked. "D-Dobby had heard of his t-triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but Dobby has n-never met a wizard as kind and noble as Harry Potter! Offering to h-help unworthy Dobby! Dobby is s-so grateful for anything the amazing Harry Potter would c-consider."
Harry knelt down and put his hand on Dobby's shoulder, trying to comfort him as Kaecilius so often did. Dobby, you're not unworthy. I want to help you. But do you understand why I need to go back to Hogwarts? I can't find a way to get you free unless I can research in the library.
Dobby gave him a look of terror at the thought of Harry going back, but slowly nodded his head. Then, it seemed a sudden thought struck the creature, and he began sobbing and hiccuping again. "Oh, D-Dobby is such a b-bad elf! Kind Harry P-Potter wants to help Dobby, and he has been so b-bad!"
Harry was confused. What's wrong? What did you do?
Through his tears, Dobby raised a hand into the air and snapped his fingers. Instantly, a pile of letters appeared on the floor by Harry's foot. The house-elf moaned, "Dobby has been t-taking Harry Potter's letters so the great Harry Potter would th-think his friends had abandoned him. D-Dobby is so sorry! Dobby just wanted Harry Potter to be s-safe here!"
Harry squashed a brief flicker of annoyance. He could understand Dobby's logic, even if it wouldn't have worked. Thank you for giving them back, Dobby. I appreciate it.
The house-elf gave him a wide-eyed look of awe, overcome by the thought of being thanked by a wizard. "Is there anything Dobby can do for the magnificent Harry Potter?"
Kaecilius, who had been content to watch from the side till then, spoke up. "Dobby, can you tell us anything about the plot at Hogwarts? Who is planning it? What it involves? Who it's aimed at?"
Dobby looked pensive for a moment, giving the lamp Harry had set down a brief glance as if pondering his ability to grab it again. Harry moved his body slightly to block it from the elf's view. Dobby seemed to give up on that idea, and shook his head to Kaecilius' questions. "Dobby doesn't think so. Dobby wishes Harry Potter would stay where he is safe, but Dobby understands the great Harry Potter's plan. Please, just stay safe, Harry Potter!"
Once Harry had nodded his agreement, the little house-elf vanished with a popping sound. Harry spun around to Kaecilius, confused. I thought the wards on the house prevented anyone from doing that!
Kaecilius cocked his head sideways. "Harry, you've seen two types of magic in your life, one for wizards and one for sorcerers. What makes you think that's all there is? It would seem that house-elves use a different type of teleportation."
Harry nodded, deep in thought. If he could copy that ability, he wouldn't need a sling ring after all.
Kaecilius seemed to sense his mood, as he chuckled and said, "Why don't we skip our lesson tonight. I will see you tomorrow. Read your letters and answer them, yes?"
The man took down his silencing ward and made a portal, stepping through and waving goodbye to Harry before it closed. Harry briefly considered following his teacher's advice, but decided it could wait until morning. This encounter had taken a lot out of him, not even considering the hard work he'd done all day. Ron and Hermione could wait one more day.
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When Harry woke at 3 am to the face of Ron Weasley outside his window, he regretted his earlier decision immensely.
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A/N: Thanks for reading! We'll spend a bit of time, perhaps one to two chapters, with the Weasleys, then as I promised, second year onward is going to pass much quicker.
Please review! Let me know what you like and what you don't!