Title: Freedom
Summary: Harry is locked away. He doesn't want to be locked away anymore and he will do anything to get out.
Pairing/Characters:
Harry Potter. There are others but unnamed. See if you can guess who they are XD
Rating:
T
Warnings: N/A
Notes:
Written for Grim Tales Competition: The Frog King. This is a no magic AU story.


The walls were white.

The floor was white.

The roof was white.

Everything was white.

Harry hated white.

He wasn't meant to be here. He was meant to be at Hogwarts. He was meant to be learning magic, make friend, have fun. He was not meant to be in this stupid room, in this stupid life.

"Harry?"

"Get out!"

"Now, Harry–"

"Get out!" Harry picked up a pillow and threw it at the man. When the man didn't leave, Harry charged. His started to scream, his hands clenched in fists. The man left quickly.

Here wasn't meant to be here.


"I can get you out," a voice whispered.

Harry turned around in the dark room, once, twice. There was no one there.

"Do you want to get out?" the same voice whispered. It sounded closer.

Harry turned around again, only to see an empty room. "Yes," he said anyway.

"You'll have to do something for me," the voice said.

"Anything," Harry breathed out. He still couldn't see the man but that didn't matter much. If the voice could get him out, he would do anything.

"You promise?" it said.

"Yes."

A man appeared before Harry. His body was transparent and it flickered like a TV with a bad signal. He was tall with twinkling blue eyes and a long white beard.

"Perfect."


He just had to wait.

Just wait.

"The perfect moment will show itself," the bearded man had whispered.

So Harry waited.

And waited.

The door opened with a creak and the man from before – the man he scared away – entered.

"Harry?"

Harry moved from behind the door, slamming it into the man. The man fell and he didn't rise. Harry stripped him bare and swapped clothes. Then, he walked out.

He was finally free.


The world was exactly the same. Stupid people with stupid briefcases running around like their world mattered. Harry knew it didn't. Harry knew nothing mattered, not really.

Except Hogwarts.

Hogwarts mattered to Harry. He needed to get to Hogwarts and learn magic.

"Come with me," the voice was back.

Harry looked across the street and spotted the odd flickering man. Harry tilted his head in silent question. Maybe he can take me to Hogwarts.

"You must fulfil your debt," it said.

Harry glared and shook his head. No, he wanted to go to Hogwarts. He wanted to be free. He didn't want to fulfil the stupid promise he made; the voice didn't even help all that much. He did it on his own, he didn't need anyone's help.

"You wouldn't have made it past the front door without me," the voice said, reading his thoughts.

Harry turned and left the man floating in the street alone. He wanted to be free.


"You will never be free of me."

The words echoed around him. He hated it. He felt guilty and used and, worst of all, trapped. He didn't feel free and he still couldn't find Hogwarts like he wanted.

You will never be free of me.

Harry shook his head, trying to dispel the voice. It didn't leave.

You will never be free of me.

No, no, no. This isn't how he was meant to feel.

You will never be free of me.

"Fine!" Harry was sick of being trapped. He wanted to be free, from everything.

The man flickered into life, smiling at Harry like he was a small child. "You accept?"

"Yes! Only if you leave me alone afterwards," Harry said, glaring for good measure.

"Of course," he said.

"What do you want me to do?"


Two days later Harry walked into a church. The colours in the windows attracted Harry's eye and he found himself distracted from the dilemma that brought him here. The room was empty, thankfully, so Harry sat at one of the benches and stared at the light.

"Hi, sir?"

Harry turned to look at the man. He was an older gentleman, he looked tired. There were lines all over his face and his sandy brown hair was highlighted with grey. He was frowning down on Harry, concern plain to see.

"I need to ask a question," Harry said.

The man waved a hand at the seat next to Harry, asking permission to sit. After contemplation, Harry nodded and the man sat.

"Would you like to ask me your question?" the man asked with a small smile.

"Are you the king?" Harry asked, startling the man. Harry didn't care. He needed an answer and only the king could give them to him.

"I'm not our Lord, no, but I do speak to him. You can speak to him as well, if you like?"

"Will he answer?" Harry asked, peering closely at the man.

"Not clearly, God works in many mysterious ways."

Harry scowled down at his knees. He needed an answer, not a riddle.

"Why don't you ask me? I talk to God a lot and I would like to help."

Harry lost his scowl but he didn't look up. Could he ask the strange man? He needed answers but the man wasn't the king. Harry glanced up and looked at the man. He looked sincere and trustworthy. "If you make a promise to someone, do you have to keep it?" Harry said, deciding it was safe.

The man frowned for a moment and thought

Good, I want a proper answer, not a quick one.

"I think it would be considered deceitful if you backed out of a promise," he said carefully.

Harry looked down and scowled at his knees again. He clenched and unclenched his fists. "Even if you don't want to fulfil your promise?" Harry asked, desperate for a way out.

"It would still be considered bad, I think." The man paused for a moment and looked at Harry. "What type of promise is it?" he asked after a moment.

Harry jumped from the chair and strode away. "Sorry, I promised not to tell anyone."

He left the church and hurried away. He had a job to do.


The warm liquid dripped over his hands. The colour was beautiful slowly seeping into the grass below the fallen man. Dark hair splayed out around the narrow faced man. Harry thought he looked like a snake.

The man's eyes were still open and they were flickering slightly, a sigh he was still alive.

"Why?"

The words were barely a whisper but Harry heard them anyway. "I want to be free," Harry said, "and you were in my way."

The man let a tear slip down his blood splattered face before closing his eyes for the last time. Harry watched as the man took his last breath and at that moment Harry saw something. He saw freedom

Freedom in death.

Harry looked down at the knife still stained with the man's blood.

All he wanted was to be free.


(w.c 1,149)

WolfWinks –xx-