The Houses Competition

Ravenclaw

Charms

Standard

[Last Line] And with it, on the wings of a butterfly, joy was born into the world.

1871 Words

AN Canon-typical violence towards house-elves; implied past abuse at the Dursleys

The Butterfly Effect

Destroying Voldemort ought to have been the end of it. If one looks in the history books, it was. Nothing Harry Potter could do in the future would equal the good that came from his efforts to destroy the madman, after all.

Alas, books are written by men, and their perception of the world has ever been limited.

Stopping the second Dark Lord to grace the world in the twentieth century was an achievement; that is true, but to the house-elves, that was just the flutter of a butterfly's wing that caused a giant wave.

The Final Battle ought to have been the end of it. That was the plan after all. Harry'd given his all to see the prophecy fulfilled, and now it was time for Fate to leave him be, dammit. If Harry'd been a lesser man or the Ministry more willing to ignore his role in saving the world, perhaps he could have escaped the fate awaiting him in the world post-Voldemort. Alas, such was not the case, and Minister Shacklebolt was too honorable to let Harry fade into the woodwork.

"You want to give me what?" Shacklebolt was glad that he'd remembered to cast a muffling charm on the door before he let The Savior of the Wizarding World in.

"With You-Know—Voldemort's demise and the majority of his followers in custody, there are a number of properties that are yours by right of conquest. Should you like, you may set them all to flame for all I care, but what is left of the Wizengamot has made the decision, unanimously I might add, that they are to go to you."

"But I only actually stopped Voldemort; surely rights of conquest go to those who actually stopped the Death Eaters in question." There was a definite tone of whining in the young man's voice as he tried to wheedle his way out of the situation.

"And how do you suppose we find them and confirm everyone who captured or killed a Death Eater? No, I'm afraid that that would put far too much strain on the Ministry's resources at this time. Besides, according to a survey in the Daily Prophet, a healthy majority feel that the Ministry must compensate you for your troubles. This allows us to resolve both issues in one fell swoop, wouldn't you agree?" Shacklebolt grinned innocently.

"There's no way I can get out of this?"

Shacklebolt just shook his head, unrepentant in the least.

"Fine, but if there's a sudden increase in bonfires, don't be alarmed," Harry warned darkly.

Of course, Harry did not really set the properties on fire, tempting though that may have been. The alternative, getting each property ready for the market, actually did quite a bit to help boost the broken nation's economy as more than a few families had lost their homes in the war, and Potter Realty was quite willing to sell the renovated pieces of land at a discount.

Going through such a large number of properties was exhausting, however. Thankfully, Bill Weasley (and the goblins once they realized just how expansive Potter's resources had become) was quite willing to help the young man to tear down the relevant wards and prepare the properties for resale. In cases where non-Death Eater family members existed, Harry often let them have first refusal on the properties in question.

All went quite simply whilst they worked on the properties of lesser Death Eaters whose homes were reasonably average, if isolated from the Muggle world. Alas, eventually the homes of such names as Malfoy came into play, people whose wealth and interest in the Dark Arts led to more dangerous warding schematics on the larger properties.

Still, it should have been simple. Get in, make the place safe, sell it. That was the plan at least. After the war, Harry would have been quite content to never step foot in Malfoy Manor again. Fate had other plans, however.

"Uh, Harry, sorry to bother you, but you're needed at the latest site." Bill Floo'd Harry one afternoon.

"Oh? Why?"

"Just come, please? As soon as you can?"

Thirty minutes later, Harry found himself in a different area of the Malfoy dungeons than he and his friends had been kept in. Dozens of eyes stared up at him from inside a small cell, their owners' bodies shaking in fear. As he neared, the house-elves straightened as one before bowing as low as they were able.

Different shades of green on too-skinny bodies reminded Harry of Dobby when they'd first met. No doubt, many were the deceased elf's relatives. Injuries littered many of the elves, exposed to the light and grime of their living quarters. The wail of a child disrupted the stillness.

Harry moved forward, opening the door to the cell as many of the elves flinched.

Harry remembered enough about Dobby's 'punishments' to have an idea about why they flinched. Still, he needed them to come out where he could help. Something in the elfling's cry was reminiscent of his own childhood, and he owed house-elves more than he could repay.

Getting on his knees in order to be less intimidating, Harry quietly called to the elves within. "My name's Harry. My friends and I mean you no harm. We just want to help. Can you come out please, where I can see you better and learn your names?"

What followed was a dizzying mesh of names and faces all coming before the young man. Harry knew it would take him a while to get everyone straight, especially as some of the elves were similar enough to Dobby that he had to fight flashbacks all the while.

The older elves held themselves with a quiet, subservient dignity that Harry could appreciate even as their obvious expectation of retribution for not having everything just so made his heart ache.

The younger elves, those that he could only guess were young adults themselves, had the energy that Harry'd always associated with Dobby; however, unlike Dobby, they met Harry as a master rather than as a human unconnected with their servitude. While the elders considered punishment as part and parcel of their lot, something to endure and move on from, these elves still knew what it was to fear pain.

It was the youngest of the elves that truly broke Harry's heart, however. They were the ones who knew what it was to hope for kindness from men as their elders strove to protect them from the oft brutal attentions of malicious Malfoys. Harry remembered that hope. His own had almost taken its last breath when Hagrid came and brought new life in it. All he wanted to do was nourish it and protect the young ones from the pain their elders had known.

Harry kept a quick count of the number of elves as they introduced themselves, and a plan formed in his mind. When they finished, he asked, "I've a few jobs for you to split among yourselves. In the upper rooms, there is quite a bit of furniture whose size does not fit my needs. I need some of you to shrink it down to… about toddler size. There will also be a number of people in these halls in the coming weeks who will need to be kept well-fed. Can you handle this?"

The elves looked at each other, no doubt surprised at the relatively light workload. At their nods, Harry continued. "For now, we need only have eighteen beds, chairs, and tables shrunk with food enough for that many as well. I'll let you know as that number increases."

Within a few hours, a veritable feast was presented before Harry as well as several bedrooms ready for inspection.

"Is you turning the manor into an orphanage, Master Harry, sir?" asked one of the elves, Tibby, Harry thought her name was, as the tour ended back in the kitchens where all the elves surrounded him.

Harry laughed at the idea but after thinking about it, decided it was an apt comparison. "Not quite. You may have heard that I've been granted a number of properties that used to belong to Death Eaters. I've mostly been renovating them and then letting non-Death Eater family members buy the homes back." Noting a tendril of fear in the house-elves' eyes, Harry hurried to continue, "Seeing you guys though reminded me that that won't always be the best plan. My life was saved by a house-elf; it's only right that I make sure any house-elves from these homes will be treated right. Somehow, I doubt that any relative of Lucius would fit that bill, Death Eater or not," wide eyes greeted him as he continued "I'd like to turn Malfoy Manor into a home for your people. Any who don't want a bond will be given the option of clothes; any who want a family will be paired with humans that are willing to give an oath about how they'll treat the new members of their household. You guys are shrinking the furniture down so that it is a better size for you to use. You won't be living in cells or cupboards while I'm living. The food you're cooking will largely be for you to enjoy as well. Makes sense?"

"We's to sleep in the beds, Master?"

"I'd like you to, yes."

"And the food, how much is we to eat each week?"

That brought a flinch to Harry as he remembered the lean pickings he had sometimes had at the Dursleys.

"Any house-elf bonded to me is to eat as much as is comfortable, as often as they have need. I'll not have anyone suffering from a lack on my watch," he ordered.

"Truly, Master Harry is too kind!" exclaimed many at his words, nonetheless, his orders were followed, and when another Death Eater property revealed more mistreated elves, they were brought into the fold as well. Whenever a house-elf was found who was well-treated, however, they were allowed to stay in the ancestral homes and work for their families, so long as an oath ensuring their good treatment was given.

To the wizards, Harry Potter's decision to enforce a certain level of care for the house-elves bonded to him was little more than a blip. Oh, some Purebloods found themselves needing to learn how to cook and clean for themselves, but what is that in the grand scheme of things? House-elves were still servants and continued to work to make their masters' lives easier. It was not such a great change that certain standards of treatment were now required of their masters in return.

To the elves, however, Harry Potter's name would go down in history as the bringer of a tidal wave of change, as even those who had never followed the Dark Lord came to follow in the footsteps of the great Harry Potter. Indeed, within a generation, truly symbiotic and compassionate relationships between house-elves and wizards such as had not been seen in centuries had begun to form thanks to the efforts of one man.

The death of Voldemort was only the beginning. And with it, on the wings of a butterfly, joy was born into the world.