Chapter 05

• My Name is Trouble •

Almost three years later Harry Potter walked around the edge of the stairwell and looked back. When the Randy did not appear he smiled and stepped forward, tumbling down the stairs. He giggled as the stairs suddenly threw him back into the air and he slid down to the bottom, landing with a solid bump. The stars were one of the most enjoyable things to play on in the house, except for the butt bruising he got when he landed.

Randy appeared at the top of the stairs looking absolutely terrified. "Master Potter!" he yelped and then disappeared with a pop. In the same instant he appeared behind Harry, who felt suddenly restricted. Randy never let him do anything fun.

"Auta!" Harry said, pouting.

Randy blinked and then frowned. "You say in English too," he said, containing the shame he felt because the master didn't like him around. It was hard enough to ignore the things he said, as Sophos had been reminding them for three years now, but when the master gave orders it was difficult not to obey.

"Leave," Harry said, much quieter, knowing that the elf wouldn't. He just hated it that the elf was always making sure he couldn't have any fun. Randy was enjoyable to be around all the other times though. And he knew so much about cleaning, which was something that Harry was getting good at. He'd only started doing it when the paintings told him not to, because he didn't like it when he was told to do something.

Another elf suddenly appeared at the doorway hidden underneath the stairs. He was dark, and old, a newer acquisition to the potter household, approved by the paintings and the other elves. He wasn't very good at working, most thing he did went wrong, he was however quite knowledgeable in human nature.

"In French," he said in broken English. The elf rarely spoke any other English words at all except for those two. In fact, the only time he spoke at all was when he was speaking to Harry, teaching him the French language.

"Congé..." he said uncertainly.

The elf, Dante, narrowed his eyes, but didn't say anything. Harry knew he'd said it wrong and frowned. Then, he swiveled around and darted out of the room before the elf could actually think of some manner to punish him. He absolutely detested being put in his room where he couldn't play or be around the other elves, and the portraits... all of them were dreadfully boring.

Down the hallway he counted off the doors until he came to the 23rd one. Over the lat few weeks he'd gotten curious as to where all the doors in the house led. Randy allowed him into certain rooms, but generally the doors stayed closed. In the last few weeks he'd been slowly making his way down this particular hallway and exploring every doorway when none of the elves were present. It made for great fun when they wandered around the house trying to find him. That was one thing he was particularly good at, hiding from the elves, he was even better than they were.

The doorway didn't lead to a room though, it opened to a staircase and Harry's eyes widened at how dark it got. He heard a scuffling down the hall, just around the corner, and so he entered the stairwell and shut the door behind him, effectively shutting out all but a sliver of light. Harry didn't move as he heard one of the elves. They didn't leave the hallway though and Harry cringed at the thought of them finding him when he'd been able to hide so well until now.

Clenching his fist Harry slipped down the steps backwards one by one, keeping as quiet as possible. It seemed as if the spiral downward continued forever. However, Harry continued down, never having backed out of anything he'd decided to do. Several minutes later, and more stairs than Harry could count, he came upon solid ground. Fortunately, as soon as he stood up, a torch flickered alive. He smiled, relieved that there was some sort of light because it didn't make things as scary.

"Hello there," a voice said. Harry spun, startled that he hadn't noticed someone else's presence. He was good at it because the elves tried to hide from him whenever he was around and he'd had to learn to figure out how to spot them. No one was there though, it was a portrait that was hanging on the far wall near the torchlight.

"Who are you?" it asked, seeming to be quite friendly.

"Eneth ma'n?" Harry inquired, then stopped and dropped his head, waiting to be told what his punishment would be. The other portraits got angry when he spoke in the wrong language, and none of them knew elvish, so unless they asked him to repeat something in elvish he wasn't suppose to talk in it.

No tongue lashing came, and Harry looked up to the portrait tentatively. The young man was in it staring at him curiously. "Why do you speak like a house-elf?" he asked when Harry was finally looking at him.

"I... they..." Harry said weakly, trying to find the words. "Randy is teaching Harry to speak words and his words is in his tongue before they is in English."

"Randy!" the portrait exclaimed, startling Harry and making him shudder. "Where is that little pain in the ass. I'd like to have some words with him about bringing me down here."

"You, you is knowing Randy then?" Harry asked tentatively. Most of the other portraits didn't, or where ashamed to talk about him. There was something about his name they seemed offended about.

"Of course I knew Randy. Sirius named him just a few months before I was painted. My parents regretted allowing him to name the elf and even banned him from coming over for the rest of the summer. Unfortunately for them a house-elf cannot be renamed, it will only recognize its true name when you want to speak directly to it."

"You is knowing Sirius Black?" Harry asked, finding that the portrait was a much better talker than the rest of them, and he was already much more fun.

The portraits eyes widened and he examined Harry again. "Yes, of course I do, he and I were best friends Why wouldn't I know Sirius."

"The other portraits is not knowing him," Harry commented weekly. He was glad that he didn't have to talk like the portraits because he found that it was annoying to talk in such an odd fashion. "You is who?" Harry asked again, also glad that he wasn't being chastised for asking questions, He was a very curious person and he loved to know the answer to everything he wondered about. If Randy hadn't told him after his meetings with the portraits then he'd go mad with curiosity.

The portrait snickered. "I is James Potter, pleased to meat you. But you still haven't answered my question, who are you?"

"You's my father," Harry babbled, smiling joyfully. He had been told of his parents, but none of the elves had told him that his father had a portrait. He wondered why no one had said anything. The room was clean, or close to clean, so one of the elves had been around fairly recently.

"Your father?" James asked, surprised. "Yes... the elves did mention that I had a son, said something about Sirius telling them to take care of you. Are you saying that he never came back. I'm not all that good with time, but I know it's been a while since they said that. Where is Sirius? He would have definitely had the elves bring my portrait out of this hole in the ground.

"Is basement," Harry observed, looking around the room. The portrait had caught him off guard and he hadn't really got a good look around yet. "Not hole in ground."

The portrait smiled wickedly. "Well, we're going to have to do something about sprucing up the place and helping you with your education."

• Updated 2004.10.03 •