Chapter Thirty-Six: No Good Deed
Disclaimer: I own none of the material written by J. K. Rowling, or her publishing company, or Warner Brothers.
Summary: Harry has been, in a way, adopted by the Grangers. Hermione has just returned from America. News of the Greengrasses is spreading like fire across magical Britain. They both just want a break.
Dobby wants to start a school for Elves in the Fortress of the Crow. The question being, is he ready for the price Cordelia will set?
OOOO
The party wasn't as bright and celebratory as Harry might have hoped. Another year was going by. One without Ron. There was grimness too. Elves needed a place to stay, and if they had been reluctant to come for help before, the cold and hunger drove them to Pyrites' Townhouse by the dozen. Dobby had been effective in spreading the word of a free meal spent in the company of community. Something most of the homeless and destitute beings had not experienced for a long time. The Harry and the Granger family rang in the new year cooking, fetching boxes of warm clothes, and struggling to keep up the mood. EAO volunteers were working just as hard and a good example had to be set.
Not only were there magicals in the organisation, but Elves and Goblins also flitted in and out; Transporting rescued Elves to a recently constructed crisis centre. Located in the middle of Liberty Square where Goblins and Elves lived beneath an umbrella of increasingly successful prosperity. He hadn't really understood before how bad it all was before. The level of programming and self-denial that the Elves would need to break free from. What their lives looked like on the streets after they were 'clothed.' Every bed in Pyrites' Townhouse was now occupied. The crisis centre was full. Elves were being transported to any spare basement, apartment, or attic that could be found.
He observed how Cordelia Granger watched it all with a haughty look across her face. Wine glass clutched elegantly in one hand, a cigarette in the other. Perhaps if the others had shown up Harry might not have had a chance to eavesdrop when Dobby and Cordelia relocated to the office. His gut instinct was always correct even if it usually landed him in an ocean of hot water. So the Boy-Who-Lived pressed his ear to the door after skiving off under the guise of a bathroom break. "-he school would provide Freed Elves with an education. Whether that consists of skills in the trades or otherwise. This is a pillar that our community needs."
"Am I correct in having heard that you have enlisted aid from Yumboes, Pukwudgies, and American Elves with regard to this endeavour?" Her voice was strategic, cold, merciless. Harry shivered; He rarely ever spent time alone with the woman, though she often watched him in such a calculating way that there was no motivation for it. Where Hermione was young, fiery, and passionate, her grandmother lacked those fundamental qualities. Yes, the woman's granddaughter could be horrifically cunning, but it never left Harry feeling unsettled. There was always a good justification for it. Not in this woman's case.
"Yes, Madam Granger is correct." Dobby kept his mouth shut. A teenager might not typically understand this tactic though Harry did. When someone was beaten down, oppressed, and terrorised the best approach was to say only what was necessary. The Elf was likely used to having no power when dealing with wizards and witches. Perhaps Harry had managed to learn something from Hermione and Daphne after all. A woman as rigid and archaic as Cordelia, marriage to a muggle notwithstanding, would tolerate nothing other than orthodox conventions in her dealings.
"We are both well aware how much power there is to be found in the establishment of such an institution, Mr. Proudfree." Came the haughty, lecturing response. "Magical Britain has fallen many times; But Hogwarts never has. I'll acknowledge that the treatment of your species is often abhorrent. However, what you are proposing is unprecedented. Perhaps not in an entirely good way either. This is a heavy burden you are settling on my shoulders."
"Miss Hermione Granger would insist that our growth is good for her campaign against the blood purists." He hissed the last two words with a disgusted tone.
"Unfortunately, my granddaughter is currently the heir to the Fortress of the Crow. Not its overseer." The correction was dismissive, and her own tone bordered on condescension. "I have been more than kind to your cause thus far. Allowing whatever whimsical plot or building permit the girl sends my way. Our alliance with Magdalena Goregalon has been profitable and mitigative with respect to assuaging my concerns. This, however, what you are asking of me, is risky. The potential fusion of Goblin and Elvish society is not something that I take lightly. Independently those two factions are just as powerful as any opposition that might be enacted by our society. Together, however, with all of those Goblin womenfolk wedding your Elvish bachelors, something cataclysmic could ensue."
Dobby laughed then. It was a long, haunting, chilly thing. Harry trembled beneath the weight of it. Suddenly wondered what this Elf had been through, what he must have witnessed, in order to make such a ghastly noise. "I couldn't read until I met your granddaughter. I believed that I was scum of the earth. Good for nothing other than subservience." There was a silent moment. "You saw through to my true intentions, vanished them away much too easily with a few simple wags of your tongue. So I see that I must be level with you. Grindelwald has broken free of his prison. Voldemort and his followers grow in strength ever day, the whole of the Albanian Ministry at their mercy. Miss Hermione has confided in me about Cernunnos-."
"Don't speak that name in this home," Cordelia interrupted in a hiss of her own.
"You need powerful allies. We need a school to train our young. To cobble and forge a new society into existence. The army that you could help us to form may potentially overthrow the British Ministry. Though I would say the only thing you do not have is a military at your back. One that will follow your granddaughter through every hell she faces." The Elf finished his proposal. All cards on the table, or so Harry thought.
"When I was a young woman I worked in magical subterfuge and clandestine, governmental operations. After losing everything, finding myself with a squib baby to care for, I fell back onto those skills." There was nothing but the ticking of her grandfather clock, and the crackling of logs on the hearth. Aside from Harry's own heartbeat of course. It was drumming in his ears. "A group based in America employed me. Their mission was to introduce enough chaos that the International Statute of Secrecy would erode to the point of collapse. I was effective in what I did. Perhaps passionate given my own personal circumstances. Mayhaps some would accuse me of treason, and others terrorism. They deemed me to be effective in my position, until Hermione managed to survive Voldemort's wrath." She laughed, surprisingly deep and firm, an ugly thing just like Dobby's was. "They are powerful. An old organisation. I was desperate and they at least provided me with information. Of course, the condition was that I would help them to shape Hermione into their weapon. Work against Dumbledore. Undermine all established powerhouses that I could at every turn possible. To sow chaos on a more global scale."
"Now you are unhappy with that arrangement." Dobby surmised, falling back to his old tactics. Succinctness over openness.
"I need to strike against my enemies in Ireland. An old feud must be settled before I die. Though an organisation that sees Hermione, my girl in every way that counts, as a pawn. They will never favour her best interests. Not as you will Mr. Proudfree. They can be convinced for a time that your burgeoning nation is simply a new tool. Until we are in a position to cut their heads off." Harry could no longer process the illicit information, so he simply listened mindlessly. "I have no interest in allies who don't exploit every opportunity ruthlessly though."
"What are you proposing?" The freed Elf demanded of her.
"I have much valuable experience in warfare. Why ask me for a school, so you can secretly train your military, when I could help you do it?" She was smiling in her ruthless way, there was simply no doubting it. "There will be a benefit to helping me of course. When we topple my enemies in Ireland, and my allies in America, it will cement your reputation. Any familial lands acquired in Ireland by the ancient rite of conquest shall go to you and your's. The Grangers shall continue to own the land that Liberty Square rests upon. Not as a sign of ownership. As a sign of our committed partnership instead. Do you agree to my terms?"
"Yes." Came the tired response.
"Good. Your Goblins should be overjoyed. We all shall soon bathe in magical blood."
OOOO
Harry did not quite know how to cheer Hermione up. Certainly telling her what he overhead would not do the trick. In any other situation Luna would say something odd and make them all laugh, Cedric would sneak her away for a bit of snogging, or Daphne would use pretentious commentary as a means of distraction. So he decided to take some inspiration from the Weasley twins instead. Several bottles of firewhisky were stowed in a bag, and though she protested mightily, Hermione was stolen away from Pyrites' Townhouse. "Thank you Harry. I usually love helping the Elves, but the number of them that need help is overwhelming. It makes me sad." He nodded. EAO membership was no longer booming, as the Daily Prophet was so eager to chorus in recent days, and that also meant the number of places to send Elves had not been increasing as needed. "Where are we headed then? Hmm?"
She looped her arm through his own, as though she weren't the lethal, fourteen-year-old Alchemy Master the world now perceived her to be. To him she would still just be Hermione. The only other person who knew what it had been like to have Ron as a friend. A girl who took him in and gave him the closest thing he ever had to a family. "It is a surprise," He grinned, "Though it may just help us start to solve the Elf housing problem a smidge." They arrived at Grimmauld Place. Per the instructions from his accountant at Gringotts the Number Twelve segment was nowhere to be seen. After all, the Blacks had spent an ungodly sum of money making the place Unplottable.
Grabbing her by the hand, closing his eyes, the young wizard willed for the home to appear. With a creaking, clanging, and grinding cacophony of noises that space shifted before them. The entire building moved and metamorphosed in order to accommodate a forgotten part of itself. "This is where Sirius Black grew up," Hermione whispered, "Are you sure you want to go inside."
"Yes." He answered back bravely. Meeting Professor Lupin, talking to the man about his parents had emboldened him somewhat. So they marched forward together and entered the dusty, uninhabited space together. It was ominous at first. Then they were drowned in a cloud of dust as a portrait they would soon come to know well came to life in a flutter of curtains.
"WHO DARES VIOLATE THE SANCTITY OF MY HOME?!" The woman might have been beautiful if her ferocious, yellowed painting weren't so violent. As if that were not bad enough there was a sudden crack in the air. The distinct noise of apparition. Right before they were trapped beneath mercilessly tight ropes that had been conjured from thin air.
"Answer my mistress. Filthy thieves." Standing before them was perhaps the oldest Elf that Harry had ever seen. He wore a filthy rag as clothing, and glared at them both in all of his slumped glory.
"I am Harry Potter," He rasped, mouth dry and full of nasty fluff. "This is my best friend, Hermione Granger."
Whatever he might have been expecting it was not what ensued. "A MUDBLOOD AND A HALF-BLOOD IN MY HOME! KREACHER! WIPE THEM FROM THE SPOT THEY STAND! THE FILTH! THE SHEER AUDACITY OF THIS FILTH!"
"He's your House Elf Harry!" Hermione cleverly interjected. "Hurry." Even then the House Elf moved to snap his fingers, a malicious glint forming in his eyes.
"Stop." The boy ordered, grateful to see the Being freeze in place like a statue. "Release us." The ropes vanished instantly. Harry felt sick commanding Kreacher around in such a way within moments of meeting him. He was certain Hermione felt even worse. Though at least they hadn't been murdered.
OOOO
"It is an impressive place," Hermione admitted with a drunken giggle. For the first time since returning from America there was a genuine smile on her face. Kreacher had given them a reluctant tour of the place. Of course, there were doxies and deadly artefacts galore, but the drawing room seemed just barely safe enough. "We do need to figure out how to handle Kreacher, and clean it out, before this place can be used of course." She trembled with sudden disgust. Likely still remembering how the House Elf had described the wall of heads to them with a look of wonderment plastered on his face.
Harry took another swig of firewhisky. "I offered this place to Andromeda, but she wanted nothing to do with it. Warned me against ever setting foot inside of here too." His voice was a bit slurred, his eyes somewhat heavy. How beautiful would it be to fall asleep?
"I'm glad we didn't," Hermione was handling her alcohol a bit better, and it embarrassed him somewhat. "Poor Kreacher. I can't imagine being trapped in this place for so long alone. With nothing but that cunt of a portrait keeping him company."
"Well, 'm not sure what we can do to 'elp him 'Mione." Harry sighed out.
"You'd be surprised. We'll figure something out." She tossed her head back, staring at the ceiling.
"You will," He suddenly insisted, "Clever as you are. You always find an answer."
A dry laugh suddenly escaped her. "Life gets more complicated the older I get, Harry. One day I'll find a problem that doesn't have an answer." Harry supposed she was right. Especially given that he couldn't share what he overheard earlier that evening. Not even while under the influence of magical booze. "Oh," She, thankfully, prevented his tongue from coming loose, "There's a piano!"
Tired and conflicted as he was, her joy at something so simple wasn't something Harry could crush. She slipped over to the bench and brushed at the dusty keys. "It is a bit out of tune, but I don't think anyone else is here to mind." She played several tunes, warming up her rusty memory, prior to beginning one that Harry knew the words to. Even though he was as pissed as a Hippogriff on dittany.
"Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot
And days of auld lang syne? (old long since)
For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne
We'll take a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne
We twa hae run about the braes
And pulled the gowans fine
We've wandered many a weary foot
Since auld lang syne
For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne
We'll take a cup o' kindness yet
For the sake of auld lang syne
We twa hae paddled in the burn
Frae morning sun till dine
But seas between us broad have roared
Sin auld lang syne
And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp!
And surely I'll be mine!
And we'll take a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne
For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne
We'll take a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne
And here's a hand, my trusty fere!
And gie's a hand o' thine!
And we'll take a right gude-willy waught
For auld lang syne
For auld lang syne, my dear
For auld lang syne
We'll take a cup o' kindness yet
For auld lang syne
For auld lang syne."
By the time the song finished his eyes were drooping with a certain finality. He was asleep, and only Hermione's honey sweet, sombre voice finished alone. She paused to brush the bangs out of his face with the fondness only an adoring sister could display. Tossing a moth-eaten, musty blanket over him. Relishing the moment of peace. Right before her back stiffened. There was a voice in the room, however faint, still singing a song. Perhaps one of an entirely different sort though it was a song nonetheless. Treacherous and tricky, familiar and soothing all in one.
She turned around. Eyes landing on a glass display case. She brushed her silver, bushy hair behind an ear on one side of her face the best she could. Slipping forwards with the trembling fingers of an addict. Knowing full well the entire time what was about to be discovered. Maybe it was the firewhisky impairing her judgement. Perhaps she missed having a voice in her head that possessed all the answers. Or at least some answers, even if they were sometimes heinously wrong. It also could have been the sliver of himself that Tom Riddle had claimed to have left behind in her very person. Was it just an indulgent desire to be in control this time around?
She didn't quite have the knowledge of Dark Magic necessary to know how it was possible, but indeed it was happening. The glass display case was removed. A glimmering locket dangled in her hand by the chain. Somehow, Tom Riddle was with her again. She hated that fact and loved it all at the same time.
This was one of those complicated, adult situations where any potential solutions eluded her entirely.
OOOO
Ginny smiled. It was an ugly thing nowadays. How it split across her face, practically broke it in half. Her family, or what was left of it at least, had gone to sleep in her Aunt Muriel's home hours ago. What made her happy was not the opportunity to see her parents, or Bill, nor even Charlie. No, this was the recognition of a very special secret. A weapon. A new ace to stuff up her sleeve if you kindly would. Few things had belonged solely to Ron. How his name left a tragic ache in her heart. His broken wand was now nestled beneath her rail-thin mother's pillow. His clothes filled her closet and even Auntie Muriel had nothing but a sweet word to say about such a violation of gendered decorum.
Bill had taken Scabbers back. The rat that wasn't actually a rat.
Oh no. Cernunnos knew instantly what it was. So she stole it. Carried it outside to an alley in muggle London. Perhaps Scabbers did not fight against her because he mistook this for the behaviour of a heartbroken sister. That much was certainly true, just not in the way that he may have been anticipating. She opened the cage after finding a suitably scary, lonely place to conduct the will of Cernunnos. Her master. The best chance she would ever get at securing vengeance. "Come out little rat," She crooned, perhaps a bit insanely, "I want to chat with you." Even someone as stupid as Scabbers had to know by now that things were not going in his favour. He attempted to dart away. She skillfully removed the enchantments that bound him to his Animagus form.
Even in the form of Peter Pettigrew, Scabbers tried to weasel his way out of this. Looming over her as any grown man could. Likely looking for his best opportunity to snatch her wand. "Oh, Scabbers, you silly boy!" Ginny cackled delightedly. Cernunnos acted then. Assuring her in the way only he could that Pettigrew was suffering a pain worse than the Cruciatus Curse. Something that only came second to her pain and broken heart. He promised. Scabbers writhed, his flesh bubbled, his bones cracked and reset continuously. She didn't even hesitate as she tugged his sleeve upwards. Revealing a glinting Dark Mark to the moonlight.
Runes long forgotten to mankind were carved into the flesh with her wand. His eyes rolled back suddenly and he lay there. Slumped on the asphalt before her. "I don't know how you are alive," Ginny whispered in his ear, "I don't care. We will do this for Ron, Scabbers. We'll hurt that bitch Granger in ways she cannot even fathom." She succumbed even further to her wicked revelry. "Oh yes. Hermione Granger has a brother now. How about we rip him from her?"
OOOO
Next Chapter: Towards Hope
As promised in AO3, this fic was not plagiarized. I am the one who set up that account. Sorry for the delay in updating. I am in a much better place than I was. I started writing this fic when I was fifteen, and I have changed a lot since then. Sometimes it has been hard to find my voice in writing. Hopefully that at least means the quality of this fic goes up. I guess we will have to wait and see.
Wishing all of you a Happy New Year full of light and joy. Thanks for your continued dedication to this story even when I couldn't muster it myself sometimes.