AN: I do not own Harry Potter or the Wizarding World Universe.
Chapter 16
Harry deliberately ignored the looks his Housemates gave him as he opened his coursebook in Charms on Monday morning. Professor Flitwick set them homework on the Mending Charm. Like many other students, Harry put the thirteen-inch essay on the top of his coursebook. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Macmillan use his wand to physically measure the amount of words he had on his homework. That wasn't normal for his dormmate.
Harry had seen Macmillan, Harper, who shouldn't have been in the boy's dormitory, Finch-Fletchley, Hopkins, and Cauldwell look into his space while he'd been working. Thankfully, no one had thought to go fully inside to look on or under the bed. Professor Sprout and Merriweather hadn't minded invading his space.
The professor simply looked around with a critical eye and inspected his trunk, but didn't attempt to do anything. Then, she immediately looked under the bed, which unnerved him a little. He hadn't realized that she might know that he slept under there sometimes.
Admittedly, he hadn't slept under the bed in quite a while. The nearly unlimited food he had access to made him a little bigger around the middle, and he sometimes felt uncomfortable sleeping under the bed.
For some reason, he thought Professor Sprout knew he was there. He supposed it was possible. Magic was incredible and seemed to be able to do anything.
The Head Girl also visited. She hadn't snooped around. After opening the privacy curtain, she crossed her arms and declared loudly that, "she wanted to see her friend again."
Harry didn't consider himself her friend. Other students said she put up with him because he was Harry Potter. He thought that made more sense. Older students at his old school didn't like to talk with younger students. She was five or six years older than he was.
Professor Flitwick collected the homework with a wave of his wand. "I want to see your progress on the Mending Charm. It is one of the more useful and most used spells you will ever learn," he said with a grin from atop his perch of books.
Harry glanced across the room at the Gryffindors. Longbottom and Granger worked together and seemed to ignore the others around them. Weasley, Thomas, and Finnigan snickered about something as Thomas broke the practice wooden dowel.
Patil, Brown, Dunbar, and Porter made their own little group to practice with. Kirke and Ward sat by Fleming. Roger was a quiet boy that Harry sometimes forgot was even in the classroom with them he was so quiet.
On his side of the room, Hopkins and Macmillan worked together on his left, and Bones, Abbott, Harper, and Lowe worked together on his right. Jones, Green, Finch-Fletchley, Cauldwell, Longworth, and Gordon all made up the last group as they took turns breaking and mending the wooden sticks.
Professor Flitwick smiled at Harry when the stick in front of him knitted itself back together with magic.
In Potions the next day, Professor Snape was in a foul mood. He stomped around the dimly-lit classroom and grumbled to himself for a full minute before turning his attention to the class. Harry was paired with Florence Moon, a quiet dark, long-haired girl whose hair seemed to gleam all the time.
"You have an hour and a half to brew a Cure for Boils and a Herbicide Potion," the professor sneered. "Failure to complete both potions will earn you a failing mark for the week."
Harry grunted. Moon muttered something under her breath as her hands went to work. She didn't consult Harry; she just started working and muttering a litany of complaints. "His pet Slytherin gets hurt, and he takes it out on us," she grumbled as she started marking the ingredients for the Herbicide Potion.
Harry took the Cure for Boils recipe from his book and started to write what they would need.
"My house-elf could nip down to Diagon Alley and make it back in time," she huffed.
Harry frowned and glanced at his partner for the day. The house-elves in the Castle were quite amazing, even if they made him a little uncomfortable. Having a house-elf would make his life a lot easier when he left Hogwarts and during the summer until he could go off on his own.
Unsurprisingly, no one completed the impossible task to the professor's liking. He managed to take a total of fifty points across all of the students. The most points taken were from Ravenclaw because they were closer than anyone else to Slytherin in House Points. Anyone with half a brain could see what the professor was doing. In Harry's opinion, how he got away with it was just another strike against him. He still couldn't understand why he went to Professor Snape first other than it seemed like a good idea at the time.
Harry didn't go to lunch. He went straight to the Kitchens to ask an important question. "Uh, Mr. House-elf, sir," he said quietly once he entered the bustling chamber. The closest house-elf hadn't seem him.
"Yes, student?" a voice said from behind him. Harry turned to see a flat-faced house-elf with a slightly bent nose and beefy hands peering at him.
"Uh, yes, uh," he said, trying not to stare at the slightly misshapen head of the magical creature.
"Would you like food?" the house-elf asked.
Harry shook his head and then paused. He realized he was a little hungry. "Please," he amended after a moment. The house-elf went off, and Harry watched as plates, food, and a goblet glided toward the house-elf, who was standing a few feet away.
With a grin that did nothing to help the odd house-elf's visage, the magical creature returned and presented the plate and goblet. "Uh, thank you," he said.
"You are most welcome, student! Is there anything else?"
Harry took a deep breath. "Is…" he said before trailing off. How did one go about getting a house-elf? Were they purchased… which made him wonder what sort of person he might be if he purchased a magical creature. Did it make it wrong? Were they people too? There was nothing for it, he just had to ask.
"Uh… Mr. House-elf, sir… how… how do I go about getting a house-elf for myself?" he asked and then was struck with a sudden inspiration to make it not sound as bad. "So, I don't keep bothering all of you with getting food," he added quickly.
The house-elf seemed unperturbed by Harry's question. "We are more than happy to help all students. It is our pleasure," it said with a smile and a small bow.
"Yes… and thank you… but how do… I… you know…" Harry stammered.
"You are not aware that you already possess a bond with a house-elf? An old one," the magical creature said with a nod, pointing at somewhere on Harry's chest.
He looked down, trying to see if something stood out as a symbol of a bond. Of course, all he saw was Hufflepuff's crest on his robes. Maybe it was on his skin that he somehow missed? "How… do I… I don't know… call the bond? Ask the house-elf to come?" he asked while trying to find the right words.
"You must know their name, as names are powerful. Is there anything else, student?"
Harry shook his head. He would somehow need to find the name of a house-elf he'd never met. Where would one even start?
It took him two weeks to gather the courage to ask Madam Pince. His Housemates seemed determined to get him to return to their study sessions. For some reason, Bones, Abbott, Harper, and Macmillan asked him to help them the most.
"You've probably already gone over this, but can you help with the Smokescreen Spell?" Bones asked one Saturday morning. Harper asked him for help on reading her essay the day before. Macmillan wanted to know the best way to take care of a Bouncing Bulb.
Except for asking for help, everyone left him alone in class unless it was a duo or group assignment.
"Uh… Madam Pince," he asked quietly after finishing class. She looked up at him, and it seemed as if she were standing over him, looking down her nose. Her slender, dark eyebrow rose. "How… how do I see if I have a bond with a house-elf?" he asked.
Both eyebrows rose. "You are a Potter… and I suppose a Black if the rumors are true. I would be shocked if you didn't have a house-elf attached to one or both of the two Houses. They are quite old families. The easiest way is to write Gringotts and go through the process of confirming your blood and status. They are annoyingly good at keeping track of those sorts of things," she said. "Now, as for books on bonds. I'm afraid that is in the Restricted Section. Do not go looking for it," she warned.
Harry nodded. He thanked her and went back to his spot with the books on Dittany and Wormwood. Professor Sprout gave them homework, and Professor Snape said something odd about how wormwood tonics were not used in Wiggenweld for a good reason. As usual, he didn't elaborate on why that was.
Harry finished his project quickly and took out a parchment and quill. He stared at it for some time, trying to come up with something to say to Gringotts. Eventually, he came up with:
To Gringotts Bank,
I hope your axe remains bloody and your vaults overflow with Galleons. My name is Harry Potter and I have access to Potter Vault, Black Vault, Evans Vault, and the trustee vaults for Black and Potter. I wish to get a record of any house-elves I might be bonded with for all three vaults. Please, what are the steps I should take to prove who I am.
Thank you,
Harry Potter
It had taken several attempts to get the letter correct, and he couldn't think of another way to say what he wanted. They might take him seriously, and they might not. He finally found the Owlery after asking an older Hufflepuff where it was. Thankfully, there was a stack of empty letters in a box near the door. He took one, wrote Gringotts Bank, and looked around.
After two scratched fingers and a bruised spot on his hand from a rather nasty peck, he watched a massive barn owl leave the Owlery. He decided that he didn't want to send very many letters if at all possible.
Harry returned to his dormitory and frowned. His trunk wasn't locked when he went to open it. Heart hammering in his chest, he went to the compartment with the invisibility cloak. It was gone. He frantically searched his trunk and then the entire dormitory. Someone had stolen his present.
He tried to figure out who might have done it. His first guess was also one he didn't want to consider. Professor Sprout was the Head of House and had access to his dormitory. The other boys in his dorm also had access, but he didn't think they could get past the security charms that Professor Flitwick said were on the trunk when they got it. Merriweather had access to his dormitory too.
Harry felt sick to his stomach. The invisibility cloak allowed him to hide and be left alone when he didn't want to be bothered. Not only that, it was a present from someone. It was possible that the cloak had been mistakenly given to him. There wasn't a card or anything with it, but he couldn't help but wonder what else it could have been. Invisibility Cloaks were likely very rare.
Tears welled in his eyes. His head and ears pounded. It wasn't like being in Defense. No, he was genuinely angry. Harry savagely threw his spare robes out of his trunk in the vain hope his cloak had somehow made itself invisible in the trunk. After nearly an hour of searching, he knew it was gone. Amidst the pile of books, clothes, and various other objects, Harry sat on the floor and put his head in his hands. He knew that he'd locked his trunk.
It was almost too much to put everything back, but Harry forced himself to do it. Feeling drained, he didn't bother taking off his trainers and lay on top of the uncomfortably soft bed. It would be a fitting punishment for him to sleep there. He'd allowed someone to steal from him.
Dudley stole from him all the time. It was never much, as Harry didn't own anything, but the things he stole were important in some way. Homework assignments, his old trainers that didn't fit anymore, and a school paper mache project Harry brought home one time were just a few examples.
The anger over the loss of his Invisibility Cloak stayed with Harry for some time. His Housemates seemed all too happy to leave him alone when he flat-out told them he wasn't going to help them. Any of the boys could have stolen it, and he had no way to prove it might be them. The dormitory wasn't safe to use anymore. He wished that he could sleep somewhere else, but that wasn't an option. It also wasn't worth getting in trouble for confronting the others about the cloak. Losing it was not as bad as potentially getting thrown out of Hogwarts.
Harry knew Professor Sprout was going to talk to him at some point soon. He'd given minimal effort on several assignments. Macmillan seemed floored when Harry said he'd forgotten to do the assignment in Professor Quirrell's class. He likely wasn't the only one, just the one Harry could see out of the corner of his eye.
The Slytherin versus Hufflepuff game was fast approaching as well as the Easter Break. Harry was looking forward to the break but not the match. The whispers about his suitability in being a Hufflepuff resurfaced a week before the game. He knew that his Housemates would not like his decision to not attend the important event. It was the only thing he had to get back at whoever stole his cloak.
He hadn't forgotten, and he watched the other boys closely. Finch-Fletchley was the most likely culprit if it was even a Hufflepuff who stole from him. The other boy hadn't liked Harry from the first day.
Two weeks after he sent the letter off to Gringotts, Harry got a response in the form of a thick envelope that looked like it might burst the flap if not for a wax seal. He marveled at the unique crest of the goblin bank before opening the envelope. Somehow, they'd managed to fit six thick folded parchments within the letter. Harry wished he'd opened it somewhere other than the Great Hall. He couldn't look over everything at the table in front of everyone.
"Blimey, did you see the House points this morning?" Conners asked the older Hufflepuff next to him.
"No?"
"Gryffindor lost something like two hundred points last night. Four firsties got caught by Filch. My bet is that it's those four who look like the world is ending," Conners snorted.
Harry glanced over his shoulder as he stuffed the parchments into his bag. Longbottom, Granger, Weasley, and Brown had grim expressions. It looked like Granger might have been crying. The other Gryffindors acted like those four didn't exist.
"Any idea why?" another Hufflepuff whispered.
"Something about the Astronomy Tower and the Malfoy brat. His little group of baby Slytherins got caught as well. Snape is livid. Ravenclaw is in the lead."
Harry looked across the Great Hall. Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson all looked as bad as the Gryffindor group.
The story slowly came out over the course of the day. Harry wasn't trying to eavesdrop or even cared what happened, but the entire school seemed to be buzzing with the rumor that Hagrid had attempted to raise a dragon. For whatever reason, the Gryffindors tried to smuggle the thing out of the Castle while the Slytherins thought snitching on them and catching them in the act would somehow grant them amnesty from also being out of bed when they weren't supposed to be.
The Ravenclaws were over the moon with excitement. They were over a hundred points above the Slytherins. Hufflepuff was close in points to the Slytherins.
Harry didn't get to check his letter until after class. While he didn't trust the dormitory anymore, it was still the best place for privacy.
It took over two hours before Harry found what he was looking for under the assets attached to the Black Vault. While he didn't have access to it, the goblins felt he could see its contents and any properties associated with The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. A shiver ran through Harry when he read "Extinct in the Male Line" at the top of the parchment.
"A one Kreacher, house…" Harry read aloud when a pop shattered the silence around him.
"Kreacher, won't! Kreacher, won't!" the dirty gray-skinned thing moaned. It had a bullfrog-like voice.
It took Harry a moment to realize this was a house-elf, and it was absolutely filthy. A smell of something dead and rotten assaulted his nose. "Kreacher, won't! He won't! He won't!" the house-elf bellowed.
"Stop!" Harry shouted. His head already hurt from reading all the tiny writing on the parchments in the dim light.
The house-elf's complaints cut off as if by magic. Which, Harry realized, was likely the case. What little he knew about house-elves was that they must follow the orders of their master. It was… not something he was comfortable with. However, he needed Kreacher. If he were honest, he wasn't sure what he could do or even if Kreacher could help him, but it was something.
"Kreacher, why don't you want to help me?" he asked.
The piteous creature gave him a baleful look. Now that Harry could see the house-elf clearly, he could see its ribcage through the sickly brown-gray of its skin. It must be starving. What might have been a tea towel looked like it barely fit the poor thing.
"Master," the house-elf spat, "is a blood traitor."
Harry frowned. "I am no blood traitor. I know Malfoy uses it. I do not support Muggles," he declared hotly. In truth, he didn't support anyone.
Kreacher eyed him. His bulbous nose sniffed and his blood-shot dark eyes looked around. White hairs grew out of his bat-like ears. "Kreacher doesn't believe you," he declared.
"Believe what you will," Harry said as he continued to inspect the house-elf. "Have you eaten?"
Kreacher's many wrinkled face scrunched up, almost hiding his eyes. "Kreacher is not hungry," he answered. It sounded like he hated himself for saying it. "Blood traitor thinks it's going to win Kreacher over," the house-elf muttered to itself.
Harry crossed his arms. "Would you like to be free? I can do the whole…" he said before Kreacher wailed and threw itself at Harry's feet.
"Kreacher will be good! Kreacher will serve!" it declared. Then, as if he wasn't aware he was speaking, the house-elf said, "even if it is a blood traitor. Kreacher must protect Master Regulus."
Harry frowned. He felt terrible. This wasn't at all like he expected. "How long have you been alone, Kreacher?" he asked softly.
A contemptuous look came over the house-elf's features. Harry wasn't even sure how it was possible to convey so much emotion when most of Kreacher's face was so wrinkly. "Kreacher doesn't know," he said.
Harry doubted that but let it go. "Why are you skin and bones? Is that how your old masters liked to see you?"
The house-elf went still.
"I mean, if they did, I suppose that says a lot about them. I would have thought…"
"Master will not talk about the Great House of Black with his blood traitor mouth!"
"Right. Either they wanted you to look like this, or you've let yourself become a disappointment," Harry challenged. He wasn't sure why that jumped into his head, nor why he voiced the thought. Likely, because his head hurt. He didn't like bullying others.
Kreacher rocked back as if Harry slapped him. He peered down at himself and then looked away.
"I'm not going to force you to eat. However, I need you to understand that unless you would like to be set free so I can get a house-elf who will assist me, then you will look presentable as if the greatest member of the House of Black was alive. You owe it to them and me," Harry ordered.
Kreacher grumbled something under his breath but Harry saw him stand a little straighter and even ran a long, bony hand down his tea towel.
"I have a task for you," Harry said slowly. He grimaced. "I'm not sure it's possible," he admitted.
"Kreacher will do as the blood traitor commands," the house-elf said before complaining about working for unworthy wizards.
"First, please eat. I do not like seeing you like this… it reminds me of what I look like at the Dursleys," he said softly. The house-elf shook his head but didn't mutter anything. "Second… I need to… I need somewhere to go after I leave Hogwarts for the summer. I… I can't go back to the Dursleys. I won't go back," Harry declared more to himself than to Kreacher. "Can you either take my Galleons and purchase a place or find somewhere for me to live? I know it's a lot, but… well, please?"
Kreacher rocked back and forth and seemed conflicted. "Kreacher… knows of a place, Master. He will hate it."
Harry wasn't sure if the house-elf was talking about Harry or that he would hate having Harry there. Likely both. "Do you have enough to feed yourself? Buy groceries and all that?" he asked worriedly. At least whoever stole his invisibility cloak hadn't found his two sacks of Galleons.
"Kreacher… has enough."
Harry shook his head. "No. I want you to eat like I did when I came here. Eat as much as you want, but please be careful. I almost got sick," he warned as he made his way to the trunk. It felt fitting to find the pouch that had the Galleons from the Black trustee vault. He turned and thrust it into Kreacher's hands.
"Use as much of this as you need. Get food for yourself… and me… please. I can cook when I get wherever it is you think I could stay. I know you probably don't want to, but this means a lot to me. I don't need much. Just a place to eat, sleep, and study. Oh, the Galleons in the bag are from the Black Trustee Vault for my schooling," he said quickly. It might be important for the old Black house-elf to use his own money.
Kreacher looked from Harry to the bag in his hands. Almost gingerly, he opened the bag and peered inside. With a jerk of his head, he quickly closed the bag. "Master should never carry this much around," he admonished. The house-elf almost sounded friendly for about half a second before he started berating his old masters for allowing a blood traitor access to their hard-earned Galleons.
"Kreacher," Harry said after a minute of listening to the house-elf complain about him and unworthy wizards in general. When he made eye contact with the house-elf, he took a deep breath. "Thank you. I know this is hard. It will be for me too… probably. Once you get everything ready… please use some of those Galleons to get something for yourself. I have plenty more that isn't part of the Black Vault."
The house-elf stared at him for a long minute. He vanished with a quiet pop without warning.
Harry sat down on the hard bed and breathed out. He felt terrible. First, he owned a house-elf, which made him feel bad. Second, he had no idea what he was doing. The house-elves in the Castle seemed to be able to do anything, so he had to hope that Kreacher would be able to do something for him.
For some reason, he felt lighter than he had in a long time as he put away the parchments from Gringotts. He might not have to go back to the Dursleys in two months.
The talk with Kreacher made him feel better about the future. When he talked with the house-elf again, he would ask if he could investigate who'd stolen his invisibility cloak.
Harry decided that he didn't want to make all the other Hufflepuffs upset by not showing up for the match against Slytherin. A lot of his anger had bled away. He wasn't sure if it was because of Kreacher or if it was something else. His yearmates were more or less avoiding him. Malfoy continued to run his mouth and managed to get Bones in trouble when he threatened her aunt again.
On the Sunday before the Easter Break, Harry left early to head down to the Quidditch Stadium. He watched the Hufflepuff Quidditch players enter a lower part of the stadium that hadn't noticed before. About ten minutes later, the Slytherins arrived by flying down the lawn on their brooms and entering their locker room from the inside of the stadium.
Harry's yearmates didn't see him already in the stands. They sat near the front. Harry ended up sitting between the wall of one of the towers and a red-haired boy with a lisp. The older Hufflepuff looked about as thrilled to be at the match as Harry was.
"Diggory is going to get targeted," a sixth-year student said in front of Harry. "That'll give our Chasers a chance to run up the goals."
"Too hopeful," her companion sighed. "It's going to be a rough match."
Rough match didn't come close to what Harry watched. Diggory got physically body-blocked off his broom, and only the enchantments in the Stadium likely saved his life. Lucian Bole, one of the Slytherin Beaters, was almost ejected from the game. However, Madam Hooch gave him a stern warning and took House points. The Slytherins were not happy about her ruling. Harry and many of the Hufflepuffs felt it wasn't enough.
Cedric tried to hold on for the rest of the match, but it was clear he was hurt. With a score of two hundred and forty to two hundred, the Hufflepuffs knew things needed to end. Diggory likely wouldn't get the Snitch. Tony Carson, the Hufflepuff Chaser, used his boot to clip the side of Mile Bletchley's head. The Slytherin Keeper looked concussed, and Madam Hooch declared it an accident.
The match devolved into fouls on both sides. While most of the penalties went against the Slytherins, the Hufflepuff team did not hold back nor did they shy away from committing fouls when it benefited them.
Diggory took a Bludger to the leg, and the Hufflepuffs knew that would start the end of the match. He looked terrible on the broom, but he still held on and fought to find the Snitch.
"Higgs gets the Snitch," Lee Jordan reported without his usual enthusiasm.
The Slytherins cheered loudly. Harry thought fondly of seeing a Bludger hit their stands.
"We did everything possible," Tipe sighed as he went down the stairs in front of Harry.
"Slytherins being Slytherins, as usual," a boy Harry thought was Blishwick snorted.
"Hey, Hitchens, what did you bet the Weasley twins?" someone called.
"Shove it, Max!"
Harry followed the others to the Common Room. He debated going to the Library, but didn't know what the Hufflepuffs were like when they lost. As it turned out, they were just as excited for their Quidditch team as when they won. It was a hard-fought loss, and Diggory ended up in the Hospital Wing. Several students went up to see him.
Harry decided that he wanted to do something other than drink juice. He went up to the Library and found Bones, Macmillan, and Abbott sitting at his table. After considering just leaving, he went over and sat down with the book he'd picked out from the stacks.
"That was a rough match," Abbott grumbled as she roughly poked the parchment on the table with her quill.
"Diggory will be okay," Bones grimaced. She looked up and saw Harry there. "Oh, hi, Potter. Do you mind if we sit here?" she asked with a smile. It looked strained to him.
He nodded and sat. Macmillan had stopped reading, and Abbott was looking at him. "Did you see the match? We didn't see you there," she asked.
Harry grimaced. "Bole should have been ejected. He attacked Diggory with the full intention of causing harm."
Abbott's face turned purple as she exploded. "Exactly!"
"Quiet!" Madam Pince hissed from somewhere in the stacks.
Harry winced. He didn't want to get in trouble because of the others.
"Sorry," she muttered, and Bones patted her arm. "Are you going to go over your notes?" Susan whispered as she looked around the Library.
Harry frowned. They hadn't asked to see his notes in weeks. "No, Professor Sinestra's essay," he frowned.
Bones seemed to understand. "Oh, no, I didn't mean to ask for them. I just wanted to compare," she said quickly as she opened a rather large yellow leather-covered book. Harry frowned as she flipped through several pages before stopping and turning the book around. "See? I just wanted to compare what you wrote to what I have here."
He took the book and fought back a wince. Her handwriting was much better than his. Likely because she'd been using a quill all her life. It was clear she took her time on the introduction page for the Animating Charm. She'd found four books in the Library she used as a reference. He frowned.
"I haven't gotten to this yet," he admitted as he gave the book back.
They all blinked at him. "Really? You haven't?" Abbott asked as she took out a stack of parchment from her bag. "I know Professor Flitwick went over this last week. I thought you did the essay."
Harry grimaced. He did do the essay. "I… didn't feel like doing it," he admitted. "Well, other than the homework."
Macmillan shook his head. "Mate… Potter, you of all people? Wow… well… I guess we can help you with it, if you want?"
Harry felt conflicted. He felt a little bad that they'd done more work than him, and at the same time, he wanted to get the essay done. "You've done all your assignments?" he asked, hoping they would get the hint.
"No, Potions, Transfiguration, and Defense are left," Bones admitted.
"Maybe after they are all done," he allowed. After the silence stretched a little too long, he said, "Thank you for asking."
The others nodded and smiled at him.
