Freedom and Vengeance

The legs of a scrubbed, wooden chair occasionally glowed red from the sparks emitted by a nearby fireplace. An elf sitting comfortably on the chair sighed as he gazed at the Elf Informer Prophet propped up against his lap. He shook his head from time to time, skipping advertisements featuring quills and inkpots.

"Excuse me sir," squeaked a stout elf whose shadow covered a discount voucher located towards the bottom of page nine, "we have run out of pastry bases yet again. It's no use makin' them sir; we just don't have the proper ingredients."

"Well Trood, the next batch should arrive within a few days or so. Thank goodness for Melfurus," replied the seated elf. "She has been incredibly supportive throughout the past month." The aged elf began folding the newspaper.

Trood stirred uncomfortably, and looked upwards into the eyes of the ancient elf.

"M-may I sir?" he asked, shuffling his bony feet.

The elder smiled benignly.

"Thank you Trood," he said whilst putting the newspaper on Trood's outstretched hands. "You have never wavered in gracious service."

A tinge of pink slowly appeared on Trood's child-like face.

"Why t-thank you sir. Currently serving and always will sir."

Staring into the elder's face for a few seconds seemed rather stressful for Trood. He broke their eye to eye gaze, and hastily unfolded the Elf Informer Prophet. He frantically shuffled to the back page the moment his eyes landed on the bewitched photograph of several wizards located on the front headline.

The old elf continued to gaze at the young elf.

"The reformed elfish law merely states interaction with wizards, not articles. To my belief, knowing current affairs would prove to be a benefit to all elves."

Trood listened, but did not stare into the eyes of the speaker. Slowly and cautiously, he turned the newspaper and stared at a man standing behind a calm, seated Dumbledore. The round-faced man wore a pin-striped cloak whilst carrying a quill and an old scroll bearing the crest of the Ministry of Magic. Trood's forehead grew hot. His eyes began scrolling through the article.

MINISTRY ABOLISHES ELF RESPONSIBILITY

This morning, Cornelius Fudge - Minister for Magic, officially declared the dissipation of elf connection. His final response remained similar to those made in the Wizarding Conference during the past week. The entire Ministry continues to remain vigilant over the course of heavy action directed by the Minister.

"The pleading of house-elves has been much unheard of over the past month. Unlike wizards, house-elves have one purpose and one purpose only - to appropriately serve the wizarding community without rewards or requests," said Fudge, looking awake and serious. "This is intolerable in the wizarding community, and the lack of respect has been a burden carried by many wizarding families."

Ivreina Lovegood, a spokeswoman of The Quibbler (A newly credited source) has recently announced the sudden halt in the consistent serving behaviour of Flake, her house elf. Shedding tears from her eyes, no distinct words were discernable from occasional hiccoughs and sniffs. Other victims of afflicted house-elves were Jurist Heartfeld of the International Confederation of Wizards, and Amelia Bones - Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

A planned hearing was also averted by the Minister himself. During Midday today, elfish connection with wizards will be abolished in Level Seven of the Ministry of Magic. House-elves will also be removed from wizarding families after the conclusion of the abolition.

Trood swallowed and coughed. He looked up and noticed that his elder was no longer seated on the wooden chair. Folding the newspaper, he scanned the room. All was empty except for the occasional squeak of a rat as it scuttled across the damp stony floor.

Trood walked across the room towards the block of wood covering the wall. Avoiding puddles and habitual leakage of the low ceiling, Trood forcefully opened the wood concealing a portrait hole. Climbing out, his eyes met total darkness.

His entire body shook as the ashes beneath an empty torch bracket caught his attention. A ruby-redness remained in the ashes, smoke curling upwards.

Squinting his eyes and bending low, Trood seized a handful of ashes. To his mild surprise, the ashes were warm. Someone had recently extinguished the torch in haste.

As he brought the mound higher, the thin wisp of smoke swirled in his nostrils. Trood absent-mindedly released the mound of ashes as his vision began to waver. Rubbing his eyes with his bony hands, he attempted to rise, but failed. Falling onto the dispersed mound of ashes, his head collided with the cobbled floor. A silky trail of blood trickled down his thin tuft of hair.

~*~

BANG!

The neat canvas featuring a bowl of fruits was blasted apart. The spell continued traveling across the room, towards a cabinet which blasted apart into miniscule wooden chips. Trood's neck snapped in the direction of the portrait hole to see a horde of wizards and witches enter the kitchen.

The plump build of Cornelius Fudge stood before the house-elves, a toad-like witch standing at his left. Professor Snape and McGonagall stood behind the tall figure of Albus Dumbledure at Fudge's right. Half a dozen people composing of witches and wizards grouped behind Fudge.

"By order of the Ministry of -" began Fudge, before being interrupted by an ancient-looking house-elf sitting by the fireplace.

"Excuse me sir! Please explain accordingly the decisions which stir you to charge into this kitchen!" cried the old elf. "In Hogwarts, all arbitrations are planned beforehand -" he continued, but was also interrupted - this time by the toad-like witch.

"Yes, yes, yes, and this is a coordinated removal of all house-elves from the hands of wizards," she said in a falsely sweet tone. She giggled as she monitored the entire kitchen.

"Quite right, Dolores. Right on the wand tip. Yes indeed," Fudge said, suppressing a tight giggle. Dumbledore felt Professor McGonagall stir. He remained silent, whilst she stared at Fudge.

"Minister, I believe the Ministry has a lack in spreading recent news around. The final decision was only made this afternoon," said a purse-lipped Professor McGonagall.

"Hem, Hem," sounded Dolores Umbridge in her fluttery, girlish voice. "Excuse me for interrupting Minerva, but I believe that was - let's see ..."

"Six hours ago Dolores," said Dumbledore whilst examining his twelve-handed watch.

"Five hours and fifty seven minutes ago," responded Umbridge who had pretended not to have listened. Out of the corner of his eye, Snape gazed at Dumbledore who remained calm.

Trood transferred his gaze with every speaker in turn. He shuffled forwards to stand beside his elder.

Umbridge removed a pair of pince-nez from her violet cloak pocket and fitted it on her nose. She licked her dry lips whilst examining Trood from head to foot.

"I-am-Dolores-Umbridge. Do-you-understand-" began Umbridge in a broken tone before taking an interest in the rest of the house-elves, all of which now had a small implement clutched in their hands. A female elf standing a metre behind the elder was holding a rolling pin, whilst another elf beside her clasped a kitchen knife.

Umbridge's mouth arched upwards as it widened. Trood clenched his left hand until his fingers dug into his furry palm. Umbridge removed the pince-nez from her nose and tucked it into her left pocket before removing a wand from the same pocket. As she flicked it upwards to her neck, Fudge held out his left hand in front of her. She led out a long slow breath through her nose, and gaped at Fudge.

A deep voice sounded behind.

"It is not your task to put matters into your own hands Umbridge. That is what the Ministry members beside me are for," said Snape who raised his dark eyebrows. "Besides, are you not under secretary to the Minister himself?"

Umbridge looked as though she had been hit hard with a cauldron of hot lava. She maintained composure immediately, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly. Before she could barely open a fraction of her pallid mouth, the elder had yelled: "ATTACK!"

The startled group of intruders was soon surrounded by advancing house-elves, cooking implements at the ready. Fudge turned his head and nodded at the group of Ministry members who joined Umbridge's left.

"INCARCEROUS!" shrieked Umbridge as she pointed her wand at the nearest house-elf. A frosted fruitcake was thrown out of nowhere, splattering over her peachy face.

"Confundus!" yelled Fudge, aiming at the elf at the far right. It stopped running and remained still whilst blinking. It slowly turned around and began to attack its roped comrade with a garlic grater.

Snape stared at the scene with wands at his side. Professor McGonagall waved her wand at the floor, returning the strewn canvas to its original position on the portrait hole. Dumbledore watched earnestly, occasionally whispering "Finite" while pointing his wand at house-elves trodding nearby.

Trood sank a butter knife through the cloak of a Ministry member. Amos Diggory kicked Trood hard at the chest and pointed his wand at him, crying "Waddiwasi!"

Trood was sent flying into a group of house-elves who recently had spells lifted, his knife flying through the air and landing with a loud clank on the floor.

In a short moment, many house-elves were thrown into large sacks conjured by Bode and Diggory. Umbridge rounded the last of the house-elves with an Impediment curse, sending the struggling group into an empty sack.

"Dolores, your nose ...." said Bode. He seemed to be quavering under the immense pressure to suppress laughter.

Umbridge's unusually round eyeballs rolled to catch a sight of her nose.

"What wrong with my nose?" she screamed. Her forefinger immediately began to fondle with her nose, rubbing furiously until it resembled an unripe beetroot.

"Well ... Dolores - a splash of ... of ... icing?" said Bode anxiously, no longer smothering fits of laughter.

Dumbledore appeared not to have heard, apparently deeply absorbed in cleaning his wand by magic. Snape coughed, apparently hiding a hint of pleasure. Professor McGonagall's expression remained as stern as ever. However, Amos Diggory caught sight of a twitch in the corner of her mouth and winked.

Umbridge let out another scream, now slightly hoarsely. Invisible fireworks began popping randomly at Bode's feet the moment she flicked her wand. She watched in pleasure as Bode hopped on the spot, apparently attracting the attention of the wizards and witches within the room.

Trood stared at scene through a tiny hole in the sack. He attempted to bite a loose portion of the sack before another hand clutched his fist. Trood looked to his right and noticed the elder staring at him, his bony chin more noticeable than ever. Tears began rolling down Trood's cheek as the sack was lifted through the open portrait hole ....

~*~

CRACK!

Trood's bleary eyes opened. For a moment, he did not know who he was or how he had managed to escape from the clutches of the Ministry. He gazed drowsily at a dim silhouette of an approaching figure. Images of the past duel capturing his thoughts, he sank back into a deep sleep as a shadow washed over his frail body....