Stormseeker: Borrowed Destiny

The first weekend of October, I wake to see another house-elf sitting on the end of my bed. Not Dobby, a different one. The sun's streaming in through the tower windows, and the other boys' beds are empty, so I must have slept in this morning.

I blink slowly, and stare at this creature standing on the edge of the bed. And quickly realize that he's very strange for a house-elf. He has a knife at his waist, hanging from a bit of rope that forms a makeshift belt. He's wearing a dusty brown "robe" that appears to have been made from a pillowcase. And his golden eyes are looking down at me with nothing of the innocence or subservience I've come to expect from house-elves.

"Who... are you?" I ask.

"My name is Rispy," he replies, striding forward to stand right on top of my chest. "You will aid me."

Okay, this is definitely a very strange house-elf. He speaks very well, and he dares to make demands of a wizard? What in the Abyss is going on here?

"What do you want?" I wonder.

Rispy pulls out his knife and points it at my face. "You are responsible for putting me in this situation. Therefore, you will make amends for it, or else!"

"Me?" I reply. "What the fuck did I do?"

"Do not try to deny it!" Rispy exclaims. "I know this was your doing! They said it themselves!"

"I don't even know what you're talking about," I say exasperatedly. "And would you put that thing away already before you poke my eye out? Get off of me!"

"I knew it," Rispy snarls. "You're just as much a slaver as the rest of them. Die!"

He sheathes his knife for a moment, then pulls it out again and thrusts the blade right into my eye. I only have a moment to scream before everything goes black.

I groan and rub my eyes. Well, that was unpleasant. Note to self: Do not annoy the crazy knife-wielding house-elf. I sigh softly and sit up, looking to Rispy standing on the end of my bed.

"Do you need something?" I ask.

"I am Rispy," the house-elf replies coldly. "But that's probably not important to you. You wizards never care about us house-elves. You'll probably forget my name again right away, anyway."

"I will not," I assure him. "My name is Harry. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Rispy snorts in disgust. "It's never a pleasure for me to meet another wizard. There are too many of them in my life as it is."

"I'm sorry about that," I say. "Is there something I can do for you, then?"

"Much as I am loath to request aid from one of your kind, I find myself in dire need of assistance," Rispy says. "And since you are the one responsible for my predicament, it is only fitting that this task fall to you."

"I'm afraid I don't know what I might have done," I say. "We've never met before. Or do you know Dobby?"

Rispy gives a sharp nod. "Because of that, the Malfoys desired another slave. I am a free-born elf, but for the past year, I have been passed around from wizard to wizard like a piece of chattel! Dobby spoke highly of you, however, and so I thought that if any wizard were willing to help me, you might be. Otherwise, I will kill you, and bring down any other wizard I can before I am slain!"

"Whoa, calm down," I say, raising my hands. "Look, I'm not your enemy here. I'll help you however I can. I promise. Now, why don't you start from the beginning? How did you get into this situation?"

Rispy sighs softly and flops down to sit in front of me. "I don't trust you, but I will take you at your word, for now. But I will hold you to that promise." He shakes his head faintly. "I was born in a village of free elves in Ireland. But I had a bit of wanderlust in me. I wanted to see the world. I wanted to have grand adventures. I wanted to be a hero. It seems so very long ago now, and my youthful idealism looks so foolish from my viewpoint now."

I nod faintly, and ask, "So what happened?"

"They caught me," Rispy says. "The damned wizards. They bound me with their spells, forced me to obey them. At first, they passed me around for breeding. Some fresh elf blood to revitalize their inbred slave kennels. That's how I first met Dobby." He pauses for a moment. I don't know what to say. Thankfully, he goes on. "It was a wizard named Parkinson who bound me. He charged gold to lend me out to other wizards. I'm sure I brought a pretty price when they finally sold me off."

"To the Malfoys," I say quietly.

Rispy nods. "Now, for the past month and a half, I've been trapped in this horrible house with the most awful wizards possible out of an already awful lot! They don't even have the dignity to punish me themselves when I do something wrong. They force me to hurt myself. And I'm always doing something wrong. They want to break me..."

"I'm sorry," I say. "I was trying to help Dobby. I never intended for anyone else to get caught in that sort of situation. I'll find some way to help you. It would probably take every galleon in my vault to convince them to part with you, though..."

"You can't help the slaves by supporting the slave trade," Rispy retorts. "Not one more coin for the slavers!"

"Fine," I say. "Perhaps I can trick them into freeing you. Accidentally giving you clothes, perhaps."

"I want them dead, Harry," Rispy says, looking at me with fierce eyes. "Nothing less than that will satisfy me."

"And you can't kill them yourself," I say thoughtfully.

Rispy shakes his head. "Not knowingly and intentionally. That's why I ask you for help. To find a way to get around that."

I take a deep breath. He doesn't ask for much, does he? "I'll see what I can do."

"Now, Harry," Rispy urges. "I don't think I can stand another month in that place. I'm desparate here." He sighs. "It took me this long just to find an opportunity to slip away, and they'll realize I'm gone any minute now and call me back. Narcissa made the mistake of snapping at me to go away and leave her alone... otherwise I wouldn't have even been able to leave the house."

I nod. "Of course. Right away."

I go to get dressed and head out of the tower, thinking about what might work. I'm missing breakfast, but I don't care. I wish I still had my invisibility cloak. That could come in handy right about now. I wish I at least had that map of the twins' right now, too. But no help for it. I slip down into the dungeons, careful to avoid any unwanted attention.

Snape's private potion stores. The door is locked, of course. "Alohomora." Not well enough. I let myself inside, shut the door behind me. I glance through the shelves to see if there's anything that might do the trick.

"Well?" Rispy says, popping into existence beside me. "What's taking you so long? I don't have all day! They could call me back any minute!"

"Alright, alright, give me a moment!" I say. I reach out and grab a vial off the shelf that looks like it must be poison. "Here, put this on their food. It's, um, a great salad dressing that I'm sure they'll love."

Rispy takes the vial and looks at it. "It has a skull on the side."

"It's evil salad dressing," I say.

Rispy snickers softly. "Right then, I suppose I can go with that..." He then vanishes again without even thanking me.

Well, that's that, I suppose. Maybe if I hurry to the Great Hall, perhaps I can still catch breakfast. I put the strange encounter out of mind. I don't really want to think about it too much.

"There you are, Harry," Ron says as I take a seat next to him. "You must have really slept in!" He has already finished eating, and appears to be waiting on Neville to finish off a pile of pancakes.

"Guess I was tired," I say, shrugging a little.

I eat my breakfast blindly and wander on back to our common room to study. I'm not really interested in their various games of chess, Exploding Snap, and definitely not in any suggestion that involves going outdoors or doing absolutely anything on broomsticks.

Dinner comes along eventually. I find myself watching Draco Malfoy. An owl flies in and drops a letter at his table. He reads it, and his face pales. He crumbles it up and excuses himself.

"Harry?" Ron says, nudging me. "Something the matter, Harry?"

"You're staring at the Slytherin table," Neville observes.

"Malfoy got a letter," I say quietly. "It seems to have disturbed him."

"Wonder what that's all about," Neville says.

"I bet it was just his dad refusing to buy a set of Nimbus 2001's for the entire Slytherin house team if he didn't get picked for it," Ron says dryly.

I can't even force myself to laugh. I haven't been feeling particularly well all day, and can hardly stomach the food at the moment. Draco's up at the staff table speaking with Professor Snape. I can't see his face very well from here, but Snape looks very grave. I may not like Draco very well, but it's not like his parents ever did anything to me...

"Excuse me," I murmur.

"Where you going?" Ron asks.

"Loo," I mutter, stumbling away from the table.

Not even really paying attention to where I'm going, I make my way to one of the castle's restrooms. As I splash water on my face, I realize I'm trembling. Did I just kill someone? Two people? I don't know, but the thought makes me feel physically ill. Am I going to start puking like I did after Hermione died? Worse, in this case, if something happened to them, it wasn't because of my negligence, but... but... my own direct actions.

I go into one of the stalls and proceed to empty my stomach. I feel utterly pathetic. The very thought of having possibly murdered someone makes me feel sick. Never again, I tell myself. This isn't right.

"What are you doing in here?" shrieks a voice from behind me. "You're a boy!"

Crap, did I accidentally go into the girl's restroom by mistake? "Um... sorry," I murmur.

I turn and look to see, not a girl, but the ghost of a girl. She looks like she must have been a student at Hogwarts when she died, judging by her age. "Well, it's good for you to apologize. Everyone's always mean to me. Moaning Myrtle, they call me. They taunt me and make fun of me. Nobody ever just comes to visit and be nice."

"I'm sorry about that, too," I say. "I won't make fun of you, I promise."

I go over to the sink and rinse the vomit out of my mouth. I don't care to return to the Great Hall just at the moment, but Ron and Neville are surely going to wonder if I don't return soon. Well, that's alright. They aren't going to find me in here, and I'll just apologize to them later.

"Are you going to start puking again?" Myrtle asks.

"Nothing left to puke up," I reply.

"Well, I suppose that's one good thing about being dead," Myrtle says. "I can't get sick anymore!"

I absently wonder if Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy are going to turn into ghosts now, to haunt me for the rest of my days in this world. I shake my head and bid Myrtle farewell, and head out of the restroom again with a sigh. I'm going to need to face the world, and discover the truth of what my actions have wrought.

I have "detention" tonight with Professor Snape, so I head that way a little early. Is he going to find out about what me and Rispy have done? What will he do to me for it?

Professor Snape puts up a spell to ensure our privacy after I enter, and says, "You're here early, Stormseeker."

"If you're busy, I'll wait," I reply.

"No," Snape says. "I wished to speak with you, regardless. I understand you're not on good terms with young Mr. Malfoy of late. Have you heard yet what has upset him today?"

"I have not heard," I say, looking at the floor.

Snape shakes his head. "You need to work on your Occlumency more. Always your emotions are plain as day to anyone that's paying attention. Stormseeker, look at me, and tell me now what you know about this."

I shrink a little into my chair, and refuse to look him in the eye. "I'm sorry, sir," I whisper.

Snape reaches across the desk and grabs my chin, forcing me to face him. "Answer me, Stormseeker. Answer me truthfully, or I will wrench it from your mind, if your skill has still not improved to the point of being able to keep me out."

"I--" I stammer, looking at him in terror. "I poisoned them, Professor. I gave one of their house-elves poison to put on their food -- I stole it from your potion stores."

Professor Snape releases me, and I slump back into my chair. He shakes his head, and mutters, "Do you never think about the consequences of your actions before doing them?"

"Professor, they were forcing a house-elf to torture himself," I say. "This elf was desparate enough to come to me and beg me for help. And he would have killed me myself if I had refused."

"That's preposterous," Snape says. "House-elves can't--"

"He already killed me once," I snap back.

Snape goes quiet for a moment, and says, "I see. So, why did you not come to me, or Dumbledore, to ask for assistance?"

"He was very impatient in hounding me," I reply. "And I do not believe he was wrong." I sigh softly and fix my eyes firmly in the floor again, and say quietly, "Are they dead? Did I murder them?"

"They are both in St. Mungo's at the moment," Snape says. "Their condition is grave. Normally, one would expect that their house-elves would have brought help for them immediately, but they were unconscious for several hours before Mr. Crabbe came and discovered them."

"I... I see," I whisper. "Do you... do you suppose the house-elves didn't care enough to go out of their way for them, even if they couldn't directly harm them?"

"It's a possibility," Snape says. "It is fortunate that your little accomplice didn't leave any evidence that could be traced back to me, either, or I would be most cross with you at the moment. Tell me, Stormseeker, was this all done out of revenge for Draco's betrayal?"

"No, not really," I reply. "I just wanted to help that house-elf." I look up at him. "You mean you aren't angry with me?"

"Oh, I am quite angry with you," Snape says, looking at me coolly. "But you don't give detention for attempted murder, which may yet turn into actual murder. And you obviously cannot be allowed to go to Azkaban for this. But there's no evidence linking you to the incident, fortunately."

"Are they... are they your friends?" I ask quietly.

Snape glares at me. "I've always been on good terms with them. But I would not precisely say they're friends. Are you friends with Percy Weasley?"

"I see," I say. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," Snape says. "Are you going to make yourself sick with guilt at the idea of killing anyone, no matter how justified you believe you are in doing so?"

"You-- What are you saying?" I wonder, staring at him. I'd honestly expected him to be more upset about this.

"Control your emotions," Snape says. "Center yourself. Balance yourself. It is vitally important at this time that no one be able to connect you to this incident."

"I-- yes, sir," I say, taking a deep breath. Occlumency lessons it is, then.

"Whatever you are feeling," Snape goes on. "Whatever grief or guilt or satisfaction or pleasure you may feel from an action, you must not allow it to show on the surface. You must only ever allow others to see what you wish them to see."

"Professor," I say quietly. "Do you think I should kill myself?"

Snape sighs. "Get that foolish notion out of your head. Using your power to reset the day when you have made a serious and costly mistake is one thing. But do you honestly think that this has been a mistake? Answer me truthfully, now. Is that what you honestly believe?"

I think about his words for several moments. "No, sir. I do not believe it is a mistake." Having decided that for myself, I find myself relaxing a little.

"Then move on, and live with the consequences of your actions, whatever may come of them, good or ill," Snape says. "Although I would appreciate it if you would ask me in the future rather than breaking into my private potion stores."

"Would you have given me poison for something like this?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Perhaps I would, if I believed your intent was justified and it was the best way to handle the situation," Snape says. "But if you cannot convince me of the rightness of your action, then learn to make your own bloody poisons."

"Yes, sir," I reply.

Snape looks at me for several moments, and I can feel him quietly poking at my Occlumency barriers. "Also," he says. "Do you realize that, even should Lucius and Narcissa die, this will not free the house-elf you are so concerned about?"

I nod slightly. "He'd just pass to Draco, right?"

"Well, at least you aren't completely dull-witted," Snape says dryly. "What do you intend to do about that?"

"I'm not planning on killing Draco, if that's what you're afraid of," I say.

"He would be no less of a cruel master than his father," Snape says.

"I know," I say. "Perhaps I could trick him into freeing Rispy, somehow."

"Why did you not simply do so rather than poisoning his parents?" Snape asks.

"Rispy refused to settle for anything less than their deaths," I explain. "And while he was very angry and driven by vengeance, I could not fault him for that, regardless."

"I see," Snape says.

"Hmm," I say thoughtfully. "Perhaps you could suggest to him that it would be in his best interests to free Rispy."

"You wish me to get involved in this matter, now?" Snape asks.

"He's more likely to listen to you than to me," I say.

"You show some sense, at least," Snape says dryly. "Very well. Assuming I should do this, what would you suggest that I tell him?"

"Rispy is a free-born elf," I say. "He's effectively wild, and could never be properly 'tamed', so to speak. While he might make for good breeding stock to get in fresh blood, he can never be fully trustworthy."

Snape nods thoughtfully. "That is a sufficiently sensible argument," he says. "But what's to stop Draco from wanting the house-elf dead?"

I think on that for a moment. "I don't know. If his parents die, and there's even the slightest suggestion that Rispy might be connected to it, I wouldn't put it past him to want Rispy killed."

"A very likely possibility," Snape says.

"So perhaps it would be best if Draco believes that it would be worse on Rispy for him to remain alive," I say.

Snape nods. "Stormseeker, your Occlumency is improving. You were able to calm yourself and speak rationally about these matters, after you got over your initial distress. Now you just need to get to the point where you can avoid losing your head in the first place."

"I'll try, sir," I assure him.

"See that you do," Snape says. "The most important thing is self-control. You do not want your emotions to give away your intentions, and you do not want your impulses making your choices for you."

I see now quite plainly why Dumbledore wanted him to teach me. His fine control is most admirable. He told me flat out that he was angry with me, and yet I never would have gotten a hint of it myself merely from observing him.

On my way back to my dormitory from the dungeons, I pass by Draco Malfoy going to his own common room. His eyes... he looks like he's been crying. He glares at me in passing but doesn't say a word. I suppose even bad boys love their mothers.

The next morning, I wake to find Rispy standing on my bed again. "They aren't dead yet, Harry."

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?" I wonder.

"Finish them," Rispy demands. "Finish the job. They might recover! I can't have that! And you've got to kill Draco, too--"

"No," I say.

"No?" Rispy says, glaring at me. "He's just as evil as they are! He'll--"

"He'll do absolutely nothing to you," I say. I can only hope that Snape can convince Draco to release him.

"And if he finds out I had anything to do with--"

"Rispy," I interrupt sharply. "Relax. I've already made arrangements."

"I don't trust you!" Rispy says. "I won't trust a thing you say until the deed is done and I'm free again! Until then, you're nothing more than just another slaving wizard in my eyes, just as corrupt as the rest of them. You may claim otherwise all you like, but I still don't trust you!"

"Are all elves alike, Rispy?" I ask.

"Of course not," Rispy says. "Only a bigoted wizard would think--"

"Then don't assume all wizards are alike," I retort. "I am nothing like Draco Malfoy. Don't compare me to him."

"Curse you all," Rispy mutters. "He's calling me. I have to go... if this goes badly, I swear, I will come back and kill you."

Rispy vanishes without another word. I'm left staring at the spot where he was for several seconds before just rubbing my eyes and going to visit the bathroom and get dressed. I hate relying on someone else for something like this, but I know Snape would be much better able to do the job than me. I can't let my own pride get in the way of successfully achieving whatever I'm setting out to accomplish.

I emerge from the bathroom to find Rispy back in the dorm room, holding a woolen sock in his hand and staring at it as if in disbelief.

"He set me free," Rispy says flatly, distantly. "I can't believe he set me free..."

"Congratulations," I say, smiling at him.

Rispy grabs onto my leg and buries his face in my robes, and starts crying unashamedly.