Stormseeker: Borrowed Destiny

Chapter 19: Elven Winter

---

I'm spending the winter holidays at the Burrow this year, just as I did the summer. I still don't know what I should get people for Christmas, but I'm determined not to stress about it. They're my friends. They'll be happy with whatever I give them.

Molly Weasley gives me, her sons, and her daughter big hugs when we get to King's Cross Station. It must be lonely at the Burrow for much of the year, with all of her children in school now.

When I arrive back at the Burrow, I notice that it's a lot cleaner and neater than it was toward the end of the summer. Wow, Dobby must have been bored. Everything is neatly washed and polished, and there's not a thing out of place.

"Geez, Mum, I hardly recognize the place," Ron says, looking around himself.

"Oh, that wasn't me," Molly says. "Dobby's been quite the dear to have around, but he's very enthusiastic at times. I can't keep up with him!" She laughs softly.

Ron heads upstairs to his room, and then stands slack-jawed in the doorway. "Gah! Way too enthusiastic! I'll never be able to find anything in here!"

I have to laugh. "Oh, relax, Ron. He means well. You don't want to be a Malfoy, do you?"

Ron grumbles a little, but doesn't complain about the house-elf any further.

---

On the second day of winter break, I'm eating breakfast with all of the Weasleys. They're chatting about what's been going on at school, but I'm fairly quiet about it. There's a lot going on that I can't talk about, not right now, not now, not yet, and hopefully not ever. So I assure Arthur and Molly that my studies are going well, and focus on eating.

An elf appears in the room with a soft pop. Not Dobby, but Rispy. He's wearing actual clothes this time, little clothes neatly tailored to fit an elf. And he's still got a long knife tucked into his belt, even if it's an actual belt now.

"Dobby--" Molly says, before turning to look at him. She blinks. "Wait, what? Who are you?"

"Hello, Rispy," I say.

"You know this house-elf, Harry?" Molly says. "Oh, did you buy another one?"

"I'm not a house-elf," Rispy snaps. "I'm not a slave. Not again. Never again. I'm a free elf! And I will die free!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you..." Molly says. "I've never met a... free elf before. But if you're a friend of Harry's, you're welcome here. Would you like some breakfast?"

Rispy softens a bit at that. "Harry told me not all wizards are bad. Maybe he was right... I accept your hospitality, Lady of the House." Rispy gives a suave bow toward Molly.

Molly brings out another plate and set of silverware for the new arrival. As she's doing so, Dobby pops in and says, "Dobby can do that!"

"Dobby," Rispy says. "Still working for wizards like a common slave?"

"Dobby is happy!" Dobby insists. "Great Master Harry is good to Dobby! Better than Dobby ever deserved or ever hoped to have! Wheezeys are good to Dobby too! Dobby love it here!"

"And yet you're serving them a breakfast that you get to eat none of yourself," Rispy points out.

"Dobby doesn't need--"

"He's right, Dobby," I put in. "Why don't you join us? You're part of this family, too."

Dobby stares at me in disbelief for a few moments before bursting into tears. "Master Harry is too good to Dobby!"

"You're more than welcome, Dobby," Molly says, smiling at him gently. "Here, I'll get you a plate." She sets out a place for him before he can argue.

"Dobby is so happy..." Dobby says through sobs. "Wizards welcome him like family, treat him like equal..." Finally, Dobby stops weeping in joy and sits down to eat breakfast with us, even though by that point we're half done with the meal anyway. At least there's plenty of food laid out. I'm going to need to go grocery shopping, however, I think.

"So, Rispy, what brings you here?" I ask. "I thought you were going back home to Ireland."

"I did," Rispy says, spearing a sausage with a fork a little violently. "I spent the last few months there. But, well, I got bored. I don't want to stay cooped up in that little village my whole life, even if it might be dangerous."

"Can't stay away from the adventure, huh?" I say. "So what are you planning to do now?"

"I don't know," Rispy says. "I'd really like to see the world, you know? But I'll have to be more careful. I don't want to have to be a slave ever again."

"Well, you're always welcome here if you ever need a place to stay or hide," Molly says graciously. "We certainly won't try to make you do anything against your will!"

"Your continued offer of hospitality is appreciated, Lady of the House," Rispy says, inclining his head toward her.

"Please, call me Molly."

"I think I wouldn't mind staying here a while before moving on," Rispy says. He smirks a little at the other house-elf. "Maybe teach Dobby how to be a proper elf while I'm here, too."

"Dobby isn't proper elf already?" Dobby says, looking at the other elf strangely.

"You have a long way to go," Rispy says. "Our people in servitude have forgotten so much... You've forgotten our culture, our heritage, our history. Things were not always the way they are now..."

---

I return from grocery shopping that afternoon, and go to put things away in the kitchen. Dobby, seeming to magically sense chores being done without him, pops into the room to help.

"Dobby can do that!" Dobby says enthusiastically. "Great Master Harry should just sit down and relax and leave the work to Dobby!"

I try to protest weakly, but Dobby is quite eager and aggressive when he sets his mind on something, so after a moment I just give up with a sigh and take a seat. "Alright, alright."

"Why haven't you freed Dobby yet?" Rispy asks, standing in the doorway to the kitchen in an accusatory pose, almost threatening.

"No!" Dobby exclaims, looking suddenly panicked and almost dropping the eggs. "Dobby not want that! Dobby not want to be cast out of the house!"

"I didn't say anything about being thrown out," Rispy says firmly. "I just said freed. I'm a free elf, and they welcomed me into their home, did they not?"

Dobby pauses for a moment in his protests to think about that before continuing. "But Dobby want help Great Master Harry! He help Dobby, and not ask much, but when he ask, if Dobby free, Dobby wouldn't hear him call. Dobby wouldn't be able to help then!"

I frown a little. Am I really keeping this poor creature enslaved purely for my own convenience? That doesn't feel right. "You know I'd free you in an instant if you ever wanted it, Dobby," I say.

"No!" Dobby says. "Dobby want help Great Master Harry!"

"You're just brainwashed into thinking that way, Dobby," Rispy says. "Into thinking that you need to serve a wizard in order for your life to have meaning and purpose. But that's not true, Dobby! You can be your own elf!"

"You could even keep doing the work you're already doing if you really want to," I suggest. "I could pay you, even."

"Pay?" Dobby says dubiously.

"Think about it, alright?" I say.

---

"Did you hear in school about what happened with the Malfoys?" Arthur asks.

"Arthur, you shouldn't bother them with things like that," Molly says, not looking up from her knitting.

Arthur ignores her. "Did young Draco say anything about it?"

I look up into Arthur Weasley's eyes. There's a look of delight on his face, and I can just imagine how his eyes must have lit up with joy when he heard about Lucius Malfoy's death. I imagine that he has good reason to have disliked Lucius. And yet, that doesn't feel right.

"I'm not celebrating death, Mr. Weasley," I reply.

Arthur frowns at me. "Don't tell me you feel bad about this?"

"Arthur!" Molly scolds.

"I'm not arguing that any of them are or were good people or anything," I say, sighing. "All I'm saying is that there's a young boy who now has no parents to return home to for Christmas."

"You're absolutely right, Harry," Molly says.

"All life is precious," I say quietly, looking at the floor. I have to believe that. I'm already a murderer. If I don't believe that life is precious, what's to stop me from murdering anyone I please?

"They were horrible people," Arthur says. "But I suppose you're right."

"I just wish they'd been better people," I say. If they had, then they wouldn't have had to die. At least Rispy has been quite discreet about the matter. He is by no means stupid.

Why is it harder to kill than to die? I suppose, by dying, you don't have to live with the consequences of your actions. I'm sure I would drive myself mad if I were to spend more time dwelling on all the timelines I've left behind, moving on without me. All the friends I've led to their deaths. All the problems left unsolved. There's no use dwelling on it, however. I can't do anything about them any longer. I must always stay focused on the here and now.

"I can't believe you're defending them," Ron says quietly.

"I'm not," I say.

"Enough of the morbid talk," Molly says. "It's almost Christmas. Harry's right. We're not celebrating death here."

"We're celebrating life," I add. "Family, friendship, love, and hope."

I try to bury the dreadful thought that, if things go terribly wrong next term, this might be the last time I ever see any of them again. There's still a basilisk and the Heir of Slytherin at large, and no progress has been made in stopping them yet.

Ron makes a face at the sentimentality of it, and goes off, leaving me alone with his parents.

"Out of curiosity," I say. "Can either of you cast the Patronus Charm?"

"We both can," Arthur replies.

"Why do you want to know?" Molly asks.

"Oh, I've been studying it recently in my spare time," I say. "Everyone tells me that it's supposed to be a difficult spell, but I'm stubborn."

"Well, you won't be able to cast it by pure stubbornness," Molly says.

"You're awfully young to be studying a spell of that level," Arthur says. "But your initiative and determination is admirable."

"Do you have any pointers for casting it?" I ask.

"The emotion is the key to it," Molly says. "The stronger the emotion, the stronger the spell."

"That makes sense," I say. "If it's not too personal, may I ask what your happy thoughts are?"

"It's quite alright, dear," Molly says. "For me, it's the birth of Ginny.

"Mine is getting married to Molly," Arthur says with a grin.

"Hmm," I say, frowning a little. "Will I be hindered in casting the spell because I haven't been married or had children yet?"

"No, not at all," Arthur says. "Although family can be a very strong happy thought, it's not the only possible one. Someone's parents, siblings, or friends could also constitute good thoughts for them. I've known plenty of successful Aurors who were able to cast the spell long before being married, if they ever got married at all."

How can I think happy thoughts about my family and friends when they're so easily juxtaposed to horrible thoughts? Life is so precious and fragile, and I fear that these things I have lost, I might lose forever and never get back. Even the things I have now seem to be in constant danger of slipping away from my grasp, falling to the ground and shattering into a thousand tiny pieces.

"I'll keep that in mind," I say, looking to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't mean to remind you of what happened to your parents," Arthur says.

My control slipped, or I just let down my guard around them, whichever, but they saw my true emotions. At least they misinterpreted it. This lie I'm living wears on me at times.

I shake my head. "Don't worry about it. It's not like I even remember them, anyway. I was more sad over more recent events. I've another family, after all. But I left them behind, back in America. I just hope I can see them again someday."

"Why don't you go home to the States for Christmas or summer holidays?" Molly asks.

"I can't," I say.

"Why not?" Molly asks.

"I can't really talk about it," I say. "I'm sorry. Dumbledore..."

"Ah," Molly says. "I understand. Say no more."

Someday, I tell myself, I won't have to lie to them. Maybe not in this lifetime, maybe not in the next, but someday they will know me for myself. I wonder if I can use Occlumency to convince myself that this isn't all a huge lie. But those are dangerous thoughts. I must not forget. I must not lie to myself.

---

It's Christmas morning. Outside, the ground is blanketed in a heavy layer of snow. But inside of the Burrow, there's a warm fire crackling on the heart. The tree is decorated with candles and ornaments, and underneath it, a pile of brightly wrapped gifts has been arranged.

Everyone seems excited this morning. Well, everyone except Ginny, who seems fairly withdrawn. She's been pretty quiet for the entire holiday. I vaguely remember what Luna said, about her acting strangely around me. I don't know if it's just that, though. Something really seems to be bothering her.

"Hey, Ginny," I say. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Ginny mutters.

"You sure?" I say. "You know you can tell me anything."

"Everything's fine, alright?" Ginny says more insistantly.

"Alright, alright."

I don't care to push it at the moment. If she says it's alright, I'll take her word on it. It's Christmas, after all. It's supposed to be a happy time. Maybe she's just tired. Maybe I'm just imagining things.

We start distributing and opening the presents. Quite a few of them turn out to be sweets. Yeah, so I got almost everyone sweets again. And I got quite a few sweets back in return.

"Here, Dobby," I say, holding out a box to him. "This one's for you."

Dobby looks at the brightly-wrapped gift in confusion, taking it hesitantly. "You give Dobby present?"

"Open it up," I urge him, grinning.

Dobby tears off the wrapping paper and looks wide-eyed at the object inside, almost dropping the box. He pulls it out in trembling hands. An emerald green elf-sized sweater with a D on the front. "You... you... gives Dobby clothes?"

"You're free, to do whatever you please, Dobby," I say.

"But it also means that you're a member of this family," Molly says. "This is your home, and you're always welcome here. We won't cast you out or turn you away." She was the one who actually made the sweater at the last minute by my request.

Dobby begins to weep openly in pure joy. "You best wizards ever..."

---

Christmas evening, I tuck myself away alone in Ron's room and decide to try to give the Patronus Charm a shot again. I wouldn't be able to cast magic over the holidays if I were in a Muggle environment, but I'm not and I don't intend to ever be if I can possibly help it. There's adult wizards around, so I won't get into trouble for it.

I didn't free Dobby with the express purpose of trying to generate a happy thought that might be enough to make a Patronus. But I have to wonder if it will suffice, regardless. I bring to mind Dobby's expression, his tears of joy and shaking hands. All of the love and warmth of being accepted by a family. (I think of Draco, alone at Christmas, unable to ever go home to his family again.)

"Expecto Patronum." Nothing.

I think of Rispy, holding out a single green sock in disbelief, overjoyed at being freed from the shackles of slavery that he was forced into. (I think of Lucius and Narcissa, sprawled out on the dining room floor. I murdered the Malfoys for his sake.)

"Expecto Patronum." No effect.

I think of Justin Finch-Fletchley, alive and well at the breakfast table, annoyed at being pestered by a house-elf, and never realizing that it was to save his life. (I think of Hermione, alone in a restroom, crushed by a troll's club. I could not save her.)

"Expecto Patronum." Not even a flicker.

I think of Norbert, hatching from his egg, black shards scattering over the table as he takes his first breaths of flame and looks around at his new family. (A family that could not keep him for very long. I think of how sad he must have been when he was taken away.)

"Expecto Patronum." Not the slighest spark.

"Harry? What are you doing?" Ron says from the doorway.

I shake my head and put my wand away. "Nothing, apparently," I reply.

It's not that I'm exactly unhappy or anything, far from it. It's just that I can't seem to separate the happy thoughts from the sadness that clings to them in my mind. Every light casts a shadow. The day cannot exist without the night.

Now I realize why this spell is called difficult. It's not so much that wizards are unhappy, or that the wand movements are complicated. It's like Occlumency. It's all about finding the proper mindset and being able to utilize that at will. I'm not willing to accept the thought that I might never be able to cast this spell, however. I'm not that fatalistic. I'll just have to keep at it and trying different things, until I can get it to work, even if it takes years.

"Something wrong, Harry?" Ron says.

I shake my head. "Nah. Just tired. I should get to bed. It's been a long day."

"If you say so," Ron replies dubiously. "Sleep well."

Ron goes to sleep, but I find myself laying awake thinking for quite some time afterward. As weary as I might be, my brain won't stop to let me rest. Of course, Ron's snoring doesn't help much, either.

I pull out my wand and mutter, "Muffliato." The snores continue, however. Oh, right, that won't stop me from hearing him. I sigh softly and mutter, "Finite Incantatem."

I can't sleep, so I get up and quietly head downstairs, careful to make too much noise and avoiding stepping on the squeaky stair. I slip on my shoes and head outside. It's quite chilly out, especially when wearing only my lightning bolt pajamas.

"Thermos," I murmur, and the cold seems much less biting as a cushion of warm air surrounds me.

I step out from the porch, my feet crunching in the snow, and gaze up at the sky. The stars are bright on this clear, moonless winter night. Looking up at the night sky, I can't help but bring to mind my Astronomy lessons, of learning unfamiliar planets and constellations and the meanings of their positions and movements. But I don't have any lessons tonight. Now I should just admire the beauty of the stars.

There's a sound back from the house, of the door opening, and I turn around to see Ginny standing on the porch. "Ginny?" I say in a hushed voice, as if afraid of disturbing the night. "What are you doing up?"

Ginny doesn't answer, and just spins around and heads back inside quickly. Well, I suppose it was a stupid question anyway. I'm still up, after all. No matter. I turn back to look at the panorama of the winter night. It's so peaceful here like this. It's hard to imagine any ill in such a scene. The sky just seems to go on forever.

Back at home, back on Lezaria, they say that the stars are the souls of the dead, forever watching down on us. That's just a story, though. That can't possibly be true. If it were, there would be countless new stars springing up every year. But the stars have been the same forever, eternal and infinite.

"Still awake, Harry?" Rispy's voice says from behind me. I didn't hear him show up. He must have just quietly popped in.

"It's a lovely night, isn't it?" I say.

Rispy nods, stepping up beside me, his own boots crunching against the ice and snow on the ground. "It was a good thing you did today, Harry."

"I was afraid he'd take it poorly," I say. "Thanks for helping him along the way."

"I'll make a proper elf out of him yet," Rispy says, grinning a little. "Now I just wish there were more that I could do about all the elves held in servitude around the world."

"Isn't there?" I say. "The only thing you cannot change is the past." And even that one's a little fuzzy if you're a time traveler.

Rispy looks thoughtful at that. "You're right," he says. "I'm sure there's something I can do. I'm just one elf. I can't go into open warfare with the entire wizarding world. But maybe that won't be necessary. Harry, can I count on your assistance?"

"Of course," I reply. "I will do anything in my power to aid your noble cause, Rispy."

"Thank you," Rispy says softly. "It means a lot to me."

I look up at the winter stars, pure and bright, and think of hope for freedom for all intelligent beings. I raise my wand, and murmur, "Expecto Patronum." For just one second, a light like a small star twinkles at the end of my wand.

I still have a long way to go. But for now, it's enough.