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HRA# CHAPTER 112
🕑 Added 2025-04-28 18:31:41 +0000 UTCThe Malfoy family had served Voldemort for two generations—or rather, it would be more accurate to say that Lucius Malfoy’s status was clearly subordinate to Voldemort’s, unlike his father, Abraxas Malfoy.
Back when Voldemort was still known as Tom Marvolo Riddle, he began rallying like-minded individuals at Hogwarts under the banner of pure-blood supremacy, aiming to establish an organization with himself at its head. At that time, Voldemort was a nobody, so heirs of prominent pure-blood families like the Malfoys, Blacks, and Lestranges didn’t grovel at his feet as they would later. Instead, they were merely part of his inner circle, providing critical support for his rise to power. This included leveraging their influence in the Ministry of Magic, as well as offering wealth and resources.
But by the time Abraxas Malfoy passed away due to illness and Lucius became the head of the family, Voldemort’s style had begun to shift. The once eloquent and persuasive leader, skilled at reading hearts, now resorted to crude Legilimency. His charisma, which had once inspired loyalty, gave way to intimidation and tyranny. His methods turned brutal, eliminating dissenters with raw magical force.
Lucius’s youth was shaped by tales of Voldemort’s greatness. For a time, he genuinely idolized him, dreaming of dedicating his life to his cause. After graduating from Hogwarts, he fulfilled that ambition by formally joining the Death Eaters. He spent his days by the side of an increasingly unhinged Voldemort, witnessing his wanton slaughter and unchecked power. In doing so, Lucius learned how to please this new, volatile Voldemort—how to survive under his rule and protect himself.
Gifted with exceptional talent, immense magical power, and strength far surpassing his peers even as a student, Lucius was well aware of Voldemort’s legendary reputation. So when he personally experienced Harry’s power in the darkened chamber earlier, he instinctively equated Harry with Voldemort. The comparison was seamless, almost effortless—a conditioned reflex.
Lucius knew he couldn’t have melted that chamber to such a degree himself. A genius who had already transformed raw talent into tangible strength wasn’t just a prodigy; they were a powerhouse. And a powerhouse deserved a powerhouse’s status.
For Lucius Malfoy, humbling himself before someone far younger—someone he could almost consider a nephew—wasn’t shameful. The Malfoy family had escaped prosecution after Voldemort’s fall precisely because of Lucius’s adaptability. To him, those who clung to rigid principles of justice and honor, only to doom their families and legacies, were the true fools.
This was why Lucius’s attitude toward Harry underwent a complete 180-degree shift. Gone was the condescending air of an elder passing judgment. In its place was a fawning, almost servile demeanor. Lucius knew the reputation his family carried, especially among Gryffindors. He had no idea just how righteous Harry Potter might be. What if this boy decided to make the Malfoys pay for their past as Death Eaters?
With no room for complacency, Lucius treaded carefully. In matters like these, careless Death Eaters had long since been dispatched by Voldemort himself.
“This…” Lucius bowed his head even lower. “I had no choice, Harry… Because of my father, the Malfoy family and that man… we were too deeply entwined. I could only…”
“There’s no need to be so tense, Lucius,” Harry said calmly. “I don’t need you calling me ‘master’ or anything like that. That’s Voldemort’s preference.”
At the mention of that name, Lucius visibly flinched.
“When it comes to the path of the shaman, Draco does have remarkable talent,” Harry continued. “As long as he doesn’t violate the taboos of the shamanic code, I won’t harm him. And you don’t need to worry about me targeting your family.” Harry preferred to be direct, cutting through the mess with clarity.
“It’s Draco’s honor,” Lucius said quickly. “With such power, he’ll surely contribute to your cause.”
“Enough,” Harry said, his face expressionless. “You’ve clearly spent too much time around Voldemort. He’s not dead yet, Lucius. When you hear anything about him, I expect you to make the right choice. I don’t like fence-sitters.”
“I swear,” Lucius said solemnly, adopting a grave expression. “If that man summons us again, I’ll report to you immediately.”
As for Lucius’s oath, Harry… well, he’d take it at face value.
Whether Draco would hold firm in the future was uncertain, but Lucius? He had no loyalty to anyone but himself.
The man had likely just made a simple calculation in his head: Harry Potter + Dumbledore > Voldemort.
That was all.
Harry didn’t stay overnight at Malfoy Manor. Truth be told, the day’s events had been bizarre even for him. A mysterious house-elf, tracking said house-elf only to inexplicably end up at Malfoy Manor, and then, because of Draco, displaying the power of the elements to Lucius—culminating in the astonishing sight of Lucius groveling before him.
Mysterious. Far too mysterious.
Taking gifts with him, Harry left Malfoy Manor laden with spoils—not just Grimmauld’s journal but a house-elf as well. Fearing Harry might harbor doubts about his loyalty, Lucius had transferred Dobby’s contract to him with almost frantic enthusiasm.
“Serve your new master well, Dobby!” Lucius barked sternly at the elf. “You lazy house-elf! I don’t want to see you sent back—that would be a disgrace to the Malfoy family!”
“Dobby is not a lazy house-elf!” Dobby squeaked shrilly, still struggling to process what had just happened. “Dobby has left the Malfoy family! Dobby is no longer the evil Malfoy family’s house-elf!”
Harry was certain Lucius’s face darkened at Dobby’s description of his family.
Lucius wasn’t worried about Dobby spilling Malfoy secrets. The elf’s grating personality meant its movements within the manor had always been restricted, and it was never allowed near sensitive areas.
“Dobby will serve Master Harry well! Oh, Merlin! Hero Harry!” Dobby leapt into the air, waving its right fist in excitement. “Dobby, serving Master Harry! Dobby will make every other house-elf jealous!”
Lucius’s fist clenched. If Dobby were still a Malfoy house-elf, he’d have ordered it to punish itself by now. But as it was, he could only pretend not to hear.
“No need to see us off,” Harry said with a nod. “We’ll meet again at the start of term, Draco. Remember to keep communing with the elements—don’t waste your talent.”
“I’ll work hard, Mentor!” Draco said, practically buzzing with excitement. “Actually, we don’t have to wait for term. I’ve already bought tickets for the Kenmare Kestrels versus the Ballycastle Bats! It’s your first match as a Quidditch star! You’ve got to show those Irishmen what you’re made of!”
“I’m not a star yet, Draco,” Harry said, exasperated. “The Ballycastle Bats aren’t some no-name team.”
“They’re still better than the Chudley Cannons,” Narcissa added, prompting a round of laughter.
The Chudley Cannons had become a running joke in wizarding society, with only their diehard fans getting riled up over the jabs.
“Our whole family will be there,” Lucius said with a smile. “Another student Quidditch player—you’ll be the pride of Britain. Oh, and that other matter? I’ll take care of it as soon as possible.”
Perhaps to prove his worth or demonstrate his loyalty, Lucius had, in the study, offered to arrange an opportunity for Harry to visit Azkaban. It sounded odd, as if Harry had committed some crime and was headed to prison. In reality, it was a favor—Lucius promised to take Harry to see his godfather. After a moment’s silence, Harry had nodded in agreement.
After some casual farewells, Fawkes whisked Harry back to a secluded corner of Privet Drive, with Dobby Apparating close behind.
Pulling a handful of dittany leaves from his dragonhide pouch, Harry offered them to Fawkes. But perhaps because the phoenix had been spoiled with fine food at Malfoy Manor, it had grown picky. It sniffed the leaves, nibbled one, then raised its head and pecked at Harry’s hair, signaling it was ready to leave.
“Alright,” Harry said, stroking Fawkes’s feathers. “Nothing worth hiding. If Dumbledore asks, just say you were with me today… if he can understand you, that is.”
Phoenix speech and all that.
Fawkes’s earlier trills had been asking whether Harry wanted to keep the day’s events secret. The bird was surprisingly perceptive.
Harry didn’t think he was doing anything shameful, though.
Tucking the dittany leaves into a pouch and hanging it around Fawkes’s neck as a sort of “travel allowance,” Harry watched as the phoenix nuzzled his cheek affectionately before vanishing in a burst of flame.
Harry genuinely thought Dumbledore should hand Fawkes over to him. Such a magnificent phoenix, cooped up in the headmaster’s office eating Cockroach Clusters, was a waste.
Shifting his gaze from his shoulder, Harry looked at Dobby, who stood with hands clasped, staring up at him with wide, expectant eyes that blinked eagerly.
Studying Dobby’s appearance, Harry was certain that if a talking, oddly proportioned house-elf suddenly appeared at home, his uncle’s reaction would be anything but calm. It couldn’t just show up unannounced.
“Got any plans, Dobby?” Harry asked suddenly.
“Dobby wants to serve Master Harry well!” Dobby bellowed.
“No, no, I mean beyond the house-elf instinct to serve,” Harry said, shaking his head. “What are your plans for the future?”
“Dobby wants to serve Master Harry in the Potter family’s ancestral home!” Dobby’s voice grew even louder.
Harry sighed. Communicating with house-elves was exhausting.
“I’m not some wizarding aristocrat, Dobby,” Harry said, meeting the elf’s gaze earnestly. “I don’t need someone to dress me, cook for me, or anything like that. Let me put it this way: I’m going to give you your freedom.”
As he spoke, Harry acted. He pulled a spare shirt from his dragonhide pouch and handed it to Dobby, who took it in a daze, its mind struggling to catch up.
For house-elves, receiving clothes directly from their master meant freedom—a severance of their bond with the wizarding family they served.
“Dobby is free?” Dobby’s voice trembled with disbelief as it clutched the shirt. “Harry Potter—Harry Potter gave Dobby freedom?! Harry Potter is even greater than Dobby imagined! He—he—”
Caught off guard by the sudden joy, Dobby seemed to lose the ability to think coherently, its words stumbling.
Seeing Dobby’s excitement, Harry felt a twinge of satisfaction. This quirky house-elf was acting almost normal in the face of freedom.
Orcs would never be slaves, nor would tauren. Harry had no interest in enslaving another race, even in the Horde, where slavery was forbidden.
But wait. A quirky house-elf craving freedom… Did that mean normal house-elves didn’t want it? Recalling what he’d read in books, Harry couldn’t help but chuckle.
So who was the odd one here?
This did confirm one thing: Dobby was a unique house-elf. It had broken free of the instincts binding its kind, even going so far as to protect Harry unprompted, despite Harry neither knowing nor needing its help.
“So, you’re free now, Dobby,” Harry said again.
“Yes! Dobby is free! Great Harry!” Dobby’s eyes widened with exhilaration, tears and snot streaking its face.
“Back to my earlier question,” Harry said. “What are your plans now?”
“Dobby wants to buy new clothes!” Dobby squeaked shrilly. “Dobby—Dobby also wants—”
It stopped abruptly, and for the first time, Harry saw confusion on Dobby’s face.
“Dobby… Dobby wants wages…” Dobby’s voice grew soft, staring at the gray shirt in its hands. “Dobby loves work, but no wizard will hire Dobby. No one pays house-elves wages… Dobby doesn’t know what to do… Dobby has nowhere to go…”
Bewilderment, disappointment, panic—Harry saw something in Dobby beyond the typical house-elf, but not by much. It yearned for freedom, an unknown it had never possessed, but hadn’t considered what to do once it had it.
It would take time to adjust.
“Here’s an idea,” Harry said after a moment’s thought. “Until you figure out what you really want to do, I’ll hire you to work for me as my assistant. Your tasks will mainly involve caring for some magical creatures, tending to herbs I’ve planted, and monitoring the local environment to ensure the ecosystem doesn’t collapse. It’s not too demanding, but you must keep everything you see confidential. You can’t tell anyone.”
“You’ll also need to learn some relevant knowledge to do the job,” Harry continued, calculating quickly. “As for wages… the standard for a Diagon Alley shop assistant is about fifty Galleons a month. I’ll hire you at that rate. Fifty Galleons a month—sound fair?”
“Fifty Galleons a month?!” Dobby nearly choked, its eyes bulging as if it couldn’t believe its ears. “That’s too much! Dobby can’t accept that! Dobby would love to work for Harry Potter! And Dobby will never tell anyone what it sees! But Dobby only needs two Galleons a month—no, one Galleon!”
“Dobby isn’t some ungrateful, lazy house-elf! Harry Potter freed Dobby! He’s the hero of the wizarding world! Dobby won’t take that much money! It’s too much!”
Dobby agreed to Harry’s offer without a second’s hesitation, practically itching to start work immediately. As it had said, work was its passion.
But on the matter of wages, Dobby and Harry had quite the debate.
Harry’s earlier assessment was correct: Dobby was different from other house-elves, but not by much. It still loved work and serving wizards, much like its kin. The only difference was that Dobby wanted a wage—just a small one, more symbolic than substantial.
In the end, Dobby settled for ten Galleons a month, insisting that anything more would be the death of it. Even so, that amount wouldn’t hire a fresh Hogwarts graduate.
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T/N: If you find any typos or incorrect names, please leave a comment. Thanks, and enjoy reading!
