He stood up, adjusting his robes and bent to kiss Fleur goodbye. When he tried to draw away from the light kiss she tangled her hands in his hair and held his mouth against hers.
'I was expecting you to stay,' she told him wistfully. 'Use the locket, I'll let you know when I've chosen somewhere suitable.'
Harry nodded, then apparated away, trying to ignore the ache that had sprung up again in his chest at their parting.
Reappearing in Salazar's study immediately accosted by the painting.
he
was
'No vampires this time?' The portrait smirked.
'No,' Harry answered flatly, activating the Marauder's Map. It was time for number two on his list of things for the day. 'Up to something nefarious again?' inquired, peering futilely towards the map.
Salazar
'I'm encouraging the caretaker that his role here is a privilege rather than an excuse to torment children he's clearly jealous of.' That painting shared a look with his snake, then shrugged and fell silent.
Filch was patrolling the third floor, his name marker floating up and down as if he was pacing.
Harry set off at a brisk pace, flicking his wand in and out of his palm. He had already had a good idea of how he was going to deal with the cantankerous caretaker, but it relied on him attempting something he had never tried before.
Myrtle was gone from the bathroom, though the puddle remained. Filch's name had stopped pacing up and down, and was moving slowly back down the stairs. Harry tucked away the map, and drew his wand, not bothering to disillusion himself. He wouldn't need to worry about Filch remembering seeing him.
'What's this?' The caretaker cackled gleefully. 'A student out on his own, up to no good I reckon.'
'Hello, Filch,' Harry replied coolly.
The calm, even tone caught the squib off guard and he recoiled in surprise. 'What are you up to, Potter?' He snarled. 'You think I've forgotten what you did to my Mrs Norris?' He was almost yelling, so Harry cast a silencing ward over the area.
'Legilimens,' he whispered.
The squib never had a chance, with no magic, and no idea of what to expect Harry tore through his mind with absurd ease, following the trail of hatred and resentment back to its birth, witnessing every connected moment in half a century .
The path began with the beaming visage of a young, dark-haired, pale-eyed girl, wielding a wand in Ollivander's, and surrounded by yellow sparks. She bathed in the pride of her parents while Filch watched on, forgotten, forlorn and furious.
'Obliviate,' Harry murmured. He knew from Lockhart's implication that it was possible to modify memories, but even the gilded fraud would have baulked at what Harry was about to attempt. There were fifty years of feelings to alter, half a lifetime to change or erase, ending with their meeting on their stairs.
He purged every moment of the bitterness, every memory of watching magic and feeling the resentment well up inside him was changed. The discontent that had defined Argus Filch warped into calm acceptance, and every instant along that string of emotions was transformed into something else.
Argus Filch's eyes rolled up in his head and he slumped to the floor.
Harry flicked his wand back into his sleeve, turned on his heel, and strode back in the direction of the chamber.
Without the root of the resentment, without those bitter recollections the hatred they had fed would wither and fade. He imagined that both the students and Filch would be much happier for it.
He paused outside of Myrtle's bathroom to unfold the map, and waited until Filch's name began to move again. The caretaker continued down the stairs as he had been doing before, drifting slowly back towards his office. Harry watched until he was sure that Filch had no memory of him and wasn't about to to go search of Umbridge, then he wiped the map and tucked back into the pocket of his robes alongside the polyjuice vial.
Myrtle's bathroom opened and closed with a creak, and Harry winced instinctively at the noise even though there was nobody to hear him.
He had just stepped to the edge of the perpetual puddle when there was the familiar, loud crack of apparition and Dobby appeared in front of him.
'Dobby?' Harry inquired. The elf had never come to find him, not since his misguided attempts at protection in the second year.
To his horror the elf simply slumped onto the bathroom floor, and twisting threads of red liquid began to spread across the surface of the puddle. Turning the elf over gently, Harry hissed in distaste, a trio of deep gaping cuts marred Dobby's upper chest and neck. The elf blinked slowly several times, eyes bright with pain.
'Master Harry Potter,' he murmured. 'Dobby saved the students,' something that was almost a smile drifted across his lips, 'Dobby saved them all.'
None of the healing charms Harry knew helped even remotely, and nothing he conjured lasted longer than a few moments before dispelling. The flow of crimson continued to blossom across Dobby's pillow case, flooding down his sides and spilling into the puddle.
In the end Harry gave up trying, his promise to take care of Dobby was nothing in the face of reality and the spreading red pool. The house elf's wounds resisted every attempt he made to heal or contain them, no matter how much magic he poured into the attempt.
He stood over the elf, watching, and feeling very hollow as the blood spread across the floor of Myrtle's bathroom, running in the lines between the tiles, bright against the white ceramic.
'Did Dobby do well?' The elf gasped, blinking furiously. 'Dobby tried to do what Harry Potter would have done,' a fresh wave of blood swept across the puddle as he shifted, 'but the nasty pink teacher was faster than before.'
'You've done better than I would have, Dobby,' Harry answered honestly, but his voice sounded ever so far away, ever so insignificant before the bright, white tiles and brighter, crimson pool. The spot of ice in his chest was spreading, distantly screaming Umbridge's name, demanding revenge, demanding justice. He could feel the icy anger, held back behind a paper thin bubble of disbelief and exhaustion.
'You're free forever now, Dobby,' Harry told him gently, taking the elf's hand in his own.
'Free,' the elf sighed, a small smile spreading over his lips as his fingers closed around Harry's. 'Dobby is free.'
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