345Chapter 1: The Flyers
Thanks to my lovely betas, LadyLini and SilverDawn249 (who did the first draft), for all their help in making these easier to read for you, my readers. Thanks to darrelldeam and alix33 for looking over the second draft. All mistakes are still my own.
I don't own Harry Potter. That pleasure belongs to J.K. Rowling, and all the people who she gave permission to have it make her rich. I just play in her sandbox.
Hphphp
It was a month into the summer after his fourth year and Harry Potter sat alone in his bedroom in #4 Privet Drive, the most recent copy of the Daily Prophet opened on his lap. As he read it, he frowned, a gnawing sense of anger slowly growing inside him. Through small, snide comments, the Ministry was denying Voldemort had ever returned. Instead of getting ready for war, they were calling him a lying, attention-seeking brat, and Dumbledore a senile old coot. This slander was just plain stupid, to Harry's way of thinking.
What were they going to do when Voldemort attacked? Call on me to save them? Well, they could just bugger off, he thought as he crumpled up the paper and tossed it aside.
This smear campaign cannot go unpunished. There was no way he could let them get away with this shite. According to Dumbledore, and many others, he was a major part of the war, since Tom Riddle was after him. The headmaster never told him why, just that he had to be kept safe and protected. Well, that didn't seem to be happening, at least not against slander. So Harry was going to do whatever it took to make these idiots know that he wasn't going to be their doormat. The shite he had put up with in school was bad enough, these were adults though, they should know better. To take everything out on a teenager and hide their heads in the sand, well, screw them.
He knew that he'd have no voice in the newspapers; they were controlled by the Ministry. So, he would need a plan of attack. A fleeting memory of a primary school history class dredged itself from the back of his mind, something to do with the use of fliers for propaganda during the muggles' Second World War.
He tore through his bookshelf and found an old history book. A wicked grin came across his face. This would work, he thought. I just need some help.
Thinking quickly, he called on Dobby and without a moment's hesitation the elf appeared. A broad grin stretching across his face. "What can Dobby be doing for the Great Harry Potter?" the little elf asked, bouncing on his spindly sock covered feet. He was dressed in children's clothes with khaki pants and a black t-shirt.
"Hey, Dobby, how are you?" the dark-haired teen asked, putting a hand on the elf's shoulder to make him stop bouncing.
"Dobby is doing very good, sir," Dobby answered with a huge smile.
"That's great, Dobby" Harry said quietly, conscious of his aunt and uncle downstairs. "I was wondering if I could hire you and maybe a few other free house elves for the summer. Maybe longer, if things work out," he stated, hoping his little friend didn't start wailing with pleasure.
"Dobby would love to work for the Great Harry Potter! What can Dobby be doing for you?" the elf asked, quietly yet excitedly, in his squeaky voice. He was thrilled that his greatest hero called for him. He learned his last time here to make sure that his idol didn't get in trouble for too much noise.
"Well," Harry mused, wondering where to begin. "We need to talk about how much I'll be paying you. And I wanted to know if Winky might do some work for me as well. My idea will definitely need more than one or two elves. So if you know any more free elves that need work, could you call them, and I'll see about hiring them also?" Harry asked the overjoyed little elf, keeping his hand firmly on that very bony shoulder.
"Dobby can be doing that, Harry Potter. Dobby will be doing that right now," Dobby said and with that he popped away, making the boy's hand fall back to his side.
Harry laid down on his bed and waited patiently, running his mind over what he was going to do. He would need to get money, perhaps Dobby could do that. Then he'd need to get to a printer, so he would need muggle money. Or he could see if the elves knew a copying spell. That would save him money, but he'd need some parchment for that, so he'd still need funds.
Then he needed to figure out what to say. He was going to ask the elves to spy for him so he could get the dirt on the Ministry and the purebloods, or the Death Eaters. Either or, they were basically the same. Well, that wasn't fair, there were purebloods that weren't Death Eaters. Like the Weasleys. Still, if the Ministry and bigots were going to attack him, he was going to fight back.
Suddenly, there was a loud pop and twenty or so house elves appeared in his room. Harry quickly glanced at the door, hoping the noise didn't bring his uncle. He sighed in relief at the silence from the stairs. He then looked over the elves and his brow scrunched up in a frown.
They varied in health, some almost fainting with exhaustion while others were dressed in bright clothes and practically vibrating with excitement, just like Dobby. Winky was there and she didn't look good. She was swaying from side to side and seemed to be having a hard time focusing.
"Why do some of you look close to death?" the teen asked as he looked at the motley crew of elves, slightly shocked that there were so many of them.
One of the really poor looking elves replied, "We is not being finding a wizard or witch that will take us. If we are not around magic, our magic fades. We is not needing to be bound but we must be around magic to survive." The elf held up his thin, pale arms in a 'what can you do' motion.
"Does it have to be a magical household, or do you just need to be around a wizard?" the very concerned boy asked, worried that some of these elves would drop dead in front of him. If he could help he would.
"We is only needing to be around a magical person," Dobby replied, happy that his friend was asking the right question. The Great Harry Potter would help these elves, he was sure of it. There wasn't a wizard around as kind as Harry Potter.
"Thanks, Dobby," Harry said with a smile, glad he could help. He turned to the group of hopeful elves and said, "Well, I can help you there. I need you to do things for me this summer, so I want to pay all of you two galleons a weeks for the next two months. If what I'm about to do works, I'm going to try and find you families that will take on free elves and pay you to work for them. Is this agreeable?" the teen asked. He didn't know where he'd find the families, but there had to be some somewhere. Or he'd keep them all with him.
All the elves nodded as they figured that this was better than fading away. Dobby and many of the others tried to protest that that was too much money, but Harry was firm on his stance. If they were going to work for him, they were going to be paid at least the minimum wage. He knew that Mr. Weasley got paid five galleons a week and he worked at the Ministry.
"Great. Now here is what I need you to do," the teen said, rubbing his hands together. "First off, Dobby, I need money, wizarding and muggle money. Can you get to Gringotts and get me some? I can give you, my key." He reached into his trunk and grabbed his key, which he had gotten back from Mrs. Weasley. It had been a fight to get it, but he had put his foot down and won. For some reason that woman thought he was too young to tend to his own finances. She seemed to think she was his mother. He made sure to tell her otherwise, as politely as possible.
"Dobby can be doing that," the overly excited elf said. "I's bes doing that for bad master," he added as a way of explanation.
"Great," the green-eyed boy stated, handing the hyper elf the key. "I think you should get at least 100 galleons and £400. I'm not sure how much my plan will cost, so go ahead and get that much," he said, handing over the key.
"Dobby can do," the elf stated, putting the key in the pocket of his pants and popping away.
"Now for the rest of you," Harry smiled as he turned to all the other elves. "First, how long will it take for you to get better?" he asked the oldest looking one. This one had looked like he would drop dead at any given moment, but he was looking better.
"I is Dinky, and we are already improving, Harry Potter, sir," the now named Dinky replied as his face filled out a bit and didn't look like he was on the verge of death. No, now he only looked like he had been sick for a week.
Harry glanced at the rest of the elves and he could see they were indeed getting better. They didn't look near as pale and most of them were standing taller. The healthy ones seem to vibrate with the same energy that Dobby always had.
"Great, okay, here is what I need. I need you to spy on the wizarding world and find out anything I can use against them. Some of you listen to gossip. Pay attention to the bigots, mostly. Others go to the Ministry and find out how muggleborn are really treated. I don't think they are telling the truth to the students. Then when you get your information, come back here and I'll tell you the rest of my plan," Harry gently ordered as he laid it out to the now eager elves.
"Wes can be doing that, Harry Potter, sir," almost all of them squeaked, just happy to be working again. Then they huddled together to see who would go where and soon enough Harry's room emptied to the sounds of popping as the elves disappeared.
"This is going to be wicked," the teen stated, rubbing his hands together. He couldn't wait to see the looks on the Ministry's faces when his plan came together. The shock of it all would make them regret what they were saying now. He didn't give a damn, he was done. He wasn't going to just sit back and take their vile comments anymore. Fuck them and their words. He was going to fight fire with fire.
He was right, the elves had a copying spell, which saved him from having to go to a store and use their copying machine. He did have to use a lot of parchment, but that was okay. It was quite the chore having to do it all in his room under the nose of his uncle, but they did it in the middle of the night and got it done.
He made sure that he spellchecked everything and had the font in an easy-to-read style. The parchment was also bright and cheery, so that it was noticeable. It was done in many different colors ranging from bright yellow to lime green. The font was always black to contrast.
Harry had a plan. He was going to have the house elves just magically snap them over the magical alleys and villages. They would just appear in the air and bombard the places where people shopped and ate.
Two weeks later, all over Wizarding Britain, thousands of pieces of paper were flying around. No one knew where they came from—they had just dropped from the sky. It was as if a large plane came by and opened its doors and dropped them.
The paper read:
Harry Potter Speaks Out:
People of Wizarding Britain, first of all, shame on you. You know who you are. You are vilifying a young man for telling the truth. You will regret that, I promise. The Dark Lord Voldemort is back, and you are hiding behind the lies of the Ministry. Cowards. If you really think that I am a useless attention-seeking liar, then screw you.
Muggleborn, if you wish to unpick the lies of our world then listen very closely to what I have to say. I've spent the last couple of weeks researching as my spies listen in on many Ministry conversations as well as brief chatter around Diagon Alley. This is what I've learned:
Muggleborn, you're being lied to. There is no future for you in the wizarding world. All high paying positions are held by purebloods and well-off half-bloods. Anyone raised in the muggle world will get low paying jobs or completely shunned, and there is nothing you can do about it.
Don't believe me? Look around you, how many muggleborn people are tending shops compared to how many purebloods own them? How many of the Wizengamot are muggleborn? I'll tell you, none. The seats are passed down through pureblood families. The only other seats are those that have the Order of Merlin. Guess how many of them are muggleborn. One.
I say forget them and leave this world to the pureblood bigots. Eventually, there will be no one to marry and they'll die out. Then we can come and claim the world back. If we want, or we can stay in the muggle world and make our own way and leave them to their fate.
Also, there really is no such thing as a muggleborn; all so-called "muggleborn" are descendants from squibs. This is a proven fact that the ministry hides in the Department of Mysteries. They have known this for hundreds of years, but they deny even researching it, so that they can keep the vaults in their greedy hands.
Speaking of which, Gringotts is more than just a bank, it is a storage area. If a line is thought to be dead the vault will close and the money will go to the Ministry. However, if there is an heir, even if that heir is a squib, then the vault will stay open and the Ministry cannot touch it, not for lack of trying though.
If you look it up, they have tried to pass laws so that any vault that doesn't get claimed in fifty years goes to them. However, Gringotts does not comply with wizarding laws.
I asked the bank, and they informed me that there are hundreds of old untouched vaults. So go to Gringotts, and for three galleons, they'll test to see if you qualify for one of them. Remember, there may be books and valuables that have not seen the light of day for hundreds of years. If you take these, the purebloods, that only want your money, will lose and you will gain.
I won't be returning to Hogwarts. Why the hell would I want to after everything that has been said about me this summer? Not to mention the years at school where most of you turned on me. Hell no. You can all go and defend yourself when Voldemort stops hiding.
I'm not going to tell you what I'll be doing, because someone will try to stop me. Just know I'll be doing what I must to survive.
If you want to leave too, and continue your magic studies, there is a law firm in the muggle world that will get you tutors. They'll confirm that you are a so-called muggleborn, or -raised, so be warned. The only reason they will not help the purebloods, is the laws passed by the Ministry that suppressed them from owning their own law firm when they graduated from Hogwarts.
So sorry for those of you so called 'blood-traitors' and half-bloods, hopefully you can fend for yourself. I know a good few of you and I hope you take this warning as a chance to get out of Britain or at least know that when the muggleborn and -raised leave you will need to find someone to marry outside of the country, if you stay.
This law firm also has a list of house-elves that require a good home to be hired in. These elves don't want to be bound, but hired, and you will have to sign a contract that states you won't bind with or abuse them. If you contact me, via muggle way, then I'll give you their name.
To the purebloods, barring the 'blood-traitors', of Wizarding Britain, I say piss off; clean up your own mess. I've sent a letter to the Prime Minister and let him know that there is a wizard terrorist that will try and kill the subjects of Great Britain. And, wonder of wonders, he believed me and alerted the Army. They'll kill anyone they see terrorizing their people.
Well, I've told you what I'm doing; I leave it up to you to do what you want because I wash my hands of the lot of you.
Oh, and for all you people that listen to the Daily Prophet and Minister Fudge, well, you made your own bed, you can lay in it.