Chapter 196: Free Will
Wade Know—this House-elf was oddly persistent. Rather than arguing with Dobby over Harry Potter’s safety, he asked simply:
“Harry told me you want freedom?”
Dobby’s face, alight with hope just a moment ago, froze. Slowly, he lowered his arms, his large eyes darting nervously. Panic flickered across his face as he stared at Wade.
“Don’t be afraid,” Wade said seriously. “I can’t tell Malfoy. What I do want to say is… if you truly mean it, I can help.”
“Help… help Dobby?” Dobby sniffled, his voice trembling. “Why, sir? Dobby is a slave. Dobby doesn’t know you. You don’t know Dobby.”
“Why?” Wade smiled faintly. “Maybe because you’re the first House-elf I’ve ever met who wants freedom? Tell me—do you want it? Do you want me to help?”
Dobby clutched his old pillowcase with both hands, his body trembling. His eyes flickered, as if searching for something deep within. After a long silence, he closed his eyes tightly and cried out, voice breaking:
“Yes!”
“Dobby craves freedom! Dobby wants to depart from their family forever!”
The words hung in the air. Dobby seemed startled by his own voice. He froze, then, hesitantly, whispered, “But… but… Master cannot give Dobby freedom! They’re all so careful—no one even lets Dobby touch a single sock!”
The conditions for a House-elf’s freedom were simple—yet nearly impossible. All that was needed was for a Master to give the elf clothing. But discarded clothes—thrown on the floor, tossed into the laundry basket, or merely handed over for washing—did not count. Only clothing deliberately given, entrusted to the elf, or gifted to them would free them.
Magic, after all, was shaped by the wizard’s inner thoughts.
“You don’t need to worry about that,” Wade said. “I’ll find a way. Are you willing to write to me?”
Dobby looked up at him, staring for a long time. Then, softly: “Yes. I will write to you.”
This was the first wizard who had ever knelt down to speak to him eye-to-eye. How could he not?
Wade smiled. “Then wait a little longer. I don’t think it’ll be long now…”
Before he could finish, a sudden rumble echoed through the room—the sound of a growling stomach.
Dobby, sheepish and pale, clutched his belly.
Wade glanced at the tray of sweets and refined pastries on the table. He understood.
“Makki,” he said in a normal tone, “could you please bring us some food?”
A soft pfft sound. A round tray appeared on the floor.
On it sat bread, roasted potatoes, fried sausages, and a large bottle of black tea.
“Thank you, Makki,” Wade said, pushing the tray toward Dobby. “Eat quickly—Malfoy might be back any moment.”
“Also, Makki is the little sprite responsible for the Slytherin Common Room. Though your master won’t let him enter the dormitory, if you ever need help, you can ask Makki directly. Or have him relay a message to me—he’ll hear.”
Dobby stared, mouth agape, trembling lips quivering. He didn’t move. He didn’t touch the steaming food.
“Well then,” Wade stood, smiling. “I should be going. Goodbye, Dobby. I hope our next meeting finds you a free spirit.”
With a flick of his wand against his forehead, he vanished.
Footsteps echoed softly down the corridor. The wooden door creaked shut. The sound faded into silence.
…
“Wade Gray is helping that House-elf gain freedom?”
As Wade stepped out of the Slytherin Common Room and walked through the empty corridor, Makki materialized beside him, whispering.
“Yes,” Wade replied. “You saw it—his master treats him cruelly.”
“I don’t like him,” Makki said.
After a pause, he added, “He’s… strange. Like something out of place.”
“Because he wants freedom?” Wade asked.
“He’s betraying his master,” Makki said, then reconsidered. “No—pretending to obey. He’s not loyal. No one will accept a traitor like that. He’ll become a ghost without a home, wandering into death.”
“I will,” Wade said calmly. “If I don’t prepare him for a better life, I can’t help him escape his current one.”
Makki froze. He stared at Wade, then insisted, “Dobby is a bad elf. He betrays his master.”
“Then do you think he’s wrong?” Wade asked.
Of course not—Makki thought, but he blinked, opened his mouth, and couldn’t say it. Not out loud.
He hadn’t seen it himself—but he’d heard Draco Malfoy’s cruel treatment of Dobby. He’d heard the boy being punished, even torturing himself—pressing his fingers against a hot iron, forcing his ears into the oven. He’d seen him, in the dead of night, picking through discarded rags, tearing them into strips to wrap his wounds.
Makki felt confused.
Wade didn’t press. Instead, he asked, “Did you deliver the food? Did he eat?”
“He was crying,” Makki said, voice low. “Crying so hard… it was terrible.”
“Help him, please, Makki,” Wade said gently. “Bring him food every day. I’ve left burn ointment and white moss in the Umbrella Room. Take two bottles and give them to him.”
“…Fine,” Makki muttered, reluctant. “Since you asked, I’ll help. But I’m nothing like him.”
He said it firmly. “Makki cannot betray!”
“Of course I know,” Wade replied.
He thought, Malfoy might not agree with that.
But in Makki’s mind, Malfoy—along with the other Slytherin students—were just another kind of client, not masters to serve. His sense of self was no less than Dobby’s. He just didn’t realize it.
Life at Hogwarts was peaceful, even happy, for House-elves. In such a stable world, rebellion rarely took root.
If Makki and Dobby had switched places, Makki might have taken far more extreme measures—like Kreacher of the Black family, actively seeking ways to destroy his master.
But as Wade thought of Draco Malfoy, Makki spoke again.
“He joined this club—called the ‘Death Spirit Club.’ He asked them: Is the leader a Death Eater? They said no.”
“They gave him a ring. It can send simple messages. Said it was… inspired by the Book of Friends.”
Makki glanced at Wade.
“Said it was from the Book of Friends.”
Wade nodded. “I know.”
He wasn’t surprised.
The Book of Friends offered convenience to wizards. But such convenience wasn’t reserved only for friends or ordinary people. The wicked, too, would exploit it.
It was a double-edged sword.
(End of Chapter)
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