Now And Forever
Chapter 22

By Abraxan

Just as he wondered if he could get away with snogging her in Hogsmeade, he heard someone say that he’d need to maintain a distance from her in Hogsmeade, London, wherever they were, because Harry represented Hogwarts as a teacher wherever he went. Harry slumped in his chair, truly dejected now.

His attention was caught by the sight of a tray of food entering the room, apparently under its own power. He bent down and saw house-elf legs scurrying busily under the heavily-laden tray. The tray was much too large and heavy for such a small elf. When it teetered dangerously, Harry stood and lifted it from the tiny elf’s hands, smiling down at her as he did so.

"Does this go here?" Harry said kindly, holding the tray over the table beside him.

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir," the elf said. She had huge blue eyes and seemed to be rather young. She bobbed a little curtsey, then looked up at him again and gasped. "Oh! You isn’t . . . you is! Is you really . . ." she stood on her toes for a closer look, "is you Harry Potter, sir?"

"Yes, I am. What’s your name?" Harry said. He could use a distraction from what was going on at the Board table.

"Dinky, sir." She curtsied again.

"It’s very nice to meet you, Dinky."

She wrung her hands and trembled, a huge smile on her face. "Dinky has heard many good things about Harry Potter! Is it true Master Harry owns house-elves named Dobby and Winky?"

"Yes, I do, but I prefer to think of them as friends. I don’t think of it as owning them. I don’t believe in slavery."

Tears came to the young elf’s eyes. "Oh! Master Harry is too kind! Is it true Master Harry allowed them to marry and said they could have children?"

Harry sat down so he was closer to her height. "I’m not your master, Dinky. You don’t have to call me that. I don’t let Dobby or Winky call me ‘master’ either. And yes, I allowed them to marry and told them they could have children whenever they want to."

Now the tears spilled down Dinky’s face. "Dinky wishes all masters was so kind." Her hands flew up to cover her mouth, her eyes widened in horror, and then she started to run.

Harry grabbed her before she could crash into the wall. "Dinky, I forbid you to punish yourself."

"Thank you, Mast-, erm, Harry Potter, sir! Dinky didn’t mean to say bad things about her master."

"Who is your master?"

"Dinky belongs to the Ministry of Magic. Anyone who works for the Ministry is her master."

"So you have to take orders from a lot of people?"

"Yes, Harry Potter, sir."

Just then, the door opened and another tray, this one filled with drinks, came bobbing toward them.

"Please excuse Dinky, Harry Potter, sir," Dinky said, then ran toward the other elf. She helped him carry the tray, talking to him all the while.

Harry heard his name mentioned several times, as well as Dobby and Winky’s. When the elves neared him, he lifted the tray from their hands and set it on the table by the first one. He smiled at the two elves. "Hello. What’s your name?"

"Pip, sir! Pip is honoured to meet the great Harry Potter, sir!" Pip swept his arms aside and bowed so low, his long nose actually touched the floor. He had brown eyes and was a good bit taller than Dinky.

Dinky crept closer to Harry. "Dinky is telling Pip about Dobby and Winky, sir."

Harry sat in the chair again so they wouldn’t have to look up so far. He smiled at the little elf. "What did you tell him?"

"That it’s true Harry Potter sir allowed them to marry and have children!"

Harry looked at Pip. "It’s true, but they don’t have any children yet." He looked at the two elves and noticed them holding hands. "Is Dinky your girlfriend, Pip? She’s quite pretty."

Both elves blushed. "House-elves isn’t allowed to have girlfriends, sir, but if we was, Dinky would be mine."

"Why aren’t you allowed to have girlfriends?" Harry thought whoever was making the house-elf rules sounded as stuffy as Hogwarts’ Board of Governors.

Pip dropped his eyes. "Dinky and Pip isn’t breeding-stock elves, sir. We isn’t allowed to marry or have children, so we isn’t allowed girlfriends either."

"Breeding-stock elves? I never heard of that."

"It’s where new house-elves come from, sir," Pip explained.

Harry frowned. Hermione would pitch a complete wobbly if she heard this! "And who decided you weren’t breeding-stock house-elves?"

"Our masters, sir."

"Where are the breeding-stock elves? Do they work here too?"

"No, sir. They lives in the country and raises baby house-elves."

"And you get no choice? You’re not allowed to become breeding-stock elves?"

"No sir."

That’s just unfair! Harry thought he might just pitch a wobbly himself. "I’m sorry to hear about this, Pip. Dobby and Winky didn’t tell me anything about breeding-stock elves. They were both in service working for other families before they came to me. Nobody said I had to declare them breeding-stock elves. I don’t understand."

"Each master can do what he wants with his elves, sir," Pip explained. Dinky nodded her agreement.

"Really. Hmm." Harry sat back, thinking hard. He might not be able to do anything about the stupid school rule the Board was still wrangling about, but he might have a chance at improving things for these elves. "If you could, would you want to marry and have children?"

"Oh, yes, sir! Dinky and Pip would love to have their own family, sir!" Dinky said, holding Pip’s hand with both of hers.

"Mr. Potter!" Smedley called. "What are you doing over there?"

Harry glanced up at the man, annoyed by his superior tone. He sighed, determined not to lose his temper. "Talking to these house-elves. Sorry if we bothered you."

Peabody looked shocked. "Why on earth would you—"

"Harry is a friend to house-elves," Dumbledore explained in a quiet but firm voice.

"Why would anyone want to be friends with house-elves?" an obese witch said, dabbing daintily at her sweaty face with a lace hanky. "Blasted hot conference room anyway."

"Would Mistress like a cool drink?" Pip offered, lifting his tray off the table and carrying it toward her.

The witch took a drink from the tray without comment.

Harry was seething. "You asked why anyone would want to be friends with house-elves," he said, doing his best to control his temper. "My friend Dobby has risked his life to protect me more than once. He’s a house-elf, as is his wife."

"His wife?" the woman said, looking at Harry oddly.

"I gave them permission to marry."

"Hmm." The woman finished her drink and set the glass back on Pip’s tray with no further comment.

Dinky lifted her tray from the table and offered it to Harry. "Harry Potter, sir, would you like some lunch?"

"Thank you, Dinky. Do you want help with your tray?"

"This is Dinky’s job," she said with a little shrug of her thin shoulders. She waited for him to choose something, then hurried off toward the conference table. She followed Pip’s progress around the table, letting those on the Board take what they wanted from each tray.

Harry noticed that only Dumbledore said anything to the elves. He shook his head, saddened by the way house-elves were either ignored or abused, and had so few rights that anyone should have. A smile flitted across Harry’s face. He knew Hermione would be delighted with the idea that had popped into his head.

* * * * *

Lunch was over, and the Board was still arguing about Harry’s situation. The wedding was a real sticking point, as was how he and Ginny would be allowed to behave toward each other in public after the wedding.

"He’ll still be a Hogwarts teacher!" Peabody said. The longer the discussions had gone on, the more his tightly-wound personality had unravelled, until now, his cravat was undone, his hair was mussed from him running his hands through it as he tried to keep his temper, and there were red blotches on his face. He’d been yelling for the last few minutes.

"Hogwarts teacher or not," a tiny old man said in his querulous voice, "they’ll be married! He’s a hero, as is she! They deserve a little leeway."

"I want to know why they’re rushing into a marriage before the school year is over," the obese witch said, dabbing delicately at her sweaty eyebrows. "Is she in the family way?"

"NO!" Harry bellowed, his patience at an end. "She is not pregnant. It’s my fault we have to get married sooner!"

"How in the world can it be a man’s fault that a couple has to marry quickly?" the witch sniffed, giving Harry a very sceptical look.

"I . . . it’s . . ." Harry looked to Dumbledore for help. If he told very much about his nightmares, he might lose the job anyway, not that he cared much anymore. But his grandfather, and, if he were honest, his students were all depending on him to stay.

"What Harry is reluctant to tell you—" Dumbledore paused to look at Harry again. When Harry nodded, he went on, "—is that he is suffering from a common post-war malady that afflicts many combatants. He has terrible nightmares in which he relives battles and watches his friends die over and over. The only way to stop the nightmares is for someone to be with him to wake him before they get too bad. He shares his home with Ron and Hermione Weasley, who, along with his house-elves, Dobby and Winky, wake him when they hear him cry out in the night. But they don’t always hear him, and Harry suffers greatly as a result. When he and Ginny are at her parents’ home, or on a picnic, perhaps, and he falls asleep in the afternoon, if he has a nightmare, Ginny can wake him much faster than anyone else who’s tried. He seems to hear her voice more easily than anyone else’s. He’s told me that he’ll hear her voice and follow it back to the light, until he finally wakes up. These dreams are a very real form of torture for those who’ve survived warfare. He’s sought medical help, and the prescription Marcus Pomfrey gave him the last time he checked Harry was to move up the wedding." He smiled and looked at Harry. "That’s true, isn’t it, Harry?"

Harry sat amazed at the wonderful job his grandfather had done of spinning out lies laced liberally with truth to create a story that was believable and yet didn’t cast any shadows on Harry and Ginny’s relationship. "Yes. I showed the prescription to the Weasleys when Ginny and I talked to them about having the wedding earlier. It’s at home. I can bring it if you need it."

Dumbledore looked around the table. "Do you need to see it, or will you trust me?"

"I’ll just go and get it, shall I?" Harry said, getting to his feet. He could do with a break anyway, and he should send a message to his coach to let him know he probably wouldn’t be back at practice today.

"I move we table this discussion until Mr. Potter returns with the prescription," Smedley said.

Someone else said, "Second."

"All in favour?" the chairman said.

As the others voted their approval, Harry wondered what the chairman thought of the proceedings. He’d been quiet nearly the entire time. He shook his head. It didn’t matter what this bloke thought. They’d voted, he could leave, and breathing fresh air sounded like a really wonderful idea at the moment.

"Mr. Potter," Thistlewood called as Harry reached for the door knob. "Could you contact the healer who wrote your prescription and ask him to attend us this afternoon?"

"He’s very busy—" Harry began.

"I expect a sworn statement from him will suffice," Dumbledore said in a calm but commanding voice. He raised a bushy eyebrow at Thistlewood. "Won’t it?"

The man fidgeted a bit, but finally agreed.

"So I’m to go to St. Mungo’s and try to get a sworn statement from Marcus, too?" Harry said.

"Yes, if you would, Mr. Potter," the chairman said. "All right, let’s go to item three on our agenda."

Harry looked at Dumbledore, who was sitting with his elbows on the table, his fingers steepled in front of his chin. Dumbledore noticed Harry’s gaze and winked at him, then went back to paying attention to the chairman. Harry shrugged and left the room.

* * * * *

Harry sent an Adfero to Marcus to let him know he’d be there in a few minutes and needed to see him if at all possible, then flashed to Grimmauld Place to retrieve the prescription. He was glad he’d kept it in the little writing desk in his room, so he knew exactly where to find it. Shoving the parchment in his pocket, he flashed to St. Mungo’s and asked the nurse to let Marcus know he was there.

A few minutes later, Marcus came out of an examining room. "What’s wrong, Harry? Are you injured?"

"No, nothing like that. I just need to speak to you for a moment." Harry glanced up at the nurse, who looked away guiltily when he caught her eye. "In private, please?"

"Of course." Marcus led Harry to his office and sat down behind his desk. "What’s up?"

Harry explained the situation.

"You can’t hold hands or anything? And they don’t want to allow the wedding? Well, of course I’ll give you a sworn statement, but I would think the prescription was enough."

Harry shrugged. "I guess they think I might’ve forged it or something."

"No problem. We’ll even get two witnesses to sign it, how’s that?" Marcus said with a smile.

"Great! Thanks a lot."

"It’s a silly rule in your case, Harry. I can understand it, for other teachers, but you’d think they would’ve given the Chosen One a break."

"I’ve heard fame is fleeting. I guess this is proof of that," Harry said.

"I suppose so. Welcome to the real world."

* * * * *

As he walked down the Ministry corridors to the meeting room, Harry considered Marcus’s parting words: "Welcome to the real world." If he looked at things objectively, that’s what was happening. Harry had always resented the fame that had been thrust upon him because of his scar and his subsequent battles with Voldemort and the Death Eaters. And now he was expecting special treatment because he was the Chosen One? He almost laughed. He should be welcoming the chance to live a normal life, and the first time normality reared its ugly head, he wanted to hex it! Not holding hands or kissing Ginny whenever he wanted to would be tough, but he would learn how to deal with it. It was part of the normal life he’d always wanted.

* * * * *

Harry returned to the meeting, showed them the documents and was soon on his way again, with the Board’s decision still ringing in his ears. He sighed. This is what you get for wanting to be treated like anyone else.

As he walked toward the lift, he passed the Minister’s office. Remembering his idea earlier, he entered the office and stopped in front of the receptionist’s desk. She was busy writing something, so he stood waiting patiently for her to look up. When she ignored him, he cleared his throat, then decided he may as well say something.

"Excuse me. Is the Minister in?"

The woman didn’t look up from whatever she was writing. "She doesn’t have a free appointment for two weeks."

"I only need a minute of her time."

"Sorry. Owl me and I’ll set up an appointment for you."

"All right." He sighed, but realized that he should’ve expected the Minister to be too busy for drop-in visits. He’d just reached the door when Minister Bones stepped out of her office.

"Harry Potter! What are you doing here?" She laughed and crossed the room toward him, her hand held out to shake his. "And in your practice robes at that! How are things with the team? I’m a huge fan!"

Harry noticed the receptionist had looked up and now had a shocked expression on her face, her mouth actually hanging open. He almost felt a bit ashamed for wanting to laugh at her reaction to seeing who was standing in her office, but he restrained himself. He smiled as he shook the Minister’s hand. "The team’s doing well, thanks. And I’m sorry about how I’m dressed. I know it isn’t appropriate for the Ministry, but I was called from practice to attend a meeting, so—"

"What kind of meeting?"

"Something to do with Hogwarts. I was just leaving when I noticed I was passing your office. I’d like to speak with you for a moment, if you can manage the time."

"I have a few minutes free right now. Come on in." She glared at her receptionist. "The next time one of the heroes of the wizarding world stops by my office, interrupt whatever I’m doing to let me know they’re here. Understand?"

The woman’s mouth snapped shut and she nodded, her eyes still wide as she watched Harry follow the Minister into her office.

"Have a seat, Mr. Potter. Now, what can I do for you?" Minister Bones said as she settled behind her desk again.

"It’s about the Ministry’s house-elves . . ."