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Holly Evans and the Spiral Path

Chapter 4: Indentured Servitude



20th June, 1992



Dear Harry,

I don't smile much. It just doesn't happen very often, probably because things haven't been worth smiling about. I think after I popped Quirrel-mort's head like a balloon I must have smiled before I got knocked out, but there were no witnesses. I'll just smile about it now to make up for it.

I think Hermione just noticed, because she's staring at me with concern again. Iam writing this as we ride the Express back to London, and every mile we travel I move farther from the magical world. We can't do magic away from school until we are 17, and have passed at least 3 OWL exams to certify that we have our powers under control. When Hermione told me this during the leaving feast, Idecided to swap out her collection of Goshawk books in my trunk for all the dry foods I could steal from the table and stuff into my book bag. Without magic Iwill have no defense at the Dursleys. Even the Iron Fist might trigger acitation. My only hope at the moment is that Petunia's Xmas gifts weren't sent to prep me for Dudley's sexual awakening. At the time, I couldn't even fathom what she was thinking, but talking with Hermione about it earlier gave me the idea that Petunia is hoping some wizard gets me pregnant due to my experimenting with forbidden knowledge, which might end their responsibility for me that much earlier. I can just imagine Uncle Vernon biting his tongue while insisting that a cowering Neville Longbottom 'do the right thing for his niece's honor'. Not that I have a thing for Neville, it's just that he's the most likely person from the wizarding world I could see cowering before my Uncle.



Holly



*



22nd June, 1992



Dear Harry,

The only good news I have to report is that Dudley hasn't started looking at girls sexually yet. Or maybe just not me, which is fine either way. He continues to express himself with his fists. I had cause to smile again today, though. Dudley noticed me wearing my Quidditch goggles while out working in the flower beds and stole them from me while I was wiping dirt from my face. He's been trying to break them for the last hour, but Hermione's Impervious charm seems to be holding up quite well.



Aunt Petunia confronted me about the goggles when Dudley complained that they were magical. I explained that I had needed glasses for a while now and had gotten apair of normal glasses plus these prescription sport lenses while at school, but that the normal ones were broken at the end of term. Aunt Petunia then snorted and said something about appreciating the gift she sent after all. Iguess she didn't actually read the sex manuals before sending them along. Aunt Petunia was implying that my vision problems were due to excessive masturbation, which is quite specifically debunked as a myth in Chapter 4. In case you haven't gotten any advice in this area, allow me a moment of sisterly care: make yourself happy in the privacy of your room to your heart's content. Not only is it perfectly natural, but in some philosophies releasing built up sexual tension this way is good for your body's chemical and emotional balance. Any questions about technique should be directed elsewhere, as I can't draw for shite and you've already seen how poor my descriptions are. Also, I only have Firenze's penis to use as an example for scale and that, as I understand it, is simply unfair to you.



Holly



*



Dear Harry,

I have been here over a month. No Hedwig. No books (other than Aunt Petunia's gifts, which is where I stuck this journal to make sure I would have it). Obviously no wand or broom. I haven't heard from Hermione or Ron or Neville or anyone. All my stuff including Hedwig's cage and the trunk with the food in it was locked in the cupboard under the stairs after the goggle argument was retold to Uncle Vernon. I've never wanted to be back in that cupboard so badly. I used to sleep there, before last year. It was uncomfortable and stuffy and the nails through the lower steps would poke my feet when I turned in my sleep. But it was mine, and I watched the spiders there spin webs and capture other insects to eat. It was fascinating. There aren't any spiders in my room, just amattress, a rickety table and desk chair, my cheap sewing machine I use to make Dudley's old clothes wearable for me and a bunch of Dudley's broken toys. I am cooking and cleaning and gardening and sewing from dawn til I collapse, just like I would do any previous summer. I am tired and I feel weak, probably from the limited food I get now. I am beginning to feel like this whole past year was some sort of hallucination.



In fact, now I'm seeing a two foot tall bug-eyed leprechaun.



Hang on...

Holly



*

31st July, 1992, later that night



Well, that was bizarre, but I'd say I feel a whole lot better now. By the way, Happy Birthday. I had lost track of the days until Dobby told me. Dobby is the name for the leprechaun I thought I had imagined, but he's not a leprechaun, Dobby is a House-Elf. I don't know if I'll ever see him again, but he made my day.

I'll try to be descriptive for this one.

Dobby is about 30 inches tall and looks like a Bobble-Head doll made out of leather. His ears look bat-like and his eyes are the size of grapefruits. His body is spindle-thin as are his arms and legs, with huge floppy feet and long hands that I swear have an extra set of joints. He quivers almost constantly, though as he was in my room on a mission, it could be that he was more nervous than normal. All he was wearing was a dirty ancient pillowcase with a monogram in the corner that said LCM.

Dobby has an odd way of speaking so I'll try to get the conversation right.

"Is you...is you the Holly Evans, who slays the troll at Hoggy Hogwarts last Halloween?"

"Sometimes I think so. What are...who are you, exactly?"

"I is being called Dobby. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf."

"How did you get here?"

"Dobby has come to you Miss Holly, because house-elves cannot find the Great Harry Potter."

"Yes, but how did you get here?"

"Dobby used his magic to find Miss Holly and come to her room."

"So you can do magic that won't get me in trouble with the Ministry?"

"Dobby mustn't be doing bad things, or any things that aren't for the family..."

"Dobby, if you need my help I'm going to need just a little of your help."

"What must Dobby do?"

"There's a space under the stairs that has my things, and I need them. Can you get them for me without letting the other people know?"

In the next 30 seconds, my salvation literally appeared in front of me in the form of my trunk with Dobby standing nervously beside it. I cracked open the latch, flipped open the lid and then slumped down to sit on the floor with an apple tart stuffed into my mouth.

"Sit down Dobby, we're having a picnic!"

At this point he went a little hysterical. I thought it was for helping me out but he actually doesn't have much self-esteem is all.

"Dobby has never been asked to sit down by witch or wizard, l-l-like an equal! And to eat food with them! Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

It took me a minute to calm him down and get him talking quietly again.

After we sat and munched for a bit, Dobby explained his mission to me.

"Terrible things are coming this year to Hogwarts. The family forbade Dobby from talking to other house-elves, or to Hogwarts Professors, or to any adults who might interfere..."

"So that's why you came looking for Harry?"

"Yes miss. Dobby is wanting to warn away the Great Harry Potter, but Dobby cannot speak about what the family doesn't want told."

"Well, you could try to give me a hint and I could take care of it."

"Holly Evans is valiant and bold! She has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to warn Harry Potter and now his Holly Evans, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven door later... Holly Evans and Harry Potter must not go to Hogwarts."

"What do you mean, about the oven door?"

"Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, miss. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. Dobby is always having to punish himself for something, miss. They lets Dobby get on with it, miss. Sometimes they reminds me to do extra punishments..."

"But why don't you leave? Escape?"

"A house-elf must be set free, miss. And the family will never set Dobby free...Dobby will serve the family until he dies."

"Is that why you wear that rotted old sack?"

"This, miss?" said Dobby, plucking at the pillowcase. "'Tis a mark of the house-elf's enslavement, miss. Dobby can only be freed if his masters present him with clothes, miss. The family is careful not to pass Dobby even a sock, miss, for then he would be free to leave their house forever."

I suddenly realised that Dobby's situation wasn't too different from my own, aside from school. The only difference between us being that my service is an indentured servitude. I need only survive another four years or so and my chains will be broken. Dobby's chains will hold him until he's dead.

I gave him a bit of a fright when I hugged him tightly. He reminded me of myself again when he stayed stiff for a minute and then relaxed into the hug, much as I had when Hermione hugged me before I confronted Quirrel-mort. I haven't cried like that since I was five. Dobby cried too after a bit, probably worried that he had upset me, but I wouldn't let him go for a long time.

Yeah, your sister the troll-slayer is a weepy wreck. Worse still, I'm a liar. Dobby wouldn't leave until I promised him I would stay away from Hogwarts and warn you to stay away as well. Consider yourself warned. Smashing birthday present, eh?



Holly



*



3rd August, 1992



Dear Harry,

Now that I've had a few days of food, books and hope thanks to Dobby, I would take some journal space to tell you about other people I've met. Aside from my classmates, I mostly spend time with the Gryffindor Quidditch team. They're agood lot, though I don't think they know what to do with me.

The first one I met was our team captain Oliver Wood. He takes Ron's amateur Quidditch obsession to a professional level. Oliver plays keeper for the squad, and has a tendency to be knocked unconscious during matches. When awake, his keeping skills are excellent, which is probably why the opposing beaters always aim for him.

The next group is our trio of chasers, all girls. I like our Quidditch chasers. Angelina, Alicia and Katie are popular with the boys, particularly when teasing me about my height, lack of development, shoddy clothing and messy hair and at the end of term, they blamed me for Gryffindor losing the Quidditch cup this year by being all unconscious and unavailable. Such honesty makes me swell with pride. My theory stands; they are not nice or dumb. Plus they value me as aplayer. Obviously if it's my fault we lost when I wasn't there, it must be my talent that we win when I am there.

Yes, I am feeling much better. Thank you.

Our team is rounded out by Fred and George Weasley, Ron's next oldest brothers. They are twins, and have a habit of speaking part of each other's sentences. This ties back into my powers of magic theory- I think they communicate from ashared hive mind. They are known pranksters, so they may have developed this talent by needing to keep their opposite aware of shared alibis and such. It shows in their beating skills, as they volley the bludgers with a scary amount of coordinated accuracy. I wonder if it is affected by range.

Then there's Ron.

I mean literally- he and the twins are floating outside my window in a light blue Ford Anglia.

Time to pack!



Holly





(A/N: portions of the previous was extracted from Chamber of Secrets, and then tweaked horribly.)