HP and the Parseltongue Chronicles - Chapter - 30

Returning to Hogwarts after the Easter break felt like stepping into a storm of responsibilities. The brief escape to Black Family Island had been refreshing, but now Harry found himself drowning in obligations.

The moment he stepped off the Thestral-drawn carriages, reality came crashing back.

Between classes, Stars Magazine, his inventions, and broomstick production, Harry barely had time to breathe.

Every morning, his schedule was packed:

Classes with Hermione and Neville, making sure they stayed ahead of Snape’s unfair assignments.

Stars Magazine meetings, where the editors debated over which stories to feature next.

Broomstick workshop hours, where he continued improving the Thundershot models for their next launch.

Experimental inventions, mostly magical modifications to everyday wizarding tools.

The days blurred together as Harry pushed himself harder than ever before.

At the Stars Club meeting, the newest edition of Stars Chronicles was nearly complete.

Hermione, flipping through the proofs, smiled. “This is our best one yet.”

Fred and George glanced at the layout and nodded in approval.

“We’ve got a prank of the month section now,” Fred said smugly.

“And an exclusive interview with Madam Pomfrey,” George added.

Harry grinned. “What did she say?”

Neville smirked. “She said half of her patients come from your Quidditch team and Fred and George’s pranks.”

Everyone laughed. Even Madam Pomfrey had a sense of humor about it.

Meanwhile, the demand for Thundershot broomsticks was booming.

Remus had sent a letter from Highgarden, explaining that their recently produced batch had sold out in Diagon Alley.

"People are calling Thundershot the broom of the future. Professional Quidditch teams are asking about special models. We need to increase production."

Harry groaned, rubbing his temples. The broom business was expanding faster than expected, and he was still in school.

Fred and George nudged him. “Let us help,” Fred said.

George grinned mischievously. “We’ll handle marketing. You just focus on building the best broom out there.”

Harry hesitated but finally nodded. “Alright, let’s do it.”

Harry still found time for personal projects, experimenting with magical engineering.

In his private workshop, hidden deep in Hogwarts, he had been developing:

A self-repairing wand holster, enchanted to adjust to any wrist size.

A voice-activated storage trunk, coded only to respond to specific magical phrases.

A charmed quill that could transcribe thoughts instead of speech.

The last one was proving difficult to perfect. Every time he tested it, the quill wrote down embarrassing thoughts instead of notes.

Hermione, upon hearing about it, rolled her eyes. “That’s an invasion of privacy waiting to happen.”

“Or an excellent prank,” George added.

As days turned into weeks, the pressure started weighing on Harry.

One evening, as he sat in the common room, staring at his endless to-do list, Hermione placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Harry, you need to slow down.”

Neville, sitting nearby, nodded. “You don’t have to do everything alone.”

Fred and George chimed in together. “That’s what friends are for.”

Harry exhaled, feeling the exhaustion settle in. They were right. He had taken on too much, and if he didn’t start delegating, he would burn out before the year ended.

That night, he decided:

Fred and George would handle broomstick promotions and business deals. Neville and Susan would manage Stars Magazine more independently. He would set aside time for himself—to rest, to think, and to simply be Harry.

With a new plan in place, Harry felt lighter. There was still so much to do, but at least he wasn’t doing it alone.

Cornelius Fudge sat in his office at the Ministry of Magic, gripping his teacup so tightly that the porcelain cracked. The tea inside had long gone cold, forgotten as he stared at the latest edition of Stars Magazine, the headline practically burning itself into his brain.

“THE END OF A CORRUPT ERA? MINISTER FUDGE’S DOWNFALL IMMINENT!”

Fudge’s hands trembled as he flipped through the pages. The article detailed every single one of his failings:

His unlawful arrest of Hagrid.

His incompetence in handling the Chamber of Secrets incident.

His connections with Lucius Malfoy, who had used bribes to control the Ministry.

The increasing public distrust in his leadership.


He slammed the magazine shut and tossed it onto his desk, where it landed beside a growing pile of similar articles from The Quibbler.

His trusted propaganda machine, The Daily Prophet, was losing ground. No matter how many flattering articles they published about him, witches and wizards across Britain were seeing through the lies.

His hold on power was slipping.

The announcement of the next Ministerial election had thrown Fudge into a panic. He had been comfortable in his position, believing he would hold office for another decade or more. But the outrage over the wrongful arrest of Hagrid, combined with the public turning against him, had forced his hand.

The biggest threat to his position came from a man Fudge had long underestimated—

Cygnus Greengrass.

Unlike Fudge, who had climbed the political ladder through connections and favoritism, Greengrass was a respected statesman, known for his fairness, intelligence, and diplomacy. He was a Pureblood wizard, but unlike Lucius Malfoy, he did not believe in blood superiority. He had advocated for equal treatment of magical creatures, a reformed Wizengamot, and greater transparency within the Ministry.

For the first time in his career, Fudge had a real challenger.

And the people loved him.

Polling results from various wizarding districts showed an overwhelming support for Greengrass. Witches and wizards who had once been neutral in political matters were actively campaigning against Fudge.

Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, and even the more conservative wizarding villages were rallying behind Greengrass.

The Ministry itself was divided—some of the older, corrupt officials still backed Fudge, but a growing number of Aurors, law enforcers, and administrators were supporting Greengrass.

Fudge stormed out of his office and made his way to The Daily Prophet headquarters, his emerald-green robes flaring behind him.

The editor-in-chief, Barnabas Cuffe, looked up nervously as Fudge barged in.

“Minister!” Cuffe greeted, standing up immediately. “What an—er—unexpected visit.”

Fudge slammed his fist on the desk, causing a stack of newspapers to topple over.

“Why am I still seeing articles criticizing me?” Fudge demanded. “I thought I made myself clear—your job is to make sure I remain in office!”

Cuffe swallowed hard. “Minister, we’re doing everything we can. But The Quibbler and Stars Magazine—they have taken over the readership! Even wizards who never cared for politics before are suddenly reading those publications!”

Fudge’s face turned deep red.

“Then OUTWRITE THEM!” he roared. “Find something—anything—against Greengrass! Fabricate a scandal if you have to! We cannot let this man take the election!”

Cuffe hesitated. “Minister… the public is already suspicious of our bias. If we push too hard—”

Fudge leaned forward, his voice deadly quiet.

“You do as I say, or you can kiss your career goodbye.”

Cuffe paled. “Y-Yes, Minister.”

At Hogwarts, the Stars Club was fully engaged in the election.

Sitting in the clubroom, Harry, Hermione, Neville, Fred, George, and the others were discussing the latest news.

“Fudge is getting desperate,” Hermione said, setting down a newspaper. “He’s trying to frame Greengrass as a radical reformist who will ‘destabilize’ the wizarding world.”

George snorted. “Yeah, right. And we’re just supposed to ignore all of Fudge’s incompetence?”

Fred grinned. “If Fudge wants a smear campaign, why don’t we give him one in return?”

Blaise frowned. “We don’t need to lie like Fudge does. The truth is already damning enough.”

Harry leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. “We need to make sure that The Stars Magazine reaches as many people as possible before the election.”

Hermione nodded. “Agreed. We’ll distribute copies outside Hogwarts—Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley, even smaller villages. People need to know the truth about Fudge before they vote.”

Their plan was simple:

Print thousands of extra copies of Stars Magazine.

Send them out using enchanted delivery owls to wizarding communities.

Encourage former Hogwarts students to spread the word.


The Stars Club was not just a school organization anymore. They had influence, and they were about to use it against Fudge.

The day of the election arrived, and the wizarding world held its breath.

In Diagon Alley, witches and wizards lined up at the voting stations, casting their enchanted ballots.

At the Ministry of Magic, hundreds of employees took time off work to vote.

The tension was unbearable.

Hours passed.

Finally, at sunset, the results were announced.

Cygnus Greengrass had won.

In his office, Fudge sat frozen, his face pale as he listened to the official announcement.

The room was dead silent, except for the crackling of the fireplace.

A knock at the door.

His secretary stepped in, looking hesitant. “Minister… the Wizengamot has requested your resignation.”

Fudge swallowed thickly, gripping the arms of his chair.

“…I am still Minister,” he whispered.

“Not anymore, sir,” she replied, setting a formal letter of dismissal on his desk. “The people have spoken.”

She turned and left, closing the door softly behind her.

For the first time in his life, Cornelius Fudge was truly alone.

At Hogwarts, a cheer erupted in the Great Hall as the news spread.

Cygnus Greengrass was the new Minister of Magic.

The Stars Club members high-fived each other.

Fred and George stood on the Gryffindor table, shouting, “THE CORRUPT MINISTRY HAS FALLEN!”

Hermione smiled. “It’s finally happening. Change is coming.”

Harry nodded. “It was never about just getting rid of Fudge. It’s about making things right.”

Neville raised his butterbeer. “To a new wizarding world.”

“To a new wizarding world!” the club echoed.

With Fudge out of office and Lucius Malfoy stripped of his political influence, Harry no longer feared immediate retaliation from the Malfoy family. The fall of the corrupt Ministry had been a victory for the wizarding world, but now, Harry turned his focus to a more personal mission—freeing Dobby.

Ever since Dobby had risked everything to warn Harry about Malfoy’s plans, Harry had felt responsible for the little house-elf. Dobby had suffered too much, bound to a master who viewed him as nothing more than a disposable servant. It was time to set him free.

Harry gathered the Stars Club in their private meeting room. The air was buzzing with excitement, but also curiosity—few people outside of the club knew about Harry’s connection with Dobby.

“Alright, everyone,” Harry said, looking around at his friends, “I think it’s time we put our skills to good use for something that really matters.”

Padma Patel leaned forward, grinning. “You mean one last mission against the Malfoys?”

Harry smirked. “Something like that.”

Hermione, always the strategist, adjusted her notes. “We can’t just take Dobby. That would be considered theft under wizarding law.”

“I don’t intend to steal him,” Harry clarified. “I intend to outwit Malfoy and make him free Dobby himself.”

There was a pause, then Neville’s eyes widened. “You’re planning to trick Malfoy into freeing Dobby?”

Harry nodded. “Exactly.”

The plan was deceptively simple—trick Lucius Malfoy into giving Dobby a piece of clothing, which would free the elf from servitude.

The key to the plan?

A fake contract.

The Stars Club would draft a forged legal document, stating that Malfoy’s assets were under investigation by the new Minister of Magic, Cygnus Greengrass. As part of an “audit” into illegal magical practices, any unregistered magical creatures in his estate would need to be reviewed—which included Dobby.

But there was a catch.

If Malfoy freely relinquished ownership of Dobby by providing a “symbol of transfer,” his assets would remain untouched.

They knew Lucius Malfoy was desperate—he had already lost his influence, and any more scrutiny could ruin him completely.

Harry’s idea was to play on that desperation and force him to act without thinking.

Three days later, Harry, Fred, and George arrived at Malfoy Manor, escorted by an official-looking owl carrying the forged Ministry letter.

Lucius Malfoy, still fuming from his recent political downfall, looked irritated as he accepted them into his grand foyer.

“To what do I owe this… visit?” Malfoy sneered, his eyes narrowing.

Harry pulled out the forged legal document, careful to keep his expression neutral. “Minister Greengrass has sent us to review all magical creatures under your ownership.”

Malfoy’s grip on the parchment tightened, his knuckles going white.

“This is absurd,” he snapped. “I have done nothing illegal.”

Hermione stepped forward. “Sir, unregistered house-elves are technically classified as illegal magical possessions under international law. If you simply transfer ownership of Dobby to the Ministry, your other assets will not be questioned.”

Lucius’s lip curled in fury. “This is a scam. A ridiculous trick to take what’s mine.”

Harry met Malfoy’s gaze steadily. “If you don’t comply, the Ministry has the right to seize your vaults for investigation.”

Malfoy froze.

His family vaults had already been under scrutiny since Fudge’s removal. If they were investigated further, he could lose millions of Galleons.

Harry knew he had him.

Lucius gritted his teeth, then ripped off one of his fine silk gloves and threw it at Dobby’s feet.

“There. Take him. I have no need for a worthless servant anymore.”

Dobby stared at the glove, his wide green eyes filled with disbelief.

Slowly, he reached down, his fingers trembling. As soon as he picked it up, a powerful burst of magic surrounded him, causing a golden glow to flare around his tiny frame.

Dobby gasped, staggering as the magic broke his bindings.

Harry stepped forward, offering his hand.

“You’re free now, Dobby.”

Dobby’s breath hitched. His hands clenched the glove so tightly his fingers shook.

Then, suddenly—

Dobby burst into tears, throwing himself at Harry’s feet.

“Great Harry Potter has done it! Dobby is free!”

Harry grinned and knelt down. “No more punishments, Dobby. No more servitude. You can choose your own path now.”

Lucius Malfoy, red with fury, turned on them. “You—you tricked me!”

Harry stood up, completely calm. “You freed him yourself, Malfoy.”

Lucius’s eyes burned with rage, but he could do nothing. If he retaliated, he would only confirm his guilt to the Ministry.

“Get out,” Malfoy hissed.

Harry, Fred, George, and Dobby didn’t hesitate. They walked out of Malfoy Manor victorious, leaving Lucius to stew in his anger and humiliation.

Back at Highgarden, Dobby stood in the grand dining hall, taking in his new reality.

“You don’t have to serve anyone ever again, Dobby,” Harry assured him.

Dobby nodded slowly, but his expression was conflicted.

“Dobby is grateful,” he whispered. “But Dobby does not know how to live free.”

Harry exchanged a look with Sirius, who had helped organize a home for Dobby at Highgarden.

“Well,” Sirius said with a grin, “you could work for wages—a proper job, if you want it.”

Dobby’s eyes widened. “Work for wages? Dobby… Dobby has never been paid before.”

“You don’t have to,” Harry said. “But if you want a place here, we’ll give you one. With fair wages and days off, just like any wizard worker.”

Dobby shook with emotion, his ears quivering.

“Great Harry Potter is truly the most noble of wizards!”

Harry laughed, but Dobby suddenly grew serious.

“Dobby will serve,” he said firmly. “But Dobby chooses to serve. Because Harry Potter is kind. Because Harry Potter gave Dobby his freedom.”

Harry nodded. “Then welcome to Highgarden, Dobby.”

Dobby bowed deeply, tears streaming down his face.

It was the beginning of a new life—not just for Dobby, but for all house-elves who dreamed of freedom.

And Harry knew that this victory meant more than any battle against the Malfoys.