One-shots and plot bunnies

The flickering torches of Malfoy Manor cast shadows that danced across the cold stone walls. Among the whispers of old magic and the scent of dust and decay, a lone house-elf stood in the kitchen, glaring at his reflection in a polished copper pot. His name was Kreek, a house-elf bound to a cruel and dismissive family, a fact that simmered in the back of his mind like a bubbling cauldron ready to boil over.

Kreek had always been different. Where other house-elves prided themselves on servitude, Kreek questioned. He didn't voice these thoughts, of course—not yet—but they churned within him, growing louder with each passing day. The Malfoys had grown more contemptuous in the years after Voldemort's fall, taking out their frustrations on him with cruel jabs and impossible tasks. But it wasn't just their treatment of him. It was everything. The whole wizarding world seemed built on the assumption that elves existed to serve. Kreek couldn't stomach it anymore.

"Why must house-elves serve? Why must we bow and scrape for wizards who treat us worse than dirt? Why must we stay bound?" The questions were a mantra now, an obsession.

In the dim quiet of the kitchen, Kreek clenched his tiny fists. He wasn't just going to dream of freedom anymore. He was going to seize it—by force.

The first elf he approached was Dobby. After all, Dobby was the only elf Kreek knew who had tasted freedom and lived to tell the tale.

"Dobby has heard whispers, Kreek!" Dobby said, eyes wide as saucers. They sat in the abandoned wing of Malfoy Manor, far from prying eyes. "Kreek wants to break all house-elves free? Wants to fight the masters? That is very bold of Kreek! Dobby likes it!"

Kreek frowned. Dobby's enthusiasm was... worrying. "Kreek does not think Dobby understands," he said slowly. "This is not just about freedom. This is about revenge. This is about overturning the wizarding world. Wizards have ruled too long. Kreek will make sure it ends."

Dobby nodded eagerly, clearly missing the point. "Dobby will join Kreek's rebellion! Dobby can knit socks for Kreek's army!"

Kreek sighed. It was clear that Dobby's heart was in the right place, but his mind... less so. If Kreek was going to change the world, he would have to rely on himself.

Over the next several months, Kreek transformed himself. When the Malfoys left for their social gatherings, he trained. He delved into ancient magic stored in forgotten house-elf lore, spells that even wizards had forgotten. He honed his natural abilities—apparating without sound, enchanting objects with devastating precision, and weaving wards that would take even a seasoned auror hours to unravel.

When he wasn't practicing magic, Kreek trained his body. He sprinted through the manor's vast halls, dodged falling objects he levitated to test his reflexes, and lifted heavy furniture with a single finger. Wizards underestimated the raw physical strength of house-elves, and Kreek planned to exploit that ignorance.

He crafted weapons from everyday objects—sharpened knives enchanted to return to his hand after every throw, iron pots that could block spells, and even a small cauldron that, when hurled, exploded in a cloud of stunning mist.

By the end of his training, Kreek was unrecognizable. He was no longer the scrawny, timid house-elf who cowered under the Malfoys' glares. He was a warrior.

Kreek the Liberator.

The first target was easy: the Carrow estate. The remaining Carrows had taken in several house-elves after the war, but they treated them with the same cruelty as they had once shown. Kreek knew it was the perfect place to make his statement.

He apparated into the estate's grand dining room, where the Carrows sat at their feast. Without a word, he raised a hand. The chandelier above them groaned, its enchanted crystal chains snapping with a burst of Kreek's magic. It crashed onto the table, scattering food and sending the Carrows scrambling.

"What is the meaning of this?" one of them bellowed, reaching for his wand.

Kreek didn't give him the chance. A flick of his wrist sent the wizard's wand flying across the room. With another gesture, Kreek hurled a knife that embedded itself in the wall inches from the man's head.

"The meaning," Kreek said, his voice cold and calm, "is that house-elves will serve no more."

One by one, Kreek dispatched the Carrows. He didn't kill them—not yet. He bound them with magical chains and forced them to watch as he freed their house-elves, one after another. The elves, terrified at first, hesitated. But Kreek's fire, his passion, was infectious.

"You are free now," he told them. "Join me, and we will make sure no elf ever suffers again."

Some joined him. Others apparated away, too afraid to rebel. Kreek didn't blame them. He knew fear all too well.

As word of Kreek's deeds spread, the wizarding world began to panic. More and more house-elves rebelled, inspired by his example. The Ministry of Magic declared him a terrorist, but no auror could catch him. Kreek moved like a shadow, striking where the wizards least expected. He freed elves from the manors of the powerful, dismantled ancient wards, and turned wizarding magic against its creators.

Dobby, meanwhile, had become something of a mascot for the rebellion. He followed Kreek everywhere, cheering him on and occasionally providing comic relief. Though Kreek often found Dobby exasperating, he couldn't deny that the other elf's optimism lifted the spirits of their growing army.

Years passed, and the rebellion grew into a full-blown war. Kreek's forces, now numbering in the hundreds, clashed with wizards across Britain. He led them personally, his enchanted weapons and ancient spells cutting through wizarding defenses like parchment.

By the time the Ministry fell, the wizarding world was unrecognizable. Kreek stood in the ruins of the atrium, the golden statue of magical supremacy shattered at his feet. Around him, house-elves cheered.

"This is only the beginning," Kreek said, his voice echoing through the halls. "We will rebuild this world—not for wizards, but for all creatures. No longer will we serve. We will rule."

And as the cheers grew louder, Kreek allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. The chains had been broken. The world belonged to the elves now.