"And what, pray tell, are you doing here?" I asked coldly and angrily, staring at a short, downright ugly creature with a long nose and enormous floppy ears, who for so reason was trying to pry open my school trunk… which I had wisely enchanted back at Hogwarts before leaving for the holidays. I really didn't want Dudley rummaging through my things.
"Ah!? Harry Potter, sir… what a great honor… to et you, sir," the house-elf flinched at first, then turned toward and seed to steady himself. He looked, surprisingly, very much like his counterpart from the films of my previous life.
"I'll repeat my question. What are you doing here, elf? What family do you serve? By what right are you trying to touch my things?" I glared at the little creature, ready to hit it with magic at any mont. Without a wand my offensive potential was limited, but… I could still hit this bastard with sothing.
"Oh no-no-no, Dobby cannot tell the great Harry Potter, cannot tell!" the elf imdiately began to lose his mind, darting around the room and then smashing his head into the corner of the wooden wardrobe door. "Dobby is bad! Bad Dobby!.. But Dobby ca to warn! To warn Harry Potter, sir, of great danger!"
"Soone sent a ssage through a house-elf? Are you from Malfoy?" I narrowed my eyes, having deliberately learned last school year that one rather strange elf existed among Draco's household staff…
"No-no-no, kheh-heh-heh! Dobby cannot say, cannot," the elf began self-harming even harder, apparently using it to slip around the restrictions of his kind… I'd read about house-elves at Hogwarts. Wizards had piled so many ancient vows and constraints onto their race that they couldn't even speak against a wizard.
The only true exception was a direct order from their master, overriding all other rules and "proper behavior." But the Malfoys definitely hadn't sent this defective elf. Which ant they couldn't have ordered him to keep quiet about who he belonged to… And by all laws, Dobby should have been forced to identify himself properly.
He didn't. Instead, he beat himself and babbled nonsense about warning, protecting, and saving the great Harry Potter…
"You must not return to Hogwarts, Harry Potter-sir! There is a plot! A plot to do the most terrible things!" the elf finally got a little less hysterical, forcing to think harder about how to kill or at least restrain him. And restraining him would be a problem.
House-elves naturally possessed several unpleasant kinds of magic, so with my own power—without using an official wand, which I wasn't using after the last disappearance but still carried—I would hardly be able to handle this creature.
And because my mail hadn't gone missing, I'd actually started hoping things would be fine… But no. Apparently the Malfoys—who I exchanged letters with more than almost anyone—had simply noticed Dobby's tricks quickly and forbidden him from touching the post. He still couldn't get around that ban, so he ca to cause trouble in other ways.
"Promise , Harry Potter-sir! Promise you will not go back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year! A great, great disaster awaits you, oh great Harry Potter-sir!" the elf would not stop, and his shrieking was already starting to tire out.
"All right. Stop, Dobby," I exhaled heavily, raising a hand to make him quiet. "I've heard your warning, but can you tell anything specific? Whose plot is it?"
"Ooooh, cannot say! Disaster, disaster!" the elf howled, then ran to my bedside table and slamd his forehead into its corner even harder.
"Right. That's bad," I shook my head. "I'll think about what to do about this danger. Maybe it really would be better not to go to Hogwarts this year—after all, the disaster could happen during the trip too, couldn't it?"
"Ooooh! The great Harry Potter-sir is right! You must not go to Hogwarts, must not!" the elf cried much more happily, making wince at the noise. Thankfully, the Dursleys weren't ho—Aunt and Uncle were in town buying groceries, and they'd taken their precious son with them.
"All right, all right. I won't go anywhere… but understand, I can't stop studying completely. First I'll have to write a few letters and arrange a transfer to another school," I shrugged helplessly, and the elf nodded along with every word in delighted understanding. "Will you help with that, Dobby? I recently lost my spare wand, and without it… I can't reach Diagon Alley. Not without getting punished for underage magic, anyway…"
"D-Dobby understands, Harry Potter-sir! Dobby will help find your wand!" the elf shrieked as if he hadn't stolen it himself. "I an—oooh! Forgive Dobby, oh great wizard, Harry Potter-sir! It… it was Dobby who took your wand, sir!" he wailed, his nature finally overpowering him. Disgusting creature—if not for the vows on him…
"It's all right, Dobby… For your warning, I suppose I can forgive that… mistake," I said, and despite my feelings, I didn't worsen things with the elf. I retrieved my wand and didn't even ask why he'd stolen it. I already had ideas, but I wasn't going to dig around inside a lunatic's head.
Instead, I tried to get him out of my house as quickly as possible and then rush to Diagon Alley. I really did need to write several letters, just as I'd promised the mad elf… Only I wasn't writing to Hogwarts or the Ministry to ask about transferring to an easier school. I was writing to my friends and acquaintances.
I sent out over two dozen letters with nearly identical content: I described what happened, asked how often house-elves went insane, and whether anyone knew an elf nad Dobby… I wanted as much information as possible about what I was allowed to do if I t him again. And I didn't want Draco to wonder why I'd run to him specifically to ask about Dobby.
After all, Draco had never said that na around , and I wasn't completely sure Dobby really served the Malfoys. Film knowledge hadn't failed yet, but checking everything through multiple sources had beco habit.
Still, the very next day Draco wrote multiple letters: first with clarifying questions, then—after my slightly embellished answers, where I painted Dobby as completely unhinged and potentially dangerous—he sent personal and official apologies.
Young Malfoy raised a huge storm in his family, especially because so of our mutual acquaintances had already co to him with questions. Those who knew about Dobby and had also received my letters simply redirected their questions to Draco. As a result, the Malfoys placed the insane house-elf under quarantine and house arrest that sa day, promising that after an investigation they would even put the idiot down.
Which, honestly, was a normal practice and a reasonable way out of their… unpleasant situation. When your family's house-elf attacks another person—especially a respected wizard, a famous hero—and the incident becos known, even to a narrow circle of influential pure-bloods, the reputational damage can be significant.
House-elves ranked below even pets. Pets were at least cute and generally loved—no one would truly bla an owner if a cat suddenly ruined a guest's slippers. Unpleasant, sure, but what can you take from a cat? Nothing. It has paws.
But a house-elf and his master could be held responsible very easily. The creatures were intelligent and known to obey their owners without question. So if news spread—through gossip or press—that the Malfoys' elf attacked Harry Potter and stole his things… people would think very ugly things about an ancient pure-blood family.
And I didn't invent that. Draco explained it himself in his apology letter, along with why an official envelope bearing his family crest and seal had arrived… He also invited to visit, repeating his earlier spring invitation, now supported by his parents wanting to et personally and apologize for what happened…
I refused. I didn't even want to imagine how awkward it would be to accept those apologies. And visiting Malfoy Manor… no. I'd seen it in so of Draco's moving photographs, and I understood that if I ever went there, I'd feel like I was in a museum.
Just from the outside, it already looked like a museum to … I didn't know how it was inside, but I'd seen enough to not want to go. I'd rather sit with the Dursleys—especially since after I ca back from school, they'd given a separate room on the second floor…
And I didn't want to be distracted from my magical training. In those few days Dobby hid my wand, I'd already ford plenty of ideas for Transfiguration practice. Now it was ti to test them properly. And the rainy weather outside wasn't a problem—I could protect myself easily. I'd learned water-repelling charms with other household spells right at the start of last school year.
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