Just Another Day
He woke with a start, his tiny heart beating furiously in his chest. A quick glance through the hole in the door to the window beyond let him know it was still dark outside. He began to settle a bit. Each morning began the same; fear that his masters would wake before him.
His "bed" was a cupboard in the cold mudroom leading from the kitchen to the outdoors. The space was so small that it was barely enough for a small house elf, if the elf contorted his legs to his chest and crooked his head to rest on them. There was no laying down here, there was no room. In fact, each night it took a few moments for the house elf to twist himself into as small a size as possible so as to fit in the cramped quarters. The area certainly didn't look like a comfortable place to spend the hour each night he was allowed to sleep.
He was grateful knowing the rest of the Malfoy house was not yet awake. He pushed the door open with his shoulder, fell out as he did each day, and straightened himself. He was stiff as usual and the many, many years of living like this caused his back to curve in such a way as to make it appear he was always hunched over.
By anyone's standard he lived a horrible life. But to Dobby, it was as simple as his lot. He hummed to himself as he waited for the shivering to subside; his tiny "room" was always damp but he could remember no other life, so to him it was simply normal.
Dobby took the thread bear towel that served as his blanket and folded it ever so carefully. He called the towel his blanket and sometimes his bed though functioning as his bed was little more than allowing Dobby's feat to remain dry as he spent the hour crouching upon it. Each night he had to make the difficult decision of whether the towel would serve as his bed, or his blanket. It never occurred to him that one night it served as his bed, the next his blanket and the next his bed again. This had been going on since he was a small elf. But each night Dobby still struggled with this monumental decision and each time the outcome was the same.
Dobby continued to hum as he placed the folded towel in the space and closed the door. He was well aware that his masters could have been worse to him. They could have provided no towel at all. Of course he didn't like the way it smelled, it hadn't been washed in more years than he could remember. But still, it was a comfort. And as a house elf, he didn't even deserve that.
He smoothed the crusty damp pillowcase that served as his sleep wear as well as his day clothes and opened the door to the kitchen. He made his way to the stove and carefully looking to make sure no one was around, snapped his fingers quickly, and the wood stove was ablaze and already at the proper temperature to begin making the family's breakfast.
Dobby took the luxury of warming himself. The dirty pillowcase was wet from the cold dampness of his shelter. To anyone watching, he looked as if he were in a fashion show turning around and around basking in the heat and drying his garment and completely losing track of time. He even held his arms out and hummed a little louder. He was about to smile when he heard the loud shriek from the other room.
"Come Dobby!"
Dobby trembled as the master of the house called for him. His ears lowered to the sides of his head and from his furrowed brow it was clear he was scared but there was no time to stand still. Master didn't sound happy, he never did.
Running from the kitchen, the tiny elf tripped over his gargantuan feet and hit the swinging door head on before falling in a crumpled heap. He struggled to get up and made his way to the foot of the large ornate staircase, "Yes master, Dobby is here to serve."
"Stop sniveling," Lucious Malfoy called from the landing at the top of the stairs. "Where are my clothes?"
Dobby tilted his head in confusion, "Clothes sir? They're set upon your dresser chair as always." As soon as he finished his sentence, he knew he was done for. He began to wring his hands together; his ears even lower if that were possible.
"As always? Are you questioning me?"
Dobby's heart began to beat faster and he let out a small whimper of fear, his eyes darting from side to side as if looking for a place to run, "Dobby is sorry master, Dobby doesn't know what came over him. Dobby didn't –"
"Shut up," he yelled down to the little house elf.
They looked to one another, Dobby cowering from below, Master Malfoy from the top of the stairs dressed in his undergarments.
"Well?" Malfoy said.
"Bad Dobby," he said quietly at first.
"What?"
"Bad Dobby," the house elf said louder. "Oh Dobby has been so very bad to question Master. Dobby must punish himself mercilessly".
With a hiss Malfoy said, "See that you do." He turned to walk into his room and as he did could hear the muffled cries of Dobby as he flung his head against the railing of the staircase.
"Bad Dobby, Bad Dobby," he went on. "Why must Dobby be so stupid?" He continued to beat his head several more times. He stopped for a moment and felt the lumps beginning to rise on this forehead. He looked to his hands.
"Dobby doesn't deserve the kindness the master has shown him," and with that he flung himself particularly hard at the railing. This time an involuntary yelp erupted from his mouth. His eyes immediately filled with tears. He was dazed and stumbled a few feet and fell down. He lay motionless for a long time.
Finally he put his scrawny hand to his head and upon looking at it knew that he had punished himself appropriately. And just as Dobby looked at the blood on his hand Master Malfoy climbed down the staircase.
"Is breakfast ready?" he asked.
"Oh. Oh, no. Dobby is sorry master, but Dobby didn't have time to start breakfast yet," he said pulling himself up. His heart was beating so loud and hard now he was sure it could be heard outside his body.
As Malfoy further descended the stairs, he looked at Dobby with disgust, "I don't know why I show you any charity at all. You are good for nothing. I should have had your ugly head lopped off years ago."
A spontaneous whimper from Dobby, "Dobby thanks you master, Dobby is not worthy of your kindness," he reached out to kiss his hand.
"Stop you fool, look at yourself. You're a disgusting mess. Wipe away that blood."
Dobby lifted the only clothing he had known, the dirty pillowcase, and tried to wipe the blood from his hand and forehead.
"And wash your hideous hands before you prepare breakfast," the master instructed.
Dobby made his way to the kitchen area. It would have been easy for the house elf if he were allowed to use magic. But Dobby was forbidden. He was but a lowly house elf, and he was never to permit himself to feel otherwise.
The house elf struggled to reach a pan that was beyond his reach. He looked over his shoulder but before he could snap his fingers Malfoy walked into the kitchen. Dobby stopped in his tracks. Like a trapped animal, Dobby's eyes grew even wider, again darting from side to side. Intuitively he ran to the other side of the kitchen running directly into the wall falling to the ground, but this time with a great thud.
"What is it?"
"Nothing master," Dobby answered, shaking his head as if to shake off the jolt of hitting the wall.
"This is my house, this is my kitchen, I have a right to be here if I wish," Malfoy said with contempt.
Dobby got up cautiously. "Dobby likes it when you come to the kitchen," he said trying to form a smile.
Master Malfoy's eyes clenched almost shut. He watched as the little house elf trembled visibly, and began to whimper yet again.
"Are you lying to me?" he asked.
Dobby could barely talk now, his whimpers turned into a cry the uncontrollable cry that comes from deep within. He held his hand to his head, scratching the cut area and digging into it making it bleed even more. He began to hyperventilate between his deep sobs. "Yes."
Malfoy stomped toward him and grabbed one of his floppy ears which elicited a yelping like the sound of a tortured dog. He pulled so hard he was sure it would come off in a bloody tear.
"You know you're not to lie to me!"
The yelping continued hysterically. It was obvious his huge ears were perhaps one of the most sensitive parts of his body. His master picked him up by both ears now and began to swing him back and forth brutally.
"YELP, YELP, YELP, YELP" in rapid succession was all the elf could muster. His body convulsed violently as his arms flailed about, the excruciating pain was blinding so much so that he thought he might actually pass out. Malfoy seemed to relish the anguish experienced by his servant.
Dobby's eyes were flowing with tears now looking to his master begging for him to stop. While the moment may have lasted only minutes, to the tiny house elf it seemed forever.
Finally and with such force Malfoy threw the little elf against the wall. Instinctively Dobby extended his large feet, hoping to diminish the impact. Instead both, the wizard and the house elf, heard a sickening POP as Dobby hit the wall and fell to the floor. Dobby cowered for a moment the yelping finally stopped, replaced by loud sobbing. He looked to his feet and noticed that one foot was twisted in a direction other than what would have been natural. Dobby gasped, the sheer horror of what he saw was evident on his face. He began to shake his leg, as if trying to get rid of the errant foot. He treated it as if it were no longer a part of him.
"Look at what you've made me do," Malfoy hissed.
The pain in Dobby's ears was indescribable but the pain in his twisted ankle was an equal match.
He brought his hands to the side of his head as if cradling it would make the horror disappear, but it was too painful, his ears were too tender to touch. He cried like he had never cried. He knew it would make his master unhappy, but he couldn't stop. The crying had taken him over.
"Get up you," his master commanded, "you've wasted so much of my time already."
Like a cat coughing up a furball, Dobby stretched his neck out with each deep sob, and each sob became louder than the one before it.
"But Dobby's foot," he managed to blurt out. "What of Dobby's foot?" as he now shook his leg more violently, desperately trying to make the foot go away.
"SHUT UP," Malfoy finally screamed. He picked the servant up from the scaly skin at the back of his neck "Why can't you just shut up and be a mindful house elf?"
Dobby held his hands next to his ears, which were now flush green and yellow, clearly bruised. His ankle had turned odd colors too and was beginning to swell. The foot dangled in its awkward position and it was apparent that Dobby was terrorized by it.
With a thump, his master dropped him back to the ground.
As if he had no control over himself, Dobby began to whimper hysterically as he realized how injured he was. He crawled in circles, seemingly trying to escape from his own foot, whimpering, and then crying, yelping and sobbing as the pain became unbearable and he only made it worse by the vigorous shaking of his leg.
"Dobby's foot! Look at Dobby's foot." Was the only thing he could say, and he said it over and over again as he tried to get away from it.
"Get up," Malfoy commanded and Dobby tried several times to do just that. Finally he was able to put enough pressure on his good foot to actually rise up. But he was unsteady and limped to the servants table at the center of the cooking area. Continuing to look in horror and trying to shake away his bad foot behind him. He got to the table and pulled a chair.
"Don't you dare sit. You are to stand in one place and not move for the rest of the day," said his Master.
He was still terrified, "What of Dobby's foot?" he cried.
Dobby attempted to put the chair back, but before doing so, Malfoy grabbed the small house elf and jammed its foot between the leg of the table and the foot of the chair. With one swift twist, both heard another loud POP and another loud scream from the house elf as Dobby's foot was back in its natural position.
"You're no good to me this way," Malfoy spit through his teeth and left the kitchen. Dobby stood still as he was told. He was in excruciating pain, but he did not dare move an inch.
The sun finally rose that morning, and the day passed with the master never having made it back to the kitchen. Evening had come too, and Dobby could hear the goings on in other parts of the house. But no one came to the kitchen.
Finally the day had passed and it must have been late as it had been dark for some time. The door to the kitchen quietly opened. Master Malfoy stood and looked at the still trembling Dobby.
"Have you learnt your lesson?" he asked harshly.
"Dobby is sorry sir; Dobby is a bad house elf. He is a disgrace. But Dobby has learnt his lesson sir."
Malfoy did not acknowledge Dobby's comment, "I am preparing for bed. Because of your hubris today, I shall have to pull tomorrow's clothes myself.
"Dobby would enjoy preparing Masters' clothes for him," he said earnestly.
"No, you've done quite enough today. This is just one other thing I shall have to do. I honestly don't know why I haven't lopped your head off. You're really of no use Dobby. Why we allow you to live under our roof is beyond me." He said rather calmly.
"Dobby is truly sorry sir," and his eyes began to water again.
"You shall continue to stand, unmoving, until dawn, and then you can prepare breakfast tomorrow and get a fresh start."
"Dobby has not … been to … has not been to..," he couldn't find the word to describe where he performed his bodily functions. The truth is it was a hole far from the house in the nearby forest, "…the privy all day Master, would it be to your liking to have Dobby use the privy now?
"Since when are you allowed to use the privy?"
"Dobby would like to go outside to relieve himself sir."
"Don't bother me with such things and don't slouch, with that he used his cane to strike Dobby's back. "You are to stay here –"
"Dobby must -"
"You dare interrupt me? You dare to use the word must in my presence?"
Dobby lowered his head and whimpered again as he tried to hold his little scrawny legs together. His ears rang horribly and his ankle while feeling better was far from well. In short, he was tired, house elves were used to long hours and some abuse, but even for them there was a breaking point.
"Dobby is sorry master, but Dobby is afraid if he doesn't …"
And before his sentence could be finished, the bottom portion of his pillowcase slowly turned yellow. Dobby began to cower. He was humiliated. The stain grew wider as Dobby peed himself and the yellow fluid ran down his legs to the floor.
Master just looked at Dobby.
"Bad Dobby, bad Dobby!" he said now shaking. He limped over to the stove which was still burning. He tentatively lay his hand on the burner and let out a scream.
Master Malfoy watched his hand as it began to burn. He was convinced elves had a different threshold for pain than did wizards.
He was wrong.
Dobby removed his hand. But Malfoy took hold of it and pressed it hard onto the cooking surface. Dobby screeched and frantically tried to remove his hand. But Malfoy was stronger and the little house elf was no match.
They both watched the blisters building upon the long fingers. The elf made noises his master had never before heard. It was clear the tiny elf was in tremendous agony.
Finally the master let go. Dobby pulled his now off colored hand from the stove. Dobby caressed it as best he could. The skin now dark and pealing, the blisters had exploded and his charred skin began to flake.
Wobbling and dazed he made his way back to the spot on the floor he had spent the entire day, the spot that was now a puddle of yellow.
"You are to stand here until morning. But first you must clean up this mess you've created," indicating the urine on the floor.
"Dobby would still like to go outside master," he asked in a quiet sheepish voice, his eyes never looking at his master's.
"Why? You've already gone," he snapped.
"Dobby would like to go outside sir," he said matter-of-factly.
"No" Malfoy exclaimed and walked out.
Dobby watched him leave. 'Why is Dobby so stupid,' he wondered, 'why must Dobby cause so much trouble for others?' Dobby should be punished'. He grabbed his burnt hand and squeezed it hard with his other hand. He then lifted his injured foot and slammed it hard on the floor and yelped against his will.
"Master could have thrown Dobby into the stove," he said aloud. "He is kind to let Dobby live." The little house elf was grateful.
Suddenly Dobby's huge eyes widened as he reached around and placed his good had on his backside.
"No Dobby, bad Dobby NO!" He said aloud; he stood erect and clenched his backside as much as he could. His hand seemingly trying to stop the inevitable.
He began to panic, looking to see if he could make it outside without the Master being aware. He limped in agony as he tried for the door. He gritted his teeth clenched his backside even harder still and then it happened.
He brought the good hand to his long nose; he smelled the stink of the small turd that left his body. He opened the large door and clumsily hobbled outside. Immediately upon closing the kitchen door there was a loud crack as Dobby disapparated only to apparate at the small foul smelling hole in the cold ground away from the house.
He had hoped he would have reached his destination before anything worse happened. He did not.
He cried quietly to himself. How did he get himself into such a mess?