Title: The Case of Switched Socks
Summary: Harry Potter has come across some strange mysteries in his life, but none as mystifying as the Case of the Switched Socks.
Disclaimer: Only own the plot and the socks.
A/N: Couldn't help myself on this one. I suppose this is what happens when you get entangled in strange plot generators. I love feedback, so love it, hate it, flame it, whatever. I want to know. Hope you all enjoy!
The Case of Switched Socks
"Hey Ron, tell Hermoine I've gone to the laundry room. I think the house elves switched my socks for Malfoy's." Harry said as he made his way over to the portrait hole carrying a particularly bright purple pair of socks.
"How'd ya know that they're Malfoy's?"
Harry felt himself turn red at the question, making Ron stare at him questioningly. "It's just a feeling. They do smell bad enough to make a ghost turn up their nose."
At Ron's loud guffawing Harry made a quick retreat not wanting Ron to know the real reason he was definitely sure they were Malfoy's socks. Every time he pressed on the toes, Malfoy's voice would say in a high pitched voice, "Who's the greatest wizard in all of the land? I am! And who's gonna be snogging Ginny Weasley from here till Christmas? That's right, I AM!" Then the socks would start laughing maniacally as if they had been given a laughing potion.
Harry stuffed the offending socks in his pocket, making sure not to set off the voice, and made his way down the corridor. He took every secret passage he could remember on his way down to the lower floors where the house elves dwelled.
When he reached the laundry room, he was surprised to find Dobby sitting in the middle of a box. Coming closer he realized that the box was full of Ping-Pong balls.
"Harry Potter! So good it is to see you again!" Dobby yelled excitedly. He tried to stand up in the box, but the balls made it difficult and he fell back down again on his rump.
"Hi Dobby. What are you doing?"
"Dobby is wondering the same thing himself sir. It appears that somebody is trying to pull a prank on poor Dobby. I was just sitting in the kitchens minding my own business when someone comes and takes Dobby and puts him in this box. Dobby is having great difficulty getting out sir. Everytime thatDobby tries to stand all the balls roll underneathhis feet and Dobby falls over."
"Don't worry Dobby, I'll get you out." With a gargantuan amount of effort Harry lifted the little house elf out of the box, getting Ping-Pong balls everywhere in the process.
"Thank you kindly sir. If you had not come along Dobby could have been stuck there for a long time, a long long time."
"No problem. I wonder why someone wanted with all these Ping-Pong balls." Harry was suddenly absorbed of thoughts about his last encounter with Voldemort. Hehad been trying to juggle Ping-Pong balls but had been very terrible at it. In his rage he had started crucioing everything in sight, including a few of his Death Eaters.
"If Dobby may ask sir. Why are you down here?"
Wondering about the strange appearance of the Ping-Pong balls, Harry had almost forgotten why he had come down to the laundry room in the first place. "Er, I wound up with one of my class mates socks." As he said it, Harry withdrew the purple socks from his pocket and showed them to Dobby.
The house elf let out his strange little laugh, "No, those would not belong to Harry Potter."
"Yeah, I think they belong to Malfoy."
"How so sir?"
Harry pressed the toe of one of the socks and the high pitched Malfoy voice started on it's tirade.
"Very strange sir."
"Scary is more like it." Harry had to shake his head to get images of Draco and Ginny snogging out of his mind. Ugh!
"What does Harry Potter want Dobby to do with the socks?"
"I don't know." Harry had already decided that he didn't want to tell anyone about them. He thought it would embarrass Ginny too much. Not to mention, besides the Gryiffindors, who would believe they were Malfoy's socks anyway? The Slytherins would not be so quick to think poorly about their beloved leader. "I suppose I'll just get rid of them." Harry said and started planning which spell would be best to dispose of the offensive garments.
"Then why did Harry Potter come all the way down here?"
"Er, I was wondering if I could get my own socks back." Harry paused, realizing just how embarrassing this situation could become. The reason he had come was to get his own socks back. Not because he was short on socks but because the particular pair that was missing had been very special to him. They were the pair he was wearing when he had met Ginny and he had worn them the day he had kissed her for the first time. "See the pair I'm missing was my favorite pair."
"I understand." Dobby said sincerely.
Harry was amazed he didn't have to give a reason for caring so much about a pair of socks, then he remembered just how attached Dobby had become of the dirty sock that had set him free.
"Harry Potter can go back to his dormitory, it is getting late. Dobby will get Harry Potter's socks back."
"Thanks Dobby." Harry said and left to go back to his potions homework.