Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters therein. I'm only borrowing them from J.K. Rowling.

"D-Dobby?"

"It is Dobby, sir, it is! Dobby has been hoping and hoping to see Harry Potter, sir, and Harry Potter has come to see him, sir!"

"Dobby, what're you doing here?"

"Dobby has come to work at Hogwarts, sir! Professor Dumbledore gave Dobby and Winky jobs, sir!"

"Winky?" said Harry, looking around. "Who's Winky?"

Another house-elf, this one with a nose like a squashed tomato, stepped forward shyly with her hands behind her back. "H-hello, Harry Potter, sir," she stammered. Her voice was even higher than Dobby's.

"Winky's old master is dying, Harry Potter, sir!" Dobby exclaimed happily. "Winky's master is telling her to work at Hogwarts, sir, and when Dobby goes to visit Winky he decides to look for work at Hogwarts too!"

At that moment Winky, who up until now had seemed fairly calm, threw herself onto the floor at Harry's feet and burst into tears. While Ron rolled his eyes and helped himself to more food from the kitchen staff, Hermione went over to the elf and knelt by her side. "Winky, don't cry, please don't…"

At that Winky cried harder than ever, but stopped beating her fists against the floor (and Harry's ankles) to wipe furiously at her face. "Miss is right, Winky's master is telling her not to cry, he is saying Winky should act like normal and be a good house-elf, oh what would Winky's master say?" She stepped back and started twisting her ears. "Oh, bad Winky, very bad Winky…"

"Winky is having trouble adjusting, Harry Potter," squeaked Dobby. "Winky forgets that Professor Dumbledore is her master now, and that she is only having to obey him."

By this point Winky had finally managed to get her tears under control, and she shot Dobby a glare from around Harry's knees. "You is ought to be ashamed of yourself, Dobby! Winky is a good house-elf, and Winky is not suffering the shame of being freed! But Dobby is proud of being a free house-elf, and Dobby is… Dobby is…" she looked all around her and lowered her voice as if afraid someone would overhear. "Dobby is wanting paying for his work!"

"You're getting paid, Dobby?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, yes! Professor Dumbledore says he will pay Dobby, miss, if Dobby wants paying!"

"That's great, Dobby!" Harry said. "Do you like it here?"

"Oh, yes, sir! Dobby has good work, and Dobby is very happy at Hogwarts!"

"Congratulations, Dobby!" said Hermione warmly. "Are you getting paid too, Winky?"

At that Winky looked horrified, and shook her head so rapidly that her ears flapped. "Oh no," she squeaked, "Winky is not sunk so low as that! Winky is working like a proper house-elf, she is!" After that, she clamped her hands on her overlarge ears and wouldn't hear another word on the matter.

"She'll come around," Hermione said as they left the kitchens with their pockets weighted down with food. "Once she sees how happy Dobby is, I bet she'll start wanting freedom too." She still sounded rather doubtful, though.

"Oh, come off it, Hermione," said Ron, stuffing a cream cake into his mouth. Harry, sensing a row coming on, dropped back to shake a pebble out of his shoe. "She likes being a slave. Didn't you hear her?" He mimicked Winky's high voice. "Winky is not sunk so low as that! Winky is working like a proper house-elf, she is!"

Hermione didn't speak to him for the rest of the day.

Harry tried to do his homework that evening, but it was rather difficult with Ron and Hermione constantly sniping at each other. Giving up, he retreated into a far corner of the common room where Fred and George seemed to be working on a letter.

Seeing Harry, they hastily tucked the piece of parchment away, but not before he saw Ludo Bagman's name on the address. He wanted to ask about it, but no sooner had he opened his mouth than George started speaking.

"So, Harry, ready for Quidditch?" Their first game of the season was against Ravenclaw, and Angelina had been training them mercilessly.

"Yeah, of course I'm ready," Harry said impatiently. "Listen, what was that you were—"

"That's our Seeker," cut in Fred, thumping Harry on the back. "Though…" He grinned wickedly. "You'll have to keep your eye on the Snitch this time."

"What are you—"

"There's no use trying to hide it, Harry," Fred continued. "Cho Chang, right?" He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "She is pretty, I'll give you that. But remember this is Quidditch. You can't let a girl come between you and your teammates."

Harry suddenly recalled his last match against Cho. He thought of the way she had smiled at him, and his stomach did flip-flops. "I—"

"Don't worry, Harry," said George, who had finished tucking the letter away in his bag. "You keep our secrets, and we'll keep yours."

Harry beat a hasty retreat before they could see how red his face had gotten.

The next day, however, all thoughts of Cho were driven right out of his mind when he saw that Rita Skeeter had come out with yet another article. Under any other circumstances Harry would have been glad that she'd laid off of Sirius, but telling the entire wizarding world that Remus Lupin was a werewolf was hardly a good trade-off as far as he was concerned.

Harry groaned as he folded the paper. "Sirius wrote me that she tried to interview Lupin a few weeks ago, but he wouldn't talk to her. This must be her way of getting back at him."

"Does anyone know how she found out?" Hermione said. "I mean, Dumbledore kept it pretty quiet…"

"No idea." Harry slumped forward onto the table. "I'll write Sirius tonight and ask if he knows anything."

When Sirius's reply came a few days later, it only increased Harry's hatred for Skeeter. Apparently Lupin had barely managed to scrape by before, and now that his secret was out it was next to impossible for him to find work. What's more, neither Lupin nor Sirius had a clue how she'd found out. According to Sirius it wasn't a matter they discussed in public, but he also included a reminder that Skeeter was an expert on digging up dirt.

Harry seethed over the article for the rest of the day. He was rereading the letter again in the common room that night, trying to figure out how Skeeter could possibly have found out, when Ron broke into his thoughts.

"Would you like to play Exploding Snap, Harry?"

"No. Not in the mood."

"How about a game of chess, then?" Ron was obviously trying to distract him.

"No, Ron."

Hermione, who was reading nearby, slammed her book shut. "Harry, you can't just keep brooding about this all day."

"I want to know how she's doing it!" Harry snapped. "If she's been getting personal information and listening in on private conversations—"

Suddenly his scar seared with pain. He clapped a hand to his forehead, but the pain only continued to build, until he thought his head would burst open with it. He felt as if he were about to be sick; his vision blurred, and he saw, just for an instant, a glimpse of something blue in a sea of darkness—

"Harry! Harry!" Someone was shaking him; he opened his streaming eyes and saw Ron and Hermione's faces hovering over him.

"What happened, mate?" Ron was so white that his freckles stood out against his skin.

Harry sat up slowly, putting a hand to his head as a fresh wave of pain and nausea rolled over him. "Scar's hurting. I have to see Dumbledore…"

"Let's go, then." Hermione stood, and she and Ron helped Harry to his feet with a look that told him he would have a lot of explaining to do as soon as they got back. As they left, his scar still burning, he noticed that Ginny and Neville were watching him, eyes wide.

Almost as soon as they climbed out of the portrait hole, however, they ran into Professor McGonagall. "Potter, Weasley, Granger!" she said, her mouth going into a thin line. "It's ten minutes to curfew. What do you think you are doing?" Her eyes moved to Harry, who was still holding a hand to his head. "Do you need the hospital wing, Potter?"

She had just provided him with an excellent excuse, but Harry shook his head. "I— I need to see Dumbledore," he gritted out. "Please… it's urgent."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow as if to imply that nothing a group of fourteen-year-olds had to say could possibly warrant the attention of the headmaster, but took another look at their determined faces and appeared to change her mind.

"Very well, then. Potter, I will escort you to the headmaster's office. Granger, Weasley, return to Gryffindor Tower."

"But, Professor—"

"We have to—"

"I will be the judge of that," she said sternly. "Now do as I say or it will be points from Gryffindor. Yes, Weasley, from my own House!"

"Go on," Harry said when Ron continued to look mutinous. "I'll tell you about it later…"

He followed McGonagall down the corridor toward Dumbledore's office, but the pain in his scar continued to flare. Harry pressed a hand to his forehead and scrunched his eyes shut, though it did nothing to block out the pain.

McGonagall noticed. "Maybe you should visit the hospital wing after all, Potter," she said, looking at him with something remarkably like concern. "If you have a headache that bad…"

"It's not a headache," he replied, perhaps a little shortly. "It's…" But he didn't know how to explain what it was. "I think only Dumbledore can help me with it," he finished lamely. She raised her eyebrows but didn't comment further.

"Ah, good evening," said Dumbledore pleasantly as they entered his office. "Sherbet lemon?"

Professor McGonagall looked at him, frowning slightly. "Professor Dumbledore, Potter claimed that he needed to see you. According to him, it is a matter of some urgency."

"I see." His penetrating light-blue eyes swept over both of them, and not for the first time Harry had the feeling that he was being x-rayed. "Minerva, would you be so kind as to wait outside? You may escort Harry back to his dormitory when I am finished speaking with him."

"Certainly, headmaster." If she thought anything of the abrupt dismissal she gave no sign of it; she strode out of the office without a backward glance.

"So, Harry," said Dumbledore. "What is it that you wanted to tell me?"

"Well," said Harry, "I was sitting in the common room just now, and my scar started hurting. I thought I was going to be sick for a few minutes, it hurt so badly."

"I see," said Dumbledore quietly. "Sirius wrote me the last time, of course… was this occasion also accompanied by a dream?"

"Well…" Harry paused for a moment to sort through his own very confused thoughts. "It wasn't a dream, exactly. I thought I saw a glimpse of something, but it was gone before I could tell what it was. I'm sorry," he added as Dumbledore looked at him, "that's all I can remember."

"I see," said Dumbledore again. He appeared to be lost in thought.

"Professor? D'you—d'you know why my scar's hurting me?"

"I have a theory, no more than that… It is my belief that your scar hurts both when Lord Voldemort is near you, and when he is feeling a particularly strong surge of hatred."

"But… why?"

Because both you and he are connected by the curse that failed. That is no ordinary scar." For a moment it looked as if Dumbledore wanted to say something more, but then he appeared to change his mind.

"So you think… that dream I had before… did it really happen?"

"It is possible. I would say—probable." Dumbledore sighed. "You had best be getting back to your dormitory, Harry. I know Sirius will want to hear what you have just told me." He paused. "And Harry," he turned around halfway to the door, "I want you to tell me if this happens again." Harry nodded and left the office.

McGonagall was waiting for him outside. "Come along then, Potter," she said, and led him back to Gryffindor Tower.

The moment he entered the portrait hole Ron and Hermione looked at him expectantly, but he mouthed "not now" with a significant look at the other Gryffindors, who all appeared to be watching him. Harry faked a yawn. "I've still got a bit of a headache," he said loudly. "Think I'll go up to bed now." He saw that Ginny and Neville were still looking at him oddly as he made his way up the stairs but neither said anything to contradict his explanation, for which Harry was grateful.

As soon as he got upstairs he opened his trunk and took out the small square mirror. "Sirius," he said, and a second later his godfather's face appeared in the mirror.

"Harry?" He took a look at Harry's face and frowned. "What's wrong?"

Harry wasted no time. "My scar hurt again. It was really bad this time and—"

"Did you go to Dumbledore?"

"Yes." He paused. "He told me that he thinks it's been happening whenever Voldemort is angry."

"I see. Did you have another dream this time?"

"Well, not quite…" Harry told him about the momentary vision.

Sirius shook his head when he was finished. "I can't make anything of it either. But Harry, I want you to be careful. I've heard a lot of strange rumors lately, and I think that Dumbledore is reading the signs as well. Don't trust anyone, and if anything unusual happens you need to tell me or Dumbledore right away."

Harry nodded. "I'll be careful." Then, more to change the subject than anything else, he asked, "How's Lupin holding up?"

Sirius sighed. "He hasn't been able to find work since that article came out. I'm afraid he just might starve to death if this keeps up."

"Can't we—I mean, isn't there anything we can do to help?"

"I'm not sure. James… your father… supported Remus after we graduated, but I don't know if he'd accept help now. He's perfectly capable of working, but…" Sirius scowled. "It's a damn shame when a man isn't even allowed to earn his own living."

Harry didn't know what to say. Lupin had been an excellent teacher, and the thought of him not being able to find a job, because of something he couldn't help…

Sirius shook his head. "I'll do what I can," he said, as if reading Harry's thoughts. "But for right now I want you to worry about yourself. Remember what I said about telling Dumbledore if you notice anything strange."

"Sure," said Harry, a bit irked that Sirius didn't seem to think he could look out for himself. "It's not as though I go looking for trouble, you know. Trouble usually finds me."

"Which is why I want you to be careful. But enough about that." Sirius grinned. "Now, about this Quidditch match coming up…"

A/N: Sorry this chapter is a bit later than normal, but when I did my usual pre-posting read-through I found a lot of things that needed revision, and it took me awhile for me to figure out how best to do that. And this still counts as a weekend update, so I don't feel too bad about it.

Not a lot of comments on this chapter; I think it mostly speaks for itself.