"What's — what in blazes is that?!" asked Arabella in a strained whisper, gazing at the little dirty creature with clear disgust playing across her face.

Lyla had forcefully ripped the desk lamp from Dobby's hands and currently held him by the shoulders, keeping his small body in place.

"Dobby, ma'am," said Dobby dazedly. "Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf. It is Dobby's pleasure to meet Arabella Potter."

"Yeah," said Arabella stiffly, "nice to meet you too. Now, can you please keep it down? My parents are entertaining very important people downstairs and it would be nice without distraction."

"Forgive Dobby," said the elf, bowing deeply. "Dobby meant no disrespect… it's just Dobby— Dobby must warn—"

"Dobby," said Lyla firmly, "me and my sister are going back to Hogwarts— we can't even mention magic here without getting in trouble. It's one of the only places we've got decent friends, anyways."

Arabella frowned.

"Friends who don't even write to you over the summer?" said Dobby slyly.

"I expect they've just been— hang on a minute," said Arabella, frowning. "How do you know our friends haven't been writing to me?"

Dobby shuffled his feet.

"You mustn't be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best—"

"Have you been stopping our letters?!" seethed Lyla furiously.

"Dobby has them here, ma'am," said the elf. Stepping nimbly out of Lyla's reach, he pulled three thick wads of envelopes from the inside of the pillowcase he was wearing. Arabella was able to make out Draco's neat script and Ron's messy scrawl. There were so many it was hard to tell just who the writer was.

Dobby blinked anxiously.

"You mustn't be angry…," said Dobby again. "Dobby hoped… if the Potter twins thought their friends had forgotten him… they might not want to go back to school, ma'am…"

No longer listening, Arabella made a lunge for the letters but Dobby jumped out of reach at the last second.

"You will have them, ma'am, only if you gives Dobby his word that they will not return to Hogwarts. Ah, ma'am, this is a danger you must not face! Say you won't go back!"

"No," said Lyla angrily. "Now give us our letters!"

Dobby sighed and looked very sad.

"Then the Potters give Dobby no choice."

For a creature so small, he sped towards the bedroom door and flung it open, sprinting down the stairs faster than Arabella could see. Mouth dry and stomach-lurching, both sisters sprang after him, trying not to make any sound. Dobby jumped the last six steps, landing catlike on the hall carpet, looking around frantically. By the time they had caught up, they could hear their mother saying, "… cats are such difficult creatures to take care of, but the girls insisted and I couldn't refuse them… but they're my darling daughters, how could I refuse?"

Arabella ran up the hall into the kitchen and felt her stomach sink in horror. Their mother's masterpiece of a pudding, the mountain of cream and sugared violets, was floating up near the ceiling by some unknown force. On top of a cupboard in the corner, crouched Dobby, one hand raised, as if directing an orchestra.

"Please, Dobby," croaked Lyla, who had silently crept up behind her sister. "Please… you can't do this Dobby…"

"The Potter twins must say they is not going back to school—"

"Dobby… please…," moaned Arabella

"Say it, ma'am—"

"We— we can't—!" gasped Lyla indignantly.

The elf gave them both a very tragic look.

"Then Dobby must do it, ma'am, for the Potter's own good."

The pudding fell to the floor with a heart-stopping crash. Cream splattered the windows and walls as the dish shattered. With a crack like a whip, Dobby vanished.

There were screams from the dining room and Vernon burst into the kitchen to find both sisters rigid with shock, covered from head to foot in Petunia Dursley's prized pudding. At first, it looked as though he would be able to gloss the whole thing over. He shooed the shocked Masons back into the dining room, promised a surprise of ice cream for dessert.

"You will clean this," their mother hissed. "This kitchen will be spotless by the time I come back."

Still shaking, Lyla started scrubbing at the kitchen floor, while Arabella went to whip the windows clean. Vernon might still have been able to make his deal— if it hadn't been for the owl. Petunia was just passing around a box of after-dinner mints when a huge barn owl swooped through the dining room window, dropped a letter on Mrs. Mason's head, and swooped out again. Mrs. Mason screamed like a banshee and ran from the house shouting about lunatics. Mr. Mason stayed just long enough to tell the Dursleys that his wife was mortally afraid of birds of all shapes and sizes, and to ask whether this was their idea of a joke.

Mortified and frozen with fear, both sisters watched as their father approached, veins bulging.

"Read it!" he hissed evilly, brandishing the letter the owl had delivered. "Go on— read it!"

Lyla reached for it shakily. It did not contain birthday greetings.

Dear Arabella and Lyla Potter,

We have received intelligence that a Hover Charm was used at your place of residence this evening at twelve minutes past nine.

As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and further spellwork on your part may lead to expulsion from said school (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C).

We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy.

Enjoy your holidays! Yours sincerely, Mafalda Hopkirk

IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE

Ministry of Magic

"Well, I've got news for you two," their father spat. "I'm locking you up…. You'll never be going back to that abnormal school… never… and if you try and magic yourself out— they'll expel you!"

The following morning, he paid a man to fit bars on the window to their room. He himself fitted a cat-flap in the bedroom door, so that small amounts of food could be pushed inside three times a day. They let the girls out to use the bathroom in the morning and evening. Otherwise, they were locked inside the room around the clock.

Being grounded was the worst, especially when two were confined in a space truly meant for one. Three days had passed and their parents showed no sign of relenting. Things were beginning to look extremely dismal indeed. Arabella lay on the floor gazing at the dust bunnies under her bed, while Lyla stared out from behind the jail bars absentmindedly. When would the torture be gone and done with? Life at Privet Drive had reached an all-time low. Dobby might have saved the twins from horrible happenings at Hogwarts, but the way things were going on at home, Arabella figured they'd die of absolute boredom.

Talking to one another hadn't been so bad, but one quickly grew tired of the meaningless chatter. The cat-flap rattled and Dudley's chubby hand appeared, pushing two bowls of canned soup. After that, came two slices of chocolate cake.

"Thanks," whispered Lyla through the door.

A small knock was her only response.

Drinking the soup quickly, Lyla rounded up the soggy vegetables at the bottom of each bowl and slipped them through the cages that restrained their birds. Both ruffled their feathers and threw their masters looks of deep disgust.

"It's no good turning your beak up at it—," murmured Lyla grimly. "That's all we've got."

Arabella put the two empty bowls back on the floor next to the cat-flap, flopping once more to the floor. Supposing they were still alive in another four weeks, what would happen if they didn't turn up at Hogwarts? Would someone be sent to see why they hadn't come back?

The room was slowly growing darker, the sun sinking steadily. Exhausted, stomachs rumbling, and mind spinning over the same unanswerable questions, the two got ready for bed and soon turned the lights off for bed

"Stop it…," Lyla muttered as a rattling filled her sleepy ears. "Leave me alone… stop laughing… I'm trying to sleep…"

Suddenly she was jolted awake by Arabella who gasped loudly and shot and sat straight up in bed. Moonlight was shining through the bars on the window, and someone was banging the bars and gazing at them in shock and dismay: a freckle-faced, red-haired, long-nosed someone.

Ron Weasley was outside their window.

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