AN: ...I said I'd try to make up my long absence, didn't I?

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A day later, the private celebration where all of Harry's friends were asked took place. That mean the entirety of first year Gryffindor, Draco, Theo, Daphne and after some hesitation even Milicent from Slytherin, Ernie, Susan and Hannah from Hufflepuff and Hermione from Ravenclaw. There was also Horatio and Roger, Kiara and Katie, Fred and George and Angelina and Alice from the older kids, and Abdulaziz, Edmund and Ginny from the younger ones. Harry had hesitated about asking Edmund, because he really wasn't that close to the boy, but they did see each other quite often last year and he didn't want him to be offended, so he asked him, even though he hadn't seen him for a long time now. He had asked Oliver Wood, too, but the Quidditch captain couldn't come.

It was fun. Alduin had explained that since this was just "a private gathering", as he had called it, it effectively meant doing away with any formality, to Harry's satisfaction. It was just like regular visits, only more people came at once. The house-elves prepared a lot of cakes and ice cream and other children's favourites, and the friends discussed Harry's presents from the day before as they sat sprawled in the garden by the lake.

There were some interesting comics and displayers, but what caused the most stir by far were Harry's tickets to the final match of International Quidditch Tournament.

"I'm so jealous," Ron muttered, holding the tickets almost reverently in his hands.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Ron, correct me if I'm wrong, but you went to see the League finals two weeks ago, didn't you? So I don't see why you're complaining."

"But I've never seen any international matches," Ron defended himself.

"It's cool," Kiara conceded. "We're going too, Harry, so we can go together."

"I'll be there as well," Draco announced, to no one's surprise.

"Can I say I'm jealous?" Sophie asked pointedly. "No chance of getting to see one of these, like, ever."

"Yeah," Dean nodded in agreement. "You should count yourself lucky, Ron."

"I'm sure you'll get to see a match one day," Harry tried to reassure them. "The Quidditch World Cup is in two years, isn't it? I think we should all agree to give you tickets for it for your birthdays or something. We could all go together."

"I'm not sure Gran would let me," Neville muttered.

"Oh, come on! I bet we can convince her."

"My family goes to the World Cup every time," Seamus chimed in, "and I was with them last two times, to see the finals. It's awesome, and I agree with Harry, we should all go."

Draco wanted to add something to the topic, but at that moment, Sibby appeared in the midst of their little group. Harry blinked at her, surprised. He knew perfectly well that no elves except for the butler and sometimes the personal elves normally appeared in front of visitors. It was considered bad form. Of course, this was not quite an official party like the one that had taken place the day before, or formal dinners and such, so the rules were much more relaxed, but still.

"Sibby apologizes, Master Harry, sir," she said. "But there is a house-elf here and he won't leave and he says he must speak with Master Harry. He says that it is very important."

"Um...okay," Harry replied, looking uncertainly around at his friends. "Send him here, then, I guess?"

Sibby disappeared, and appeared again in a moment with a different elf. The elf looked around, his eyes widened comically, and he started to run away.

"Dobby?!" Draco called in a shocked voice, and then, after he woke up from his astonishment a little, he added: "Come back here this instant!"

"You know him?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Yes, it's Father's personal elf, but why would he want to speak to you…?"

Dobby returned, rather reluctantly, and now stood before them, looking to the ground.

"What are you doing here, Dobby?" Draco asked impatiently.

"What did you want to tell me?" Harry added.

The elf stayed silent. "Dobby," Draco said irritably, "I order you to answer Harry!"

"Dobby came to tell Harry Potter that Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts," the elf declared sullenly, still not looking up.

"What?" Harry asked, shocked.

"That's nonsense! Stop bothering us and go away," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "I'll be telling Father about this."

Sibby was reaching for Dobby to take him away when Harry said: "No, wait. He must have a reason for saying this. Why do you think I can't go back to Hogwarts, Dobby?"

The elf stayed silent,

"Dobby," Draco said sharply, "I order you to answer."

Dobby gave him a mean look. "Because Harry Potter would be in mortal danger there!" He said then, defiantly.

"But why?" Harry insisted.

"Does Master Draco still order me to answer?" Dobby asked, and this time there seemed to be certain almost malicious pleasure in his tone.

"Yes, of course," was the terse reply.

"As you say, Master." Dobby bowed a little, and turned to Harry. "There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year." The elf paused, gulped, and started to tremble before he added: "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"

"What terrible things?" said Harry at once. "Who's plotting them?"

Dobby made a funny choking noise and then banged his head frantically with his fist.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, alarmed.

"Dobby has to punish himself, Dobby is a bad elf..."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Stop the dramatics and just answer him – or, if you can't, say so."

Dobby gave him an unfriendly look. "Dobby can't tell, sir," he said then.

"All right," Harry said. "You can't tell me. But why are you warning me?" A sudden, unpleasant thought struck him. "Hang on — this hasn't got anything to do with Riddle, has it?"

Dobby nodded very slowly.

"It does?" Harry asked, alarmed.

Another nod.

"But you can't tell me what it is?"

A shake.

"All right then." Harry tried to think of other clever questions to ask, but he was drawing a blank. He turned to his friends, but they mostly sat in astonishment, and no one seemed ready to say anything. Horatio was whispering something to Roger, but was unwilling to speak aloud. Hermione was biting her lip.

"If I may, Harry-?" Kiara said.

"Sure, go ahead."

"Can you tell us who is plotting these terrible things?" She asked Dobby.

He shook his head.

"At least someone who is involved, aside from the...aim person, and Riddle?" She insisted.

Dobby hesitated. "Dobby does not know – there is someone at Hogwarts, Miss, but Dobby does not know who. It is a girl."

"A girl?" Harry asked, surprised. He would have expected one of the teachers, not a student.

Dobby bobbed his head several times.

"And about this plot," Kiara continued, "can you tell us any more? It's a danger to Harry, right?"

A nod.

"Is it a danger to anyone else as well?"

Another nod.

"To all of us."

A vigorous, almost spiteful shake.

"Is it only to boys? Only to Gryffindors? Is one of the Houses safe?"

Shakes to all of these questions.

Then Hermione spoke, very quietly: "Are the purebloods safe?"

And Dobby nodded.

There was a long, uncomfortable silence all around.

"Um, thanks for the warning," Harry said at length, when no one else seemed able to speak. "If that's all…?"

Dobby nodded, and Sibby took his arm again and disappeared. The moment the elves were gone, Harry turned to Draco. "Any clue what that was about?"

"None," Draco replied, striving for a light tone and not quite succeeding. "I guess Father found out about something and Dobby was there while he did. I don't know why he didn't tell me, but probably didn't want to worry me. I'll ask him about it."

Harry nodded. "That'd be great," he said. Privately, he thought that he would certainly tell Alduin as well. He didn't quite trust Lucius Malfoy, and certainly not with something like this.

"We should let the Ministry know," Susan said firmly. "If there's a plot about to happen..."

Fred laughed, though it sounded just a little forced. "It was probably just some crazy House-Elf," he said. "No need to take it all seriously. Normally I'd say it was a prank by their master, but if it's so, Malfoy here is a better actor then I thought."

Draco was just taking a breath for a reply when Daphne interrupted him. "Yeah," she said, "no way he could pull that off."

The situation descended into an argument about acting abilities and the likelihood of pranks soon after, but Harry's mind was not quite calm, and he could see in the face of some of his friends that neither were theirs.

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Harry talked to Alduin about Dobby's warning the very evening. Alduin advised him to reserve judgement and see what Draco came back with the next day. It was possible that it was just a case of a house-elf gone mad. However, Harry could see that Alduin was worried too. The answer to Hermione's question gave the whole thing seriousness it would not otherwise have.

Draco came over with his mother the following day, and while Mrs. Malfoy chatted with Alexandra, he went outside with Harry. "So, I asked Dad," he said as soon as they were clear of the house. "He says, as I thought, that Dobby got it absurdly wrong and that you're completely safe, as well as me and all of our friends. Dobby got clothes, too, as soon as Father heard."

Harry frowned. "Dobby got clothes? I feel kinda sorry for him...I mean, he was just trying to help."

"Yeah, well, he should have gone to my father and asked about it first, shouldn't he? It'd have cleared up the matter and there'd have been no need to bother you. I'm not surprised Father gave him clothes. Honestly, he's been dissatisfied before – I mean, Dobby's been his personal elf for only about a year, since his old one died. Father tried to have patience and understand it takes a while for him to train to be as good as the old one, but this was the last straw."

Harry nodded. It did make sense, from one point of view, but he couldn't help to be suspicious and it cost him some effort to talk with Draco in a friendly manner for those twenty minutes that his mother stayed.

As soon as they were gone, Harry went to see Alduin again, to relate what Draco had said. Alduin was frowning, and his frown gradually deepened. "Do you notice anything strange about what Mr. Malfoy said, Harry?" He asked then.

Harry thought about it. "Not really. I mean, I don't trust him, but..."

"Well, he never said there was no plot, or that he didn't know about any. He only said that Draco and you and your friends will be perfectly safe. That makes alarm bells go off in my head."

"But, I mean, why wouldn't he simply lie?"

"Draco is his son. If you come to Hogwarts and the danger or plot or whatever it is becomes apparent, Draco could see immediately that his father lied to him. Lucius doesn't want that. He could have, of course, told Draco to lie to you, but I think he wanted to avoid that as well. Plausible deniability might play a part here."

"Plausible...what?"

"It means that if it came down to it, Draco could say, perfectly honestly, that he didn't know about anything, and he'd stay out of the loop. He's Lucius' only heir. He needs protection. But I don't like it at all. Dobby believes only the purebloods are safe. I think that you not being in any danger is true enough in the sense that Lucius believes so, but that could mean whatever it is would only affect the Muggle-Born. Dobby would be either misinformed, or know something about whatever it is that Lucius does not. In any case, I am almost certain something is going on here."

Harry let Alduin think for a moment, then asked: "Couldn't we employ Dobby? I feel really bad about him being given clothes because he tried to help me..."

Alduin gave him a strange look. "Harry," he said, "I can't just tell the elves to take in a stranger."

"Er...you can't?"

"No. It would be like ordering someone to accept a random person into their home. I can ask them if they'd be willing, of course, but I have some doubts. Regardless of his motives, Dobby violated some of the basic laws of house-elf service. They're unlikely to want him here. But I will try."

"But if you can't just hire new house-elves...how does it work? If you need more, I mean?" Harry asked, distracted for a moment from the problem at hand.

Alduin seemed surprised by the question. "That's my housekeeper's and butler's job," he said. "To make sure there are always enough elves. If I'm dissatisfied with their service or if Tobby comes to tell me one of them no longer wishes to serve me, I can give them clothes, but I certainly don't hire new elves personally, nor does Alexandra. Usually, a house-elf clan has a few members without assigned jobs living around the house, to make sure there is always someone available when a new necessity appears. That was how Alexandra could give an elf to the Weasleys."

"So you don't even know all the elves you have here?"

"No. I know the ones I come in touch with, as with people. There's no need for me to concern myself in their affairs."

"But they clean up after you!"

Alduin shrugged. "Yes, and I provide them with a roof over their heads and food and a family and a clan. It's mutually advantageous. Do you think directors of big companies in the Muggle world know all of their employees?"

"No, but...how many elves do you have?"

"As far as I know, there are about ten living in the Manor now."

"Then it's not like a big company at all!" Harrs insisted.

"No, but...look, Harry, when witches and wizards enter their quarters, it makes them uncomfortable, it disturbs their flow of life. I could of course demand that each of them presents themselves before me here, but that'd probably make them even more uncomfortable. The ones I don't know are usually very young."

"But don't they mind? That you don't know them, I mean."

"I don't expect so. It's just not usually done."

Harry frowned. It seemed strange to him, not knowing who actually lived in the Manor with them, but if this was how it was done, well, then… "I just hope they accept Dobby," he said.

"If they don't, I can always send him to the Shacklebolts. Their elves tend to be more liberal."

"What do you mean?"

Alduin considered how to phrase it for a moment. "It's connected to the Shacklebolt tradition of fighting against slavery. Every elf, on reaching adulthood, is asked whether he wishes to work for the family or whether he wishes to be set free or transfer elsewhere. Then they keep getting the same option every few years. Even though not one of them has asked for it for hundreds of years to my knowledge, it creates a different atmosphere, of sorts."

"Why don't you do it as well, then?"

"Because it would mortally offend our elves. It has a long-standing tradition in the Shacklebolt clan, but that doesn't mean ours would welcome it."

Harry sighed. "It's much more complicated than I'd thought."

Alduin smiled. "Most things turn out to be."

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It was one of Alduin's regular meetings with Abdullah, which now took place every two or three days in the evening or in the afternoons, depending on when they both had time. Usually, Abdullah came determinedly cheerful to the point that it was irritating, and it took Alduin some effort to get him to act mostly normal.

This time, however, he was obviously irritated.

"I am maliciously pleased," Alduin said as he welcomed him, "to see that something's bothering you, too, for a change. Spill."

"We're not here for me," Abdullah protested, predictably.

"Abdullah, so help me Merlin, if you don't stop this, I really will stop speaking to you. If this is supposed to help, I need to at least be able to convinced myself it's just a friendly chat with a fried, okay?"

"Fine, fine. It's Grandfather."

Alduin raised his eyebrows. One of the irritating things about the Shafiqs was that they always seemed to get on famously with each other, no internal conflicts anywhere, so he was surprised to hear this to say the least. "What happened?" He asked.

"I tried to convince him to get rid of alcohol in our house. He refuses."

Alduin straightened in his chair. "Don't be ridiculous!"

"I'm not. Look, we all know it's effectively poison. The whole family agrees on that, none of us except Mother even drinks it. So it seems only reasonable, and I'm sure the guests would survive being served tea or coffee instead."

"Your prestige would suffer, as you know perfectly well."

"Prestige isn't everything."

"Your grandmother must be rolling in her grave. But anyway, don't be stupid. I might be an idiot who drinks to excess-" Alduin began, and at Abdullah's look, promptly corrected himself: "Drank, in the past, I mean – but that doesn't mean a glass of port at your house does your guests any harm."

"Not to most of them," Abdullah admitted, "but what if there are more cases like you? I read up on this, any alcohol at all can trigger a relapse-"

"Abdullah," Alduin said firmly, "stop right there. I appreciate your help. But you know that the good hangover potions also block most aspects of physical addiction, and that I have been taking them. So far, I have managed to get though the ritual of port drinking without getting home and getting wasted immediately afterwards. If someone else has more trouble with that, someone who hasn¨t bothered taking their potions, they can teach themselves the dealcoholising spell. There's no need to hurt your family for this."

Abdullah stayed silent for a moment, staring off into the middle distance. At length, he spoke. "I just...for years, I've been telling myself that it was no big deal that we offered alcohol to our guests, but now...I feel so guilty about offering you that whiskey when you came to talk to me about the prophecy and all the rest of it."

"Don't," Alduin said, trying to keep his tone light. "I said guilt was my provenance, didn't I? You clearly don't know how to do it properly. I was drinking heavily every night at that point. I assure you, those three glasses I had at your house made no difference at all. But fine, if it'll make you feel better, don't offer whiskey to your personal guests anymore. But don't push your grandfather. Talk to Mercurius if you don't believe me, but really, that little bit of port does no harm."

Abdullah didn't look too convinced. Alduin very much hoped he wasn't going to be stubborn about this. For one, he really didn't want for his friend to argue with his family...and for another, the last thing he needed was for people to wonder where did this sudden desire to get rid of alcohol even come from.

"Come on," he said, purposefully changing the topic, "let's talk about Lucius possibly wanting to kill all the Muggle-born of Hogwarts instead."

Predictably, that got Abdullah's attention.