Harry managed not to shout, but it was a close thing. The little creature on the bed had large, bat-like ears and bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls. Harry knew instantly that this was what had been watching her out of the garden hedge that morning.
As they stared at each other, Harry heard Dudley's voice from the hall.
"May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?"
The creature slipped off the bed and bowed so low that the end of its long, thin nose touched the carpet. Harry noticed that it was wearing what looked like an old pillowcase, with rips for arm-and leg holes.
"Er -- hello," said Harry nervously.
"Harry Potter!" said the creature in a high-pitched voice Harry was sure would carry down the stairs. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir . . . Such an honor it is . . ."
"Th-thank you," said Harry, edging along the wall and sinking into her desk chair, next to Hedwig, who was asleep in her large cage. "I'm not a sir, though."
"Oh, my apologies! Dobby will be sure to drop the iron on his foot later for his mistake. Is there something Dobby should say instead?"
"Er, miss, I guess, and you don't have to do that, you didn't know."
"As, you wish, miss . . ."
Harry couldn't hold in anymore, she really wanted to ask "What are you?" but she knew it would be rude, so instead blurted out, "Who are you?"
"Dobby, miss. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf," said the creature.
"Oh -- really?" said Harry. "Er -- I don't want to be rude or anything, but -- this isn't a great time for me to have a house-elf in my bedroom."
Aunt Petunia's high, false laugh sounded from the living room. The elf hung his head.
"Not that I'm not pleased to meet you," said Harry quickly, "but, er, is there any particular reason you're here?"
"Oh, yes, miss," said Dobby earnestly. "Dobby has come to tell you, miss . . . it is difficult, miss . . . Dobby wonders where to begin . . ."
"Sit down," offered Harry politely, pointing at the bed.
To her horror, the elf burst into tears -- very noisy tears.
"S-sit down!" he wailed. "Never . . . never ever . . ."
Harry thought she heard the voices downstairs falter.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I didn't mean to offend you or anything --"
"Offend Dobby!?" chocked the elf. "Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a wizard -- like an equal --"
"I'm not a wizard, I'm a witch," said Harry, as she ushered Dobby over to her bed, comfortingly rubbing his back. There they sat for a little while, Harry saying "Shh, shh," and Dobby hiccuping, looking like a large and very ugly doll. At last, he managed to control himself and sat with his great eyes fixed on her in an expression of water adoration.
"You can't have met many decent wizards or witches," she said, trying to cheer him up.
Dobby shook his head. Then, without warning, he lept up and started banging his head furiously on the window, shouting, "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"
"Don't -- what are you doing?" Harry hissed, springing up and pulling Dobby back onto the bed -- Hedwig had woken up with a particularly loud screech and was beating her wings wildly against the bars of her cage.
"Dobby had to punish himself, miss," said the elf, who had gone slightly cross-eyed. "Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, miss . . ."
"Your family?"
"The wizard family Dobby serves, miss . . . Dobby is a house-elf -- bound to serve one house and one family forever . . ."
"Do they know you're here?" she asked curiously.
Dobby shuddered.
"Oh, no, miss . . . Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, miss. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, miss --"
"But why don't you leave? Escape?"
"A house-elf must be set free, miss. And the family will never set Dobby free . . . Dobby will serve the family until he dies, miss . . ."
Harry stared.
"And I thought I had it bad staying here for another four weeks," she said. "This makes the Dursleys sound almost human. Can't anyone help you? Can't I?"
Almost at once, Harry deeply regretted saying that. Dobby dissolved again into wails of gratitude.
"Please," she whispered frantically, "please be quiet. If the Dursleys hear anything, if they know you're here --"
"Harry Potter asks if she can help Dobby . . . Dobby has heard of your greatness, miss, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew . . ."
Harry, who was feeling distinctly hot in the face, said, "Whatever you've heard about my greatness is a load of rubbish. I'm not even top of my year at Hogwarts; that's Hermione, she --"
But she stopped quickly because thinking about Hermione was painful.
"Harry Potter is humble and modest," said Dobby reverently, his orb-like eyes aglow. "Harry Potter speaks not of her triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named --"
"Voldemort?" said Harry.
Dobby clapped his hands over his bat ears and moaned, "Ah, speak not the name, miss! Speak not the name!"
"Sorry," said Harry quickly. "I know lots of people don't like it. My friend Ron --"
She stopped again. Thinking about Ron was painful, too.
Dobby leaned toward Harry, his eyes as wide as headlights.
"Dobby heard tell," he said hoarsely, "that Harry Potter met the Dark Lord for a second time, just weeks ago . . . that Harry Potter escaped yet again."
Harry nodded and Dobby's eyes suddenly shone with tears.
"Ah, miss," he gasped, dabbing his face with a corner of the grubby pillowcase he was wearing. "Harry Potter is valiant and bold! She has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn her, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven door later . . . Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts."
The was a silence broken only by the chink of knives and forks from downstairs and the distant rumble of Uncle Vernon's voice.
"W-what?" Harry stammered. "But I've got to go back -- term starts on September first. It's all that's keeping me going. You don't know what it's like here. I don't belong here. I belong in your world -- at Hogwarts.
"No, no, no," squeaked Dobby, shaking his head so hard his ears flapped. "Harry Potter must stay where she is safe. She is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, she will be in mortal danger."
"Why?" said Harry in surprise.
"The is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," hispered Dobby, suddenly trembling all over.
"Dobby has known it for months, miss. Harry Potter must not put herself in peril. She is too important, miss!"
"What terrible things?" said Harry at once. "Who's plotting them?"
Dobby made a funny choking noise and then banged his head frantically against the wall.
"All right!" cried Harry, grabbing the elf's arm to stop him. "You can't tell me. I understand. But why are you warning me?" A sudden, unpleasant thought struck her. "Hang on -- this hasn't got anything to do with Vol- -- sorry -- with You-Know-Who, has it? You could just shake or nod," she added hastily as Dobby's head tilted worryingly close to the wall again.
Slowly, Dobby shook his head.
"Not -- not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, miss --"
But Dobby's eyes were wide and he seemed to be trying to give Harry a hint. Harry, however, just sat back down on the bed, holding Dobby tightly like a doll, completely lost.
"He hasn't got a brother, has he?"
Dobby shook his head, his eyes wider than ever.
"Well then, I can't think who else would have a chance of making horrible things happen at Hogwarts," said Harry. "I mean, there's Dumbledore, for one thing -- you know who Dumbledore is, don't you?"
Dobby bowed his head.
"Albus Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had. Dobby knows it, miss. Dobby has heard Dumbledore's powers rival those of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the height of his strength. But, miss" --Dobby's voice dropped to an urgent whisper -- which Harry found impressive with his squeaky voice -- "there are powers Dumbledore doesn't . . . powers no decent wizard . . ."
And suddenly, Dobby was trashing violently in Harry's arms, reaching for her desk lamp. Harry's involuntary yelps of surprise and Dobby's grunts of struggle sounded through the room.
A sudden silence fell downstairs. Two seconds later Harry, heart thudding madly, heard Uncle Vernon coming into the hall, calling, "Dudley must have left his television on again, the little tyke!"
"Sorry," Harry hissed as she dropped Dobby into the closet, ignored the jokes she could have made, and threw herself onto the bed just as the door handle turned.
"What -- the -- devil -- are you doing?" said Uncle Vernon through gritted teeth, his face a shade of purple that had to be uncomfortable. "You've just ruined the punch line of my Japanese golfer joke. . . . One more sound and you'll wish you'd never been born, boy!"
He stomped flat-footed from the room.
Shaking, Harry let Dobby out of the closet.
"See what it's like here?" she said. "See why I've got to go back to Hogwarts?" Harry found herself unable to resist hugging Dobby tightly to avoid crying. He was just too much like a doll she never got. "It's the only place I've got -- well, I think I've got friends."
"Friends who don't even write to Harry Potter?" said Dobby.
"I expect they've just been -- wait a minute," said Harry forming and looking down at the elf in her arms. "How do you know my friends haven't been writing to me?"
Dobby suddenly wasn't able to look Harry in the eyes.
Harry Potter mustn't be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best --"
"Have you been stopping my letters?"
"Dobby has them here, miss," said Dobby, suddenly holding a thick wad of envelopes. Harry could see Hermione's neat writing, Ron's untidy scrawl, a scribble that must have been from Hagrid, and other handwritings that had to have been from the members of the LGBT club at Hogwarts.
Dobby anxiously looked up at Harry.
"Harry Potter mustn't be angry. . . . Dobby hoped . . . if Harry Potter thought her friends had forgotten her . . . Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, miss. . . ."
Harry wasn't listening. She grabbed the letters, but couldn't get them released from Dobby's grip.
"Harry Potter will have them, miss, if she gives Dobby her word that she will not return to Hogwarts. Miss, this is a danger you must not face! Say you won't go back, miss!"
"I'm sorry, Dobby," Harry said in slowly rising anger "but I can't do that, now please give me the letters."
"Harry Potter leaves Dobby no choice. Dobby can't do that either," the elf said, impossibly remorsefully.
Harry wasn't quite sure when it happened, but Dobby was no longer in her arms, nor the letters in her grasp. Instead, both were at her bedroom door.
"Wait!" She called futility, as Dobby threw open the door and rushed down the landing. Harry had no choice but to run after, hissing "Stop!" and "Please, don't!"
Harry found Dobby crouched on top of a cupboard in the kitchen, but she wasn't as worried about him anymore, as Aunt Petunia's masterpiece was floating in the middle of the room.
"No!" Harry whispered. "Please . . . they'll kill me. . . ."
"Harry Potter must say she's not going back to school --"
"We could . . . compromise, please . . ."
Dobby was silent, seemingly waiting for her to continue.
"I have to go, Dobby. Same way you have to punish yourself," Harry said, reaching for strands of something to convince him. It seemed to work.
"Dobby has warned Harry Potter of the dangers. Harry Potter risks the future, perhaps Dobby has exaggerated Harry Potter's goodness, miss. Harry Potter's greatness still remains, Harry Potter is too important to lose. Dobby hopes Harry Potter is right in her decisions."
Then Dobby snapped. The pudding returned safely to the counter, the letters plapped onto the floor and Dobby became nothing more than sand blown away in a wind that wasn't there.
Harry quickly snatched the letters and sped silently upstairs. Harry would need to thank Hannah for those lessons in persuasion, she would likely be covered in pudding right now without them.
Harry happily sorted the buddle of envelopes, fighting the temptation to just start tearing into them -- and ignoring the yelling from downstairs that implied Dudley said the wrong thing at the wrong time. Fourteen from Ron, ten from Hermione, seven from Hagrid, six each from Flix and Jex, four from Hannah, and two from Lacy. Who's to read first?
Harry then preceded to happily read all of her letters, watching as they become increasingly worried about her and giggling at how Flix and Jex sent entire letters apologizing for mistakes they made in the previous that they only realized after they sent off the owl.
Unbeknownst to Harry, one more letter addressed to her was stopped that night, and she read the letters peacefully for the next three nights. Only interrupted by the sudden bright light shone into her window and the red-headed, freckled face smiling at her.
