Story Title/Link: Elf and Master

School and Theme: Hogwarts; spare - write about a character who is feared

Mandatory Prompt: [Quote] "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing."― Edmund Burke

Additional Prompt: [Word] Wave

Special Rule: Use no more than two characters.

Year: 2

Word count: 1921

Additional Information: Trigger Warning: violence and poor treatment of house-elves abound. In this story, the quote is not used verbatim, but instead to inspire the plot.


Dobby must do as his master says. He must follow every demand, every order, and every rule without mistakes. And if it is not enough—and it never is—Dobby must do nothing.

The mantra has helped Dobby so far in his tenure as Lucius Malfoy's servant. He learned as a young elf that his eagerness to please would have consequences, and his tendency to over-compensate always does more harm than good.

Dobby can do no right by his master, who is at best an evil, cruel, and unforgiving man. Lucius is undeserving of Dobby's kind soul, but master and servant are bound together so long as the servant never receives clothes.

And yet Dobby cannot resist the thought that a better life awaits him someday; a life of freedom, or a life where he can make choices for himself. But alas, he is nothing but a house-elf, a creature put on this earth to serve his master, a man from whom it seems he can never escape.

The elf's hands shake as he prepares his master's favorite meal, hoping it will be enough to put the bad-tempered man in better spirits. Something in the Daily Prophet this morning soured Lucius's mood, and the elf has yet to find anything that would cheer him up.

Dobby tried serving Lucius his favorite berry bramble tea along with a spread of crumpets and cakes for a special afternoon snack. He took care to dust and polish every knick-knack in Lucius's office so it gleamed in the candlelight. And even after Dobby hand-washed Lucius's entire collection of robes, Lucius still punted Dobby across the bedroom because the elf took long to shine his master's black leather shoes.

Focusing on the elaborate spread of roast duck over golden potatoes and caramelized brussel sprouts, Dobby tries not to wince when he bends over the dish. The movement agitates the angry purple bruise on his back. Though he wants to be brave and sneak a taste of the food in front of him, Dobby knows he never could. His master would smell it on his breath or see the grease on his hands.

So, he keeps his mouth clamped and holds his breath to avoid the temptation of the enticing aromas. His stomach rumbles and his mouth salivates, but Dobby will not indulge in the wizard's food. Perhaps Dobby will become braver after his evening's work is done and eat the leftovers for dinner.

For so long, he's done nothing with the extra food because Lucius has never offered any to the elf. Instead, Dobby settles for slop or long-forgotten leftovers on the verge of growing mold in the icebox. Maybe today he will not wait. Perhaps he will surrender to the temptation of a small wizard's comfort. But he knows deep down he will not do anything, for the fear of his master's wrath always wins.

"Dobby!" The elf leaps backward and shrieks from the abrupt summons.

He drops the rosemary garnish on top of the dish before he Disapparates into Master Malfoy's grandiose office. Dobby's feet land on the cold, black marble as he wrings his stained and grease-covered tea towel in his hands. He waits for his master's signal—a wave of his hand—before announcing his presence.

Dobby has worked for Lucius Malfoy long enough to know he must wait for the strict sign before carrying on with his duties. But today, his master seems to have forgotten the wave's significance. Silence echoes in the room, and Dobby gathers enough courage to speak before he's given any approval. Though it is difficult to ignore his pounding heart, Dobby takes his first steps to overcome the fear of one wrong move.

"Y-yes, Master?"

Though Dobby speaks, his gaze is fixed on the floor. He memorizes the silver swirls and avoids eye contact; he can only be so brave at one time. Now, he reverts to his obedience and does not move until the wave is finally signaled.

The sharp movement comes a moment later, drawing the elf's wide, round eyes up to the cold, dark slits of his master's.

"Why are your hands bare? Where is my dinner?" Lucius demands.

The elf cowers before the imposing mahogany desk separating wizard and creature. "D-Dobby was just finishing the f-final touches, sir."

Lucius narrows his eyes even more. Dobby senses his master's distrust, though he has no idea why. Years of loyal service should prove Dobby's trustworthiness, even if Lucius seldom finds anything to compliment the elf on. Dobby does everything Master Malfoy asks of him, and nothing more.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Go fetch my meal, and for every minute you make me wait, there will be an additional flogging."

Dobby squeaks and Disapparates on the spot, unwilling to stall for sake of a dismissing wave. He's sure this will earn him another beating, but he hopes it will be less severe than if he makes his master wait.

Back in the kitchen, Dobby finishes garnishing the golden-brown skin of the duck before clutching the ancient silver tray in his hands. He does not time his movements but is sure he's made haste in returning to his master's sanctuary. Dobby sets the tray on the cleared section of the desk to return to the kitchen for place settings and the goblet of wine. It is safer to fetch the objects himself than through a summons. Master hates when Dobby uses his magic.

But Master Malfoy also dislikes waiting, so there is no winning. Dobby's shoulders droop, knowing punishment is inevitable.

After pouring the wine, the elf retreats to the corner of the room, hoping for dismissal. His long ears perk at the crinkling sounds of the Evening Prophet in his master's hands. Lucius does not tuck into his meal right away, which sends a wave of discomfort rippling through Dobby's body.

The minutes tick by as Dobby continues to wait. Swigs of wine are interjected by scoffs of headlines and jeers at 'the sad excuse for news.' All the while, the dinner Lucius demanded goes untouched.

Oh, no. Dobby forgot the warming charm.

Though it's only a tiny blunder, Dobby knows it is not good. He shoves his hand in his mouth to prevent his wails. Though he could easily rectify the situation by setting the charm now, Dobby chooses to do nothing. Punishment will ensue either way.

Dobby rocks back and forth to counteract his trembling. He wishes he could disappear, but without a formal dismissal, he would exacerbate the inevitable. There is no escaping his master's wrath.

Once Lucius begins eating, it does not take him long to call attention to his displeasure. Lucius grabs his wand and waves it around his head like a lasso. For a second, Dobby is naive enough to think he can leave, but then a choking sensation overcomes him. He clutches his neck and his eyes bulge out of his head.

This is it. This is the end. It is what Dobby gets for thinking to defy his master.

"DOBBY!"

Lucius spits his mouthful of duck and potato across the room and yanks his wand back, releasing the pressure as Dobby falls to his knees. Dobby's ears drop so low they threaten to drag along the floor as he takes slow, tentative steps to Lucius.

"Y-yes, M-Master?"

"You are a pathetic excuse for a servant! How can you mess up such simple orders? Is this meal not supposed to be served hot?"

"N-no, sir," Dobby squeaks.

Lucius's nostrils flare as he punctuates each word with a bang of his fist on the smooth, shiny wood. "Then why. Is. It. COLD?"

"D-D-Dobby forgot to s-set the w-w-warming charm, Sir." The elf's lip wobbles as he speaks. "Dobby d-did not m-mean to. Dobby was simply trying to av-void a f-flogging for being late. Please, S—"

"ENOUGH!" Lucius bellows. "I will not have my house elf explaining his errors as if I'm some imbecile who can't see through the lies!"

Malfoy's blonde ponytail slaps him in the face with the force at which he whips around to grab his cane. Dobby knows what's coming next. He pulls at his ears as if the self-inflicted harm will somehow soften the blows that are about to rain down.

Waves of blinding pain erupt as he squeals and yelps with each smack. The sharp tip of Lucius's cane slashes the elf's skin. His vision blurs, and unconsciousness calls to him as his body throbs.

But Dobby must not give in. He must ride out the beating, and do nothing more to anger his master. It will end soon; it always does.

After another seven blows—counting helps the poor creature survive—Lucius returns the cane to its stand.

"Now, fix this at once." The man's voice drips with malice. "And then, you will return to the kitchen and stick your toes in the fire so you do not forget the simple task of keeping a meal warm again."

Dobby cannot hold back the whimper that escapes his mouth as he snaps his fingers to set a strong warming charm over the meal. He hovers over the platter until steam starts to rise and he's certain it's warm enough.

Despite the mistake of speaking out of turn earlier, Dobby does so again, shocked by his brazenness. "M-Master's dinner sh-should be warm enough now. M-may Dobby be dismissed to t-tend to Master's next order?"

Lucius sneers at the elf but doesn't say a word. Piercing a potato with so much force that the fork scratches the silver platter like nails on a chalkboard, he makes a show of testing the food. Begrudgingly satisfied with the temperature, he thrusts the long-forgotten newspaper into Dobby's arm and waves him off.

"Use that for extra kindling. I have no use for its lies and slander."

"Y-yes, sir."

Dobby sinks into a deep bow, his body aching in protest. This time, Dobby takes his leave by scurrying off through the tall, ornate doors leading to the foyer and rushes back to the kitchen. Though he wishes he could take his time, it is best to get the punishment over with.

Not that he has a choice in the matter.

The magic binding Dobby to his master forces him to the roaring fire, where he must fulfill the command Master Malfoy has instigated. Silent tears fall down Dobby's face as he thrusts each foot into the fire. He clenches his jaw, resisting the urge to cry out. Causing a ruckus will only anger his master more if he is heard.

As the coals singe his feet and the flames roast his toes, Dobby wishes there is something more he could do to help him escape this dreadful life. Dobby is a good elf, no matter how poorly his master treats him and tells him how worthless he is.

When he pulls his feet out of the fire, Dobby wraps them in Essence of Murtlap soaked towels. It is enough to dull the pain, but will still leave remnants of the injury behind for proof to his master.

The fire under his feet is enough to rekindle the flames within. A wave of determination helps renew his perseverance. He must continue to do nothing. For doing nothing is the key to triumphing evil, he is certain of it.

One day, Dobby hopes he will no longer fear his master. He wishes to be brave enough to show Lucius his worth. But until then, he will bide his time and try not to be so afraid.