So. I got somewhere eventually. For those who read the original Chapter 2 by the way, you might be interested in having another look. I realised that I was just cheating and wrote a Sorting Song for it which was added in after the original publication. I can't swear that it's high poetic literature but I don't think it's an embarrassment as far as Sorting Songs go! I'd be interested to see what you think.

Anyhow, you will be glad to know that the school term is starting and the mayhem is soon to begin! Please do read, enjoy and particularly review whether or not you have enjoyed. Reviews make me very happy. I will try to keep a more regular update schedule, but finding the time to write is blue murder sometimes!

To those commenting about the flying bus; the Knight Bus is an odd one. Nobody really seems to know how it works and even Pottermore is decidedly vague but it seems to be to be some combined method of flying, illusion, speed, potential invisibility and apparation along with the muggle tendency to simply not see things that don't look right. So as there is no 'strict' canon, I kind of went where I wanted with it.


Chapter 3: A House Elf of Indeterminate Origin

"Second year in a row, Mister Potter," Poppy remarks, her smile belying the raised eyebrows. "There are few students who can boast that they have been to the Hospital Wing before term even starts, you realise. This is becoming a habit."

"I'd prefer it not to, Madam Pomfrey," the youngster replies with a shy grin. "Not that I'm not grateful at all, but I think I spent more than enough time here last year to last me a lifetime."

I smile down at the boy fondly. What a difference a year has made to him. Quite aside from the extra flesh on his bones and the healthy flush to his cheeks, he has clearly gained a soft confidence in himself. To think on it, this time last year he wouldn't even meet our eyes consistently, let alone responding with such a gentle humour. Never say that I can't admit when I am wrong; I may have been sceptical about Bathida taking on the guardianship of my young ward, but I can't deny the magic she has worked.

"Well, it could have been significantly worse, I suppose," Poppy concedes, looking around at the small gaggle of boys with wry amusement in her face. "You've all got off remarkably luckily. Nothing is broken, although you will likely have a few fine bruises come tomorrow morning. I'll send you all of with a vial of painkilling solution that you can take as and when you need it. If you need an extra dose, just pop back to the Hospital Wing tomorrow morning. I can also give you a pot of cream. You shouldn't need a lot and it will clear up most of the swelling and discolouration. You can bring the pot down once you are finished with it. Any questions, boys?"

"No, thanks, but I know what I'll never do again!" The young Weasley boy grumbles as he takes the vial from Poppy. "I'm never getting on that Knight Bus ever again in my life! The driver is a lunatic, I swear!"

"I must admit, I am somewhat baffled by how it is even possible to simply not see a fifty foot tree well before you manage to fly into it," I murmur with a slight smile. "I mean, even before it starts hitting back, it is a distinctly striking part of the Hogwarts landscape. Not one that is easily missed, shall we say…"

"It's 'cause he was talking to that ruddy head of his," the red-haired youngster grouches unhappily as he slouches towards the door. "I'd swear blind that I got most of my bruises before the giant tree tried to kill us! I swear, he's off his rocker!"

"Thankfully there was no major harm done though, Mister Weasley," I remark as I gently steer them out of the Hospital Wing. I's amazing how you can manage that without even touching a child. Sheer force of will, shall we say. "I am however certain that Miss Granger and the remainder of your house mates will all be exceptionally keen to hear of your adventurous entrance onto the school grounds…"

"It was all the bleeding barriers fault…" The mutter from the young Weasley does not escape my hearing.

"And that, I do promise I will be investigating in full, Mister Weasley," I remark with a grim smile. "There is much that puzzles me about this entire matter, and I do not appreciate being puzzled. Particularly by supposedly inanimate objects." The Longbottom boy cracks a grin at that, but if I am not mistaken he still looks distinctly concerned. "The password for the Gryffindor Common Room is Wattlebird, I am certain you can make your own way there."

The group of boys all shuffle off, the majority of them in high enough spirits now that their initial shock has worn off. The Longbottom boy's feet falter slightly though, before he turns slightly, letting the two others go on ahead. He bites his lip nervously, as though unsure of something and whilst I wait for a beat, it becomes obvious he isn't sure what to do.

"Is there something you are concerned about, Mister Longbottom?" I ask gently, watching as his gaze skitters nervously up to mine before, focussing on his feet once more. "You seem upset."

"I was wondering, Professor, if… well… if…" He glances wearily back at the other two boys, but they are happily engrossed in the tales of their misadventures and don't look back. The youngster takes a deep breath before continuing. "I was wondering if it would be possible to speak with you… privately for a minute, I mean… if that would be ok, Professor?"

"Of course," I reply, my concern warring with some surprise both at the requests and his mannerisms. I don't recall the boy being this nervous last year, at least not once we had fixed that irritating wand issue that he was struggling with. "You can accompany me down to my office. Nobody will bother us there."

We walk down to my office in silence, but I can't help but glance at the boy and something in his demeanour tells me that he is uncomfortable. Perhaps it is just a spider sense honed through my many years of teaching. It's that more than anything that stops me from merely requisitioning a spare classroom. Somehow, I just have the sense that my office is the most appropriate place for this conversation. After all, the Longbottom boy is not prone to demanding attention, and whilst his confidence has certainly grown in leaps and bounds over the last year, he has kept an unassuming air about him. If it were the Weasley boy, I would be suspicious of some form of practical joke, but I can't see that here.

The portrait on my office door recognises me even as I draw close to it, and the door swings open. Nodding approvingly, I gently usher the boy into the room as I levitate one of the chairs for him.

"So, whatever is troubling you, Mister Longbottom?" I ask, watching with growing concern at the way the boy kneads his hands together. It's an anxious habit that he seemed to have grown out of, and my internal alarms have started to chime.

The child swallows nervously and in the ongoing silence, I am tempted to repeat my question. Indeed, I've opened my mouth when those guileless hazel eyes meet mine and I stop.

"It's… well, it's something Harry told us when we were on the Knight Bus…." he begins hesitantly. "It didn't seem right and it worried me. But I might just be making a dragon out of a niffler. I don't know…"

"Are you still concerned?" I ask, as the boy tails off uncertainly. "If you are, don't you think it better to talk to someone? It doesn't have to be me…"

"No…" he takes a deep breath before continuing. "I'd prefer to speak to you, Professor, if that's ok?"

"That's what I'm here for," I remark gently. "For you and Mister Potter both."

"Harry thought it was a dream he'd had," the boy starts again, clearly nervous as speaks, his fingers knotting against each other almost unconsciously. "That's how he described it at least. A dream that he'd had over the summer holiday. But it didn't really seem like a dream to me… some of the things that Harry thinks he imagined are just… too real… and it doesn't make sense…"

"A dream that is not a dream…" I say slowly, as the boy tails off, looking down at his feet. The silence grows, as indeed does my bewilderment. "So, what do you think it might have been?"

"It sounded more like…" he hesitates, glancing up at me nervously before continuing in a rush. "Well, if I'm honest, it sounded more like someone with no magical upbringing or experience trying to explain away an experience with a magical creature that they have no understanding of…"

And if the boy didn't have my attention before, he certainly does now.

"What kind of creature do you mean exactly, Mister Longbottom?" I ask a little too sharply as I bite back my own anxiety.

Bathilda's wards are second to none. I should know; it didn't take all too much persuasion to get the eldest Weasley to come and check them over for us. If his warding is trusted by Gringott's, there shouldn't be much that can get through it. Nothing should have been able to get into that property without prior and explicit permission from Bathilda and only Bathilda. The only exception was one Severus demanded; if Bathilda were for any reason incapacitated, Potter would be able to call for help and allow entrance of any St. Mungo's staff. Anybody who is not on a previously agreed list however, needs another adult to approve them before entrance; an adult who has already got permission to pass the wards nonetheless.

"I can't be certain, Professor, but it sounded a lot to me like a house elf from what Harry said," Longbottom replies with a slight frown, his nervousness once more apparent. "But if it was a House Elf then it was absolutely determined that Harry should not return to Hogwarts this year… and I don't know why that would be, either…"

"A house elf?" I repeat, struggling to keep disbelief out of my tone. "However did you reach that conclusion, Mister Longbottom?"

"Harry described one perfectly, you see," Neville explains earnestly, and I can't help but believe him, however ridiculous his story may sound. "He's never seen one before, but his description was almost perfect. He said that this apparition was about the size of a three year old, but with a far bigger head and eyes that bulged like tennis balls or something and a really awkward squeaky voice that sound like it belonged to a eunuch… whatever that means. I did ask but I didn't really understand the answer… something about men becoming women or something anyway… it sounded really quite gruesome in honesty…"

"Do continue, Mister Longbottom," I say with a slight smile. I feel no need to as yet enlighten the boy as to what a eunuch might be. It seems typical however that the muggle word has continued with such antiquities long after they were considered barbarous by the wizarding populace. "This house elf?"

"Oh, yes, sorry Professor," the boy looks back down at his feet briefly before continuing. "Only it wasn't just the appearance, although that would have been enough. From what Harry said, it was dressed in an ill-fitting pillow case and kept trying to punish itself for speaking ill of its masters. That isn't something Harry would just imagine or dream, Professor. That's a house elf!"

"And you say that it didn't want Mister Potter to return to Hogwarts this year?" I ask slowly, trying to come to terms with this onslaught of information.

"No. Harry said it was absolutely determined," the youngster's hazel eyes meet mine and I can see absolute faith in words. "It didn't just not want him here, it actively warned him away. Harry said that it was really quite upset and was certain that he would be in danger if he came back here. But it wouldn't say what the danger might be or even whether anyone else would be in danger…"

"That is very, very interesting, Mister Longbottom and I will certainly look into this closely," I say, keeping my tone as reasonable as I can. I would love to be able to say that nothing could possibly befall the boy within the walls of Hogwarts, but I only need to remember some of the slightly hairier moments of last year to have that wishful thinking dispelled.

"I don't suppose you have any idea who the house elf might belong to?" I ask, without any high hopes. After all, if he had known that pertinent detail, it would surely have come up somewhat early and without solicitation.

It therefore doesn't surprise me when he shakes his head.

"No, Professor," he admits, almost shamefully. "Harry said that the creature named itself Dotty or Dopsy or something like that I think… but none of my grandmother's friends or acquaintances have an elf by that name to the best of my memory at least… I can always ask her if you think it would be helpful, though?"

"No, that's quite all right, Mister Longbottom," I remark with a smile. "I can always contact Augusta myself, but for the moment you have given me more than enough information to be getting on with. Thank you for coming to me with this. It might be nothing as you have said, but it might also be a real threat. You have done the correct thing. Five points to Gryffindor. Off you go now."

The boy smiles slightly wanly as he heads out of my office, leaving me with much to think about indeed. There are several pressing issues clamouring for my attention here, all of them equally important. First and perhaps foremost, there has clearly been a serious breach of security here. I am more than aware that the vagaries of house elf magic can prove difficult to counteract; the fact that they alone can apparate in Hogwarts is testimony enough to that, but even so, the wards should have been sufficient and clearly are not. Then of course there is the matter of the barrier and the warning. It seems far beyond co-incidence for the Potter boy to have received such a warning, only to then find himself unable to reach Hogwarts through conventional means. Something smells distinctly off about the whole experience.

The warning itself concerns me as well, not least because of the method in which it was received. For a house elf to act in such a manner, particularly when it is apparent that it is acting in outright defiance of the wishes of its family, is almost beyond belief. Something very strange is going on here, and I intend to discover exactly what it is. Whatever this house elf seems to believe is going to happen at Hogwarts this year scared it and scared it badly enough that it sought out Potter in order to warn him away. Either that or someone is playing with us, and I don't much care for being played. But I suspect my initial conclusion is the closer to the truth. But what could come to Hogwarts that would unnerve a house elf like that?

It is perhaps of small surprise that I find myself taking a wander down in the direction of Severus' quarters in fairly short order. I am reasonably sure that my younger colleague will have finished inducting his youngest Snakes into the House, a task he takes some pride in doing personally each year. After all that occurred last year, I know he can be trusted and sees things from a very different perspective to me sometimes. If anyone is going to have a clue what is going on here, it will be Severus and Longbottom's account deeply concerns me. I have no doubt that he is telling the truth; he has no reason to lie and unlike young Potter, he would recognise a house elf without any issues at all. It wouldn't surprise me if the Weasley boy has no more than a passing recognition of the creatures, for all his magical heritage, but Longbottom House would have its fair share, as indeed would many of their closer friends and allies.

But surely, if it were a house elf belonging to a family close to the family, the boy would have recognised the name? Or, in fairness, would he? After all, to near enough all, house elves are merely a piece of the furniture and you don't name the furniture. In this case, you often don't even see the furniture unless specifically called for, so why would you remember its name? I was exactly the same until that unsettling moment with Severus last year. I can hardly judge the child for it.

"Severus," I greet my younger colleague with no small measure of surprise as he steps out of the door before I even reach it, let alone have time to announce my presence. "How did you…"

"Call it a gift," he drawls softly, an undeniable smirk on that sallow face showing his amusement at having discomforted me so easily. "I assume this is to do with the Potter boy, Minerva. Most things seem to be."

"In part," I agree as he silently waves me through into his quarters, cloak billowing gently as he does so. That reminds me… between one thing and another, I never did check to see if that's a custom made charm. "We may however have larger problems at hand. I have just had a rather enlightening discussion with one of my younger students, that leads me to believe that it may have been house elf magic that was responsible for blocking the Kings Cross barrier. However…"

"Is that even possible?" Severus drawls softly, his face a strange mix of disbelief and fascination. "How could any… and on what evidence are you making this assumption, Minerva? This isn't something that you would have come to randomly."

"One boy's testimony of another boy's 'nightmare'," I remark wryly, fully expecting the look of rampant disbelief and sculpted contempt I now find on my younger colleague's face. "I am more than aware of how that sounds, Severus, believe me. But the pieces do add up. More worryingly, it all adds up to a picture that I don't quite understand."

"From the beginning, Minerva," Severus drawls. "I suspect that might help us all…"

"Yes, well…" I mutter as I take a seat opposite Severus. "It's always helpful if you know where the beginning is…"

"Pick a point, any point," Severus remarks, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "It can't be that difficult, Minerva. You only spent a few moments with the boy, after all. At the rate we're going, it will be full night fall before you even get started."

"A house elf of indeterminate origin seems to have successfully managed to bypass all of the security precautions that have been laid on Bathilda's house," I finally say, biting back a sigh as I do so. "By the account that I have heard, it appeared late at night and was strangely determined to stop the young Master Potter from coming back to Hogwarts. It seemed positive that there was to be a danger at Hogwarts; a danger so significant that Potter should not return at all for fear of it."

"What kind of danger?" Severus drawls, the only sign that he is paying close attention being the way those dark, hooded eyes never leave my own. He nods to himself at the shake of my head. "Have you spoken to the Potter boy himself yet?"

"No," I reply shortly. "From what I have been told, it would appear that young Harry has dismissed the entire experience as a strange and particularly vivid dream. I don't want to worry him further until we have a better idea of what we are dealing with."

"Hmm… I suppose that is an understandable concern," the younger man concedes, glancing briefly down at his long fingers before meeting my gaze once more. "The boy has more than enough experience of hardship and fear. You don't intend to make him fearful of his safety in his new abode. Bathilda will have to be informed, you do realise?"

"Of course," I respond smartly. "I intend to check Kings Cross first however. Would you be interested in taking an extra-curricular field trip with me?"

"I can see no reason why not," Severus responds slowly and dryly. "It is not as if I have a mountain of preparation to do for the Hospital Wing after all, but I must admit that this business intrigues me. Do you have any insight into what we are looking for?"

"Any suggestion that the barrier was actually magically tampered with, I suppose…" I reply, a slightly hesitant note to my voice that I attempt to muffle instinctively. The gleam in those dark eyes is all I need to see to know I am unsuccessful. "I can't imagine any but some powerful magic managing to disrupt that barrier in such a way. It must have left some form of residue."

"Talk as we walk then," Severus announces, standing sharply at his own words. He looks at me and sighs audibly at whatever expression he sees on my face. "It would perhaps be the most circumspect option, if we were to leave with as little fanfare as possible?" The exasperation is clear in his tone. "The fewer those who see us leave, the fewer who may ask potentially awkward questions. We can apparate unseen once we reach the edge of the grounds." He stands and walks towards the door. "Do you have any idea of this stray house elves name, by any chance?"

That last question is fired over his shoulder and I have little choice but to follow him out of the door in order to respond. Not that it is any hardship, mind. Severus has an excellent point. After all the surprises of last year, it would be foolish to trust anything to chance and luck. His plan shows great merit. I would have had us floo into Hogsmeade and then go from there, however that would undoubtedly have drawn unnecessary attention to our mission. After all, many an old student would find it worth mentioning that they'd seen the Snake and the Lion together alone. Schoolyard gossip is a most tedious thing.

"Longbottom wasn't sure," I say quietly, as we step into the main entrance hall from the dungeons. "Either he couldn't remember or Potter wasn't very clear. He seemed to think that it was something along the lines of Dotty or Dobsy or something…"

Severus stops so abruptly that I find myself careening into the back of him, nearly falling backwards in the process.

"Severus, what in the name of…"

"Hold." Severus all but commands and somehow my voice trails away without my permission. To cover my unease, I brush ineffectually at my emerald green robes. "Could it have been called 'Dobby' by any chance?"

"Why, I suppose so…" I glare at him, but as per usual the man fails to respond to the icy stare that brings most others to their knees. "What does this have to do with you all but knocking me over, Severus?"

"I believe you walked into me, Minerva," Severus has started moving again, his steps clicking purposefully on the stony gravel in direct contrast to the sudden indifferent neutrality in his tone. "Get ready to apparate. I will meet you inside the platform."

With that, infuriatingly, the man is gone, leaving me gaping in a highly unbecoming manner at the space in which he has vanished from. Severus is known for being curt, but that was rather more extreme than I would have expected from him. Gathering my cloak around me, I take a deep breath and suppress sincere irritation as I fix the destination in my mind. I'd never live it down if I splinched myself now. With a whirl of darkness and the sudden pressure of the magic, I land neatly just inside the boundary of Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Severus is already there and waving his wand impatiently at the apparent brick barrier before him.

"You were right." His tone is cold, clinical. He doesn't look up from the motions he is drawing in front of the barrier. "Strong magic was used here and not long ago at that. It's a strange magic, unlike that of any witch or wizard I have encountered."

"But that means…"

"Yes," Severus's response is short. "The Longbottom boy was right to bring this to you. The magical signature I am reading here is not human. It's not even remotely human. It's a good job we came now. If we'd have waited until tomorrow, I would wager that there would have been little enough signature left to trace even that much."

"The house elf. Severus?" I remind him tartly. "You seem to know something. Care to elaborate."

"I don't know what is going on, Minerva," Severus replies dryly. "But I intend to find out. Malfoy Manor has two house elves. One of them is called Dobby."

"So Malfoy sent the house elf?" I ask in utter outrage, my blood beginning to boil as I imagine all the things I would do to that man.

"No," Severus is sharp, blunt and his tone leaves absolutely no room for argument. "There would be no gain in Lucius doing such a thing. Plus that elf is… strange. Lucius wouldn't trust it with any task more delicate than cleaning the dishes, and even then not the items of any value. Merlin knows, Narcissa wouldn't trust it with the baby clothes, let alone Draco himself. No…"

"Young Mister Malfoy then?" I ask, wondering what mischief that young terror could be trying to wreck. Maybe just the aim of keeping the Potter boy from Hogwarts this year, after all it's no great secret that he is angling for the Slytherin Seeker role and Potter would be his only real opponent on the pitch. Or just for the purposes of spreading confusion and chaos…

"The boy disdains that creature even more than his father does…" Severus muses aloud. "No. If I am correct, there is something very strange going on here indeed. I suspect the key question is thus; is the elf working for the good of the Malfoy family or does it know something…"

"What do you mean?" I ask sharply.

"We have been looking at this as a ploy against Potter somehow," Severus meets my gaze unflinchingly, his tone utterly even. "We have not considered that this elf might actually believe it is protecting Potter."

"But what reason would it have?" Disbelief wars with confusion in my tone.

"Now that, I do not know," Severus voice is dangerously quiet. "Yet."

There's a swish and a crack and he's gone. Again.