I own nothing but the plot, and not even all of that.

In a palatial mansion in Wiltshire, England, a lavish dinner was being prepared. The small creatures with large, expressive eyes and very long ears that were scurrying about in the enormous kitchen were house elves. Some of them were carrying platters heaping with appetizers. One was setting wine flutes on trays and filling them with the finest champagne. Several of them were working speedily at the stoves, roasting ducks, turkeys, potatoes, and even a whole pig.

A feast was in the making, and they had been directed by Master to ensure that everything was perfect, under pain of punishment. The elves took pride in their work, and would have ensured they did their best without threats, but their master was a cruel man with more time and money at his disposal than he could spend.

Every elf of this house wore only a tea towel. The slightest mishap would be punished most severely. Each of them bore the marks of their masters displeasure. Some of them had bandages around their fingers from being forced to iron their hands. Many were bruised from being ordered to beat themselves on the head with any manner of blunt objects. They did not complain about it. Work was to be done, and it was Master's right to punish them if they didn't do it well enough. All understood this.

All but one. Dobby was different from the others. He had been singled out time and time again. The Master's young son took great pleasure in watching Dobby punish himself. From morning until night, Dobby was constantly being called by Young Master to be punished for whatever imagined error Young Master could dream up. Young Master never called for any other elf but Dobby.

After many years of this, Dobby began to have the most un-house elfish thoughts a house elf could think. Thoughts of freedom. Thoughts of escape. Dobby was, at first, properly ashamed of these forbidden desires, and buried them deep in his mind. As time went by, however, he began to think more and more of being free from Master and Young Master.

Mistress wasn't so bad, according to the tortured mind of Dobby. She mostly just ignored the house elves, and if she noticed Dobby at all it was to register disgust. She never ordered him to poke himself in the eyes with a quill, or even to just close his fingers in a door.

Finally, Young Master went to school! It was like a vacation for Dobby. There were just as many chores to do as there were when Young Master was about, but Dobby could at least get the upper windows cleaned without Young Master ordering him to dirty them again so he'd have to clean them all over.

Young Master was home from school now, though and was taking extra care to remind Dobby to do extra punishments to make up for the lack of punishments while Young Master was at school. This fueled Dobby's desire for escape. It seemed to Dobby that Young Master just might be trying to see how much an elf could take before Dobby broke.

Dobby had this thought while he was pouring the wine into the champagne flutes. This was the most awfully disloyal thought he had ever had, and he shuddered so badly in disgust at himself that he spilled a drop of the champagne he was pouring onto the tray instead of into the flute. One, single drop. The big wet spot stood out on the white cloth tray cover. Dobby cleaned and dried the spot with the wave of his finger.

Snippy, the head kitchen elf, saw it. Snippy was a proper house elf that was almost never getting punished. He ruled the kitchen, and was in charge of and responsible for all food that was prepared in the manor. A single drop of spilt wine was as much as an ocean for Snippy.

"Dobby!" Snippy said. "You is not to be spilling! If you is spilling, then you be needing more practice! Master is needing his pre-party libations. Prepare for Master his brandy in his office at once, and don't you dare spill a drop!"

Dobby's ears drooped. No one wanted that job. Most times nothing bad happened. The drink was delivered, the elf slipped out of the office, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. On other days, though, Master was in a bad mood. He came up with much better punishments than Young Master.

"Yes, Snippy," Dobby squeaked. "Dobby won't be spilling even one drop!"

He took the brandy and poured a measure into a snifter, making sure his hands were steady. He made sure it was stable on his tray and popped to just outside Master's study. He did not pop into the study. No elf did. Tales were still told about what had happened to the one elf that had. Not all the pieces of that elf had been found.

Dobby softly knocked on the office door.

"Enter," a silky voice answered.

Dobby opened the door and gingerly approached the desk, where the Master was sitting, writing a letter.

"Master's Pre-Party brandy is here, Great Master," Dobby said with a bow.

"Thank you, Dobby," acknowledged Master. "Place it on the blotter, please."

"Yes, Master," Dobby said.

Dobby placed the drink on the desk blotter. As he did so, he noticed a small, dark book. His fingers brushed against it as he placed the snifter of brandy down. Shivers ran up and down Dobby's spine, and his fingers felt contaminated where they had barely touched the book.

Master paused in his writing, sensing something was amiss.

"That will be all, Dobby," he said, dismissing the elf.

"Yes, Master" said Dobby with another bow.

He backed out of the room, still bowing, but unable to keep his eyes off of the book. Dobby had the strangest sense that the book was watching him.

He had almost made it out of the office when Master stopped him again.

"Wait, Dobby," he commanded.

Dobby froze. He turned back with some trepidation.

"Y. Y. Yes, Master?" he stammered.

"I need you to make a delivery for me, Dobby," Master said.

He waved his wand over the small, black book, wrapping it as a gift and handing it to Dobby. The elf felt the evil of it wash over him as soon as it passed into his hands. It felt like the book was searching his every memory. It felt alive. It felt… amused.

Master gave Dobby strict instructions on whom to leave the book with, and to avoid being seen.

"Yes, Master," Dobby acknowledged.

He popped to the targets house, and used some house elf magic to determine which rooms were occupied and which were not.

He popped into the room he was told to by Master. Under the pillow on the only bed in the room, Dobby left the small, gift-wrapped book. He popped back to just outside of Master's office. He knocked and was granted admission again. He reported his success to Master and was dismissed. Dobby popped to a loo and washed his hands for several minutes. He couldn't see that they were any cleaner, but he felt totally contaminated until he did.

Returning to the kitchen, Dobby saw that he had left the office door slightly ajar. He stood by it, debating with himself what to do. One of the cardinal rules of the house was that Master's office door remained shut at all times.

If he shut the door now, Master would hear, and Dobby would be subjected to the most horrible of punishments.

If he left the door alone, Master would know Dobby hadn't shut it as Dobby was supposed to. Hadn't Dobby shut the door, though? He was sure that he had. He decided to look at the door closer and see if the catch was broken.

Dobby tiptoed up to the door and was examining the catch when he overheard Master. Master was flue-calling someone, and Dobby could hear Master's side of the conversation.

"Yes, I've gotten rid of it."

"No, I didn't sell it."

"Yes, I am sure."

"No."

"Because, if that Muggle loving fool Arthur Weasley and his raids were to find it… well, I highly doubt they would be sympathetic in light of my earlier claims."

"Oh, don't worry about that. I now know a little of what that book can do. I've been examining it for years, and all that time I never knew I had the power to bring our lord back whenever I wished. With it now deployed, the recipient will begin the process. The Chamber of Secrets will be opened again. It won't just be one mudblood girl who dies this time. With this, I can bring down Dumbledore. Who better, to take his place than I? With me in charge, I can make sure they all get exactly what they deserve. And as for Potter, well, he'll wish he never came back!"

Dobby threw his hands to his mouth to keep a gasp of horror from slipping out. Master was plotting something most foul! Dobby was eavesdropping! The two horrors collided in Dobby's mind and he popped straight into the cubbyhole in the attic he called home.

Even the lowly house elves had heard of the Great Harry Potter! When the young boy had defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the lives of all House elves were suddenly elevated.

Of course, for those like Dobby, there wasn't much change, but Dobby had family serving other old houses, and Dobby could see how their lives were much better. Dobby came to a conclusion he would never have been able to if not for the constant abuse that had finally gotten him to question the way things were.

Dobby must help to save the children at Hogwarts! Dobby must save Harry Potter!

But first, Dobby must pass out wine to Master's guests.

Harry Potter stood in the center of the Council room. He was standing beside Master Toma and Master Amani as they gave their report to the Council on the events on Nar Shaddaa.

"We find it highly unlikely," said one member of the Council, "that there was any method by which you could have both extracted Master Amani and avoided combat. Even with that remarkable cloak of yours, there was a good chance you were going to be confronted."

Harry nodded, but looked down at the floor and took some deep breaths for a few seconds before he could meet the Council members in the eye again.

"Done well, you have," Grand Master Yoda said. "With the former opponents joined now in business and blood, many lives that would have once been lost can now be saved. Placed in this situation, you were. At fault, you were not."

"I understand, Master," Harry said.

"In time," responded Yoda, "you will."

"Are you prepared to return to Earth?" asked Cahaya Bersinar. The female Jedi Master was a Mirialan, and was a frequent visitor to Master Toma and Harry. She had always provided a supportive role for Harry. Until he had visited the Grangers for Christmas, he would not have been able to say what Master Cahaya was to him. Seeing how Mrs. Granger acted towards him had granted him some understanding. He could now say she was quite motherly towards him, and he appreciated her more for it.

"Yes, Master," answered Harry. "My summer assignments are all completed, and our flight plans have been filed. We leave in one week."

A Twi'lek Master named Gendut Merengus spoke next. He was constantly at odds with Master Toma, and was as close to an enemy within the Jedi as Harry had. Master Merengus was the main opposition to Harry becoming a Jedi. In a contradictory twist, he was also the main voice arguing against Harry returning to Earth nearly ten years later.

"There has been much discussion on the meaning of this prophecy you have told us," he said. "Some of us are very concerned. A child of prophecy, wielding a red lightsaber? There has been some... talk amongst your peers."

"Ahhh..." interjected Yoda. "Constructive, talking is. Unhelpful, though, is talking without substance. Without truth. Without understanding." The Jedi Grand Master fixed Master Merengus with a stern look before he continued.

"A tool a lightsaber is," Yoda said. "Through the Force, tuned between tool and wielder it is. Insignificant, is the color."

"The Sith are well known for wielding red lightsabers," the Twilek insisted.

"Presented this lightsaber to the Padawan, I did," said Yoda, his tone clearly indicating that he was closing this argument down. "Examined it, I have. A fusion of two natural crystals lies at its heart. A Sith wields a blade of unnatural origin."

"Still," Master Merengus said, "the perception of the red blade of his lightsaber may cause division and controversy." He took on a tone of compromise, trying to get Yoda to back down. "Perhaps," Merengus suggested, "it's color can be adjusted to prevent some of the more... enthusiastic members of our order from taking it up as a cause."

"Ahhh," said Yoda, with a chuckle. "On Harry Potter's world, I have stayed. In public, though, I can not go undisguised. Green, am I, and small. To them, out of place would I be."

"They are that primitive?" Master Merengus asked contemptuously.

"Young, they are," corrected Yoda, "not yet have they joined their voices with the choir of the galaxy. While on Earth, easy being green, it is not," said Yoda. "Alter who I am, should I, to ease their minds? Hmmm?"

"Of course not, Master Yoda", said Merengus, realizing that he was going to win no concessions here. "My apologies."

In a suburb of London called Hampstead, Hermione Granger was placing all of her books in boxes. Six large cardboard boxes were stacked two high by the door to her room. She was placing the last books from her bookshelves in the seventh when Daniel Granger popped his head in.

"Just about finished, Pumpkin?" her father asked. He had work gloves and a back brace on, and had just finished putting all the boxes from the guest room into the moving van. The Grangers had decided that the bad guys knowing where they lived was not a situation that they could live with any longer. It had taken a while for them to get all the paperwork in order and to arrange a buyer for the house, but the deal had finally gone through. They were moving to a larger home in a nicer neighborhood, with easier access to the Grangers dental practice.

"Just about, Dad," Hermione answered. "Though I can't wait until I'm seventeen. This would have been a lot easier if I could use magic."

"No kidding," her father said. He bent over to test the weight of one of the boxes.

"Ooof!" he exclaimed. "I'm not sure if this is going to work, sweetie," he said. "You've got so many books in here that I don't know how we're going to get them to the van."

"I got them to the door," Hermione answered, "they're not that heavy."

"I think," her father said, "that you underestimate just how many books you have in here."

"I know exactly..." Hermione's answer was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell.

"Mr. Dumbledore," greeted Emma Granger. She had been packing the kitchen, and welcomed the break. "Please come in."

"Thank you, Mrs. Granger," Albus Dumbledore replied, and entered the house. He was wearing a light grey suit that was embellished with muted silver patterns of thread decorating the lapels. Even while dressed as a Muggle he had a preference for unusual clothing.

"How can we help you?" Emma asked.

"With your permission," Dumbledore answered, "I would like to speak with your daughter regarding her friend, Harry Potter."

"Of course," Emma responded. She called for Hermione to come down. "I hope everything is alright?" she asked as Hermione ran lightly down the steps, followed by her father.

"I have no reason to suspect otherwise," Dumbledore answered. "I do apologize, though, I seem to have interrupted your packing. I see that you have decided to move."

"Yes," answered Daniel. "After the events of last Christmas, we don't think it's wise that we remain in a house the Death Eaters know about."

"A most intelligent decision," agreed Dumbledore. "I trust you are remaining in Britain, though?"

"Yes," answered Emma. "We're moving just a few miles away, in fact."

"Splendid," Dumbledore said. He turned to Hermione. "Miss Granger, I do apologize for interrupting your summer vacation, but I have a problem you may be able to help me with."

"Of course, Headmaster," Hermione answered, puzzled.

"When term ended, I asked Mr. Potter to leave a method of contacting him should the need arise. He gave me the most remarkable device, which he called a Holocube."

"Yes," said Hermione, "he left me one as well."

"I was hoping that he had," Dumbledore said. "You see, while I have not had cause to use it since he left, I do keep it in my office in case the need arises. I am afraid, however, that it has gone missing."

"How could it have gone missing, Headmaster?" Hermione asked. "I thought no one could enter your office but you?"

"Very astute, Miss Granger," Dumbledore praised. " In fact, there is a short list of people with access to my office outside of myself, but I trust each of them implicitly. The only unknowns would be the cleaning staff. However, for a house elf to disturb or remove an item from their Master's home, in this case Hogwarts, would be so far out of character as to be unbelievable."

"House elf?" Hermione asked.

"Ahh. Most fascinating beings. Allow me to introduce you to one. Pokey?" Dumbledore called. With a pop, a small female creature with very large eyes and ears appeared in the Granger home. She was wearing what appeared to be a pillowcase with the Hogwarts logo embroidered on it.

"Yes, Headmaster Dumbledore?" Pokey inquired.

"These are the Grangers, Pokey," Dumbledore introduced. The house elf bowed so low her nose brushed the carpet.

"It is being the greatest honor meeting you, Grangers," the elf squeaked. Emma Granger, shocked at the sudden appearance of a house elf in her living room, recovered quickly and invited Dumbledore and Pokey to tea.

"We would be delighted," accepted Dumbledore. "First, however, I wonder if you would be so kind as to retrieve your Holocube, Miss Granger. I would very much like to send Mr. Potter a message and ensure that he is quite alright."

"Of course, one moment," Hermione answered, and rushed up the stairs to get it. It should have taken only a moment, but nearly ten minutes passed, punctuated by shuffling, stomping, and muffled grumbling from upstairs, before she finally returned.

"I don't understand," she said, walking down the stairs. Her anguished voice betrayed her suspicion that something was dreadfully wrong. "It was on my nightstand this morning, but now I can't find it!"

"Did you pack it already?" her mother asked.

"No," answered Hermione. "I wasn't going to pack it, I was going to carry it with me. Harry had left me a message on it, and I was saving it to play after I'd finished packing. I just went through all the boxes I've packed so far to be sure I didn't accidentally pack it, but it wasn't in them." A tear fell from her eye and she wiped it away.

"If I may," Dumbledore said, pulling his wand out. "Accio Holocube!" For a long moment they all waited. Dumbledore frowned.

"What did that do?" asked Dan Granger.

"It was the Summoning Spell," answered a sniffling Hermione.

"Indeed," agreed Dumbledore. "Unfortunately, it does not appear to have worked. If the Holocube were anywhere in this house, it should have come. Have you taken any parcels to your new home yet?" the headmaster asked.

"No," answered Dan. "We've just started to pack, we haven't taken anything there yet."

"I believe," stated Dumbledore in a more serious tone of voice, "that under the circumstances it would be wise to expedite your departure. I hope you don't mind."

Dumbledore raised his wand again and swiftly slashed it through the air. Everything in the house, from houseplants to dishes, flew from where it was stored and neatly fit themselves into the waiting boxes. The boxes then closed themselves, shrunk to the size of a shoebox, and rose into the air to file their way out of the house and stack themselves in the moving van. In less than a minute the house was as bare as the day it was built.

"I took the liberty," Dumbledore said, "of shrinking down the boxes. When you are unpacking, just open the box and it will return to its normal size. Please be sure not to do so in front of neighbors or friends who do not already know about magic."

"Thank you!" exclaimed the Grangers.

"You are quite welcome," said Dumbledore. "I thought it prudent as you now need take only one trip. I also think it would be beneficial if I were to ward your new home, and even your place of employment."

"Ward?" asked Dan.

"A ward is something very much like a shield, or barrier. An anti- fire ward would prevent a home from being set on fire, for example. An anti-apparition ward would prevent someone from apparating or disapparating into or in the vicinity of your home. Those are several of the wards I plan to place on your new home." He thought for a few moments. "In fact, I believe it would be a good idea to ward this home as well. You may not be living here any longer, but someone will. I would hate anyone to be harmed if the Death Eaters do come to call."

Dumbledore took out his wand and began to move it in complicated patterns. The tip glowed white and traces of the wand's movement could be seen as a ghostly afterimage resembling writing in the air, but no words could be made out.

"How bad is it?" asked Emma.

"I do not know," answered Dumbledore, continuing to lay ward after ward down. "It is possible, of course, that this is just a case of misplaced items. There could be a perfectly benign answer to this riddle."

"You don't think so, though," stated Dan.

"No, I do not," answered Dumbledore, finishing his spellcraft and returning his wand to his robes. "Both Holocubes going missing simultaneously, effectively cutting off all communication to and from Harry Potter? That is highly unlikely. Even less so when you factor in how much the Holocube obviously means to your daughter, and therefore how much care she would take of it." He shook his head. "No, I believe that there is something amiss, and I also believe it is better to be safe than sorry. Also, as you are aware, your home is known to the enemy. It is certainly possible that they may find your new house as well. The wards will give you protection. They will not stop a determined attack, but they should at least provide you with a window for escape, should the worst occur."

"I thought that wards were done with runes, Headmaster," Hermione commented.

"Five points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, quite pleased. "In fact, they generally are, and in this case soon will be. What you saw me do just now was temporary, intended to last only until I return with some wardstones."

"You can give points when school is not in session?" asked Dan, amused.

"Well, I am the Headmaster, am I not?" responded Dumbledore. "The point count is closely scrutinized by certain parties at Hogwarts, both student and staff. While your daughter most certainly earned those points just now by submitting an accurate observation of a subject she has no formal instruction in, I will admit that it also amuses me to introduce a bit of chaos to stir things up. Imagine how puzzled they will be when they see Gryffindor has five points before any students even arrive." Dumbledore smiled for a moment. "Now, I have a housewarming present for each of you."

Dumbledore provided all three Grangers with necklaces he had turned into emergency Portkeys. All they would have to do would be for one of them to say the phrase 'milk tart' three times in a row and all three Portkeys would activate wherever they were and take them directly to Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts.

"I caution you that creating and owning privately made Portkeys is not, strictly speaking, legal," Dumbledore cautioned the family. "It's a grey area at best, to be honest, so I would appreciate your discretion. More importantly, though, do not let doubt cause you to hesitate to use them. If any of you think you are in danger, use the Portkey. We can deal with the ramifications if it comes to pass. We cannot bring you back from the dead should you fail to escape."

Harry Potter was standing on the balcony of the quarters he shared with Toma Kendet. He was staring at the Holocube he was holding in his hand. It had been over a week since he had sent Hermione a message, and she hadn't answered. He confirmed that it had gone through, but it had not been read. He heard Toma come up from behind him.

"Is something troubling you, Harry?" Toma asked.

"Hermione isn't answering the latest messages I left on her Holocube," Harry answered. "The cube has received the messages. I've confirmed that by delivery receipt code, but they're not being read."

"You mentioned they were moving to a new home," Toma theorized. "The Holocube may have been packed and she hasn't been able to unpack it yet."

"It's not likely," Harry decided. "We've been exchanging messages every couple of days, and it's not like her to miss one."

"What are the possible answers to this puzzle?" Toma questioned.

"She lost it. It was stolen. She's injured, or otherwise incapacitated. She's getting the messages but is angry at me for some reason and is refusing to read it," Harry answered immediately.

"Let us go through each of the possibilities and see if we can make sense of this riddle," Toma suggested.

"I know she's not mad at me," Harry said.

"How can you be sure?" inquired Toma.

"When Hermione gets mad, she doesn't stay quiet about it," Harry answered. "My Holo would be filled with what she had to say." He continued to ponder.

"I doubt that she's lost it," Harry said, "Hermione is the most organized person I know. I also doubt she's been injured."

"How did you determine that?" asked Toma, testing him.

"Her parents would use the cube to contact me if she were, I would hope," he answered. "They know we've been exchanging messages, and I know she's taught them how to use it. I received a message from her Mum and Dad on my birthday. That only leaves one logical option."

"It must have been stolen," Toma agreed.

"Perhaps we should go back early," suggested Harry.

"The only scheduled transport heading to that part of the galaxy in the next few weeks is the one we are already booked on," Toma answered. "I'm afraid it will take something much more concrete than a missing Holocube to the convince the Council it should expend the resources to get you there a day earlier."

"I hope she's alright," Harry said. "I have a bad feeling about this. I wish there was some way I could see that she is safe."

"Close your eyes," Toma instructed.

Harry did so.

"Find your center."

Harry floated in a sea of darkness.

"Let the Force flow through you."

A beautiful blue green planet appeared in the void.

"There is no emotion, there is peace," Toma said.

Harry descended into the atmosphere.

"There is no ignorance, there is knowledge."

Harry flew over farmlands and pastures, approaching a large city.

"There is no passion, there is serenity."

Flying through the streets on the edges of the city, Harry approached a group of houses. One of them was very familiar.

"There is no chaos, there is harmony."

Slowing to a stop in front of the Granger house, Harry saw Hermione. She was standing in the front yard, looking up at the sky. Her dress billowed around her legs in the breeze. Harry knew she was looking for him. Her mother was getting into a large, box shaped truck that was parked in the driveway. Her father was calling to Hermione to join them. The scene was so real that Harry could smell the freshly mown lawn. He reached out with his feelings and touched her cheek. Hermione put her hand to the side of her face and he felt the warmth of her hand as it touched his.

"Harry," Hermione said in recognition. She smiled, and he knew that she was alright.

"There is no death, there is the Force."

A/N - It is amazing how many typo's can be found in about 5000 words. I think it is a law of fanfiction that no matter how many times you proofread something, you will always find another type as soon as you upload it.

Also, thanks to HowInMadHowie for letting me know of a small plot hole I didn't catch! Fixed it.