Hi! I'm so sorry for not updating sooner, but I had some personal matters to attend to. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I promise to update soon.
Chapter 2
I managed not to shout out, 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. I saw something flicker in Harry's eyes that looked like…recognition?
The creature stared at Harry, who stared right back.
Just then, I 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. I 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 I was sure would carry down the stairs. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir… Such an honour it is…"
"Th-thank you," said Harry, edging along the wall and sinking into the desk chair, next to Hedwig, who was asleep in her large cage.
The creature then came up to me and repeated the gesture. I tried not to wince as he stared at me like everyone else, but with a hint of…something different.
I wanted to ask, "What are you?" but decided it would be a bit impolite.
So instead, Harry said, "Who are you?"
"Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf," said the creature.
Harry and I glanced at each other. I pursed my lips, then gestured for him to take the lead on this one.
"Oh – really?" said Harry. "Er – I don't want to be rude or anything, but – this isn't a great time for us to have a house-elf in our bedroom."
Petunias 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, sir," said Dobby earnestly. "Dobby has come to tell you, sir and miss… it is difficult, sir… Dobby wonders where to begin…"
"Sit down," said Harry politely, pointing at his bed.
To my horror, the elf burst into tears – very noisy tears.
"S-sit down!" he wailed. "Never … never ever…"
I swore I heard the voices downstairs falter.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered, "I didn't mean to offend you or anything–"
"Offend Dobby!" choked the elf. "Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a wizard – like an equal–"
Harry, trying to say "Shh!" and look comforting at the same time, ushered Dobby back onto his bed where Dobby sat hiccoughing, looking like a large and very ugly doll. I was glancing at the door every few seconds; sure his wails would have been heard. At last, Dobby managed to control himself and sat with his great eyes fixed on Harry in an expression of watery adoration.
"You can't have met many decent wizards," said Harry, trying to cheer him up.
Dobby shook his head. Then, without warning, he leapt 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 an incredibly loud screech and was beating her wings wildly against the bars of her cage. I tried to shush her, petting her gently through the cage.
"Dobby had to punish himself, sir," said the elf, who had gone slightly cross-eyed. "Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir…"
"Your family?"
"The wizard family Dobby serves, sir… Dobby is a house-elf – bound to serve one house and one family forever…"
"Do they know you're here?" asked Harry curiously.
Dobby shuddered.
"Oh, no, sir, no… Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, sir–"
"But won't they notice if you shut your ears in the oven door?"
"Dobby doubts it, sir. Dobby is always having to punish himself for something, sir. They lets Dobby get on with it, sir. Sometimes they reminds me to do extra punishments…"
"But why don't you leave? Escape?"
"A house-elf must be set free, sir. And the family will never set Dobby free… Dobby will serve the family until he dies, sir…"
Harry stared, then glanced at me.
"And I thought we had it bad staying here for another four weeks," he said. "This makes the Dursleys sound almost human. Can't anyone help you? Can't we?"
Almost at once, I wished Harry hadn't spoken. Dobby dissolved again into wails of gratitude.
"Please," Harry whispered frantically, "please be quiet. If the Dursleys hear anything, if they know you're here–"
"Harry Potter asks if he can help Dobby… Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew…"
Harry, who was looking distinctly red 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 Isobel, and Hermione, she–"
But he stopped quickly, and I had a suspicion it was 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 his triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named–"
"Voldemort?" said Harry, and I tried not to wince at his senselessness.
Dobby clapped his hands over his bat ears and moaned, "Ah, speak not the name, sir! Speak not the name!"
"Sorry," said Harry quickly. "I know lots of people don't like it. My friend Ron–"
He stopped again. Thinking about Ron was painful, too.
Dobby leaned toward Harry, his eyes 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, sir," he gasped, dabbing his face with a corner of the grubby pillowcase he was wearing. "Harry Potter is valiant and bold! He has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, and Isobel Potter, to warn them, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven door later… Harry Potter and Isobel Potter must not go back to Hogwarts."
There was a silence broken only by the chink of knives and forks from downstairs and the distant rumble of Vernon's voice.
"W-what?" I stammered. "But we've got to go back – term starts on September first. It's all that's keeping us going. You don't know what it's like here. We don't belong here. We belong in your world – at Hogwarts."
"No, no, no," squeaked Dobby, shaking his head so hard his ears flapped. "You must stay where you is safe. You is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry and Isobel Potter go back to Hogwarts, they will be in mortal danger."
"Why?" said Harry in surprise.
"There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," whispered Dobby, suddenly trembling all over. "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"
"What terrible things?" I asked at once. "Who's plotting them?"
Dobby made a funny choking noise and then banged his head frantically against the wall. I winced.
"All right!" cried Harry, grabbing the elf's arm to stop him. "You can't tell us. I understand. But why are you warning us?" A sudden, look crossed his face like he had thought of something unpleasant. "Hang on – this hasn't got anything to do with Vol- – sorry – with You-Know-Who, has it? You could just shake or nod," he 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, sir–"
But Dobby's eyes were wide, and he seemed to be trying to give Harry a hint. Harry, however, looked utterly lost.
"He hasn't got a brother, has he?"
I resisted the urge to smack him over the head as 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, sir. Dobby has heard Dumbledore's powers rival those of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the height of his strength. But, sir" – Dobby's voice dropped to an urgent whisper – "there are powers Dumbledore doesn't… powers no decent wizard…"
And before Harry could stop him, Dobby bounded off the bed, seized the desk lamp, and started beating himself around the head with earsplitting yelps.
A sudden silence fell downstairs. Two seconds later, I heard Vernon coming into the hall, calling, "Dudley must have left his television on again, the little tyke!"
"Quick! In the closet!" hissed Harry, stuffing Dobby in, shutting the door, and flinging himself onto his bed just as the door handle turned while I kept the closet closed.
"What – the – devil – are – you – doing?" said Vernon through gritted teeth, his face horribly close to Harry's. "You've just ruined the punch line of my Japanese golfer joke… One more sound and you'll wish you'd never been born!"
He stomped flat-footed from the room.
Shaking, I let Dobby out of the closet.
"See what it's like here?" I said. "See why we've got to go back to Hogwarts? It's the only place we've got – well, I think we've got friends."
"Friends who don't even write?" said Dobby slyly.
"I expect they've just been – wait a minute," I said, frowning. "How do you know our friends haven't been writing to us?"
Dobby shuffled his feet.
"Isobel Potter mustn't be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best–"
"Have you been stopping our letters? "
"Dobby has them here, miss," said the elf. Stepping nimbly out of Harry and I's reach, he pulled a thick wad of envelopes from the inside of the pillowcase he was wearing. I could make out Hermione's neat writing, Ron's untidy scrawl, and even a scribble that looked as though it was from Hagrid.
Dobby blinked anxiously up at Harry and me.
"You mustn't be angry… Dobby hoped… if Harry and Isobel Potter thought their friends had forgotten them… Harry and Isobel Potter might not want to go back to school…"
I could tell Harry wasn't listening. He made a grab for the letters, but Dobby jumped out of reach.
"Harry Potter will have them, sir, if he gives Dobby his word that he will not return to Hogwarts. Ah, sir, this is a danger you must not face! Say you won't go back, sir!"
"No," said Harry angrily. "Give me my friends' letters!"
"Then Harry Potter leaves Dobby no choice," said the elf sadly.
Before Harry or I could move, Dobby had darted to the bedroom door, pulled it open, and sprinted down the stairs.
My mouth dry and my stomach lurching, we sprang after him, trying not to make a sound. We jumped the last six steps, landing catlike on the hall carpet, looking around for Dobby. From the dining room, I heard Vernon saying, "… tell Petunia that very funny story about those American plumbers, Mr Mason. She's been dying to hear…"
Harry ran up the hall into the kitchen, and I felt my stomach disappear as I followed him.
Petunia's masterpiece of a pudding, the mountain of cream and sugared violets, was floating up near the ceiling. On top of a cupboard in the corner crouched Dobby.
"No," croaked Harry. "Please… they'll kill us…"
"You must say you're not going back to school–"
"Dobby… please…"
"Say it, sir–"
"I can't–"
Dobby gave us a tragic look.
"Then Dobby must do it, sir, for Harry and Isobel Potter's own good."
The pudding fell to the floor with a heart-stopping crash. Cream splattered the windows and walls as the dish shattered. With a crack like a whip, Dobby vanished.
There were screams from the dining room, and Vernon burst into the kitchen to find Harry and me, rigid with shock, covered from head to foot in Petunia's pudding.
At first, it looked as though Vernon would manage to gloss the whole thing over. ("Just our niece and nephew - very disturbed – meeting strangers upsets them, so we kept them upstairs…") He shooed the shocked Masons back into the dining room, promised us he would flay us to within an inch of our lives when the Masons had left and handed him a mop and me a rag. Petunia dug some ice cream out of the freezer and Harry and I, still shaking, started scrubbing the kitchen clean.
Vernon might still have been able to make his deal – if it hadn't been for the owl.
Petunia was just passing around a box of after-dinner mints when a huge barn owl swooped through the dining room window, dropped a letter on Mrs Mason's head, and swooped out again. Mrs Mason screamed like a banshee and ran from the house shouting about lunatics. Mr Mason stayed just long enough to tell the Dursleys that his wife was mortally afraid of birds of all shapes and sizes, and to ask whether this was their idea of a joke.
Harry stood in the kitchen, clutching the mop for support, as Uncle Vernon advanced on him, a demonic glint in his tiny eyes. Although afraid for Harry, I was grateful he wasn't towering over me.
"Read it!" Vernon hissed evilly, brandishing the letter the owl had delivered. "Go on – read it!"
Harry took it.
"Dear Mr and Ms Potter,
We have received intelligence that a Hover Charm was used at your place of residence this evening at twelve minutes past nine.
As you know, underage witches and wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside school, and further spellwork on your part may lead to expulsion from said school. (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C).
We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offence under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy.
Enjoy your holidays!
Yours sincerely,
Mafalda Hopkirk
IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE
Ministry of Magic."
Harry looked up from the letter and gulped, glancing at me.
"You didn't tell us you weren't allowed to use magic outside school," said Vernon, a mad gleam dancing in his eyes. "Forgot to mention it… Slipped your minds, I daresay…"
He was bearing down on Harry and now me like a great bulldog, all his teeth bared. "Well, I've got news for you… I'm locking you up… You're never going back to that school… never… and if you try and magic yourself out – they'll expel you!"
And laughing like a maniac, he dragged Harry and me back upstairs.
Vernon was as bad as his word. The following morning, he paid a man to fit bars on our window. He himself fitted a cat-flap in the bedroom door, so that small amounts of food could be pushed inside three times a day. They let us out to use the bathroom morning and evening. Otherwise, we were locked in our room around the clock.
Three days later, the Dursleys were showing no sign of relenting, and I couldn't see any way out of this situation. Hedwig couldn't send a message out to Dumbledore or McGonagall - or anyone for that matter. If we used any magic, we could be expelled from Hogwarts. I didn't know what we were going to do.
Harry lay on his bed, watching the sun sinking behind the bars while I sat glumly on the desk chair.
Just then the cat-flap rattled, and Petunia's hand appeared, pushing two bowls of canned soup into the room. Harry jumped off his bed and seized them, handing one to me. The soup was stone-cold, but we drank half of it in one gulp. Then Harry crossed the room to Hedwig's cage and tipped the soggy vegetables at the bottom of the bowl into her empty food tray. She ruffled her feathers and gave him a look of deep disgust.
"It's no good turning your beak up at it – that's all we've got," said Harry grimly.
He put the empty bowl back on the floor next to the cat-flap and lay back down on the bed. I offered him some on my soup, which he gladly took. I then sat down on my own bed, gazing up the roof.
Supposing we were still alive in another four weeks, what would happen if we didn't turn up at Hogwarts? Would someone be sent to see why we hadn't come back? Would they be able to make the Dursleys let us go?
The room was growing dark, and Amber had already leapt onto my bed. Exhausted, stomach rumbling, mind spinning over the same unanswerable questions, I fell into an uneasy sleep.
I woke up a little later to what sounded like rattling metal.
Harry opened his eyes and sat up. Moonlight was shining through the bars on the window. And someone was goggling through the bars at us: a freckle-faced, red-haired, long-nosed someone.
Ron Weasley was outside our window.
Hope you enjoy, please leave a review. I know most of this is pretty much the same right now, but I promise it will get more interesting once Harry and Isobel get to Hogwarts.