A/N – Thanks to each of you for your reviews and feedback. I hope I have managed to reply to everyone – If not, sorry I missed you.
Harry trod his way down the squeaking and slightly rickety wooden stairs of Grimmauld place in a light-headed daze. He was automatically on his way to the kitchen to make a calming cup of tea, a habit he had not been aware of forming until now, as his thoughts wandered over the occurrences of the last few hours.
First he had finally left Privet Drive, almost certainly for good. At the time, he had felt no compulsion to have any sort of confrontation with the Dursleys as he made his final exit from the hated house where he had been raised since being thrust upon them at the age of one. The lack of a planned and suitable revenge had been on purpose, especially since Percy Weasley would be living there when he was not at the Ministry performing 'secret' work for the Minister.
Now however, after spending half a day confined in a house he had dreaded almost as much as his Aunt's, but for entirely different reasons, he thought about how much he would have liked to have done something to them to once and for all truly deserve the hatred his relatives had held for him and demonstrated frequently. It would have felt good to bring justice to them, just for once.
Returning to Grimmauld Place had of course been a shock to his system, even though he had resigned himself to the task and had known what was coming. The pain of losing his godfather was brought back in full force within every room of the ill omened house, even though it had been over a year since his death. Dumbledore's recent, tragic lose also made many frequent visits to Harry's thoughts as he moved about the deathly silent mansion.
The emotional impact was worsened by the fact he had to deal with it on his own, Tonks having been called away to an urgent Order of the Phoenix meeting.
That an urgent meeting was being held for unknown reasons also played on Harry's mind as he caught himself again and again speculating on the possible cause of such an event to occur. Realising endless speculation was useless, Harry had given up on trying to guess, and accepted he was just going to have to wait to find out what it was all about.
Just prior to being abandoned alone in the grim house, was the unexpected meeting with Arthur Weasley about his relationship with the man's daughter - a relationship that Harry had ended rather badly. Far from being the 'over protective father talking to the new boyfriend' talk that every man dreads, Mr Weasley had done his level best to try to convince Harry to keep the relationship going, despite the additional danger it put the youngest Weasley and his whole family in.
Then had come the big one, the startling discovery that Sirius's murdered, Death Eater brother may be the mysterious R.A.B. who had removed one of Voldemort's Horcruxes from its deadly hiding place inside the secret cave that had almost cost Harry and Dumbledore their lives.
That the trip to recover the fake locket R.A.B. had left in place of the real Horcrux had ultimately contributed to Dumbledore's demise raised bitter thoughts regarding the futility surrounding that fateful night, especially since the real Horcrux may have been sitting within their reach inside this very house the whole time.
Regulus still might not be R.A.B., but he was by far the best candidate yet; everything fit.
Once the initial excitement of possibly discovering who R.A.B. was had passed, Harry's first instinct had been to get to Ron or Hermione to tell them the news. Tonks's warning not to leave the house had been fairly straight forward though, and if something big was going on that required the Order to call its members, running off to the Burrow would be quite a silly thing to do, especially when he didn't know what it was that was happening.
For a second Harry's temper flared again at the thought of not being told what was going on, but then he calmed down, realising that the two had probably not known anything except that they had been called to an emergency meeting.
He thought about Flooing or writing to Ron, expecting Hermione was too far away to get his letter quickly, but any note would have to be so broad and general to minimise any security risk that it would possibly drive his friend mad in its vagueness. Besides, he had sent Hedwig off just that morning with a letter to Hagrid and wasn't expecting her back until tomorrow.
Suppressing his instincts, Harry had tried to question the portrait to find out everything he could, but quickly discovered there was not much more it could contribute. He had never spend much time actually talking to a painting before, and found it tended to wander off track very easily and spent much more time wanting to talk about itself, either recounting seemingly half forgotten details of its own past or endlessly repeating the same almost clichéd statements of it's own belief. Harry gave up after his third time of getting lectured about his rudeness and lack of respect.
A quick search of the library, the study, and the room Harry thought most likely to have been Regulus's didn't immediately uncover anything obvious, although the number of books involving enough Dark Arts to have warranted banishment to the restricted section of Hogwarts, far out weighed the volumes of the lighter side of magic.
He had even gathered enough courage to go into Sirius's bedroom – a place he had been actively avoiding. Somebody else had already cleaned the room up, probably Remus Lupin. It was still full of Sirius's things, but everything had been put away neatly, quite unlike how Sirius would have left it. Much of what he found there caused him painful memories, and more than once he had been reduced to tears, but the only thing he found relevant to his search was an old photo of Sirius and Regulus as young boys, possibly pre-Hogwarts.
Harry stopped with his hand resting on the door leading down stairs to the kitchen. There was noise coming from down there, and it didn't sound like Tonks or one of the others.
Cursing for not having his invisibility cloak on him, Harry stepped back from the doorway and silently cast the Disillusionment charm, managing to cover himself completely this time. He didn't even consider not going down to find out who or what was in the house – it was his house!
Slowly he entered the kitchen, wand out in front and alert for any movement. It appeared to be empty, but whatever was making the noise was definitely in there somewhere.
He could hear it a bit clearer now. It reminded him of the cats that sometimes fought outside his bedroom window at Privet Drive (before Vernon would yell "SHUT THE BLOODY HELL UP!" at them, waking the rest of the neighbourhood).
As he searched the kitchen, the noise changed to more of a sobbing sound, interspersed with incomprehensible words. A nasty suspicion began to form in Harry's mind as he closed on a dingy door in the corner opposite the pantry. His hand closed hesitantly on the door knob as he slowly turned the handle, trying as hard as possible to be silent.
Gathering his focus, Harry wrenched the small door open and pointed his wand in, half expecting what to find.
Sure enough, curled up under the large boiler that filled up most of the room, and on top of a jumble of assorted disagreeable rags and smelly old blankets, Kreacher, the mad house-elf, lay clutching a piece of broken wood to his chest.
The noise Harry had been following was issuing from it, and it took only a moment to recognise it was sobbing over a portion of the shattered remains of Mrs. Black's portrait from the entranceway of the house.
"Poor Mistress," he was sobbing. "My poor, poor mistress. Kreacher should have been here to protect her. He has failed again he has."
Harry bristled at the sight. The last time he had seen the nasty beast was at Hogwarts, where he instructed it to stay to work in the kitchens where the other house-elves would be able to keep an eye on it, ensuring Sirius's betrayer would not slip off to visit Bellatrix or the Malfoys again.
Although Kreacher had not been very good at following his orders, mainly because it hated him at least as much as he hated it, to be here at Grimmauld Place when Harry had specifically told him to work at the kitchens at Hogwarts was an incredible violation of its orders.
"Kreacher," he yelled. "What are you doing here?"
The sobbing stopped and Kreacher looked around for a second.
"Kreacher hears the Potter brat's voice, but doesn't see him he doesn't. We will ignore it."
Harry growled in frustration and wordlessly cancelled the Disillusionment charm.
"You will not ignore me, Kreacher, you will answer me. Why are you here and not at Hogwarts where I told you to stay?"
Kreacher wiped his slime-covered face with a disgustingly dirty hand and looked directly at Harry with loathing filling his eyes. "Filthy friend of Mudbloods doesn't remember what he told Kreacher, but doesn't matter since nothing he says should be listened to."
"Kreacher," said Harry warningly. "Answer me, why are you here instead of at Hogwarts?"
"Kreacher does what the stupid Master tells him. Master says for Kreacher to go and Kreacher does it. Now master tells Kreacher he has done wrong. Will probably punish Kreacher too, but Kreacher doesn't care. Kreacher has failed his poor, poor mistress…"
Then he started sobbing almost hysterically again.
This was too much for Harry. He didn't remember telling Kreacher to leave Hogwarts, and he didn't really care if he had or not either, but he wasn't going to put up with this pining over his insane mistress and longing to be set free to server Sirius' murder, Bellatrix Lestrange.
"GET UP, KREACHER," he yelled. "YOU WILL STOP CRYING AND YOU WILL NEVER MENTION THAT MAD OLD COW OR CRY OVER THAT DAMN PAINTING EVER AGAIN, AND THAT IS AN ORDER. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"
Kreacher's body jolted like he had been given an electric shock, but he didn't get up or stop crying.
"I SAID GET UP, RIGHT NOW!" screamed Harry. His blood felt like it was burning as his rage once again boiled it.
Kreacher looked up from the ground, a murderous gleam in his eyes.
"It was you, wasn't it? You, the filthy murderer of mistress's Dark Lord, you damaged the mistress didn't you?"
"I TOLD YOU NEVER TO MENTION HER OR THAT DAMN PAINTING AGAIN,' Harry screamed. "NOW FOR THE LAST TIME, GET UP."
Kreacher rose unsteadily to his feet without taking his hate filled eyes off Harry.
"You damaged, mistress. You MURDERED her!" the house-elf screamed, his grating voice rising to a startling volume as spittle flew from his enraged mouth.
Before Harry could react, the insane elf launched himself at Harry. The small bundle of fury knocked Harry to the ground and made his wand go flying with the force of the surprise collision.
The initial shock at being attacked quickly disappeared as the out of control elf rained bruising blows on him. Despite the almost tiny stature of his attacker, the blows raining down on Harry fast and furiously were surprisingly powerful, and painful.
"Filthy, nasty, dirty, ungrateful…" the completely crazy elf yelled, as he stuck Harry again and again, each word punctuated with a vicious blow from filthy fists.
Harry instinctively used his arms to protect his head and couldn't push Kreacher away. The elf had him pinned him, sitting on his chest.
Having been on the receiving end of enough beatings to know his current position was not doing anything to improve his situation, Harry gathered his strength before getting his legs under him and arching his back to unbalance his smaller opponent. Kreacher, not expecting any such manoeuvre, toppled forward, just as Harry struck out with his fist, solidly connecting with the side of the elf's head and sending him flying.
Rolling onto his hands and knees, Harry had barely gotten his arms under himself when Kreacher leapt onto his unprotected back, wrapping its arms around his neck and trying to choke Harry and twist his head off at the same time.
Harry tried to grab Kreacher's face without having his fingers bitten off, and managed to get a hold of its ear, which he then pulled viciously in an attempt to make it break its hold, but the maddened thing held onto him and twisted his neck even further as his hand failed to keep a hold due to the slippery slime and filth covering it.
Air was starting to become a problem.
Very close to panicking and starting to loose his vision, Harry looked around desperately for a weapon while trying to pull the small wiry, arm cutting off his air supply in a surprisingly strong grip. Managing to loosen the arm around his neck enough to grasp in a lungful of air, Harry caught a glimpse of his wand just out of reach, as Kreacher started screaming incoherently in triumph.
Harry threw himself face first and hand outstretched towards his wand. His fingers closed around the familiar wood as he landed heavily on his stomach, knocking the last bit of breath out of him. The moment he had a grip on it, he stabbed the wand backwards into Kreacher's face hoping to hurt the elf enough to make it let go.
Suddenly, Harry felt a surge of magic through the wand and there was a loud bang. Kreacher shrieked and went flying as he was torn off Harry's back. The shriek ended abruptly in an echoing and ominously hollow sounding thump. Harry rolled over onto his back, wand ready and lips pursed to curse the elf before he could renew his attack.
Kreacher lay where he had fallen after striking the boiler. He wasn't moving.
Harry was breathing heavily though his half crushed windpipe and tasted blood in his mouth from a split lip. He felt a trickle of blood run from his nose causing him to sniff, and one eye felt hot - a sure sign it was bruised that he vividly recalled from Dudley's 'Harry Hunting' days.
He stood up, keeping his wand pointed at the crumpled figure, and breathed deeply, trying to slow his heart down as the overload of adrenaline flooded his system.
In the dim light of the room it was difficult to see clearly, but hr could make out a dark patch slowly spreading out on the floor from under the elf's head.
Blood, Harry realised, a cold sinking feeling coming over him.
For a second, he felt a moment of terror. He had killed him! Harry nearly dropped his wand to run over and check, but caught himself at the last second; it might be a trick.
"Kreacher," he called. When he got no reaction he tried again, louder, "KREACHER! OBEY ME, GET UP!"
Again he received no response, but still didn't dare to get within striking distance, just in case.
Harry waved his wand and silently raised the diminutive body into the air. Blood dripped making surprisingly loud splashes in the sudden quiet of the room. Kreacher himself didn't make a sound or move a muscle.
If the blood is still running, it must mean he is still alive, thought Harry.
Careful not to get too close, he levitated Kreacher out of the room and placed him gently on the table in the kitchen.
After poking him with his wand and jumping back a few times, Harry accepted that Kreacher was unconscious and not faking it. He started to panic.
He hadn't meant to hurt him; he had been defending himself. It was just like with Malfoy in the bathroom all over again, but this time nobody was going to come to help. What could he do? He couldn't take him to St. Mungos on his own, not that anybody there would be likely to help an elf anyway.
He was just wondering if he could bandage Kreacher's head without it being considered clothes, when the elf groaned and open his eyes.
"Kreacher, are you okay?" Harry asked.
Kreacher mumbled something. His eyes were rolling in his head and didn't look focussed.
Harry conjured some bandages and a cushion to prop Kreacher's head up. He grabbed a bowl, filled it with warm water from the tap, and gently wiped the insane elf's head, looking for the wound.
Under what must have been years of dirt and grime, Kreacher's wrinkled skin was a dull grey colour. Harry wondered how old the elf was.
As he worked, Kreacher continued to moan and say the occasional coherent word. Harry thought he caught a few scraps.
"Kreacher… hurt young master… make him to die… murderer… Kreacher murdered…"
Did the elf think he had killed Harry, or was he still accusing Harry of murdering his mistress because of the destroyed portrait?
Eventually Harry managed to put a bandage around Kreacher's head that stopped the bleeding, but he was unsure what else to do. The only other elves he knew were Dobby and Winky, and they were at Hogwarts.
Harry had once before called Kreacher to him just by saying his name, but Dobby wasn't Harry's elf, he was a free elf. Would he come if Harry called? It couldn't hurt to try.
"Dobby?" called Harry into the empty kitchen.
Almost immediately there was a loud crack, and another elf appeared. This one wore a shrunken orange jumper, odd socks, and several hats piled on top of one another, and was also much cleaner than the wounded elf lying on the table.
"Dobby is hearing Harry Potter sir calling and is coming right away. Dobby is been waiting for Harry Potter sir to call him, but really never expected great Harry to call on him, no!"
Harry smiled despite the gravity of the situation. Dobby always made him smile with his over enthusiasm.
"Hello, Dobby, it is nice to see you again. Thank you for coming, I appreciate it!"
"Dobby is honoured to be called by Harry Potter!"
"Dobby, I need your help please, it's Kreacher…"
Dobby looked past Harry and saw the wounded elf lying on the table. His eye narrowed.
"What has nasty elf done now Harry Potter sir?"
"I hurt him Dobby, I didn't really mean to, but my magic accidentally threw him off and he hit his head. I don't know what to do, can you help?"
Dobby gave Harry a surprised look, but then looked closely at Harry's face.
"Did nasty elf hit Harry Potter sir?" Harry realised Dobby had seen the blood on his own face and guessed what had happened. "DOBBY WILL KILL THE BAD ELF!" he screamed trying to leap over Harry to get at Kreacher, who was still mumbling to himself.
"NO!" yelled Harry, grabbing Dobby around the waist, holding him back. "STOP. DOBBY STOP. PLEASE!"
Dobby was still kicking and struggling to get past Harry.
"DOBBY WILL KILL ELF FOR ATTACKING HARRY POTTER!" he screamed.
"DOBBY STOP! I WANT YOU TO HELP HIM NOT KILL HIM!" Harry yelled, hoping he wouldn't have to stun his friend.
Dobby suddenly stopped struggling, causing Harry to overbalance and nearly fall over.
"Harry Po-Potter," he squeaked. "Harry Potter wants Dobby to help evil elf, even though he hurt Harry Potter?"
"Yes, Dobby," sighed Harry, letting him go. "I want you to help him, if you can, please. He is insane, but he doesn't deserve what has happened to him. It's not his fault."
Dobby looked at Harry for a second before bursting in loud sobs!
"Harry Potter is too great and noble," he cried. "No wizard has ever treated house-elves like great, good, kind-"
"Stop, Dobby, please?" begged Harry. "Can you please just help him, or take him to somebody who can help him. Maybe the Hogwarts house-elves will be able to heal him?"
Dobby gave another sniff and walked over to the moaning Kreacher.
"Dobby will take the bad elf to Hogwarts sir, and be helping him get better, but other elves may refuse to help, or kill him if they hear what he has done."
"Dobby, you tell them I asked them not to, please? Tell them it was because of his last masters, before Sirius. You remember what it is like to have bad masters Dobby, tell them it was not his fault."
Harry had no idea why he was so bothered at the thought of the treacherous elf's demise, but for some reason he didn't want to be responsible for his death.
How can I possibly kill Voldemort if I can get so broken up about a lousy house-elf? Harry asked himself.
"Dobby will do as Harry Potter asks," he said.
"Thank you Dobby, but there is something I need to ask him first. Can you help me?"
Dobby laid his hands on Kreacher's head and concentrated for a few moments. A slight glow seemed to cover the prone elf and immediately Kreacher began to stir. His eyes opened and he appeared to be able to see Harry and Dobby looking at him, but he did not speak.
"Kreacher? Kreacher I need to know what happened to Regulus. Can you tell me where Regulus went and what happened to him?"
Kreacher opened his mouth and appeared to be struggling to answer. Dobby brought a glass of water and tried to pour some into the old elf's mouth, but Kreacher battered him away.
"Kreacher knows, but Kreacher doesn't tell."
Dobby nearly struck him. "KREACHER WILL TELL HIS MASTER EVERYTHING. MASTER HARRY WANTS TO HELP KREACHER!"
Kreacher turned his head and started muttering. Harry could barely make out his words.
"Kreacher keeps his promises to young Master Regulus he does. Young Master makes Kreacher promise on pain of death not to tell anybody about the bad cave. So Kreacher doesn't tell. Kreacher drinks the nasty drink, even though it makes him sick, he does. Kreacher is a good elf, he keeps Young Master's promises."
Dobby leaped at Kreacher again and only Harry's quick reflexes stopped the enraged elf.
"Dobby STOP," he yelled, struggling to keep Dobby back. "Listen to him, he is trying to tell me, but he has promised not to."
Dobby stopped struggling, but looked sullen.
"Kreacher, did Regulus make you drink the green drink in the cave? Did he take the locket and leave a fake in its place?"
"Kreacher doesn't tell anybody about the locket."
"Where is the locket? Where did Regulus put it?"
Suddenly the old elf burst in tears. Painful sobs ranked his body and Dobby had to grab him to keep him from falling off the table.
"Kreacher looses it he does. Blood traitors came, broke his mother's heart and threw it out he did. Blood traitors and Mudbloods killed the Mistress they did, and threw it out!"
"Kreacher's fault. Kreacher made Young master die by helping him. Kreacher murdered young master and broke the mistress's heart. Kreacher is good elf..."
The elf's voice faded away as he lapsed back into unconsciousness, but his appeared to be simply breathing, making Harry believe Dobby's magic had already helped him.
He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Regulus had made Kreacher drink the potion hiding the locket, and the elf felt responsible for Regulus getting killed because he followed orders. No wonder he had gone mad. Between the potion, that was powerful enough to have severely weakened Dumbledore, the guilt at Regulus's murder, Mrs Black's subsequent insanity, and years of having to obey first her and then her portrait, it was nothing short of a miracle that Kreacher was still alive.
Unfortunately, even though he now knew for certain that Regulus had taken the Horcrux and was R.A.B., Harry was not much closer to finding out if it had been destroyed or was hidden somewhere; Kreacher would not be answering more questions anytime soon, if at all.
"Dobby can try to wake up nasty elf again, if Harry potter would like it," offered Dobby, sounding a little too enthusiastic at the prospect for Harry to be entirely comfortable with it.
"No, let him sleep. See if you and the others can help him get better, Dobby, it's important."
Dobby nodded, accepting Harry's instructions.
"Dobby will always do what Harry Potter wants. He is honoured be helping!"
"Thank you Dobby," said Harry, truly grateful for the elf's help.
That Dobby was loyal to Harry to a fault was unquestionable. He may sometimes have been slightly misguided, but he would go to any lengths to help Harry. Thinking about this gave Harry an inspiration.
"Dobby, there is another thing you can do for me. It is very important, but I want you to tell me if you think it is not a good idea, all right?"
He briefly explained about the Fidelus charm and asked Dobby to be his Secret Keeper.
Dobby nearly burst with pride. It took minutes to calm him down enough to read the scroll and perform the spell.
Once it was done, Harry asked Dobby to write down the secret on several bits of paper so that Harry didn't need to call him everytime he wanted to let somebody in. That was when he discovered Dobby couldn't write.
"Dobby can read," the house-elf said proudly. "Was necessary for doing things like shopping, but the bad masters never taught Dobby to write. He can make a few words, like on Christmas cards."
Harry shook his head and laughed, but accepted that, for the moment, he was going to have call Dobby to give the secret to the few people he wanted to have access to his house. Harry wrote a list of people he wanted Dobby to visit to give the secret to, as soon as possible after taking care of Kreacher.
After he again thanked Dobby for his help, the elf stood pulling his ears, apparently wanting to ask Harry for something.
"What is it, Dobby?" he finally asked. "You can ask me anything, I wont get angry and will not have to punish yourself, not matter what it is."
"Dobby is worried for Winky, Harry Potter sir. She be getting worse and doesn't eat anymore. Dobby is having to use elf magic to keep her alive."
Harry was shocked, but didn't know what he could do. He had to ask Dobby for help with Kreacher, so what could he do for Winky?
"Winky is not liking being free, Harry Potter sir. Dobby has tried to show her, but she is so unhappy that she be dying. Dobby has failed. Everybody says no to a house-elf that has been given clothes and wants to die, so she has nowhere to go!"
He then burst into tears.
Harry tried calmed him down, even going as far as getting him a cup of tea to drink, but just the thought of a house-elf getting served was enough to send him off into hysterics again. Finally, Harry managed to get him to stop crying enough to say what it was he wanted.
"Dobby is asking Harry Potter sir if he would take Wink as his house-elf!" he said tearfully.
Somehow, Harry was surprised.
"Me? Why me?" he asked
"Harry Potter sir is having a large house and no elf because nasty elf is dying, and nasty elf is not good enough for Harry potter sir."
Harry's initial response was to say no. He could hear Hermione's voice already, berating him for enslaving an elf, even if it meant saving her life.
The hopeful elf was shuffling from one foot to the other.
There was no way Harry could refuse.
"Dobby, I would be honoured to have Wink as my house-elf," he sighed. "What do we have to do?"
Dobby squealed with delight and abruptly disappeared with a loud crack, leaving Harry stunned.
Another loud crack, and Dobby was back, but his time he was not alone. With one arm draped across his shoulders and obviously only standing up because Dobby was holding her, was a very skinny and ill looking Winky. She was still wearing the same little skirt and blouse with matching hat that Harry had last seen her in years before, but now it was so dirty and ragged that it was almost unrecognisable.
"Winky?" Harry asked.
Winky looked at Harry through glazed eyes. He guessed she was still into the butterbeer, which acted like a strong alcoholic drink for the elf.
"Winky!" he said loudly.
"Winky, Harry Potter is wanting to make you his elf!" said Dobby hopefully.
Winky raised her eyes, looking like she wanted to focus on Harry.
"Harry Potter – Harry Potter wants Winky to be his elf?" she asked in a slurred voice. "Why? Winky is a bad elf. Winky's master is dead because Winky wasn't there to care for him. Winky is a bad elf."
It was time for more drastic action, decided Harry.
"Winky!" he snapped, making both elves jump. "Winky do you want to be my elf or not? I don't have time to play with elves that don't listen to me!"
Dobby looked fearfully at Harry and was about to say something. Harry gave a slight shake of his head and Dobby seemed to understand and, with a clearly visible effort, said nothing.
"Winky! For the last time, I need a house-elf and I want it to be you. Do you want to be a proper house-elf again and server a master in a large house?"
Winky's eyes definitely gained focus as she stared at Harry.
"Yes," she whispered hoarsely.
"Right then," said Harry. "What do we have to do Dobby?"
"Nothing, Harry Potter sir. You are now Winky's master."
"Okay," snapped Harry again, a bit surprised at the simple arrangement. "Winky, I am going to give you some orders now, and I expect you to start obeying them immediately, right?"
Winky nodded her head and tried to stand up on her own. She obviously wasn't strong enough though and Dobby had to keep her upright.
"First things first then. You are to immediately stop drinking butterbeer or any other drink that incapacitates you, understand?"
Winky nodded again.
"Now, I will not have you staggering around here in your current condition, so you are to go with Dobby and you are to start eating properly and doing what Dobby tells you until you have regained your strength and can perform your duties like a proper house-elf, right?"
Winky's eyes widened slightly, but she nodded again.
"I want to be perfectly clear on this, Winky. You are not to return here until you have regained your health and strength. If you come back here before you are strong again, I will be very disappointed. You don't want that, do you?"
Winky shook her head, eyes even wider.
"Once you are better, and not a second before, you are to return here and start to clean this house properly. I want every room to be clean, I don't mind if there is a bit of dust here and there, after all, it is a big house, but I don't want it to smell like a dump anymore, or for it to look like nobody lives here. Do you understand?"
Nod.
"Do you have any questions?"
Shake.
"Good. Now let Dobby take you back to Hogwarts, have a proper meal, get cleaned up, throw those disgusting clothes in the bin, and start taking care of yourself properly. You are my elf now."
Winky nodded solemnly, and almost seemed to smile. Dobby looked like he was going to explode with joy.
There was a loud crack and the wizard was left alone.
Harry sat down and banged his head on the table.
"How am I going to tell Hermione?"
That night, after doing his best to heal his Kreacher inflicted injuries, he dreamed of searching Grimmauld Place for Horcruxes while being chased by a giant, mad house-elf who pelted him mercilessly with S.P.E.W badges.