Summer wound on. To Harry's relief, the weather was quite comfortable – not that he had to fear the heat in any case, for the Davises could simply activate the flat's climate control enchantments if it did. It was still nice, however, to be able to sleep with the windows open and feel the night-time breeze, and to be able to walk down Diagon Alley without any danger of melting.
It was not until the twenty-ninth of July, when April had brought up the subject, that Harry remembered that his birthday was in two days – such had the days gone by. For the very first time in his life, Harry was genuinely excited for his birthday, as just like at Christmas the year prior, he knew that he would be receiving actual presents, and not whatever the Dursleys considered already extravagant 'gifts'.
On the morning of the thirty-first, Harry had the misfortune of waking up before dawn even broke and being unable to go back to sleep. The Davises were nowhere near up yet, so Harry had to do his best to keep himself entertained for more than two hours. At first, he attempted to do his homework, but quickly realised that to be a pointless endeavour. Then, he tried reading, but found that he could not concentrate, either. Finally, he settled on simply looking out of the window, speculating over who may have sent him presents, and what they may have sent.
Finally, Harry heard a door open outside his room. After waiting for some more minutes, Harry decided that there was no more reason for him to stay in his room and made his way into the kitchen. There, he found April sitting at the table, reading a newspaper, while the pots and pans behind her clanged as they prepared breakfast.
'Good morning, Harry,' April said, looking up from the paper.
'Good morning,' Harry replied.
Harry watched as April rose from her chair and walked up to him. She stopped in front of him and hesitated for a moment, as if debating what to do, before reaching out and patting Harry on the shoulders.
'Happy birthday,' she said with a smile. 'Twelve… How fast time flies.'
'If Lily saw you today, she wouldn't believe how big you've grown,' April added, sounding a little tearful. 'She'd recognise you, of course. Your eyes are a dead giveaway for anyone who knew her. I know I've said this before, but she would be so proud to see you today.'
April backed away from Harry and took a few moments to compose herself. 'Excuse me, I got a little emotional there. Your presents are over here,' she said, walking over to the end of the table and pulling out a chair, on which Harry saw a stack of boxes. 'Owls delivered three boxes this morning. Plus, there's something from me and Orville. There's also something from Tracey. Do you want to open them now, or do you want to wait for later, when everyone else is up?'
'When everyone else is up,' Harry decided, thinking that it would probably be more tactful to not be too eager to dig in right this moment.
'Sure,' April replied, returning to a cheerful demeanour. 'Tracey should be up soon. Orville usually gets up a little later, as you know, but he shouldn't be too long. Breakfast will be ready soon.'
Harry sat down at the table to wait, but the allure of presents right in front of him which he could not yet open quickly made it rather difficult for him to resist himself. He was thankfully helped a little when April cast aside her copy of the Daily Prophet, and seeing a good chance to keep himself distracted, he picked it up and skimmed through it, mostly looking at the pictures and skipping over the texts. The headlining story appeared to be some sort of celebrity gossip for which Harry had no interest, and the rest of the first page was taken up by various political stories that went over Harry's head. The second page was occupied by world news, and Harry, curious as to what Dumbledore was up to, looked for any news from the conference in Zürich. He could not find any, however, though he did find an article that reported the fall of Odessa to the Protectors, with deaths estimated in the thousands on either side. Those numbers seemed terrifying even for Harry to fathom, and he wondered what Anna would think of it if she found out.
A little while later, Tracey came into the room and sat down across from Harry, wishing him a happy birthday. A little later, Orville, too, came into the room, wishing everyone good morning and Harry a happy birthday. He then drew his wand, and two flicks later, breakfast was served.
They all quickly tucked in, Harry still unable to stop eyeing his presents. 'What would you like to do, Harry?' April asked, distracting him from his wonderings.
'Do?' Harry asked, perplexed.
'For your birthday,' April replied, raising an eyebrow. 'You can't just spend the whole day at home, can you?'
Spending the whole day at home was exactly what he did on his previous birthdays, Harry thought, though April did not need to know that. 'I…uh…I don't know. What is there to do?' he asked, the first thing to come to his mind being his last few birthdays, when he had been forced to do chores.
'There's always plenty to do,' April replied easily. 'I think we ought to have a birthday dinner at the very minimum. Other than that, it's up to you to decide. Anything you want, short of robbing Gringotts. If you're not sure, we can always walk around and decide later.'
Harry thought for a few moments. Truth be told, this all felt to him rather overwhelming, though certainly in a good way. What did he want to do? He had no clue what one usually did for birthdays, and despite having already spent more than two weeks here at the Davises, he still had only a rudimentary idea of even what there was to do here.
'I…maybe we could decide later?' Harry asked, giving the easiest response at April's expectant look.
'Certainly,' April replied with a smile. 'If you see anything, make sure to let us know.'
Probably due to his anticipation, Harry finished his breakfast far quicker than he usually would have. This, though, did not end up being exactly helpful, for he could not very well pounce on his presents before the rest of the table finished, and ended up waiting anyway. Finally, as Tracey set down her fork and knife, the much-awaited moment for presents came.
'Well, let's not force you to wait any longer,' April said, pulling out the present-topped chair and moving the boxes up onto the table one by one. 'Which present do you want to open first?'
Harry, as usual, could not decide, and began at random. The first one he picked up was a small, narrow box. The tag told him that it had come from Neville. Carefully, he untied the wrapping and unravelled the packaging, revealing a stylish wooden box.
He opened it, and inside, he found what looked like a leather wristband – though it was not quite just a wristband. Attached to it were several loops of intricately fashioned leather and fabric, which extended out perpendicular to the wristband itself.
There was a note inside, and Harry picked it up and opened it.
Dear Harry,
Happy birthday! I hope you enjoy your twelfth. Inside is a wrist wand holder. It does exactly what it says it does. Wear it around your wrist like a watch and put your wand in the straps. Flick your wrist and your wand will come into your hand. It takes a bit of practice to get the motion right, though.
Gran says that wand holsters are technically not allowed at Hogwarts, but I told her a 'simplified' version of what happened at the end of last year, and she agreed that it'd probably be right to break a few rules for our own protection. I sent Hermione one, too.
Sorry I haven't given you any news on when you might be able to visit. The good news is that Gran's schedule looks to be getting better, so we might be able to meet soon. I'll let you know. I promise.
Happy birthday again.
Neville
'Is that a wand holster?' Orville asked, leaning in, just as Harry finished reading the letter.
'I think so.'
'You know that's considered contraband in Hogwarts, right?'
Harry blinked. 'I…I didn't?' he lied. Would Orville try to take his gift away before he had even had a chance to put it on, or at least persuade him not to use it? Orville was not his father, but it seemed natural that he, as a responsible adult, would try to say something to that effect.
'There's absolutely no way that wasn't a lie,' Orville replied, and Harry's heart fell. Suddenly, however, he chuckled, completely taking Harry by surprise. 'This was Neville Longbottom's present, wasn't it?' Harry nodded. 'Augusta definitely knew what was going on. Didn't she?'
Harry nodded, sheepish at having been so easily read. 'She did.'
'Well, why don't you try it on, then?'
Harry blinked. 'Try it on?'
'It's your present. Don't you want to put it on?'
'But…isn't it against the rules at Hogwarts?' Harry asked, confused by Orville's direction.
'And?' Orville replied, raising an eyebrow. 'That didn't stop three-quarters of the population from having one when we were in school. I had one, April had one, the whole of Slytherin all had one, and the staff didn't care one bit. Point is, some rules are meant to be broken – though only some. This is one of them.'
'It's good practice to always have your wand at the ready if you're somewhere you're not completely comfortable in,' April added. 'Of course, Hogwarts today is a lot different from when we were there, but… It's better to be able to defend yourself if someone tries to jinx you and not end up needing to make a stop in the Hospital Wing.'
'Go on, give it a try,' April urged.
Harry lifted the wand holster out of the box. There was a small, bronze clasp, though without any kind of release mechanism. Trying to figure out how to open it, Harry placed his finger on the surface. He felt a momentary warmth, then, all on its own, the clasp opened.
'Most good wand holsters are designed to recognise you,' Orville remarked. 'That's supposed to prevent someone from walking up to you and stealing your wand. Of course, you can still be disarmed, but just not in that way.'
Harry slid the holster onto his wrist and pressed the clasp back together, locking it with a click. After admiring the build work for a moment – it was elegantly and ornately done – he loosened the leather straps of the wand holder itself and opened the clamp at the end before sliding his wand into it and fastening it in place. When everything was again secured, the wand fit snugly against his inner arm, held firmly in place and not budging as Harry attempted to pull on it to dislodge it.
'Try to draw it now,' Orville instructed. 'You have to turn and flick your wrist while closing your hand into a wand grip at the same time.'
'What do I have to do?' Harry asked, not quite picturing the motion in his head.
Orville demonstrated the movement, and Harry, after a few seconds spent reconstructing it, imitated him. To his dismay, however, his wand did not shoot out into his palm – not even moving a hair in the holster.
'It takes a bit of practice,' Orville said. 'Here, I'll show you how to do it in slow motion, and you try to copy me.'
Orville held out his hand, palm facing down, and Harry did the same. He watched and followed as he slowly began rotating his wrist so that his palm began to turn upwards, his fingers closing into his palm as he did so. Finally, when his palm was nearly facing directly up, he gave a slight downwards flick of his wrist.
'Do you think you got that?' Orville asked as Harry copied his motions.
'I…uh…maybe.'
'Try it,' Orville told him. 'Make sure to do it quickly and with determination, otherwise your wand won't move.'
Harry turned his palm face-down again, and after replaying the motions once again in his head, rapidly turned and flicked his wrist while closing his grip. As he followed through the movement, he suddenly heard a momentary gliding sound, and the next moment, he found himself holding his wand firmly in his hand.
'There you go,' April said. 'You got it much faster than I did. Took me a few tries before I got it to work the first time.'
'Well done. Eventually, you'll want to also learn how to do it discreetly,' Orville noted. 'It's much better to have your wand always at the ready, but it's even better if you could draw it without anyone noticing. Don't worry about it now, though. That's something that comes with practice.'
Harry played with the wand holster several more times, setting his wand back and drawing it until he got the hang of it. Once he did, the motion felt rather satisfying, as did the sound that the wand made as it slid out of the holster into his hand. Finally, though, his excitement to open the rest of his presents overpowered his desire to keep playing with Neville's, and picking one at random, he moved on to Tracey's box.
Tracey had sent him a box of chocolates from Honeydukes and what she explained as a magical trivia game, which she promptly suggested Harry could learn how to play by playing with her. He opened Hermione's box next, and she had sent him an introductory Eltrys book and a voucher for a year-long subscription to the Daily Prophet. Anna, meanwhile, had sent him a book on alchemy by Nicholas Flamel himself, along with a leather bracelet with a deep-blue Sea Walker shell, which, according to her, was believed to protect the wearer from harm in the magical culture of Provence.
There were now only two packages remaining – one from April and another from Orville. 'Which one will it be?' April asked, winking at Harry and giving a slight nod in the direction of her box, obviously suggesting that he open hers first.
Harry, however, felt a sudden urge of mischief, and grinning at April, he reached across the table and grabbed Orville's box. April, seeing Harry's play, let out a rather playful groan as he began undoing the wrappings.
Inside the box, he found a small, black pouch, which Harry, judging by its size and appearance, judged to be a money pouch. On that hunch, Harry opened the drawstrings slightly and inserted a hand inside, where the magically expanded space confirmed his expectations. To his surprise, however, at the bottom of the pouch, he felt something round, hard, and cold. Curious, he withdrew the object from the bag, and found it to be a Galleon.
'Keep it in the bag,' Orville said as Harry examined the Galleon, finding nothing unusual about it. 'There's a tradition in merchant circles of gifting children a money pouch with a single Galleon inside. The idea is that the one Galleon inside will eventually grow and multiply until you fill the entire pouch. Always leave at least one Galleon in there, though. If you don't, it's said that you'll have an unfortunate road ahead of you, and not just financially.'
Harry nodded and put the bag away, making a mental note of what Orville had said. There was now only one package left, and finally it was time to open April's present. As Harry unwrapped the package, he caught a glimpse of the expression on her face, and it seemed at the same time both anticipatory and nostalgically longing.
The wrapping revealed within an ornate, leather-bound book. Harry had seen one much like it just days before, though this one looked much newer. He shot April a questioning glance, but she said nothing, simply giving a jerk of the head, urging Harry to open it.
It was April's photo album, exactly the same as what she had shown him that night several days ago. Inside, moving pictures of his mother waved to Harry, a wide and content smile on her face in each. The scenes here, however, looked even more vivid and real, so much so that Harry might have been able to convince himself that these were not old pictures, but in fact little windows, through which his mother was grinning at him.
'I had the album restored and a copy made,' April told him, her voice thick. 'I thought you would have liked to have a copy that you could keep. You probably don't have many pictures of your parents from when she was at school…'
'I…' Harry did not know what to say. He should thank April, he knew, but a simple 'thank you' did not seem to suffice here. Never mind pictures from her school days, Harry had never received, and until he had come to the Davises, never even seen, a picture of his mother or father. Looking at these pictures, Harry felt some strange feeling that he thought he associated with ownership. He held a memory of his parents in his hand, and even if it had been April's, now it was, in some way, his own, too.
'Thank you,' Harry said, stumbling a little on his enunciation. The 'thank you' felt as insufficient as he had anticipated, but he did not know what else he could tell April. Even though he wanted to say more, he could not come up with anything more eloquent to say, or how to say it.
April, however, seemed to have understood the unspoken. 'You don't need to thank me,' she answered. 'It wouldn't be fair not to share memories from your mum and dad. This was the least I could do.'
Harry could feel tears beginning to flow. 'Thank you,' he repeated. 'I…sorry…this is so much… I don't know what…what to say…'
'There's nothing you have to say.'
And then, completely unexpected to Harry, April rose from her seat and hugged him. Her embrace was different from the brief, shy squeezes which Hermione had given him at their parting, and different also from the times Anna had hugged him, which, though Harry never had siblings, felt unmistakeably sisterly. Harry wondered if how April had hugged him was how his own mother would have hugged him.
Orville left on a business trip soon after breakfast, but April chose to take the Friday off so that she could accompany Harry and Tracey. Harry had told her that she did not need to, but April insisted that she wanted to. With April around and free the whole day, and with Diagon Alley and the surroundings having grown somewhat usual and slightly boring, Harry decided to take April's suggestion of heading to the Creature Garden, which she had explained as rather similar to a zoo, though of course with magical creatures.
They travelled by Floo, and after a trip lasting no longer than twenty seconds, Harry emerged in a café of some sort. April and Tracey had already arrived, and were waiting for him in front of the fireplace. He had become better at travelling by Floo, and as a result, his clothes were barely dusty at the other end. After Harry took a few seconds to get his bearings, he followed April and Tracey outside.
The street scene was entirely different from Diagon Alley. This part of the city was visibly more modern, though still at least a century older than non-magical London. It did not give off, however, the wealth and showiness of Virtic Alley. The houses here were well-built but relatively modest, and the shops, from an outside view, did not seem to be the type which were that much more expensive or catering to a wealthier clientele than any other.
'Where are we again?' Harry asked.
'On the other side of London,' April replied. 'Magical London doesn't really translate to the muggle city, but say Diagon Alley were Charing Cross, then we might be somewhere in Southwark right now.'
Harry was not an expert in London's geography, having been there so few times that he could count all of them on one hand, so he simply took April to mean that they were quite far from home. After leaving the café, they walked on for a short while, talking occasionally, though the trip passed mostly with Harry taking in the surrounding scenery.
After about five minutes, they reached a fenced park, which, while not small, was not of an overly impressive size, either. Over the wrought-iron gate was a painted sign which read 'Garden of Creatures'. They stood in line to purchase their tickets, and thankfully, it was not very crowded. When it was their turn, April handed over one Galleon, and got back three tickets and some change in return.
The actual tour through the 'zoo' was rather short, thanks to its limited size, self-announced focus on the British Isles, and location in the middle of a city, which naturally ruled out anything dangerous like dragons, but it was by no means disappointing. They all looked strange to Harry and had equally strange names that he struggled to remember – the Grindylow, for example, looked to Harry a bit like a cantankerous baby crossed with an octopus – and at some point, he had given up carefully reading the information panels and trying to match names to creatures in his mind, and simply settled for taking them in visually.
After the 'zoo', lunch, and some walking around on the quite amicable streets, they returned home, all rather tired. With dinner, April, who had confessed to having been endowed with negative baking skills, ordered a large, delicious cake from a nearby bakery, from which Harry ate nearly half. The rest of the night was quiet, and he and Tracey spent most of it playing games and talking about the creatures which they had seen earlier in the day, none of whose names Harry could remember.
Harry found it difficult to sleep that night, the bright memories of the day replaying in his mind and causing him to smile again and again, eventually against his will. As he lay awake, his imagination wandered to his birthday the previous year – or more precisely, the letter that he had seen that morning and Dumbledore's visit a few days later. Which birthday had been better, he wondered? To him, today was his first 'real', normal birthday – last year's birthday, though exhilarating, was less of a celebration than a discovery, and he had still, after all, spent it at the Dursleys, who had all but ignored it. But without that last birthday, there would not be this one. He would still have been lying awake in his room at Number Four, Privet Drive, wondering if anyone would care that he turned twelve.
Some time later, still somehow nowhere closer to falling asleep, he got up for a cup of water. He quietly opened the door and exited into the moon-lit, still living room, where the grandfather clock, with its glowing hands, read approximately quarter-past-one, which gave Harry a small surge of panic at his sleeplessness.
Having reached the kitchen, he slid the heavy wooden door slowly open, hoping not to distract anyone sleeping. To his immense surprise – and sudden need to squint – however, when he eased the door open by a chink, he noticed that the lights were still burning inside. Had someone forgotten to extinguish them before going to bed, or was someone still inside?
Just as the door was halfway open, there came a loud crash from within the kitchen, causing Harry to jump and nearly shout in surprise. This crash was then followed by sounds of metal containers hitting the floor. Harry, thinking that someone must have had an accident, quickly shoved the door all the way open and stepped inside, looking around for the source of the sound and the identity of the supposed victim.
When Harry's eyes found the culprit, however, he found that it was neither Tracey, nor April, nor Orville who had caused the racket. Instead, it was a creature that he could not describe which was sitting on the ground in the middle of a pile of tins and jars. The creature's green eyes were enormous – perhaps as large as tennis balls – and it had long, pointed ears, out of which several tufts of hair stuck out. What struck Harry most, however, were the clothes that it was wearing – or rather, not. What looked like a dirty, greasy towel was wrapped around its midriff, almost like an infant's diaper, but besides that, it wore nothing, save for perhaps the bandages wrapped all over its body, from its legs and hands to its face and even ears.
Harry did not know what he should do. The creature looked obviously like it was suffering – all but confirmed when Harry realised that the cabinet it had been raiding was the medicine cabinet – but he knew better than to approach an unknown creature whose species he did not even know. What if it was in fact dangerous, despite its pitiful outward appearance? Or at the very least, what if it panicked as Harry tried to approach it and attacked?
'What's going on?' came April's voice behind him, sounding fanatic.
'There was an accident, I think,' Harry replied. 'I…I didn't have anything to do with it,' Harry added hastily, hoping that April would not blame him. 'It…it was a…a…uh…it was this creature over there.'
April peered over Harry's shoulder and nodded, seemingly believing him, or at least not pursuing the question of guilt for now. 'But you're okay, Harry?'
'I am,' Harry said, retreating a step so that she could look through the doorway. But that…uh…I don't know what it is,' he continued, pointing at the creature, 'but it doesn't look okay.'
April stepped into the room, rubbing her eyes, presumably to clear them to get a better look at the injured creature. 'What is it?' Harry asked her. 'Is it…is it dangerous?'
'Dobby is not dangerous,' the creature croaked. 'Dobby has only tried to find medicine.'
'A house elf?' April breathed, sounding surprised. 'What's a house elf doing here? And why does it look so…like such a mess?'
Suddenly, April strode into the room and headed directly towards the creature. She bent down and picked it up, seating it in one of the kitchen chairs. The creature gave no resistance through the entire process, its arms hanging limply by its side, its seated posture slouched. After the creature was seated, April stood back up and drew her wand.
'No!' the creature gasped. 'Please not punish Dobby!'
April froze and spent a long second surveying the creature, whom Harry now assumed was named Dobby. 'I'm not,' she replied, her voice a little gentler, yet at the same time gaining a distant, removed sound. 'I just wanted to clean up.'
Dobby gulped, but after a few moments, nodded in consent. April raised her wand – Dobby flinching slightly again – and with two waves, the jars and tins were put away.
'Harry, can you get…your name is Dobby, right?'
Dobby nodded jerkily. 'Yes, Miss,' he replied.
'Harry, can you get Dobby a cup of water?'
Harry nodded and grabbed a glass, filling it up before hastily delivering it to Dobby. As he offered the glass, however, Dobby's eyes suddenly grew wet, and barely a second later, he had begun bawling.
'Harry Potter…Harry Potter…good…just like the legends…' he mumbled incoherently. 'He has…he has brought Dobby water. Oh…he is just…just as good as…as legends have said…'
Harry, completely stumped by what was happening, offered the glass again. 'Water, Dobby,' he said. 'You should drink.'
That, however, only caused Dobby to break down even further. 'Harry Potter…has offered Dobby water,' he continued to repeat.
Harry looked at April, silently asking her what to do, but she looked as taken aback as he was. With nothing else he could do, Harry set the cup of water down in front of Dobby and waited, hoping that he would soon get a grip on himself.
Thankfully, he soon did, and after looking to Harry for permission, he grabbed the glass of water and downed it in a single long gulp. No sooner had he finished the water did he start gushing again, repeating his thanks to Harry, and to a lesser extent, April, in a way that made him – and April, too – rather uncomfortable.
Finally, after repeated urgings and assurances that there was no need to thank them for the basic hospitality, Dobby fell silent. 'Are you okay?' April asked probingly.
Dobby gulped, and for a second, Harry thought that he was going to start crying again, but he managed to restrain himself. 'Yes, Miss.'
'Are you sure? Those bandages look…painful.'
'Dobby is sure, Miss.'
April nodded in acceptance, though it was obvious that she did not quite feel comfortable with Dobby's answer. 'What were you doing here then, Dobby?' she asked. 'If you weren't trying to get medicine. And how did you find us, of all people?'
'Dobby is come…Dobby is come here because he has wanted to…he has wanted to…'
'What did you want to do?'
Dobby gulped, his hands suddenly beginning to twitch and his eyes bulging and growing slightly bloodshot. 'Dobby has wanted to warn Harry Potter,' he gasped out with effort.
Harry raised an eyebrow. 'Warn me of what?'
'Dobby has heard…Dobby has heard…'
Dobby reached for the empty glass on the table and grasped it so firmly that his fingertips changed colour. Before Harry could tell him that it was empty and that he could refill it, however, he began to beat himself over the head with it.
'Dobby has…betrayed master,' he cried between blows. 'Dobby is come…to Harry Potter without Master's permission. Dobby shall punish himself…and Dobby shall deserve it.'
After overcoming the initial shock of the gruesome sight, Harry and April simultaneously jumped up from their seats and grabbed Dobby by his arms, trying to stop him from beating himself into what would inevitably be unconsciousness and serious injury. Even with his arms restrained, however, Dobby did not give up, instead beginning to hit his forehead against the tabletop. Only after Harry and April lifted him entirely away from the table and held him for several seconds in the air did he stop struggling and fall limp.
Cautiously, they lowered Dobby back into his chair, and to their relief, he did not attempt to attack himself again. 'Dobby is sorry, Miss and Harry Potter,' he mumbled. 'Master has said that Dobby must punish himself for disobeying Master.'
'You must do what?' Harry asked in disbelief. 'And what's this "master" thing about?'
'House-elves,' April started to explain quietly. 'They are bound by magic for their entire lives to a family, usually one with an old lineage and a lot of wealth. They're domestic servants, and they're compelled to obey their masters – that's the family that owns them. Yes, I know that it sounds like slavery, because it is, and I don't think it's – '
'Dobby must punish himself,' Dobby interrupted, sounding rather dejected. 'It is what Dobby deserves, Harry Potter. Dobby has disobeyed his Master, and Dobby must punish himself.' He held up his bandaged hands. 'Dobby has already punished himself, Harry Potter. He has thought about disobeying Master, and he has had to punish himself for it.'
'Can't you…not...punish yourself?' Harry asked naively, recoiling at the ugly wounds.
'Dobby cannot, Harry Potter,' Dobby replied. 'Master has ordered Dobby to punish himself, and if Dobby does not punish himself now, he must punish himself more later.'
'That's barbaric,' Harry gasped, shocked.
'Yes,' April breathed.
Dobby, however, seemed to ignore the comment to his condition. 'Dobby is come to warn Harry Potter,' he repeated. 'Dobby has disobeyed orders, but Dobby has thought that he must come to warn Harry Potter. Dobby has needed to tell Harry Potter that at Hogwarts this year…at Hogwarts this year…'
Without warning, Dobby grabbed the cup again and raised it over his head, bringing it down hard on his nose. April and Harry immediately jumped into action, ripping the cup away from him and restraining him. Once more, it took several seconds of struggle before Dobby fell limp and was again able to be set back down on his chair.
'Dobby is come to warn Harry Potter,' he continued after a minute, his eyes quickly growing bloodshot from concentration and trying to stop his twitching hands from going for the cup, 'that terrible events shall happen at Hogwarts this year.'
Dobby's concentration broke, but before he could punish himself again, April and Harry had restrained him, stopping him from further self-harm. 'Thank you, Harry Potter,' he said upon regaining control over himself. 'Harry Potter is every bit as great of a wizard as they have said,' he added, more to himself than anyone else.
Harry did not notice the over-repeated refrain this time, however. 'What do you mean, "terrible events at Hogwarts"?' he asked, his mind suddenly picturing Voldemort trying once more to resurrect himself somehow. Quickly, however, he convinced himself that that thought was far-fetched. Voldemort must know better than to try the same thing in the same place for two years in a row under the watch of Dumbledore, who had to be more on guard now after what had happened last year. Voldemort could not have become the most feared Dark Lord in British history for being stupid.
'Dobby cannot say,' Dobby replied immediately, hands giving a slight twitch towards April, who was now holding the cup. 'If he would tell Harry Potter, he should be punished.'
'But you came to warn me,' Harry insisted. 'If you could come to warn me, why can't you tell me what you're warning me about?'
'Master has ordered Dobby to not tell anyone about it,' Dobby answered stiffly. 'Dobby must follow Master's orders.'
'But you came here,' Harry repeated. 'You already broke…your master's…orders.'
'Master has not told Dobby that he cannot leave the house,' Dobby said. 'When Dobby is come here, he has not broken Master's order. But if Dobby would tell Harry Potter what Master has told Dobby, he would disobey Master.'
'Who is your master?' April cut in.
Dobby gulped, then opened and closed his mouth again. 'Dobby cannot say,' he answered. 'Master has ordered Dobby not to tell who Dobby's master is.'
'Is there anything you can tell us?' Harry asked, growing impatient. He turned to April. 'Can he really not say anything?'
'Not if he has been ordered not to.'
'Dobby has told Harry Potter everything he can,' Dobby said. 'Dobby simply would hope that Harry Potter would listen to him and that he shall not return to Hogwarts next year.'
Harry stared at Dobby. 'I…I…what?'
'Dobby wants Harry Potter to promise that he shall not return to Hogwarts next year.'
'I…but why?' Harry demanded. 'Hogwarts is like…like my home…it's where all my friends go. It's where I go to school. I can't just…stay home for a year. And plus, there can't be too many places safer than Hogwarts, right? Especially with Dumbledore now looking – I mean, with Dumbledore there?'
'Hogwarts shall not be so safe for much longer,' Dobby insisted. 'Dobby has heard plots. Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts next year no matter what.'
'But you haven't told me what's going to happen, or who's planning it, or how they'll make it happen,' Harry shot back, indignant at the suggestion that he should waste a whole year of his life, be away from his friends, and not receive education, just for some nebulous 'threat'. 'How am I supposed to believe you?'
'Harry Potter must believe Dobby.'
'But you haven't given me any reason to.'
'Dobby cannot say more,' Dobby maintained. 'But he must tell Harry Potter again not to go back to Hogwarts.'
There was a pop, and he disappeared from the kitchen, leaving Harry staring at the now-empty chair with confusion and disbelief.
Harry, fatigued by the encounter with Dobby and his hours spent previously awake, did not discuss the subject much further with April and quickly fell asleep after he returned to bed. The next morning, however, as he ate breakfast, his mind drifted back to what he had seen. In retrospect, Dobby's warning did not bother him as much as it perhaps should have. Dumbledore was surely on the lookout for anything malicious, especially after the events of the previous year.
What did bother him was how downtrodden Dobby looked. It reminded him a little of the way the Dursleys treated him – though they certainly were nowhere near so horrible as to treat him as a total slave or force him to punish himself to the point of maiming – but the intentions were eerily and disturbingly similar. The thought that Dobby was being treated that way and the image of him hitting himself with a cup because of an order made Harry feel a fury towards whoever his 'master' was.
April came into the kitchen a little while later, looking visibly tired. 'Thinking about last night?' she said after sitting down.
'How do you know?'
'You're clutching the fork like you're trying to strangle it.'
Harry looked down at his hands and could not help but chuckle, seeing that his hands looked as if they had been drained of blood. 'I'm thinking about Dobby,' he replied.
'I understand,' April said. 'You're probably thinking about him punishing himself.'
Harry nodded. 'Why do…they're called house-elves, right? Why do they have to do that? Isn't that…animal cruelty?'
April sighed. 'Personally, I think it's a bit more than animal cruelty,' she answered slowly, picking her words carefully. 'As you've probably noticed, Dobby was more…intelligent…than a cat or dog. I'd say that it's probably somewhere more along the lines of child abuse and assault and battery.'
'And it's just allowed to happen?' Harry asked. 'Isn't there some kind of magical police? Do they just not care?'
'They can't care,' April answered. 'It's not illegal to punish house-elves. Or have them punish themselves, for that matter. The Enforcement Patrol can't penalise something that the law doesn't ban. And even if the law banned it, I don't think the Enforcement Patrol would be able to do anything about it. See, most of the families that have house-elves are wealthy and politically or socially influential. It would create a huge scandal – and the government despises scandals, since that's a sure way to lose elections – if the Enforcement Patrol charged into their homes for a house-elf, which most people just see as personal property anyway – and while I find that rather questionable, that's the way things work.'
'People just don't care that people own a…basically a child, you said?' Harry asked, getting chills thinking back to the Dursleys and how nobody cared about him there.
'It's the way things work,' April replied. 'I'm not endorsing it – it goes against every understanding of human rights that we've been taught growing up – but it is simply how it works. House-elves have been around for as long as there's been recorded history, apparently. Obviously, it's wizarding history written by wizards, so maybe there's been some convenient brushing-over somewhere, but I don't think it's incorrect to say that this has been going on for a long time, definitely at least a millennium. At this point, nobody sees anything wrong with it, but could you blame them? It's the world they grew up with and understand, even if people like us don't think it's right.'
'But don't house-elves complain?' Harry asked. 'I know I…I mean, they can't put up with that kind of treatment without complaining, can they? Nobody can.'
'Here's the problem that makes everything so much less clear-cut, though. House-elves like their status.'
'They…what?'
'They like being what they are,' April replied. 'House-elves can be set free, you know. If their master gives them clothes, they are free – that's why you see Dobby wearing a rag, because if he gets clothes, he is released from bondage. The thing is, if you ask nearly any house-elf, they don't want to be free. On the contrary, they see freedom as a punishment.'
'Why not?'
April shrugged. 'I really don't know, but there are rarely, if ever, any house-elves who are free, or want to be free. Almost every one who has ever been set free ends up miserable and often dies shortly after from alcoholism, self-abuse, or something else horrible. I don't know if it's something about magic, or something in their nature, or something else that does it, but whatever it is, they crave not being free.'
'But if they're punished for every mistake they make, how can they not hate their lives?'
'The majority of families, from what I understand, don't do what Dobby's family did to him,' April replied. 'Abusing house-elves isn't really looked upon highly in society – think about what people would think of you if you were caught beating your dog – and families that do abuse them…well, they're not good people, to put it lightly. People like Dobby's family, who abuse their elves, do it for some special perverted reason. Maybe they want to show their power or something. I don't know. It doesn't really make me much more comfortable with the whole thing, but Dobbys are probably the exception and not the rule.'
'So then…house-elves shouldn't be free?'
April sighed. 'It seems like to free them would be to do them a huge disfavour,' she answered cautiously. 'But keeping them in bondage goes against everything we've been taught about fundamental rights by our society growing up.' She paused for a long minute before continuing. 'I suppose the best we can do in this situation is to treat them as well as we can and free the ones that do want to be freed, as few as there may be of those.'
They sat for a while in silence, Harry trying to ponder what April had said, but found that it did not exactly comfort him about Dobby's situation – though that probably had not been April's intention. As April had said, he did not like the idea of a creature, perhaps as intelligent as a human, being held in magical bondage, but if that was what they wanted to be, then would it not be just as inhumane to deny them that and force them to be free? The situation seemed to defy any simple answers he could come up with.
'What about the warning Dobby gave me?' Harry asked, trying to shift his mind upon something more immediate and resolvable. 'What do you think of it? What should I do? Should I really not go to Hogwarts?'
April thought for a few moments. 'What do you think of it?' she asked first.
'I…well, I want to go back to Hogwarts,' he answered. 'And…and Dobby wasn't clear about what the "danger" is.'
'I agree,' April replied. 'I'm sceptical. It's possible that Dobby really was warning of something terrible, but…well…a family that mistreats their house-elf like that can't possibly be very good. It's possible that they might have sent Dobby to warn you…on purpose.'
'What do you mean, "on purpose"?'
'I don't know, maybe this is speculation, but…' she paused, '…well, do you know – has Dumbledore ever told you – that there are people out there who…might not have you in their best interest, because of what happened to You-Know-Who?'
Harry's mind immediately jumped to Quirrell. 'Yeah.'
'What if one of those people is trying to draw you away from Hogwarts on purpose?' April proposed. 'What if they want something from you, or maybe to do something to you, but they know that they cannot do it under Dumbledore's watch – every "dark" wizard is still scared of him, after all – so they're trying to prevent you from going to Hogwarts, to keep Dumbledore from protecting you?'
'Do you really think they're trying to do that?' Harry asked, cold sweat breaking out.
'I don't know,' April replied. 'Nobody has tried to do anything against you for the last eleven years…it'd be a little odd for them to start now…but that doesn't mean they can't start now.'
Harry did not tell her that 'they', in fact, had already started, but what had happened at the end of last year only served to strengthen April's analysis. 'I'm going back to Hogwarts,' he declared without a second thought.
'You should,' April affirmed. 'You have to. I wouldn't feel at ease if you weren't. I wouldn't feel responsible to your mum.'
'I think also, right after you finish breakfast, you should write a letter to Dumbledore,' she further instructed. 'Tell him what happened and what we just discussed. I don't know what he could do with the information, but it will be much better – and safer for you – with him aware of what's going on.'
Harry felt as if a weight had been lifted. He would be going back to Hogwarts after all – not that he had ever doubted that he would find a way to go regardless of what April decided. There was no other place for him to be.
