“Don’t — what are you doing?” Harry hissed, springing up and pulling Dobby back onto the bed — Hedwig had woken up with a particularly loud screech and was beating her wings wildly against the bars of her 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.
“And I thought I 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 I?”
Almost at once, Harry wished he 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 feeling distinctly hot 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 Hermione, she —”
But he stopped quickly, 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.
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, to warn him, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven door later.…Harry 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 Uncle Vernon’s voice.
“W-what?” Harry stammered. “But I’ve got to go back — term starts on September first. It’s all that’s keeping me going. You don’t know what it’s like here. I don’t belong here. I belong in your world — at Hogwarts.”
“No, no, no,” squeaked Dobby, shaking his head so hard his ears flapped. “Harry Potter must stay where he is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he 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?” said Harry at once. “Who’s plotting them?”
Dobby made a funny choking noise and then banged his head frantically against the wall.
“All right!” cried Harry, grabbing the elf’s arm to stop him. “You can’t tell me. I understand. But why are you warning me ?” A sudden, unpleasant thought struck him. “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, was completely lost.
“He hasn’t got a brother, has he?”
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 Harry’s desk lamp, and started beating himself around the head with earsplitting yelps.
A sudden silence fell downstairs. Two seconds later Harry, heart thudding madly, heard Uncle 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 the bed just as the door handle turned.
“What — the — devil — are — you — doing?” said Uncle 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, boy!”
He stomped flat-footed from the room.
Shaking, Harry let Dobby out of the closet.
“See what it’s like here?” he said. “See why I’ve got to go back to Hogwarts? It’s the only place I’ve got — well, I think I’ve got friends.”
“Friends who don’t even write to Harry Potter?” said Dobby slyly.
“I expect they’ve just been — wait a minute,” said Harry, frowning. “How do you know my friends haven’t been writing to me?”
Dobby shuffled his feet.
“Harry Potter mustn’t be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best —”
“Have you been stopping my letters? ”
“Dobby has them here, sir,” said the elf. Stepping nimbly out of Harry’s reach, he pulled a thick wad of envelopes from the inside of the pillowcase he was wearing. Harry could make out Hermione’s neat writing, Ron’s untidy scrawl, and even a scribble that looked as though it was from the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Hagrid.
Dobby blinked anxiously up at Harry.
“Harry Potter mustn’t be angry.…Dobby hoped…if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him…Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir.…”
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 could move, Dobby had darted to the bedroom door, pulled it open, and sprinted down the stairs.
Mouth dry, stomach lurching, Harry sprang after him, trying not to make a sound. He jumped the last six steps, landing catlike on the hall carpet, looking around for Dobby. From the dining room he heard Uncle 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 felt his stomach disappear.
Aunt 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 me.…”
“Harry Potter must say he’s not going back to school —”
“Dobby…please…”
“Say it, sir —”
“I can’t —”
Dobby gave him a tragic look.
“Then Dobby must do it, sir, for Harry 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.