“Get in here! And walk on the newspaper!”
Harry moved gladly into the shade of the gleaming kitchen. On top of the fridge stood tonight’s pudding: a huge mound of whipped cream and sugared violets. A loin of roast pork was sizzling in the oven.
“Eat quickly! The Masons will be here soon!” snapped Aunt Petunia, pointing to two slices of bread and a lump of cheese on the kitchen table. She was already wearing a salmon-pink cocktail dress.
Harry washed his hands and bolted down his pitiful supper. The moment he had finished, Aunt Petunia whisked away his plate. “Upstairs! Hurry!”
As he passed the door to the living room, Harry caught a glimpse of Uncle Vernon and Dudley in bow ties and dinner jackets. He had only just reached the upstairs landing when the doorbell rang and Uncle Vernon’s furious face appeared at the foot of the stairs.
“Remember, boy — one sound —”
Harry crossed to his bedroom on tiptoe, slipped inside, closed the door, and turned to collapse on his bed.
The trouble was, there was already someone sitting on it.
CHAPTER TWO
DOBBY’S WARNING
Harry 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. Harry knew instantly that this was what had been watching him out of the garden hedge that morning.
As they stared at each other, Harry 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. Harry 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 Harry was sure would carry down the stairs. “So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir . . . Such an honor it is. . . .”
“Th-thank you,” said Harry, edging along the wall and sinking into his desk chair, next to Hedwig, who was asleep in her large cage. He wanted to ask, “What are you?” but thought it would sound too rude, so instead he said, “Who are you?”
“Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf,” said the creature.
“Oh — really?” said Harry. “Er — I don’t want to be rude or anything, but — this isn’t a great time for me to have a house-elf in my bedroom.”
Aunt Petunia’s 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 . . . it is difficult, sir . . . Dobby wonders where to begin. . . .”
“Sit down,” said Harry politely, pointing at the bed.
To his horror, the elf burst into tears — very noisy tears.
“S-sit down!” he wailed. “Never . . . never ever . . .”
Harry thought he heard the voices downstairs falter.
“I’m sorry,” he 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 the bed where he sat hiccoughing, looking like a large and very ugly doll. At last he 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 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 —”