𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝; 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡.𝐩

𝓨𝓮𝓪𝓻 2, 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 2: 𝓓𝓸𝓫𝓫𝔂'𝓼 𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰

"You can't have met many decent wizards, then, if they don't even ask you to sit down," said Y/N, 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?" Y/N hissed, springing up with Harry and pulling Dobby back onto the bed — Hades and Hedwig had now woken up with particularly loud screeches and were beating their wings wildly against the bars of their cages.

"Dobby had to punish himself, ma'am," said the elf, who had gone slightly cross-eyed. "Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, ma'am...."

"Your family?" Y/N had never heard of an elf belonging to a family before, let alone a house-elf, but perhaps it was a normal thing in the Wizarding world.

"The wizard family Dobby serves, ma'am.... 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. 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?" Y/N asked curiously.

"Dobby doubts it, ma'am. Dobby is always having to punish himself for something, ma'am. They lets Dobby get on with it, ma'am. Sometimes they reminds me to do extra punishments...."

"But why don't you leave?" Y/N suggested. "Escape?"

"A house-elf must be set free, ma'am. And the family will never set Dobby free... Dobby will serve the family until he dies, ma'am...." Y/N and Harry stared, speechless, and then looked at each other.

"Damn," Harry said, "and we thought we had it back staying here for another four weeks."

"This makes the Dursleys sound almost human," Y/N agreed before looking at Dobby again. "Can't anyone help you? Can't we?"

Almost at once, she wished she hadn't spoken. Dobby dissolved again into wails of gratitude.

"Please," she whispered frantically, "please be quiet. If the Dursleys hear anything — look, they can't know you're here—"

"Harry Potter and Y/N Black ask if they can help Dobby... Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, ma'am, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew...."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I was feeling distinctly hot in the face when Dobby said that, and luckily, Y/N said — more like muttered, "Whatever you've heard about our greatness is a load of rubbish. We're not even top of our year at Hogwarts; that's Hermione, she—"

Then she stopped quickly, and I understood why; thinking about Hermione was painful.

"Harry Potter and Y/N Black are humble and modest," said Dobby reverently, his orb-like eyes aglow, as if we were his idols or something. "They speak not of their triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named—"

"Voldemort?" I questioned.

Dobby clapped his hands over his bat ears. "Ah, speak not the name, sir! Speak not the name!"

'All right. So house-elves don't say Voldemort's name either. Gotcha.'

"Sorry," I said quickly. "I know loads of people don't like it. Our friend Ron—"

I stopped. Thinking about Ron was painful, too.

Dobby leaned toward us, his eyes wide as headlights.

"Dobby heard tell," he said hoarsely, "that Harry Potter and Y/N Black met the Dark Lord for a second time, just weeks ago... that they escaped yet again."