The Fall of Dumbledore: The White King

Ominus Warning

Harry Potter lay awake on the lumpy mattress in Dudley's second bedroom, staring up at the bare ceiling. It was well past midnight, but sleep eluded him. His mind raced with the strange events of the past few weeks since returning to Privet Drive for the summer holidays. His school trunk and wand lay at the foot of the bed, a reassuring sight.

A loud crack made Harry jolt upright, his heart pounding. He squinted in the darkness and made out a small, humanoid shape near the bedroom door.

"Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts!" squeaked the creature, its voice trembling.

"Who are you? What's going on?" Harry asked, fumbling for his glasses on the nightstand.

"Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, sir. There is a plot, a terrible plot to make horrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

As Harry's eyes adjusted, he saw the strange creature wringing its long, bat-like ears nervously. It was a house-elf, like the ones who served at Hogwarts.

"What terrible things? Who's plotting them?" Harry demanded.

But before the elf called Dobby could answer, there came a thundering of footsteps in the hallway outside. The door burst open and Uncle Vernon loomed in the doorway, his face purple with rage.

"What the blazes are going on, boy?" he bellowed. "Shut up and go to sleep, or you'll wish you'd never been born!"

Harry opened his mouth to explain about Dobby, but the elf gave a terrified squeak and snapped his fingers. There was a deafening crack and an enormous pudding materialized out of thin air, descending straight onto Uncle Vernon's head. Cream and preserves splattered the walls as Uncle Vernon toppled backward amidst a cloud of yellow custard.

In the days that followed, the Dursleys punished Harry severely for the incident with Dobby and the pudding. He was confined to his tiny bedroom with only a few tins of cold soup pushed through the cat flap to sustain him. His wand was kept within reach at the foot of his bed, a small comfort.

As the long summer weeks wore on, Harry grew thinner and thinner from hunger, gazing wistfully out of Dudley's barred bedroom window at the gnomes scurrying around the flowerbed below. He knew his friends must be having a much better holiday, probably playing Quidditch and practicing spells. Harry felt utterly isolated from the wizarding world.

But one sleepless night, as Uncle Vernon's thunderous snores shook the house, Harry thought he glimpsed a strange, dark shape hovering outside his window. His heart leaped - could it be someone from Hogwarts coming to rescue him at last?

Harry crept to the window and peered out at the luminous full moon. A strange skeletal black horse seemed to be floating in mid-air, beating its giant wings. And perched on its back was an unmistakable figure - a boy with white-blond hair.

"Malfoy?" Harry mouthed in disbelief. The pale, pointed features of his best friend were set with grim determination as the skeletal horse banked around for another pass at his window.

With a lurch of shock, Harry realized Malfoy must have come to rescue him, however improbable that seemed. He was already extracting his wand from his robes as the horse's wings beat the air madly, trying to slow its momentum enough to draw level with Harry's window...