HIS CHOSEN GIRL [MAJOR EDITING/REWRITING]

second year ➤dobby

Despite the obvious issues with this Dobby fellow, his words undoubtedly send shivers up my spine as I think back to the all too vivid memory of Voldemort escaping Hogwarts on the night of the Philosopher's Stone.

"What terrible things?" I ask. "Who's plotting them?"

Dobby gasps. "He!...Can't...Say!" He starts spazzing once again and determined to prevent another fit, I realize that is the best I'm going to get.

"Okay! I understand," I tell him hurriedly. "You can't say. Just be quiet!"

Instead of following my orders, he surely seems to be a rotten house elf, Dobby leaps to my desk, grabs my lamp and begins hitting himself in the head with it.

I groan. "Dobby, put the lamp down.... Give me the lamp!" I try wrestling the lamp away from the house elf but he hold on with dear life, thrashing his head against it repeatedly. My heart drops when I hear stomping up the stairs, stomping I can only detect as Uncle Vernon.

This allows me to summon the strength to yank the lamp out of Dobby's grasp. I grab the house elf harshly by his pillowcase and throw him in my wardrobe.

"Get in there," I demand. "And stay quiet."

I just the wardrobe door at the same time Uncle Vernon opens my bedroom door. He scans the room before shooting me a deathly glare.

"What the devil are you doing up here?" he hisses.

Never being one to be particularly skilled at thinking on the spot, I squirm under his scowl. "I was just-"

I notice, out of the corner of my eye, that Dobby has slowly began peering out of my wardrobe.

I abandon my sentence and shove the door close, luckily Uncle Vernon doesn't notice as he continues to growl at me. "You just ruined the punchline of my Japanese golfer joke." He hisses.

"Sorry," I say pushing the wardrobe closed again.

This time, Uncle Vernon turns his attention to the wardrobe and my stomach twists and turns. If he opens that door and sees Dobby in there, I'm rightfully dead. By some miracle, he shrugs it off, probably itching to return to his dinner.

"One more sound, and you'll wish you'd never been born boy," he threatens. "And fix that door."

As if on cue, the door opens again to which I push it shut a third time. "Yes, sir."

Uncle Vernon huffs, irritated, then slams the door to my bedroom shut. I heave a breath of relief then yank open the door Dobby hides behind.

"You see why I've got to go back? I don't belong here. I belong in your world, at Hogwarts. It's the only place I've got friends."

"Friends who don't even write to Harry Potter?" He inquires.

Ouch.

"Well, I expect they've been-" I stop talking and Dobby's eyes immediately grow wider. "Hang on. How do you know my friends haven't been writing to me?"

Dobby eyes me fearfully. "Harry Potter mustn't be angry with Dobby," He begins. "Dobby hoped if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him, Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir."