Adventures of Harriet Potter

Dobby's Warning

A/N: This chapter contains a dark and disturbing scene that explains the punishment Harriet dreads coming from her uncle beyond just cloy hints and may trigger people. If you're squeamish about such things I suggest waiting for the next chapter then skipping this one entirely.

Harriet 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. Harriet knew instantly that this was what had been watching her out of the garden hedge that morning. As they stared at each other, Harriet heard Dudley's voice from the hall. "May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?" Dudley said, exactly as rehearsed. Harriet shivered, hoping no noise from what was sure to be an encounter reached downstairs — she'd surely be punished in Uncle Vernon's favorite sexist way if it did. The creature slipped off the bed and bowed so low that the end of its long, thin nose touched the carpet. Harriet noticed that it was wearing what looked like an old pillowcase, with rips for arm- and leg-holes.
"Er — hello," said Harriet nervously. "Harriet Potter!" said the creature in a high-pitched voice Harriet was sure would carry down the stairs. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, ma'am . . . Such an honor it is. . . ." Harriet winced with every word, seriously hoping the sound wouldn't carry far past her closed bedroom door. "Th-thank you," said Harriet, edging along the wall and sinking into her desk chair, next to Hedwig, who was asleep in her large cage. She wanted to ask, "What are you?" but thought it would sound too rude, so instead she said, "Who are you?"
"Dobby, ma'am. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf," said the creature. "Oh — really?" said Harry, having read a little on house elves but it was sparse and didn't go into what their role in magical society was — and lacked any description or pictures. "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 Harriet quickly, "but, er, is there any particular reason you're here?" Wanting to get to the point so she could fulfill her "role" in her only remaining family's dinner tonight. Ironically she wished she wasn't there, so she wouldn't have to hear how fake her Muggle relatives could be trying to impress people for Uncle Vernon's business. "Oh, yes, ma'am," said Dobby earnestly. "Dobby has come to tell you, ma'am . . . it is difficult, ma'am . . . Dobby wonders where to begin. . . ."
"Sit down," said Harriet politely, pointing at the bed. To her horror, the elf burst into tears — very noisy tears. "S-sit down!" he wailed. "Never . . . never ever . . ." Harriet thought she heard the voices downstairs falter. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I didn't mean to offend you or anything —" fear laced her tone as she frantically tried to calm the elf. "Offend Dobby!" choked the elf. "Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a witch — like an equal —"
Harriet, 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 Harriet in an expression of watery adoration. "You can't have met many decent witches," said Harriet, 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?" Harriet 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, ma'am," said the elf, who had gone slightly cross-eyed. "Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, ma'am. . . ." Harriet was intrigued and confused, though her heart was hammering with fear. "Your family?" she asked, seeing an opportunity to learn more about house-elves firsthand. "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 Harriet curiously. Dobby shuddered. "Oh, no, ma'am, no . . . Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, ma'am. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, ma'am —" Harriet winced, having shut her hand in an oven door more than once when she was younger. "But won't they notice if you shut your ears in the oven door?" she asked, not immediately seeing the logic. "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? Escape?" Harriet asked, horrified by a situation so similar to her own. "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. . . ." Harriet stared, too shocked to speak for a few minutes. "And I thought I had it bad staying here for another four weeks," she said. "This makes the Dursleys sound almost human. Can't anyone help you? Can't I?" Almost at once, Harriet wished she hadn't spoken. Dobby dissolved again into wails of gratitude. "Please," Harriet whispered frantically, "please be quiet. If the Dursleys hear anything, if they know you're here —" she shuddered to think about what Uncle Vernon would do to her.
"Harriet Potter asks if she can help Dobby . . . Dobby has heard of your greatness, ma'am, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew. . . ." Harriet, 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 she stopped quickly, because thinking about Hermione was painful. "Harriet Potter is humble and modest," said Dobby reverently, his orb-like eyes aglow. "Harriet Potter speaks not of her triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named —"
"Voldemort?" said Harriet. Dobby clapped his hands over his bat ears and moaned, "Ah, speak not the name, ma'am! Speak not the name!" Harriet realized Dobby was like the majority of the wizarding world. "Sorry," said Harriet quickly. "I know lots of people don't like it. My friend Ron —" She stopped again. Thinking about Ron was painful, too. Dobby leaned toward Harriet, his eyes wide as headlights. "Dobby heard tell," he said hoarsely, "that Harriet Potter met the Dark Lord for a second time, just weeks ago . . . that Harriet Potter escaped yet again."
Harriet nodded and Dobby's eyes suddenly shone with tears. "Ah, ma'am," he gasped, dabbing his face with a corner of the grubby pillowcase he was wearing. "Harriet Potter is valiant and bold! She has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harriet Potter, to warn her, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven door later. . . . Harriet 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?" Harriet 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." Her heart was aching at the very thought of not going to Hogwarts, of staying at her abusive family's house while her friends went to school and learned more magic. "No, no, no," squeaked Dobby, shaking his head so hard his ears flapped. "Harriet Potter must stay where she is safe. She is too great, too good, to lose. If Harriet Potter goes back to Hogwarts, she will be in mortal danger."
"Why?" said Harriet in surprise. Not mentioning the mortal danger in her own home, especially if her relatives found out she wasn't allowed to do magic outside of school. "There is a plot, Harriet 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, ma'am. Harriet Potter must not put herself in peril. She is too important, ma'am!"
"What terrible things?" said Harriet at once, her thoughts instantly on her friends. "Who's plotting them?" Dobby made a funny choking noise and then banged his head frantically against the wall. "All right!" cried Harriet, 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 her. "Hang on — this hasn't got anything to do with Vol- — sorry — with You-Know-Who, has it? You could just shake or nod," she 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, ma'am —" But Dobby's eyes were wide and he seemed to be trying to give Harry a hint. Harry, however, was completely lost. Though there was an inkling that she'd heard Voldemort go by a different name before, she just couldn't place it. She resolved to research it later, assuming she got to go back to Hogwarts. "He hasn't got a brother, has he?" she tried, not really believing it because Voldemort struck her as an only child with prescription grade issues.
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 Harriet. "I mean, there's Dumbledore, for one thing — you know who Dumbledore is, don't you?" Not seeing how he wouldn't know. Dobby bowed his head. "Albus Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had. Dobby knows it, ma'am. Dobby has heard Dumbledore's powers rival those of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the height of his strength. But, ma'am" — Dobby's voice dropped to an urgent whisper — "there are powers Dumbledore doesn't . . . powers no decent wizard . . ."
And before Harriet could stop him, Dobby bounded off the bed, seized Harriet's desk lamp, and started beating himself around the head with earsplitting yelps. A sudden silence fell downstairs. Two seconds later Harriet, 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 Harriet, stuffing Dobby in, shutting the door, and flinging herself 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 Harriet'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, girl!" He stomped flat-footed from the room. Shaking, Harriet let Dobby out of the closet. "See what it's like here?" she 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 Harriet Potter?" said Dobby slyly. "I expect they've just been — wait a minute," said Harriet, frowning. "How do you know my friends haven't been writing to me?" Dobby shuffled his feet. "Harriet Potter mustn't be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best —" she quickly connected the proverbial dots. "Have you been stopping my letters?" asked Harriet. "Dobby has them here, ma'am," said the elf. Stepping nimbly out of Harriet's reach, he pulled a thick wad of envelopes from the inside of the pillowcase he was wearing. Harriet 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 Harriet. "Harriet Potter mustn't be angry. . . . Dobby hoped . . . if Harriet Potter thought her friends had forgotten her . . . Harriet Potter might not want to go back to school, ma'am. . . ." Harriet was barely listening. She made a grab for the letters, but Dobby jumped out of reach. "Harriet Potter will have them, ma'am, if she gives Dobby her word that she will not return to Hogwarts. Ah, ma'am, this is a danger you must not face! Say you won't go back, ma'am!" Thinking quickly Harriet crossed the fingers of her left hand behind her back and promised, obtaining the letters and shutting them in the drawer of her desk before Dobby asked if she meant it.
"No," said Harriet angrily. "Get out of here and don't ever stop my friends' letters!" Her temper getting the better of her. "Then Harriet Potter leaves Dobby no choice," said the elf sadly. Before Harriet could move, Dobby had darted to the bedroom door, pulled it open, and sprinted down the stairs. Mouth dry, stomach lurching, Harriet sprang after him, trying not to make a sound. She jumped the last six steps, landing catlike on the hall carpet, looking around for Dobby. From the dining room she heard Uncle Vernon saying, ". . . tell Petunia that very funny story about those American plumbers, Mr. Mason. She's been dying to hear . . ." Harriet ran up the hall into the kitchen and felt her 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 Harriet. "Please . . . they'll kill me. . . ." Leaving out how Uncle Vernon would do worse than kill her, her nethers aching from how sore he'd make her over such a magical disaster. "Harriet Potter must say she's not going back to school —" she was almost crying for the second time that day. "Dobby . . . please . . ." Harriet pleaded, not wanting the punishment that would come from the pudding smashing to the floor, with her as the only culprit her aunt and uncle could see and blame. "Say it, ma'am —" Dobby pleaded back at her. "I can't —" she sobbed quietly. Dobby gave her a tragic look. "Then Dobby must do it, ma'am, for Harriet 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.
There were screams from the dining room and Uncle Vernon burst into the kitchen to find Harriet, rigid with shock, covered from head to foot in Aunt Petunia's pudding. At first, it looked as though Uncle Vernon would manage to gloss the whole thing over. ("Just our niece — very disturbed — meeting strangers upsets her, so we kept her upstairs. . . .") He shooed the shocked Masons back into the dining room, promised Harriet he would flay her to within an inch of her life when the Masons had left, and handed her a mop. Aunt Petunia dug some ice cream out of the freezer and Harriet, still shaking, started scrubbing the kitchen clean. Crying as she knew precisely the punishment she would receive once the Mason's left.
Uncle Vernon might still have been able to make his deal — if it hadn't been for the owl. Aunt Petunia was just passing around a box of after-dinner mints when a huge barn owl swooped through the dining room window, dropped a letter on Mrs. Mason's head, and swooped out again. Mrs. Mason screamed like a banshee and ran from the house shouting about lunatics. Mr. Mason stayed just long enough to tell the Dursleys that his wife was mortally afraid of birds of all shapes and sizes, and to ask whether this was their idea of a joke. Harriet stood in the kitchen, clutching the mop for support, as Uncle Vernon advanced on her, a demonic glint in his tiny eyes. "Read it!" he hissed evilly, brandishing the letter the owl had delivered. "Go on — read it!" Harriet took it. It did not contain birthday greetings.