Chapter 2
Harry Potter had seen a house-elf before.
But the one standing on his bed was nothing like Kreacher.
Kreacher was old, wrinkly and grumpy. He and Sirius hated each other and were often at each other's throats. The only one the elf respected at all was Harry.
The one on his bed was very young and very shy.
"Who sent you?" Harry asked stiffly, hand in his pocket, fingering his wand.
"No one is being sending Dobby, sir," said the house-elf nervously, wringing his old pillowcase in his hands. "Dobby came himself, to -- to warn Harry Potter."
Harry relaxed a little. The elf had come on his own. "Welcome to Black Manor," Harry said calmly. "Sit down." This was both an offer and a command.
Dobby blinked in surprise and sat down. "Dobby has never -- Dobby has never been treated so kindly," he whispered.
"Well, in this house, we respect elves," Harry said shortly, remembering the fountain in the Ministry with disgust. "What did you want to warn me about?"
Dobby took a shaky breath. "Harry Potter is valiant and bold! He has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, even if he does have to shut his ears in the oven door later.... Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts."
Harry studied the elf for a long moment. Something in his expression made Dobby shiver. "Why?" he asked quietly.
"If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger," Dobby squeaked.
"Why?" Harry said again, calmly.
"There is a plot, Harry Potter, a plot to make the most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," Dobby said, trembling. "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"
"A few months," Harry whispered, a note of ice in his voice. "Why have you come now, if you've known for months?"
Dobby looked uncomfortable.
Silence. Then Harry chuckled darkly, making the elf cower. "I wondered who was stealing my mail."
"Dobby," the elf squeaked, "Dobby was only-"
"Only trying to make me think that my friends didn't want to write to me," Harry interrupted, his voice icy calm. "So that I wouldn't want to go back to Hogwarts."
Dobby paled. "Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter," he whispered.
"Who are your masters, Dobby?" Harry asked suddenly.
All color left Dobby's face. "The Malfoys, sir," he said, so quietly that Harry barely heard him.
"Tell me," Harry said softly, "what would happen if I told them you've been stealing my mail?"
Dobby didn't answer.
"Answer me, Dobby."
Harry's magic filled the room with cold malice. The elf jumped and stared up at him in shocked horror.
"They -- they would be angry at Dobby," Dobby rasped. "They -- they would punish Dobby."
"How would they punish you?" Harry continued.
The elf flinched, obviously unable to answer. Harry leaned closer, face inches from Dobby's face, and smiled. The elf almost fainted.
"Whatever punishment they give you," Harry said, oh so very softly, "would be nothing compared to what I would do to you. Unless..." he trailed off, letting his magic retract slightly. "You give me my letters."
Shaking, the elf pulled out a stack of scrolls and a wad of envelopes -- from Dean and Hermione, probably. Harry took them.
"Good," Harry said sweetly, his magic retreating. "I'm sure you won't intervene again. Won't you, Dobby?"
The elf shook his head quickly.
"What else can you tell me about what plot is happening at Hogwarts?" Harry continued, putting the letters on his desk.
Dobby swallowed.