Another Unexpected Dinner Guest
There is a knock on the door. This is remarkable, because for all intents and purposes, there is no front door.
Harry wasn’t aware there was anything leading to outside except for the way they came in, but apparently there’s a lot he doesn’t know, because knock someone does. Merlin is startled enough that he drops his spork into his curry and watches it sink sadly out of sight.
“Arthur?”
Arthur grunts, having already gotten up to answer it.
“Were you expecting anyone?” Harry inquires.
“No. We get guests sometimes, but they usually announce themselves. Sort of have to, really, it’s not like our place is easy to find…” he trails off to himself. Harry’s noticed that Merlin tends to forget he’s talking to someone else at some point in his sentence and not just himself quite frequently.
“Maybe it’s your guardian.”
“Doubt it. Why would they bother knocking?”
Arthur returns with a guest in tow, and both Harry and Merlin turn to regard them.
A house-elf almost as skinny as Harry with great big doe eyes and nervously flapping ears tap-tap-taps his way in timidly. He’s shaking a little. He wears nothing more than a retrofitted potato sack and a miserable look as his huge eyes dart around the room, trying desperately to take them all in at once.
Arthur must’ve talked him out of going the whole hog (bowing and scraping and grovelling and all that nonsense). Instead he performs a sort of plié with his flat little feet, looking nervously between Merlin and Harry, hands fisting his rags.
“My lord! Sir! And Harry Potter, sir! So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sirs... Such an honor it is… Dobby never thought he’d get to…”
He trails off, his eyes somehow going even wider as Hobby jingles her way into the room, humming. At this point Merlin’s worried they’ll bug right out of his head. Hobby waves kindly, bangles tinkling and skirt swishing. Dobby swallows with great effort and returns a pathetic little wiggle of his fingers, looking thunderstruck. Merlin internally coos. His brain short-circuits at how cute that is for a second. Dobby. Dobby and Hobby. By the goddess, that’s adorable.
“This is Dobby,” Arthur announces into the following silence, clearing his throat. Dobby’s bobbly head snaps back to attention and he pales a little.
“Oh dear! F-forgive Dobby, sirs! Masters! Dobby meant n-no disrespect! Dobby’s a horrible elf, truly, truly awful.”
“You don’t seem so bad,” Harry pipes up. Merlin flashes him a beaming smile. They’ve only had Harry for a few months, and if anything were to happen to him, Merlin would level a country.
Dobby lets out a wail, eyes suddenly shining, clutching his rags to his chest. “Oh, ohhhh, Harry Potter is too kind to Dobby. Dobby is beside himself, he is.”
Merlin swoops in to save the boy, because he looks quite unsure what to do with that, and also because Dobby looks like he may blow over like a twig in the wind.
“Well, first thing’s first, Dobby, are you alright? Did you travel far? There’s an extra seat if you’d like.”
A louder wail and Dobby all but collapses on the floor in supplication.
“Master Emrys offers Dobby a s-s-SEAT! Oh, ohhh… D-Dobby isn’t worthy of such kindness… to be treated as- as an equal! A seat at Master Emrys’ table, with his Lordship and H-Harry Potter! He offers it, just so! Ohhhh, his kindness truly is not exaggerated…”
Hobby bounces forward, producing tissues from out of nowhere and offering them to Dobby. He looks like she’s handed him the sun.
“Dobby mustn’t worry about such things,” she informs him smoothly. “Hobby’s boys is always kind. Dobby must focus now. What is it he wanted to say?”
Dobby blinks and nods fervently, as if trying to shake his brain into motion and manages to stop gaping at her, sheepishly blowing his nose like a trumpet into a tissue.
“That’s right! Dobby has come with grave news! Grave! Dobby isn’t… Dobby isn’t…” his lip trembles. Merlin’s face slackens.
“Dobby, you’re not allowed to be here, are you?”
Dobby shakes his head and wails, eyes shooting around for something to whack himself with. Merlin speaks quickly when he realises.
“You are safe here, Dobby. Your obligations do not bind you here. I release you. Speak freely.”
Merlin feels the older magical binding snap, and Dobby wilts like a flower, or a puppet with his strings cut. Merlin never liked those bindings between master and servant, they were too often abused, twisted into nothing more than slavery. But now is not the time to get… heated. Merlin takes a deep breath, half for himself and half to encourage Dobby to calm his insane heart rate.
Dobby would’ve collapsed right then and there in gratitude and happiness were it not for Hobby. She isn’t having it. She pulls him up by his rags and dusts them off like they’re as fine as her own clothes and gives him a stern but encouraging look.
“Tells us what Dobby came for,” she nudges warmly.
Dobby steels himself, swallows, and nods. “There is a plot, Master Emrys. 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, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!”
“A plot?” Arthur intervenes, deadly serious, stepping forward, “What plot?”
“Dobby knows not! Dobby- Dobby only came to warn… Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this, for disobeying… oh, the things Dobby will have to do… but Harry Potter must be safe! He must be warned!”
“Please don’t stick your ears in the oven door,” Harry blurts.
Tell me your the family you serve, Merlin asks the elf mentally, sending waves of reassurance as he does. Dobby looks right at him, terrified- but answering to Emrys overrules any familial bindings. He must answer.
The Malfoys, sir. Dobby’s eyes are wide, his shoulders hunched- but he straightens them now, his gaze turning steely and determined as he works himself up to do something brave. You must protect Harry Potter, sir. Hogwarts School is not safe this year.
With a grounding hand from Hobby, Dobby manages not to hit himself for this slip, but he trembles like a leaf all over, gulping up Merlin’s mental reassurance like a drowning man would air.
Dobby isn’t lying, of that Merlin is sure. Hobby does not entertain liars, and house-elves can't really lie to him anyway. So where does that leave them?
Malfoy. Harry’s boy, he’s a Malfoy. His father’s one of Riddle’s mooks, then? Assassination isn’t Tom’s style, though, particularly not of this nature, so long and drawn out. It could be a secondary party with their own agenda for the Boy who Lived. That would imply that they’re aware at least in part of his significance. Unlikely. One of Riddle’s boys trying to take the initiative themselves and help with their own plot, then? Or- Dobby never explicitly said the plot was a murderous one. The setting of another trap, perhaps? Leverage with which to infiltrate the school, or gain access to Harry mentally? Is there something Riddle could want with him before killing him?
“You’ve been very, very brave, Dobby,” Arthur says, keeping Dobby’s eyes in that significant way of his, appraising him like one of his knights. “Well done. Thank you for telling us.”
Instead of throwing himself into another wail, or collapsing under the weight of Arthur’s warm appreciation, Dobby squares his shoulders again. Merlin is quite impressed with this house-elf.
“Dobby has heard whispers of Harry Potter’s greatness, sir. But Dobby sees goodness, too. Dobby could not let it die. Dobby takes heart, sir, to see m’lords take him in. It gives Dobby hope. For this, Dobby would shut his ears in anything!” Dobby vows. Merlin feels more than sees Arthur swell with pride in his own chest.
“Please don’t,” Harry reiterates automatically.
It hurts Merlin’s heart to send Dobby back to his keepers, but it would be too suspicious for him to be freed in such congruent timing. Dobby adds that he could still keep his ears out (he gives them a little wag) for anything important. Still, they make sure to let him know that he’s welcome in their home anytime.
“Hobby wants to thank Dobby for warning her boys. Dobby is very brave,” Hobby informs him solemnly as he goes. Dobby turns an interesting fluorescent pink and stutters something, tripping on his way out the door.
Arthur turns to put his hands on his tanned hips, raising his eyebrows at Harry.
“Well, I knew the git was determined to spook you, Harry, but not that determined.”
Merlin nods. Arthur must’ve recognized him as the Malfoy’s house-elf. He did his research on Riddle sympathizers and social standings thoroughly. Harry crinkles his nose.
“Sorry?”
“That was Malfoy’s house-elf. Trying to scare you out of going back to school, I suspect,” Merlin explains dismissively. He’s glad Hobby isn’t here to hear that. She never did like liars.
“That toad!” Harry gasps. Arthur’s startled into a laugh. “Wait ‘til Ron hears about this!”
“Oh, speaking of, Harry-” Merlin summons the letter that arrived earlier to his hand and pulls it onto the table as if it was in his lap the whole time. “Ron’s invited us over to stay, if you like.”
Judging by the way Harry lights up like the northern lights, Merlin thinks it’s safe to assume he’s got some packing to do.