get lost before my bones come back, Dobby, or I might strangle you."
Dobby smiled weakly.
"Dobby is used to death threats, sir. Dobby gets them five times a day
at home."
He blew his nose on a corner of the filthy pillowcase he wore, looking
so pathetic that Harry felt his anger ebb away in spite of himself.
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"Why d'you wear that thing, Dobby?" he asked curiously.
"This, sir?" said Dobby, plucking at the pillowcase. "'Tis a mark of the
house-elf's enslavement, sir. Dobby can only be freed if his masters
present him with clothes, sir. The family is careful not to pass Dobby
even a sock, sir, for then he would be free to leave their house
forever."
Dobby mopped his bulging eyes and said suddenly, "Harry Potter must
go home! Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough to make -"
"Your Bludger?" said Harry, anger rising once more. "What d'you
mean, your Bludger? You made that Bludger try and kill me?"
"Not kill you, sir, never kill you!" said Dobby, shocked. "Dobby wants
to save Harry Potter's life! Better sent home, grievously injured, than
remain here sir! Dobby only wanted Harry Potter hurt enough to be
sent home!"
"Oh, is that all?" said Harry angrily. "I don't suppose you're going to
tell me why you wanted me sent home in pieces?"
"Ah, if Harry Potter only knew!" Dobby groaned, more tears dripping
onto his ragged pillowcase. "If he knew what he means
*177*
to us, to the lowly, the enslaved, we dregs of the magical world!
Dobby remembers how it was when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named
was at the height of his powers, sir! We house-elfs were treated like
vermin, sir! Of course, Dobby is still treated like that, sir," he admitted,
drying his face on the pillowcase. "But mostly, sir, life has improved
for my kind since you triumphed over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
Harry Potter survived, and the Dark Lord's power was broken, and it
was a new dawn, sir, and Harry Potter shone like a beacon of hope
for those of us who thought the Dark days would never end, sit... And
now, at Hogwarts, terrible things are to happen, are perhaps happening
already, and Dobby cannot let Harry Potter stay here now that history
is to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more
Dobby froze, horrorstruck, then grabbed Harry's water jug from his
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bedside table and cracked it over his own head, toppling out of sight. A
second later, he crawled back onto the bed, cross-eyed, muttering,
"Bad Dobby, very bad Dobby. . ."
"So there is a Chamber of Secrets?" Harry whispered. "And did you
say it's been opened before? Tell me, Dobby!"
He seized the elf's bony wrist as Dobby's hand inched toward the
water jug. "But I'm not Muggle-born - how can I be in danger from the
Chamber?"
"Ah, sir, ask no more, ask no more of poor Dobby," stammered the elf,
his eyes huge in the dark. "Dark deeds are planned in this place, but
Harry Potter must not be here when they happen - go home, Harry
Potter, go home. Harry Potter must not meddle in this, sir, 'tis too