f yourself,
Dobby, talking that way about your masters!"
"They isn't my masters anymore, Winky!" said Dobby defiantly. "Dobby doesn't
care what they think anymore!"
"Oh you is a bad elf, Dobby!" moaned Winky, tears leaking down her face once
more. "My poor Mr. Crouch, what is he doing without Winky? He is needing me,
he is needing my help! I is looking after the Crouches all my life, and my mother
is doing it before me, and my grandmother is doing it before her ... oh what is they
saying if they knew Winky was freed? Oh the shame, the shame!" She buried her
face in her skirt again and bawled.
"Winky," said Hermione firmly, "I'm quite sure Mr. Crouch is getting along
perfectly well without you. We've seen him, you know -"
"You is seeing my master?" said Winky breathlessly, raising her tearstained face
out of her skirt once more and goggling at Hermione. "You is seeing him here at
Hogwarts?"
"Yes," said Hermione, "he and Mr. Bagman are judges in the Triwizard
Tournament."
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"Mr. Bagman comes too?" squeaked Winky, and to Harry 's great surprise (and
Ron's and Hermione's too, by the looks on their faces), she looked angry again.
"Mr. Bagman is a bad wizard! A very bad wizard! My master isn't liking him, oh
no, not at all!"
"Bagman - bad?" said Harry.
"Oh yes," Winky said, nodding her head furiously, "My master is telling Winky
some things! But Winky is not saying.. . Winky - Winky keeps her master's
secrets. ..."
She dissolved yet again in tears; they could hear her sobbing into her skirt, "Poor
master, poor master, no Winky to help him no more!"
They couldn't get another sensible word out of Winky. They left her to her crying
and finished their tea, while Dobby chatted happily about his life as a free elf and
his plans for his wages.
"Dobby is going to buy a sweater next, Harry Potter!" he said happily, pointing at
his bare chest,
"Tell you what, Dobby," said Ron, who seemed to have taken a great liking to the
elf, "I'll give you the one my mum knits me this Christmas, I always get one from
her. You don't mind maroon, do you?"
Dobby was delighted.
"We might have to shrink it a bit to fit you," Ron told him, "but it'll go well with
your tea cozy."
As they prepared to take their leave, many of the surrounding elves pressed in
upon them, offering snacks to take back upstairs. Hermione refused, with a pained
look at the way the elves kept bowing and curtsying, but Harry and Ron loaded
their pockets with cream cakes and pies.
"Thanks a lot!" Harry said to the elves, who had all clustered around the door to
say good night. "See you, Dobby!"
"Harry Potter . . . can Dobby come and see you sometimes, sir?" Dobby asked
tentatively.
" 'Course you can," said Harry, and Dobby beamed.
"You know what?" said Ron, once he, Hermione, and Harry had left the kitchens
behind and were climbing the steps into the entrance hall again. "All these years
I've been really impressed with Fred and George, nicking food from the kitchens -
well, it's not exactly difficult, is it? They can't wait to give it away!"
"I think this is the best thing that could have happened to those elves, you know,"
said Hermione, leading the way back up the marble staircase. "Dobby coming to
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work here, I mean. The other elves will see how happy he is, being free, and
slowly it'll dawn on them that they want that too!"
"Let's hope they don't look too closely at Winky," said Harry.
"Oh she'll cheer up," said Hermione, though she sounded a bit doubtful. "Once the
shock's worn off, and she's got used to Hogwarts, she'll see how much better off
she is without that Crouch man."
"She seems to love him," said Ron thickly (he had just started on a cream cake).
"Doesn't think much of Bagman, though, does she?" said Harry. "Wonder what
Crouch says at home about him?"
"Probably says he's not a very good Head of Department," said Hermione, "and
let's face it... he's got a point, hasn't he?"
"I'd still rather work for him than old Crouch," said Ron. "At least Bagman's got a
sense of humor."
"Don't let Percy hear you saying that," Hermione said, smiling slightly.
"Yeah, well, Percy wouldn't want to work for anyone with a sense of humor,
would he?" said Ron, now starting on a chocolate eclair. "Percy wouldn't
recognize a joke if it danced naked in front of him wearing Dobby's tea cozy."
250
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - THE UNEXPECTED TASK
Potter! Weasley! Will you pay attention?"
Professor McGonagall's irritated voice cracked like a whip through the
Transfiguration class on Thursday, and Harry and Ron both jumped and looked
up.
It was the end of the lesson; they had finished their work; the guinea fowl they had
been changing into guinea pigs had been shut away in a large cage on Professor
McGonagall's desk (Neville's still had feathers); they had copied down their
homework from the blackboard ("Describe, with examples, the ways in which
Transforming Spells must be adapted when performing Cross-Species Switches"}.
The bell was due to ring at any moment, and Harry and Ron, who had been having
a sword fight with a couple of Fred and George's fake wands at the back of the
class, looked up, Ron holding a tin parrot and Harry, a rubber haddock.
"Now that Potter and Weasley have been kind enough to act their age," said
Professor McGonagall, with an angry look at the pair of them as the head of
Harry's haddock drooped and fell silently to the floor - Ron's parrot's beak had
severed it moments before - "I have something to say to you all.
"The Yule Ball is approaching - a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and
an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be
open only to fourth years and above - although you may invite a younger student if
you wish -"
Lavender Brown let out a shrill giggle. Parvati Patil nudged her hard in the ribs,
her face working furiously as she too fought not to giggle. They both looked
around at Harry, Professor McGonagall ignored them, which Harry thought was
distinctly unfair, as she had just told off him and Ron.
"Dress robes will be worn," Professor McGonagall continued, "and the ball will
start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall.
Now then -"
Professor McGonagall stared deliberately around the class.
"The Yule Ball is of course a chance for us all to - er - let our hair down," she said,
in a disapproving voice.
Lavender giggled harder than ever, with her hand pressed hard against her mouth
to stifle the sound. Harry could see what was funny this time: Professor
McGonagall, with her hair in a tight bun, looked as though she had never let her
hair down in any sense.
"But that does NOT mean," Professor McGonagall went on, "that we will be
251
relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be
most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any
way."
The bell rang, and there was the usual scuffle of activity as everyone packed their
bags and swung them onto their shoulders.
Professor McGonagall called above the noise, "Potter - a word, if you please."
Assuming this had something to do with his headless rubber haddock, Harry
proceeded gloomily to the teacher's desk. Professor McGonagall waited until the
rest of the class had gone, and then said, "Potter, the champions and their partners
-"
"What partners?" said Harry.
Profesor McGonagall looked suspiciously at him, as though she thought he was
trying to be funny.
"Your partners for the Yule Ball, Potter," she said coldly. "Your dance partners."
Harry's insides seemed to curl up and shrivel.
"Dance partners?" He felt himself going red. "I don't dance," he said quickly.
"Oh yes, you do," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "That's what I'm telling
you. Traditionally, the champions and their partners open the ball."
Harry had a sudden mental image of himself in a top hat and tails, accompanied by
a girl in the sort of frilly dress Aunt Petunia always wore to Uncle Vernon's work
parties.
"I'm not dancing," he said.
"It is traditional," said Professor McGonagall firmly. "You are a Hogwarts
champion, and you will do what is expected of you as a representative of the
school. So make sure you get yourself a partner, Potter."
"But-I don't-"
"You heard me, Potter," said Professor McGonagall in a very final sort of way.
A week ago. Harry would have said finding a partner for a dance would be a cinch
compared to taking on a Hungarian Horntail. But now that he had done the latter,
and was facing the prospect of asking a girl to the ball, he thought he'd rather have
another round with the dragon.
Harry had never known so many people to put their names down to stay at
Hogwarts for Christmas; he always did, of course, because the alternative was
usually going back to Privet Drive, but he had always been very much in the
minority before now. This year, however, everyone in the fourth year and above
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seemed to be staying, and they all seemed to Harry to be obsessed with the coming
ball - or at least all the girls were, and it was amazing how many girls Hogwarts
suddenly seemed to hold; he had never quite noticed that before. Girls giggling
and whispering in the corridors, girls shrieking with laughter as boys passed them,
girls excitedly comparing notes on what they were going to wear on Christmas
night... .
"Why do they have to move in packs?" Harry asked Ron as a dozen or so girls
walked past them, sniggering and staring at Harry. "How're you supposed to get
one on their own to ask them?"
"Lasso one?" Ron suggested. "Got any idea who you're going to try?"
Harry didn't answer. He knew perfectly well whom he'd like to ask, but working
up the nerve was something else. . . . Cho was a year older than he was; she was
very pretty; she was a very good Quidditch player, and she was also very popular.
Ron seemed to know what was going on inside H