ool. Harry hadn't told the
Dursleys this; he knew it was only their terror that he might turn them
all into dung beetles that stopped them from locking him in the
cupboard under the stairs with his wand and broomstick. For the first
couple of weeks back, Harry had enjoyed muttering nonsense words
under his breath and watching Dudley tearing out of the room as fast
as his fat legs would carry him. But the long silence from Ron and
Hermione had made Harry feel so cut off from the magical world that
even taunting Dudley had lost its appeal - and now Ron and Hermione
had forgotten his birthday.
What wouldn't he give now for a message from Hogwarts? From any
witch or wizard? He'd almost be glad of a sight of his archenemy,
Draco Malfoy, just to be sure it hadn't all been a dream ....
Not that his whole year at Hogwarts had been fun. At the very end of
last term, Harry had come face-to-face with none other than Lord
Voldemort himself. Voldemort might be a ruin of his former self, but
he was still terrifying, still cunning, still determined to regain power.
Harry had slipped through Voldemort's clutches for a second time, but
it had been a narrow escape, and even now, weeks later, Harry kept
waking in the night, drenched in cold sweat, wondering where
Voldemort was now, remembering his livid face, his wide, mad eyes
Harry suddenly sat bolt upright on the garden bench. He had been
staring absent-mindedly into the hedge - and the hedge was staring back.
Two enormous green eyes had appeared among the leaves.
Harry jumped to his feet just as a jeering voice floated across the
8
lawn.
"I know what day it is," sang Dudley, waddling toward him.
The huge eyes blinked and vanished.
"What?" said Harry, not taking his eyes off the spot where they had
been.
"I know what day it is," Dudley repeated, coming right up to him.
"Well done," said Harry. "So you've finally learned the days of the
week."
"Today's your birthday," sneered Dudley. "How come you haven't got
any cards? Haven't you even got friends at that freak place?"
"Better not let your mum hear you talking about my school," said
Harry coolly.
Dudley hitched up his trousers, which were slipping down his fat
bottom.
"Why're you staring at the hedge?" he said suspiciously.
" I , m trying to decide what would be the best spell to set it on
fire," said Harry.
Dudley stumbled backward at once, a look of panic on his fat face.
"You c-can't - Dad told you you're not to do m-magic - he said he'll
chuck you out of the house - and you haven't got anywhere else to go -
you haven't got any friends to take you -"
"Jiggery pokery!" said Harry in a fierce voice. "Hocus pocus squiggly
wiggly -"
"MUUUUUUM!" howled Dudley, tripping over his feet as he dashed
back toward the house. "MUUUUM! He's doing you know what!"
Harry paid dearly for his moment of fun. As neither Dudley nor
the hedge was in any way hurt, Aunt Petunia knew he hadn't really
9
done magic, but he still had to duck as she aimed a heavy blow at his
head with the soapy frying pan. Then she gave him work to do, with
the promise he wouldn't eat again until he'd finished.
While Dudley lolled around watching and eating ice cream, Harry
cleaned the windows, washed the car, mowed the lawn, trimmed the
flowerbeds, pruned and watered the roses, and repainted the garden
bench. The sun blazed overhead, burning the back of his neck. Harry
knew he shouldn't have risen to Dudley's bait, but Dudley had said
the very thing Harry had been thinking himself... maybe he didn't have
any friends at Hogwarts ....
Wish they could see famous Harry Potter now, he thought savagely as he
spread manure on the flower beds, his back aching, sweat running
down his face.
It was half past seven ,in the evening when at last, exhausted, he
heard Aunt Petunia calling him.
"Get in here! And walk on the newspaper!"
Harry moved gladly into the shade of the gleaming kitchen. On top of
the fridge stood tonight's pudding: a huge mound of whipped cream
and sugared violets. A loin of roast pork was sizzling in the oven.
"Eat quickly! The Masons will be here soon!" snapped Aunt Petunia,
pointing to two slices of bread and a lump of cheese on the kitchen
table. She was already wearing a salmon-pink cocktail dress.
Harry washed his hands and bolted down his pitiful supper. The
moment he had finished, Aunt Petunia whisked away his plate.
"Upstairs! Hurry!"
As he passed the door to the living room, Harry caught a
glimpse of Uncle Vernon and Dudley in bow ties and dinner jack
ets. He had only just reached the upstairs landing when the door
bell rang and Uncle Vernon's furious face appeared at the foot of
the stairs.
"Remember, boy - one sound -"
Harry crossed to his bedroom on tiptoe slipped inside, closed
the door, and turned to collapse on his bed.
The trouble was, there was already someone sitting on it.
10
C H-H A P T E RR T W o
I
DOBBY'S WARNING
arry 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. Harry knew instantly that this was what had been
watching him out of the garden hedge that morning.
As they stared at each other, Harry heard Dudley's voice from the hall.
"May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?"
The creature slipped off the bed and bowed so low that the end of its
long, thin nose touched the carpet. Harry noticed that it was wearing
what looked like an old pillowcase, with rips for arm- and leg-holes.
"Er - hello," said Harry nervously.
"Harry Potter!" said the creature in a high-pitched voice Harry was
sure would carry down the stairs. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet
you, sir ... Such an honor it is . . . ."
"Th-thank you," said Harry, edging along the wall and sinking into his
desk chair, next to Hedwig, who was asleep in her large cage. He
wanted to ask, "What are you?" but thought it would sound too rude,
so instead he said, "Who are you?"
"Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf," said the creature.
"Oh - really?" said Harry. "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 Petunias high, false laugh sounded from the living room. The elf
hung his head.
"Not that I'm not pleased to meet you," said Harry quickly, "but, er,
is there any particular reason you're here?"
11
"Oh, yes, sir," said Dobby earnestly. "Dobby has come to tell you,
sir ... it is difficult, sir ... Dobby wonders where to begin . . . ."
"Sit down," said Harry politely, pointing at the bed.
To his horror, the elf burst into tears - very noisy tears.
"S-sit down!" he wailed. "Never ... never ever. . . "
Harry thought he heard the voices downstairs falter.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't mean to offend you or anything -"
"Offend Dobby!" choked the elf. "Dobby has never been asked to sit
down by a wizard - like an equal-"
Harry, 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 Harry in an expression of watery
adoration.
"You can't have met many decent wizards," said Harry, 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?" Harry 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, sir," said the elf, who had gone slightly
cross-eyed. "Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir . . . ."
"Your family?"
"The wizard family Dobby serves, sir... DOBBY'S is a houseelf -
bound to serve one house and one family forever . .....
12
"Do they know you're here?" asked Harry curiously.
Dobby shuddered.
"Oh, no, sir, no ... Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously
for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the
oven door for this. If they ever knew, sir _"
"But won't they notice if you shut your ears in the oven door?"
"Dobby doubts it, sir. Dobby is always having to punish himself for
something, sir. They lets Dobby get on with it, sir. Sometimes they
reminds me to do extra punishments ......
"But why don't you leave? Escape?"
"A house-elf must be set free, sir. And the family will never set
Dobby free ... Dobby will serve the family until he dies, sir . . . ."
Harry stared.
"And I thought I had it bad staying here for another four weeks,"
he said. "This makes the Dursleys sound almost human. Can't anyone
help you? Can't I?"
Almost at once, Harry wished he hadn't spoken. Dobby dissolved again
into wails of gratitude.
"Please," Harry whispered frantically, "please be quiet. If the Dursleys
hear anything, if they know you're here -"
"Harry Potter asks if he can help Dobby ... Dobby has heard of your
greatness, sir, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew . .....
Harry, 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 he stopped quickly, because thinking about Hermione was painful.
13
"I-Tarry Potter is humble and modest," said Dobby reverently, his orblike
eyes aglow. "Harry Potter speaks not of his triumph over He-Who-
Must-Not-Be-Named -"
"Voldemort?" said Harry.
Dobby clapped his hands over his bat ears and moaned, "Ah, speak not
the name, sir! Speak not the name!"
"Sorry" said Harry quickly. "I know lots of people don't like it. My
friend Ron -"
He stopped again. Thinking about Ron was painful, too.
Dobby leaned toward Harry, his eyes wide as headlights.
'Dobby heard tell," he said hoarsely, "that 