After a day spent in the blazing hot sun cleaning the windows, washing the car, mowing the lawn, trimming the flower beds, pruning and watering the roses, repainting the garden bench and having only two slices of bread and a hunk of cheese for dinner, Harry Potter was going to be spending the rest of his twelfth birthday in his room pretending he didn't exist. His relatives, the Dursleys of number 4 Privet Drive, were spending his birthday doing precisely the same thing... while hosting a dinner party they had specifically informed him he would not be attending.
Having a horrible birthday shouldn't have surprised him by this point. His aunt and uncle seemed to take pride in keeping him as miserable as possible. This was precisely why Harry's racing broom and all of his books on magic had promptly been locked away in the cupboard under the stairs the instant he'd returned from his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
The only thing even slightly unusual about his birthday so far had been the bulbous pair of eyes which had been staring at him from a hedge earlier that day. That, Harry supposed, and the conspicuous absence of mail from any of his school friends. If he hadn't known it was impossible he'd swear the Dursleys were somehow behind his friends not writing to him. He had gotten nothing from Ron or Hermione, his two best friends, or even Hagrid, who had been the first magical person Harry had ever met. Ron said he'd write to invite him to stay with his family over the break but with the way things were it didn't look like that would ever happen.
After more than a month spent stuck with the Dursleys Harry would've given anything for a bit of mail. Even a taunting note from I'm-better-than-you Draco Malfoy or a grease-stained missive from the evil git of a potions master Severus Snape would've been welcome since it'd at least prove this whole last year had actually happened.
As he entered his bedroom, intending to flop down on his bed and get an early night, Harry learned that life had other plans for it was at that precise moment the magical world had decided to pay him a visit.
Harry managed not to shout when he saw the strange little creature on his bed, though it was a close-run thing. The last thing he wanted was his Uncle Vernon to come blundering up here accusing him of ruining his party. There'd be no telling what he'd do.
Instead, Harry stood stock-still and blinked at the little bat-eared creature. The creature's bulging green tennis ball-like eyes blinked back. Harry knew instantly that this had been the thing that had been staring at him from the hedge earlier today. But, what did it want?
As they stared at each other, Harry heard Dudley's voice from the hall below.
"May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?"
The dinner party had started. Harry closed the door as the creature, clad only in an old pillowcase with rips for its arms and head, slipped off the bed and bowed so low that the end of its long nose touched the carpet.
"Harry Potter!" the creature said.
"Er – Hello," he replied.
"So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir..." the creature said. "Such an honor it is..."
"Er – Thank you. Can I help you?" Harry asked.
"Help Dobby!" the spritely creature cried, in a tone Harry was sure would carry downstairs. "Never has someone asked to help Dobby! Dobby has heard of your greatness–," the creature bowed again, "But never has Dobby dreamed to be helped by Harry Potter." The creature looked up at him, eyes alight in adulation.
"Er – Don't mention it," Harry replied, at a loss for how else to respond as he edged his way over to sit on the desk chair next to his snowy owl, Hedwig, still asleep in her cage.
"If I can ask–," Harry said before he stopped himself. He had been intending to ask 'what are you' but now didn't think that would go over too well at all. Instead he finished with "–who are you?"
"Oh!" The creature said nervously. "Apologies, sir. I'm Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf." It picked at its old dirty pillowcase, perhaps thinking it should have changed before coming. Not wanting to make the creature feel any worse, Harry decided to be as civil as possible.
"While I'm very pleased to meet you, Dobby, right now isn't a great time to have a house-elf in my bedroom. I could get into a lot of trouble if my relatives knew you were here."
"Oh!" Dobby squeaked loudly before immediately clasping his hands over his mouth, his eyes darting between Harry and the door before speaking more quietly.
"Apologies, sir. Dobby understands. If Dobby's family knew Dobby was here...," the creature shuddered.
"Your family?" asked Harry curiously.
"The wizarding family Dobby serves, sir. Dobby is a house-elf, bound to serve one house and one family forever."
"And your family doesn't know you're here?"
Dobby shook his head so quickly his ears were almost slapping against his face.
"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 Dobby had to come," Dobby finished earnestly.
"That's horrible," Harry exclaimed. "Won't they notice if you shut your ears in an oven door?"
"Dobby doubts it, sir. Dobby is always having to punish himself for something. Sometimes they reminds Dobby to do extra punishments..."
Harry couldn't think of anything more horrible. Dobby's family actually made the Dursleys sound warm and cuddly by comparison. While this would probably be a touchy subject, memories of his days spent working like a slave for the Dursleys in a prison he couldn't wait to flee from soon had Harry resolved to help someone else break free from theirs too if he could.
"So why don't you just leave? Escape?" he asked, having asked himself the same thing many times before.
"Because a house-elf must be set free, sir," Dobby said as if explaining something obvious. "And the family will never set Dobby free... Dobby will serve the family until Dobby dies, sir..." Dobby sniffed and blew his nose on his already soiled pillowcase.
"Isn't there someone else you can call, like the Ministry?" Harry asked appalled. "Surely they can stop it."
"Oh, no, sir, no," Dobby replied. "So long as the family owns Dobby, the family can do what they wants."
That gave Harry an idea.
"Do you think they'd sell you, Dobby? Do you think I could buy you?"
Almost at once, Harry wished he hadn't spoken as Dobby dissolved into wails.
"Please," Harry whispered frantically as Hedwig perked up and stared disapprovingly at the little noise-maker. "Please be quiet. If the Dursleys hear anything, if they know you're here–." Harry chanced a look towards the door. "I didn't mean to offend you or anything."
"Offend Dobby! Harry Potter asks if he can buy Dobby... Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew...," Dobby cried, burying his face in Harry's jeans.
Hedwig turned to look at Harry, as if it were his fault the little guy was here, as Dobby occupied himself by wiping his nose on his already dirty pillowcase as the tears rolled down his cheeks. Harry stood, wanting to give sniffling creature time to pull himself together.
"Wait here, Dobby. I'll be right back," Harry said as he pat the little guy on his head and slipped out the door.
As quietly as he could, Harry made his way to the bathroom and filled a small paper cup with cool water from the tap. He got back into the hall just as his Uncle Vernon reached the end of the Japanese golfer joke he'd been practicing all week.
"–There they found the Japanese man, squatting with his pants down around his ankles!" Vernon said agog.
Harry rolled his eyes.
"'What on earth are you doing?!' cried the American," Vernon continued. "The Japanese fellow looked up and without pause, replied–"
"Here you go, Dobby," Harry said as he closed the door and handed the little elf the cup of water. "Why don't you sit down and drink this."
The little creature looked at the paper cup as if he had never seen anything so precious.
"Harry Potter served Dobby! And he's been asked to sit down – like an equal," Dobby said awestruck.
"Of course you have been; you're my friend."
"A–a friend?" Dobby asked.
"Absolutely. You came here to visit me and you've been nice, which is more than my other friends have done. That makes you my friend," Harry explained as if to a child.
Once again tears fell from Dobby's eyes.
"Dobby does not deserve to be served by Harry Potter!" Dobby said as he sat the still-full cup of water on the desk. In a flash Dobby had rammed his head against the desk drawers, making an ungodly racket.
"Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!" he cried, slamming into the desk and spilling water all over himself.
Quickly Harry pulled Dobby away from the desk and placed him on the bed, surreptitiously wiping his now grimy hands on his trousers. The noise from downstairs stilled for a moment and they waited with bated breath before the talk from below started again.
"Harry Potter has been so nice to Dobby!" Dobby said more quietly. "Harry Potter asked to buy Dobby. If Harry Potter knew what Dobby has done he would not be wanting to help him!"
Harry sat down on the bed next to Dobby and put his hand on the creature's cleanest shoulder.
"Why don't you just tell me what all this is about and I'll make that decision for myself."
"Yes, sir. Apologies, sir. Dobby wonders where to begin."
"Does it have anything to do with why you came here?" Harry prompted.
"Oh, yes, sir. Dobby had to come. Dobby had to warn Harry Potter." Dobby seemed to curl himself even smaller and lowered his voice before continuing. "There's a plot," Dobby said conspiratorially. "A plot to make the most terrible things happen. Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year! And Dobby thought – that if Harry Potter thought that his friends had forgotten him–"
"So you're the reason my friends haven't been writing me?" Harry asked, trying not to let any of the sudden aggravation he felt bleed into his words.
"Yes, sir. And then Harry Potter calls Dobby friend!" Dobby wailed.
"Shush, Dobby. I understand," Harry said, trying to calm the elf by telling it what it obviously wanted to hear. "You were only trying to protect me, which is more than any of my relatives have ever done," he finished sourly.
"Ah, sir!" Dobby cried through his tears. "Harry Potter is not speaking of his mother, sir, who died to protect him!"
That struck Harry to the core. He hadn't thought the elf would speak of that. He didn't even know what to say to that. How could he have forgotten his parents on his birthday? It was all most people talked about around him. His looks, her eyes, they're dead – aren't you happy being famous!
"Harry Potter has braved so many dangers already!" Dobby sniffled, dabbing his face with a corner of the grubby pillowcase he was wearing. "Dobby heard tell that Harry Potter met the Dark Lord for a second time, just weeks ago... and Harry Potter escaped yet again."
Harry nodded.
"Ah, sir," Dobby gasped. "Harry Potter is valiant and bold! Harry Potter must not go back to school this year. Terrible things will happen. Harry Potter must stay where he is safe! He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger."
"If I don't go back to Hogwarts, Dobby, then my friends will be in mortal danger. If terrible things are going to happen then I've got to be there to help them. I promise to be on alert, Dobby, but you've got to tell me more. What terrible things? And who's plotting them?"
Dobby made a funny choking noise and then raced to bang his head frantically against the wall.
"All right!" cried Harry, grabbing the elf's arm to stop him. "You can't tell me. I understand. But why are you warning me?" A sudden, unpleasant thought struck him. "Hang on – this hasn't got anything to do with your family, does it? Are they the ones doing the plotting?"
Dobby was as still as a statue, except his eyes which darted between the desk and the nearest wall. He looked torn between punishing himself and terrified anything he did would be taken as confirmation.
"Sorry, Dobby," Harry said. "Forget I asked. I should have known you wouldn't be able to answer that one either."