The Aftermath

The next day, the last before they all went to Hogwarts, Harry wandered away from the grove where the others were flying. He used the hated Knight Bus to get to Diagon Alley. In less than an hour, he had his broom tucked in his trunk and was back in the grove before anyone had come looking for him. Apparently people wandering off for an hour at a time was nothing unusual here. Little arguments, heated tempers, curiosity, all the usual suspects.

Dinner that night, the night before they returned to school, was extra special. Roast chicken and all the trimmings, including roasted potatoes fresh from the garden and mashed carrots studded with peas.

It was as good as any feast Harry had eaten at Hogwarts.

That night, Ron asked Harry how he'd liked Ottery St. Catchpole and the Burrow.

"I loved visiting," Harry said.

"Will you come back next summer?" Ron asked.

"Maybe for a week, but I've other plans first."

"Your aunt and uncle?"

"Maybe." Which meant no.

What Harry wasn't saying was that he now had dreams of family. They might not be alive now, but Harry wanted to know something about them. Living with a real family, the Weasleys, for more than a week centered Harry's imagination.

Harry also had had a family, a good one. He planned to spend the next summer learning about where his parents, their parents, and any more distant branches had lived. Where he'd been born, where his people had lived, where the family's land was or had been.

This year's summer adventure had been Hogwarts. Next year's was, he thought, to be at Godric's Hollow, assuming the clues kept pointing in that direction.

Harry went to sleep dreaming of adventures and family. And camping and magic.

He woke sometime after two. He couldn't hear Ron's snoring. He couldn't hear anything.

"Hello?" he called out.

"The great Harry Potter sir says hello."

A green fleshed creature – a particularly battered specimen of house elf – came into the moon light. He seemed ecstatic or astonished.

Harry sat up, or tried to. He found he couldn't move.

"Are you immobilizing me?" Harry asked.

"Dobby is sorry, but yes."

None of the books he'd read – or the conversations he'd had with the elves at Hogwarts – had prepared Harry for this.

"Can you tell me why?"

"Dobby be waiting until you were leaving Hogwarts, Harry Potter. But you stayed every day of the summer until you came to see Harry Potter sir's Weasels. Tonight I be finishing my work early so I could talk to you..."

"About what, Dobby?"

"How to say? Where to start?"

"Tell me, please."

The elf gulped. "Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts..."

Well, the elf sounded completely bonkers. But Harry knew about crazy people. Agree with them, make them explain, make them break their own delusions, if such a thing was possible. And don't panic. Panic was death.

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"Dobby hears things. About the great Harry Potter. He hears bad things, too. Plots. Danger. At Hogwarts this year. He doesn't understand all that he hears. No. He doesn't."

"And what will happen?"

Dobby burst into tears. "Dobby doesn't know."

"And who put it into motion?"

Dobby ceased wailing. "Dobby cannot speak against his Master."

Which was his way of speaking against his Master.

"An old family?" Harry asked.

"No," Dobby said.

"Pretend old?"

Dobby wobbled his head. Yes.

"A wealthy family?"

Dobby nodded and tears splattered everywhere.

"Is it to do with You-Know-Who?"

Dobby teared up again, but kept his calm, such as it was.

Harry had studied up what he could about his family and what had ended it. The Death Eaters. Those who had been freed as guiltless hadn't been named in any books Harry found, but Harry had seen references in old Prophets to some trials. What were those names?

"So you work for the...Parkinsons?"

"No."

"Nott? Um, Rookwood? Malfoy..."

Here Dobby choked up. That was close enough to a yes. So obvious, Harry should have started with Malfoy.

"What did the trap consist of?"

"A book, Harry Potter sir."

Interesting, given the events of the last few days. "Black, a diary, with a name on it?"

"Yes." Dobby was almost in tears again.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle?"

"How did Harry Potter sir know?"

"It's been turned into the...Aurors."

What a strange word, Auror.

"You wouldn't lie to Dobby...but how could you know about the book unless you'd seen it?"

"Exactly. Release me." A demand, firmly made. Next, an offer of kindness? "Would you like some tea?" Harry asked.

"Harry Potter offers Dobby tea?"

It was apparently the wrong thing to say. The creature burst into tears again. This Dobby was unlike any house elf Harry had ever met.

Harry found he was free to sit up, though. He heard the house waking up, frightened conversations... Dobby had frozen everyone in the Burrow.

"Dobby knew Harry Potter was great. Dobby had not needed to worry at all... Dobby leaves."

And he did.

The whole house woke. Arthur Weasley wanted to know what had happened, then Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny all had to hear the story before Mrs. Weasley shushed them. Percy pretended he had heard nothing at all.

Harry did not get back to sleep for some time.

Harry would need to learn a lot more about house elves. And how to keep them away while he was adventuring. That could have been a disaster.

.....

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