Cross Interrogation

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Harry interrupted Dobby, "But won't they notice if you shut your ears in the oven door?"

The elf's answer came hesitantly, "Dobby doubts it, sir. Dobby is always having to punish himself for something, sir. They let Dobby get on with it, sir. Sometimes they remind me to do extra punishments..."

Harry sighed deeply. "You have some bad family." Dobby opened his mouth as if to respond, then remembered he was not to speak ill of his family, though he was immobilized and couldn't move.

Chuckling, Harry proposed, "Let's play a game. I will say words about your family and try to guess from which family you hail, then will understand the situation better. But you won't open your mouth, okay? So in the end when I guess, it has nothing to do with you."

He then turned to Misty, "Would that make him go against his oaths?"

Misty shook her head, "No, Master Potter. Since Dobby won't open his mouth, it is not he going against his oath."

Harry gazed at Dobby's large, round eyes that were full of worry and apprehension. With a calm and measured voice, he began his guessing game. "Are they pure-blood wizards?" Dobby remained silent, his eyes darting nervously around the room, but Harry read the confirmation in his fearful expression.

Smirking slightly, Harry continued his probing. "Do they all belong to Slytherin House?" At this, Dobby's eyes widened ever so slightly, and though no words came out, the answer was clear as day to Harry.

"Are they known for... being inbred?" Harry watched as Dobby's ears drooped a little more, a subtle but telling reaction. He decided to push a little further, narrowing his eyes as he posed another question. "Are they followers of Voldemort?" Dobby's reaction was more pronounced this time, a look of terror briefly flashing across his face before he regained his composure.

Harry, piecing the clues together, continued, "Do they have a son who is in the same year as me at Hogwarts?" Dobby's tense posture relaxed imperceptibly, confirming Harry's suspicion without a single word spoken.

At this point, it was clear to Harry that he was dealing with the Malfoy family. Lucius Malfoy, a well-known supporter of Voldemort, his son Draco a classmate of Harry's at Hogwarts. Still, Harry decided to confirm further just for the sake of completeness.

"Do they have a daughter?" he asked quickly, to which Dobby shook his head vigorously.

"And they have one son, right? Blonde, thinks rather highly of himself?" At this, even Dobby couldn't help a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. Harry chuckled softly, "Thought as much."

Harry paused, considering his next words carefully. "Has their son, has he been... mistreating you?"

To Harry's surprise, Dobby shook his head, despite the spell holding him firmly in place. This revelation startled Harry; although he had managed to temper Malfoy's worse traits in their first year, making him a less antagonistic figure, the idea that Draco might have never mistreated Dobby seemed far off. "Seems like you must give little Draco more credit," Nigel commented in Harry's mind.

Harry gave a small nod, his thoughts briefly shifting. "Well, he's still not about to join the core group, but perhaps he's suited for a more positive role than I'd thought."

Turning back to Dobby, Harry continued his questioning, "Now, since you came to warn me about a danger unfolding at Hogwarts this year, and you're reluctant to talk about it, it must be your family that's causing it." Dobby remained motionless, his eyes darting nervously.

"Is it Draco?" Harry probed, watching closely for any sign of affirmation. However, the same resolute denial was evident in Dobby's eyes. "He's not aware of it, I see," Harry murmured to himself, adjusting his line of inquiry. "Then it must be Lucius."

Harry's statement hung in the air, Dobby's reaction—or lack thereof—confirming the suspicion without a word. "Will he take action personally?" Harry asked next, but the expressions flitting across Dobby's face suggested otherwise.

"How interesting. I doubt I can find out more without making you speak directly, but this gives me a lot to think about," Harry mused aloud.

Nigel's voice popped up again, chiding lightly, "And here I thought we'd have a quiet year. Looks like your knack for trouble hasn't gone unnoticed."

Harry, with a half-smile, responded silently to Nigel, "Trouble finds me; what can I say?"

He then turned his attention back to Dobby, speaking clearly and firmly. "Dobby, you've done a brave thing by coming here today. I want to help you, but you must also help yourself. You don't need to punish yourself for seeking what's right."

Dobby's large eyes welled up with tears, and he gave a tiny nod, appreciating Harry's words.

Harry glanced at the elf sympathetically. "I'll take your warning seriously. I'll be cautious at Hogwarts. Can you keep an eye on things from your end and visit me if there's any update?"

Dobby managed a shaky smile and nodded vigorously, the relief apparent in his posture even as he remained frozen.

"Good," Harry said with a finality, dispelling the immobilization charm with a flick of his wand. "You're free to go, Dobby. Be safe and remember, you have someone to turn to if things get too difficult."

With a crack, Dobby disappeared, likely back to the Malfoys', and Harry sighed, turning back to his own preparations for the day.

Nigel chimed in, his tone dry, "Well, that was as heartwarming as it gets around here. Next, we'll be hosting tea parties for ghosts."

Harry couldn't help but laugh quietly. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that. But first, I've got a trip to Gringotts planned. I need to talk about those security measures with Grimbletack." 

Harry turned to Misty, giving her a quick instruction, "Misty, could you pop over to Gringotts and let Mr. Grimbletack know I'll be visiting this afternoon?" Misty gave a brisk nod, "Of course, Master Harry," she replied, before disappearing with her characteristic pop.

Feeling a yawn stretch across his face, Harry walked back to his room, where Crookshanks had made himself comfortable in the warm spot Harry had just vacated on the bed. Gently lifting the cat, Harry settled back into bed, Crookshanks curling up in his arms with a contented purr. "Warm, nice," Harry heard the cat say. Chuckling, he stroked Crookshanks' fur, enjoying the simple comfort of the moment.

Nigel, ever ready with a comment, remarked, "You're turning into quite the cat lady, Master Harry. Next, you'll be knitting him little booties."

Harry faked a snort. "I'll have you know, Nigel, that a true gentleman appreciates the refined company of a cat. Besides, someone has to teach him about the finer things in life, like a proper lap nap."

Nigel's response came with a chuckle. "Oh, indeed, Master Harry. And perhaps next, you'll enroll him in your classes on 'The Delicate Art of Napping Under a Tree.' Should be a hit among the feline elite."

Before Harry could retort, the door creaked open, and Petunia peered in, a gentle smile playing on her lips at the sight of Harry and Crookshanks in their cozy tableau. "Breakfast is ready, Harry. Don't let the day get away from you."

As Petunia reached down to pick up Crookshanks, the cat grumbled, "Unhand me, woman. I want my warm place." Harry stifled a laugh, knowing full well that only he could understand the cat's gruff complaints.

Petunia, unaware of Crookshanks' sassy retort, merely chuckled and planted a kiss on Harry's forehead. "Come down when you're ready," she said, her tone light and motherly.

With a stretch and a quick glance at the clock, Harry made his way downstairs after freshening up, where Petunia and a freshly returned Misty were already seated at the breakfast table. The smell of fresh toast and tea filled the air, mingling with the scent of summer flowers wafting in from the open kitchen window.

"Welcome back, Misty. Did you see Mr. Grimbletack?" Harry asked as he took his seat.

"Yes, Master Potter. Mr. Grimbletack expects you this afternoon," Misty replied, her voice cheerful.

The morning passed quickly with light chatter and plans for the upcoming school term. After breakfast, Harry offered to do the dishes, much to Petunia's amusement. She smiled, excusing herself to join Misty in the garden to tend to the plants. As Harry stood at the sink, bubbles up to his elbows, Nigel couldn't help but comment, "Ah, the great Harry Potter and soapy dishes. A thrilling sequel indeed."

Harry rolled his eyes as he scrubbed a particularly stubborn spot on a plate. "It's just dishes, Nigel. Someone's got to do them."

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