"Uh..." Harry didn't know what to say, "Th-thank you."
"Um... who are you...?"
" Dobby, sir. My name is Dobby, Dobby the House-elf," the little creature said in a high-pitched voice.
Harry gently closed the door behind him, but for his own safety, he didn't close it completely, leaving a crack.
Do you know me?
"Who doesn't know Harry Potter?" Dobby looked at him with those tennis ball-green eyes, his voice trembling with an almost worshipful tone.
Dobby has heard of you before, sir. You defeated... you defeated that man whose name cannot be mentioned. Dobby has always wanted to meet you.
Harry wasn't sure whether he should be smug or not. He scratched the back of his head, a little awkwardly, and said, "Uh, thanks, please sit down."
Unexpectedly Dobby suddenly burst into tears, his voice so loud that Harry seemed to stutter as he heard the sounds coming from downstairs.
"I'm sorry," Harry said, realizing he'd touched a nerve with Dobby, "I didn't mean to offend you."
"I'm Dobby!" Dobby choked out. "No wizard has ever made Dobby sit down—as an equal—"
Harry tried to calm Dobby down, then Dobby sit on the bed.
Dobby finally regained his composure and gazed at Harry with respectful eyes, his large, teary eyes filled with tears.
"By the way, what do you want from me?" Harry asked, somewhat puzzled.
Dobby's expression changed instantly; he lowered his head and drooped his ears, as if he was about to cry at any moment.
" Harry Potter must listen to Dobby," Dobby whispered, " Harry Potter cannot go back to Hogwarts. Absolutely not."
Harry was taken aback, then frowned. "Wh-what?"
"If Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts, his life will be in danger," Dobby said.
"Why?" Harry asked, frowning in surprise.
"There's a conspiracy, Harry Potter. The most terrifying thing is going to happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," Dobby said in a low, trembling voice.
" Dobby has known about this for months, sir. Harry Potter can't take the risk. He's too important, sir!"
Harry stared at Dobby in disbelief for Dobby seconds, then shook his head.
"I can't not go back to Hogwarts."
Dobby seemed to have been punched by those words, his ears drooping even lower. "But, sir—"
"My friends are there," Harry said calmly. " Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Gryffindor. I won't stay away just because you say it's dangerous."
Dobby was silent for a moment. Then, a sly smile slowly curved his lips.
"Friends?" Dobby repeated the word, drawing out the sound a little. "What friends? They don't even write a letter to Harry Potter?"
Harry's heart sank.
He had been trying to reassure himself that Hermione probably couldn't send a letter to Number Four, Privet Drive, since the mailbox had been removed long ago and ordinary mail from Muggle couldn't be delivered anymore.
Ron is different; the Weasley family use owls.
Owls don't care whether the mailbox has been opened or not; they just need to find an opening they can squeeze through.
Chimneys, door cracks, vents in the corners of walls... owls always find a way.
But nothing happened all summer. He peered out from the cracks in the wooden planks every day, but never saw a single wing.
Harry felt increasingly disheartened, then suddenly realized something. "Wait, how do you know my friends haven't written to me?"
Dobby shrank back. " Harry Potter, don't be angry with Dobby — Dobby did it all for..."
"You intercepted my letter?"
Dobby didn't deny it; he jumped out of Harry's reach and pulled a stack of things from under Harry's dirty pillowcase.
The thick parchment letters, with some creases at the edges, were crumpled and creased. The top few letters, with hasty and hurried handwriting, were Ron's.
There were a few different ones, with neat and clear handwriting, and each line was arranged in a very orderly manner.
That was Hermione's handwriting. She had obviously sent the letter to Ron, who then forwarded it to Ron, because she knew it was impossible for Muggle to mail it to Number Four, Privet Drive.
"Why did you do this?!" Harry's voice rose angrily.
He could feel his ears burning, and anger surged from his chest. "That's my letter!"
Dobby took two steps back, pressed the letter to his chest, and shook his head nervously. " Dobby can't let you see them, sir."
"If you see that your friends still care about you, you'll be even Dobby likely to agree to Dobby's offer. Dobby needs to let you know that Hogwarts is not safe—"
"Give me back the letter." Harry took a step forward and reached out to snatch the letter.
Dobby leaped and landed lightly on top of the bookshelf above Harry's bed, his movements as light as a leaf.
"Mr. Harry Potter," Dobby pressed the letter to his chest, his voice trembling with an almost pleading tone, "Please promise Dobby —I promise I won't go back to Hogwarts."
Dobby returns the letters to you, every single one of them, including the envelopes.
"If you promise Dobby you won't go back to Hogwarts, sir, Dobby will give you them all right away."
"No," Harry said firmly, "Give me my friend's letter!"
"So Dobby had no other choice," Dobby said sadly, bowing his head.
Before Harry could even process what that meant, Dobby had already swept past him like a gust of wind, rushing towards the door.
"Wait!" Harry reached out to grab it, but his fingertips only brushed Dobby the edge of the pillowcase covering his body.
Harry felt a huge weight pressing down on him, sensing something was terribly wrong. He quickly jumped up and chased after them, trying not to make a sound.
He rushed through the Entrance Hall and into the kitchen, only to stop abruptly at the doorway.
Aunt Petunia's carefully prepared dinner dessert was hanging below the ceiling: a giant pudding, golden caramelized, piled high with cream, and sprinkled with frosting violets.
The edges of the violet petals were still adorned with tiny water droplets, which Aunt Petunia had rinsed one by one with cold water and arranged on the plate over the entire afternoon.
At this moment, those things are slowly rotating in the air, as if an invisible hand is supporting them.
Dobby stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking up at the pudding, his green eyes reflecting the light of caramel.
He turned around and gave Harry a sad smile.
"Mr. Harry Potter," Dobby said, his voice as soft as frothy cream, "Please promise Dobby you won't go back to Hogwarts."
"No." Harry's voice was hoarse. He stood in the kitchen doorway, too afraid to move or touch anything.
Please... don't touch these things...
" Harry Potter must promise not to go back to school--"
Dobby... please...
"I promise, sir..."
I can't!
Dobby gave Harry a sad look. "Then Dobby to do this, sir. It's for Harry Potter's own good."