Dinner had ended, and the silver cutlery had yet to lose its lingering warmth when Draco prepared to rise and leave the long table.
The house-elves in Malfoy Manor's kitchens would take care of the cleanup; he had no need to concern himself with it.
But the thought of house-elves suddenly brought Dobby's image to mind-the house-elf who would later become deeply entangled with Harry Potter. Perhaps he could gain a few Fortune Points from him. With that thought, he simply waited in the corridor beside the dining room.
Before long, a small, thin figure slowly emerged from the shadows in a corner. It was Dobby.
This was Draco's first real encounter with a house-elf since transmigrating, and the sight struck him in a strangely unsettling way.
He was short, barely two or three feet tall, and so skeletal that a gust of wind seemed enough to knock him over. A few pieces of coarse cloth stitched together hung around his body, as tattered as discarded cleaning rags and covered in stains.
His head was grotesquely large compared with his slender body, while his arms and legs were as thin as dead branches, seeming ready to snap as they swayed. A pair of large, batlike ears drooped on either side, trembling faintly. His bulging eyes were a murky brown, now timidly lowered, not daring to meet Draco's gaze. A long, flat nose jutted incongruously from his gaunt face. Taken together, his features had something almost monstrously strange about them.
The moment Dobby appeared, he bent forward in a deep bow, the tip of his nose nearly touching the cold marble floor, his posture humble to the extreme.
When he looked up and saw that Draco showed no intention of leaving, his entire body gave a violent shudder. His shrill voice was filled with terror and self-reproach. "Dobby... Dobby didn't know young master hadn't left yet. Dobby disturbed young master. Dobby deserves to die a thousand deaths!"
Before he had finished speaking, he abruptly turned and charged straight toward the stone wall beside him.
Caught off guard, Draco had not yet reacted when a loud, muffled thud rang out. Dobby's frail body slammed hard into the wall before crashing heavily to the floor, his head ringing from the impact.
He shook his dazed head, his eyes still unfocused, but struggled to his feet. Ignoring the blood seeping from his forehead, he made to throw himself against the wall again.
When Draco had seen scenes like this on-screen before, he had found them absurd and comical, laughing at the house-elves' foolish obedience.
But witnessing it with his own eyes, hearing those repeated impacts strike his ears, made Draco's heart sink. He suddenly understood the helplessness Harry Potter had felt upon witnessing this back then-such self-destructive loyalty had long since twisted into a pitiful shackle.
"Dobby, stop!" Draco immediately shouted, his voice urgent. "I've finished eating. There's no need to wait any longer!"
But Draco's words seemed to vanish without a trace. Dobby turned a deaf ear and stubbornly kept hurling himself at the wall, crashing down, falling, and climbing back up, repeating his self-harm with a desperate ferocity behind every impact.
Draco's heart tightened. Thinking quickly in his urgency, he barked, "I order you to stop, Dobby! If you damage this wall, can you afford to pay for it?"
Those words finally worked. Dobby's rush toward the wall stopped abruptly, his body freezing in place. His bulging eyes darted timidly toward the long table in the dining room, as though he were wondering whether to punish himself somewhere else.
Seeing this, Draco hurriedly added, "You're not allowed to hit the table either! You mustn't damage anything in this house by hurting yourself. You don't earn a penny in wages, so you couldn't possibly pay for it. Understand?"
Dobby shuddered all over and slowly turned around, still bent forward with his head hanging very low. His shrill voice trembled uncontrollably, full of fear. "N-noble young master, please forgive Dobby, this lowly, insignificant elf... for disturbing your peace."
"As long as you understand. No more recklessly damaging things." Draco let out a breath of relief, his tone softening somewhat.
Dobby paused, his voice growing even more timid. "Dobby would like to ask whether young master has truly finished eating. May Dobby... may Dobby begin clearing up?"
"Leave the cleanup for now!" Draco then instructed him, "Go to my room and bring me a piece of clothing. Remember, the worst one in my wardrobe."
At this, Dobby shook even harder, hastily waving his hands, his voice full of terror. "N-no, Dobby can't. Dobby is very dirty, covered in stains. Dobby will soil young master's clothes. Dobby wouldn't dare..."
"If I tell you to go, then go!" Draco deliberately lowered his voice, assuming some of the authority of the Malfoy family's young master. "Would you dare disobey even your young master's orders now?"
"Yes! Yes, master! Dobby will go at once! Right away!" Frightened, Dobby hurriedly agreed. Before he had finished speaking, he abruptly vanished-the Apparition unique to house-elves was so fast that no trace could be seen.
In barely an instant, he returned holding a gray garment, carefully offering it to Draco, his gaze still evasive, not daring to meet his eyes.
Draco reached out and took it, his fingertips brushing the coarse fabric, then offered it back to him. "This is yours," he said calmly.
"No!" Dobby staggered several steps backward, his eyes widening in terror as he stared fixedly at the garment, as though it were not clothing but a venomous snake that could kill him.
"Young master is joking! He must be joking! Master wouldn't give Dobby clothes! Dobby is a bad elf, unworthy of having master's things! Unworthy!"
As he screamed, he abruptly lowered his head and slammed it hard against the floor. The thud, thud sounded especially grating in the silent corridor. "No! Young master! Take the clothes back! Bad Dobby doesn't deserve them! Please, take them back!"
Blood streamed from Dobby's forehead. Tears and snot mixed with the dust on the floor and slid down his gaunt cheeks, leaving him a wretched mess.
Since Draco had expressly forbidden him from damaging the manor's furnishings, he could only direct all the punishment at himself, not daring even the slightest resistance.
Watching him, Draco felt utterly helpless. He spoke slowly, his tone deliberately serious. "Dobby, you need to understand that you are the property of our Malfoy family. I order you to stop hurting yourself! If you're seriously injured or accidentally die, who will take care of the manor's chores for us? We would have to buy another house-elf and lose a sum of money for nothing. Do you want the Malfoy family to suffer a loss?"
Sure enough, this worked. Dobby instantly stopped striking his head against the floor. His hands stiffened at his sides, with nowhere to put them, and he simply kept shaking his head. "No! Bad Dobby has never thought that! Dobby is a bad, incompetent elf. Not only has Dobby failed to serve master properly, but Dobby has also made young master worry and fear for Dobby. Dobby deserves to die..."
"Enough. Stop talking nonsense." Draco interrupted him, his tone softening somewhat. "If you behave and stop recklessly hurting yourself, I won't need to worry about you. I'm giving you clothes, yet you refuse to accept them. Are you trying to disobey your young master's orders over and over again?"
Dobby abruptly raised his head. His murky, bulging eyes were full of shock and doubt as he timidly looked at this young master, his gaze filled with uncertainty.
He had never imagined that the noble young master Malfoy would offer him clothing, much less dared believe it was real. He could only assume that young master was testing his loyalty.
Cautiously, he asked in a trembling voice, "M-master... are you... sending Dobby away?"
Seeing his frightened, anxious expression, Draco could not help smiling. He said lightly, "I'm not sending you away. I'm giving you freedom. Haven't you always longed to be free? Why are you getting cold feet now that freedom is right in front of you?"
Yet the sight of Draco's smile only terrified Dobby further. His eyes darted away as he shook his head repeatedly, his shrill voice filled with frantic denial. "No! Bad Dobby has never had any other thoughts! Dobby only wants to serve master for his whole life and work hard for the Malfoy family. Dobby would never dare hope for freedom!"
By now, he was certain that young master must be testing his loyalty-in the past, Draco had rarely smiled even at Lucius and Narcissa, yet now he was being so gentle toward him. It had to be a trap.
Draco had no idea that Dobby had imagined so many twists and turns. Had he known, he probably would already have failed to hold back his laughter.
Seeing him still hesitate, Draco could only urge him again. "Dobby, you only get one chance at freedom. Once this opportunity passes, there won't be another. Do you really not want it?"
Dobby stood where he was, his face full of indecision and his large eyes filled with conflict-on one side were obedience and fear etched into his bones, and on the other was the longing for freedom hidden deep in his heart, leaving him unable to choose.
Draco's arm gradually grew sore from holding up the garment. He simply stopped waiting and tossed it straight onto him.