In the dormitory lit only by the silver glow of starlight coming through the tall Gothic windows, Harry stared wide-eyed at the pile of boxes and packages stacked before his bed.
After a long, bewildered moment of silent observation, trying to make sense of this midnight delivery, he slowly shifted his gaze from the mysterious parcels to the two house-elves standing expectantly near the window.
Dobby still looked remarkably the same as he had during the last school year, his whole body was dressed in that mismatched ensemble that reminded Harry of a hippie rock musician from the Muggle world.
As for Winky—Harry felt a sudden pang of guilt as he realized he hadn't thought to visit her and express his gratitude after returning from that terrible graveyard where Voldemort had been resurrected. The memory of that night still haunted his dreams, and in the chaos of the aftermath, he'd somehow neglected to check on the elf who had been there.
But the Winky standing before him now was in much better condition than when he'd last seen her in the Hogwarts kitchens.
She wore a tea towel printed with the Hogwarts crest. Though she didn't look particularly spirited, she was at least standing upright and appeared relatively sober. One couldn't expect too much improvement, after all, Harry reasoned with sympathy, since she had witnessed the tragic fate of her beloved master's family at the horrific scene of Voldemort's resurrection.
Barty Crouch Sr. had essentially been driven to suicide by Voldemort's cruelty, while Barty Crouch Jr. had died at Professor Watson's hands in that graveyard confrontation. The entire Crouch family line had been extinguished in a single night of horror.
Honestly, the fact that Winky hadn't gone completely mad or drunk herself into oblivion was what truly surprised Harry. House-elves were known for their intense loyalty to their families, and losing their entire family whom they served could destroy them extremely.
Harry suppressed his urge to ask directly how Winky was doing now, to avoid disturbing the poor elf's emotions. Instead, he returned his gaze to the mysterious boxes stacked from the floor up to the level of his bed frame, his nostrils twitched as he caught a sweet, pleasant fragrance wafting from the containers.
"You've brought me food, haven't you?" Harry asked hesitantly, his voice was still rough with sleep. After all, it seemed rather absurd—two house-elves waking him in the dead of night just to bring him some food. Surely there had to be more to this strange midnight visit.
"May Dobby show Harry Potter what we have brought?" Dobby asked carefully in a whisper to avoid waking the other sleeping boys. His fingers twisted together nervously as he awaited permission.
"Winky has also prepared some things for the great Harry Potter," Winky added softly, blinking her eyes and gazing timidly at Harry. "To thank Harry Potter for rescuing Winky from the Dark Lord's clutches that terrible night."
"Oh, don't mention it, Winky. You know it wasn't really me who rescued you—oh, never mind that," Harry said quickly, pressing his hand to his forehead in a gesture of tired confusion.
Though he still hadn't figured out what was actually going on, he nodded his consent anyway. "Go ahead, show me."
The two elves immediately sprang into enthusiastic action. The first box they opened was the largest one in the pile. By the silvery starlight coming through the window, Harry saw it contained a very large two-tiered cake, exactly like the kind used for birthday celebrations—but without any frosting message like "Happy Birthday Harry Potter" piped across the top.
Instead, it was simply covered with a pristine layer of white cream, decorated with sugar roses around the borders and what appeared to be chocolate shavings dusted across the surface.
The remaining boxes were also filled to bursting with food of all varieties: various flavored pies including what looked like treacle tart, steak and kidney pie, and several fruit pies with golden, flaky crusts; some sausages still glistening with juice; thick rashers of bacon that had been cooked to crispy perfection; boiled potatoes seasoned with butter and herbs—one entire box even contained more than thirty boiled eggs!
It seemed enough food to feed the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team for a week.
"Mmph!" Ron suddenly sat upright in his bed across the dormitory, his eyes were still tightly closed in sleep, but his nose twitched wildly in the air like a bloodhound catching a scent.
"Are you eating without me, Harry?" Ron asked in a thick, mumbled voice heavy with sleep and accusation, his face turned blindly toward Harry's general direction.
"No!" Harry whispered urgently, worried about waking Dean, Seamus, and Neville in their four-poster beds. "You must be dreaming, Ron."
"Oh, I thought so," Ron said with evident relief, his voice was already fading back into drowsiness. "You wouldn't eat without including me. You're my best mate."
Then he flopped back onto his bed with a loud clatter of bed frame and springs, rolled over with a grunt, pulled his blanket up to his chin, and fell back into deep sleep almost immediately.
Moments later, Harry heard the sound of Ron grinding his teeth.
"I think you might have made a mistake, Dobby—oh, and you too, Winky?" Harry turned back to the elves, looking at the large celebratory cake with puzzlement. "My birthday is the last day of July. Um, of course, I'm very grateful to you both for thinking of me—"
"No mistake, Harry Potter, sir," Dobby said firmly, shaking his head. His large eyes gleamed with an almost feverish intensity in the dark dormitory, but his expression showed a hint of melancholy and worry that seemed out of place.
"Dobby knows exactly when Harry Potter's birthday is, sir. How could Dobby possibly make such a mistake about something so important? But this is not to celebrate Harry Potter's birthday!"
"Not to celebrate my birthday?" Harry asked, now thoroughly confused. If not for his birthday, then what on earth was all this food for? "Then what's it for?"
Both elves nodded in grave unison, their expressions were unusually serious. Winky stepped forward slightly, looking into Harry's eyes with an intensity that was almost uncomfortable.
"Just in case, Harry Potter, sir. When Dobby and Winky learned of this matter, we made an immediate decision—we cannot let Harry Potter go hungry during classes, if Hogwarts can still provide magical education in the coming days."
'Go hungry during class? And—Hogwarts might not be able to teach anymore?'
Harry shook his head vigorously, making sure he wasn't too sleep-addled and confused to understand Winky's words correctly. Surely, he must have misheard.
"Dobby, and Winky—" Harry sat more upright on his bed, pulling his blanket around his shoulders against the chill as waves of drowsiness continued to assault him despite his growing alarm.
Tomorrow wasn't a rest day, wasn't even a weekend. The first class tomorrow morning was Potions.
Harry was absolutely certain that if he fell asleep during Snape's class, Snape would gleefully volunteer to put him on the dissection table as a practical demonstration for everyone to dissect and study.
"I'm very willing to chat with you more, but I have classes tomorrow starting early. So, if you want to tell me something important, could you please be as clear and direct as possible? What's actually going on?"
After saying this, Harry sat quietly on his bed, waiting for them to explain, watching their small faces in the starlight. Then he saw the two house-elves exchange glances, their expressions appearing very serious and troubled, as if they were wrestling with some internal conflict about how much to reveal.
"Harry Potter, sir, Hogwarts is facing a crisis—" Dobby said slowly, lifting his small face to meet Harry's eyes with unusual solemnity. "Just like when the Chamber of Secrets was opened—a very serious crisis that threatens the school!"
Harry's scattered, drowsy thoughts quickly snapped into sharp focus and united, and his previously drowsy green eyes began to sparkle with alert light behind his glasses.
Before the Chamber of Secrets was opened in his second year, Dobby who was still serving the Malfoy family as their house-elf had secretly snuck all the way to the Dursleys' home during summer vacation to warn him that Hogwarts would face a terrible crisis that year and that he absolutely shouldn't return to school for his own safety.
Although the truth of that matter had turned out to be completely different from what he'd initially thought, Dobby's warning had not been unfounded.
"What is it, Dobby, Winky? You've overheard something again, haven't you?" Harry leaned forward intently, his expression also became solemn and focused. "Tell me everything you know. Please."
But neither Dobby nor Winky addressed his urgent question. Instead, Dobby's ears drooped sadly and he shrugged his shoulders in a gesture of helpless frustration.
"Cannot say specifically, Harry Potter, sir. When the great Bryan Watson and Professor McGonagall came down to the kitchen earlier to announce this matter to all the house-elves, to prepare us for what might be coming, they specifically instructed us most firmly," Dobby explained, wringing his hands anxiously.
"Professor Watson forbade us from revealing the details to any students, as it would only worry them unnecessarily and cause panic. He said he is doing everything he can to resolve this matter before it becomes critical. Dobby volunteered to have Professor Watson stop Dobby's wages, but Professor Watson refused. He said—"
"You can't say any more, Dobby," Winky who was more alert interrupted urgently, her voice turned sharp with warning as she tugged at his sleeve. "We cannot disobey Professor Watson's direct orders."
Dobby had never been an "obedient" elf. But this time, he actually closed his mouth and pressed his lips together firmly.
"Dobby must leave now, sir—" After a brief, Dobby bowed deeply to Harry.
"Dobby and Winky still need to clean the castle corridors and common rooms, and wash the students' clothes and bed linens before morning comes. This food is to keep Harry Potter from going hungry in the days ahead, sir. You can share it with your friends. Dobby and Winky have used preservation magic to treat it—this food can be kept fresh for a very long time."
With that ominous statement, Winky also bowed respectfully to Harry.
After a series of sharp cracks, the two elves suddenly disappeared from the room in twin puffs, leaving Harry sitting dazedly on his bed, staring blankly at the large, overwhelming pile of food now stacked on his floor and wondering what on earth it all meant.
'What on earth was going on? What kind of crisis could stop Hogwarts from feeding its students?'
In the darkness, Harry opened his mouth and asked the questions silently to the empty air, but received no answer from the shadows.
Unfortunately, this kind of complex analytical work, this puzzle-solving and deduction wasn't his forte—it was Hermione's strong suit.
Should I put on the Invisibility Cloak right now and sneak down to the kitchens?
The tickling-the-pear portrait wasn't far. But oh, Dobby and Winky had just said they were going to clean the castle and handle laundry duties. Besides those two elves, who clearly couldn't say more without violating Professor Watson's orders, he couldn't possibly find another elf in the kitchens willing to tell him the truth or defy an instruction from a professor.
But Hogwarts was facing a crisis comparable to the Chamber of Secrets incident? A crisis so severe that students might go hungry?
This revelation inevitably reminded Harry of what had happened just a few days ago—when the Ministry's toad-faced Umbridge and Lucius Malfoy had come to Hogwarts with such confidence and arrogance to force a confrontation, only to meet with spectacular, humiliating defeat at the hands of Neville, Hermione, and Luna in front of the entire school.
Even without Hermione telling him clearly, Harry knew that neither the vengeful Ministry nor the Board of Governors controlled by Malfoy and his pure-blood allies would willingly accept such a public, embarrassing humiliation without retaliation.
Seeking revenge, striking back somehow would be the natural, inevitable response. It was simply a matter of when and how they would act.
But what exactly would they do?
Harry climbed quietly out of his warm bed, and pulled a discarded robe from the overflowing laundry basket in the corner. He used it to cover the food Dobby and Winky had given him, concealing the boxes and packages from view, then carefully pushed the entire pile under his bed where it would be hidden by his trunk and the bed's hanging curtains.
Afterward, he climbed back into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin.
Sirius would surely know what was going on.
Since the House of Black was also part of the Board of Governors, holding one of the family seats, regardless of what harmful, vindictive things Malfoy might be plotting to do to Hogwarts in retaliation, even if Sirius couldn't stop it or lacked the votes to block it, he would certainly know about it.
However, Harry realized he didn't necessarily have to seek out Sirius immediately and wait for an opportunity to contact him.
Because no matter what conspiracy was unfolding in the shadows, since it had already begun to show signs and effects like house-elves stockpiling emergency food for students, perhaps tomorrow or very soon the truth would be revealed naturally.
"Better hear what Hermione thinks first thing in the morning," Harry muttered to himself. "She'll know what to make of this."
And under the starlight of the late night, with moonbeams showing silver rectangles across the dormitory floor, he gradually drifted back into sleep.
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