"Harry Potter- Ravenclaw"Chapter 27: A Return Gift for Lucius
Dobby was surprisingly easy to please—or perhaps, it was simply that he cared more about freedom and respect than anything else.
After a brief negotiation, Dobby asked only for one Galleon a week in wages and a single day off.
Wyzett drew up a contract with clear terms. Though it wasn't sealed by any magical binding, when Dobby pressed his thumbprint onto the parchment, fat tears splattered across the page.
"Mas... Wyzett, should I start working now?" Dobby carefully folded the parchment, his fingers brushing the pillowcase he wore.
One corner of the pillowcase floated up, threads unspooling and weaving together in the air, knotting themselves into a neat little pouch—perfect for storing his contract.
Wyzett watched, deeply impressed. House-elves were even more magical than he'd realized. The sheer speed and precision of Dobby's household magic was worth studying in its own right.
He pulled out a potion bottle and handed it to Dobby. "Would you take this to Mr. Lucius Malfoy for me? Consider it a token of thanks."
Unlike his usual vials, this one was made of metal.
He'd chosen metal over glass because he was experimenting with Basic Magical Forging, trying to imbue metal objects with special properties. This time, he'd gone a step further and forged the metal into a potion container.
Basic Magical Forging could only grant a handful of effects. After a few days of practice, he'd mastered one: Repulsion.
When this Repulsion property was imbued into metal, the object would repel dust and grime of all kinds. Even without daily cleaning, the metal would remain gleaming and spotless...
"Mas... Wyzett..." Dobby cradled the intricately patterned bottle, his lips trembling and eyes shining with tears. "You're so kind to Dobby..."
"It's just a simple return gift. Don't overthink it—you don't need to feel any burden," Wyzett explained. "And if Mr. Lucius Malfoy asks you anything, then you can answer."
"Wyzett, Dobby doesn't understand..." Dobby's bat-like ears twitched as he asked in confusion, "What should Dobby say?"
Wyzett asked, "Since the Death Eaters used to gather there, you must have seen Voldemort at Malfoy Manor, right?"
Dobby swallowed hard. "Dobby has seen... He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named..."
"Perfect. Just imagine," Wyzett said with a slight smile, "if someone brought a gift to Voldemort—how would he respond?"
When dealing with people you don't know well, it's easy to say too much and make mistakes. Better to let Dobby improvise.
Given the peculiar rapport between Dobby and Lucius Malfoy, this kind of subtle, indirect message was probably the best approach.
Dobby looked down at the potion bottle, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. "But... Wyzett..."
Wyzett encouraged him, "You and Mr. Lucius Malfoy aren't master and servant anymore. Give yourself a little confidence. Confidence is part of being free, Dobby."
"Confidence is part of being free!" Dobby's eyes shone, his hesitation vanishing. "Dobby will do it! Dobby won't let Wyzett down!"
Malfoy Manor. Outside, snowflakes drifted through the winter air, blanketing the world in white.
Inside the dining room, Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy sat at a long table covered in fine white linen. Polished silverware gleamed in the soft light, reflecting the snowy landscape beyond the windows.
Steaming platters of ham, roast beef, and fried eggs were set on the table. The rich aroma of roasted meat mingled with the smoky scent of burning pine, filling the room with a unique warmth.
Narcissa picked up a slice of bread, spread it evenly with butter, and placed it on Lucius's plate.
When she was done, she called across the room to Draco Malfoy, who was busy unwrapping presents. "Draco, you know what you're supposed to do now."
"Yes, Mother." Draco immediately set aside his gift box and hurried into the dining room.
"Thank you, Mother." Seated, he accepted the bread from Narcissa and chewed it with careful, silent precision.
"You seem distracted," Narcissa remarked, glancing at Lucius, who sat frowning, eyes fixed on the silver cutlery before him, a trace of anxiety in his gaze.
Startled by her words, Lucius snapped out of his reverie and took a bite of bread. "It's nothing—perhaps I just didn't sleep well last night."
Narcissa nodded, her eyes following a house-elf as it brought in a tray of nuts. She asked softly, "Doesn't the house feel busier than usual to you, Lucius?"
"Oh..." Lucius stiffened, still not looking away from the silverware. "Maybe it's just the cold. The elves move more slowly in winter."
"Perhaps. Although I haven't said why I think that yet..." Narcissa picked up her goblet and sipped steaming honey mead. "Well, if nothing's wrong, that's a relief..."
Draco glanced up, watching his father's rigid movements and his mother's gentle smile. He chewed his bread a little faster.
…
Around midday, as the house-elves were preparing lunch, a sharp crack echoed from the living room.
When the house-elf appeared, Lucius's eyelid twitched. He snapped, "Dobby, why have you come back?"
Confronted by his former master, Dobby still couldn't help himself—he answered on reflex, "The... master told me to return..."
"Told you to return? He—" Lucius's voice trembled with fear. "He rejected you?"
Dobby shook his head and held out the potion bottle. "He told me to give this to you..."
Lucius's eyes flickered, and he asked, almost eagerly, "Did he say anything?"
Dobby recalled Wyzett's instructions and tried to mimic the tone of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
"He said... you have shown loyalty to me. This is your reward... Continue to serve me, and remember your duties..."
After speaking, Dobby looked utterly spent, sweat pouring down his face as he struggled to catch his breath.
"So he accepted..." Lucius exhaled, taking the potion bottle from Dobby's trembling hands, a look of distaste curling his lip.
Crack!
As Dobby vanished, Lucius gave the bottle a careless shake. "Clean this for me."
Another house-elf appeared instantly and whipped out a piece of chamois, giving the bottle a quick polish.
Lucius arched an eyebrow. "Hmm? I told you to clean it! Not a trace of sweat should remain! Are you looking for punishment?"
"Master..." The house-elf bowed low, trembling. "It's already clean... There isn't a single mark left."
"Clean, is it?" Lucius brought the bottle close, frowning as he inspected it. His expression darkened. "Is this... goblin-made?"
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