"Alright, Mr. Thief, what's your game?"
Dudley eyed the figure before him, his voice low and steady. "Spill it honestly, and you might save yourself some trouble."
No sooner had he spoken than a high-pitched squeal erupted from the other.
"Dobby is not a thief! Dobby only wants to take the dangerous thing!"
"Your name's Dobby, then." Dudley straightened up, towering over the small creature. "So, what exactly are you trying to take?"
"Dobby cannot say!"
"Harry Potter is in danger!"
"The Dursleys are good people—they took in the Boy Who Lived. Dobby cannot harm them!"
At that, the creature slammed its head against the floor with a dull thud.
"Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"
The words were a bit jumbled, but Dudley managed to piece it together.
"You're doing this to protect Harry?" he asked.
"Harry Potter is great! He defeated You-Know-Who!"
Even among house-elves, Voldemort's name was a forbidden whisper. The Dark Lord's reign of terror had been relentless, after all. At the height of his power, the killing never stopped.
"Someone's out to get Harry Potter," Dobby squeaked.
"Hogwarts is dangerous."
"Bad Dobby, bad Dobby!"
Before long, Dobby was back to smacking his head against the floor.
Dudley's mind flashed to Harry's recent string of bad luck with his "dates."
"Wait a minute," he said, narrowing his eyes. "Have you been meddling, trying to help Harry in your own way?"
"Hogwarts is dangerous. Harry Potter cannot stay there!"
Dobby didn't outright admit it, but his words were as good as a confession.
Caught red-handed, Dudley thought. Poor Harry's misfortunes are this elf's doing. He silently mourned his cousin for a second.
"Next question," Dudley pressed, fixing Dobby with a stare. "Is protecting Harry your idea, or are you following your master's orders?"
House-elves were fiercely loyal creatures, bound to carry out their masters' commands to the letter. But this one… might be an exception.
"Old master hates Harry Potter. Young master doesn't know. Dobby cannot let Harry Potter come to harm! Bad Dobby, bad Dobby!"
"So, this is your own little mission, then?" Dudley said, then shifted gears. "And it was you who trashed my bedroom, wasn't it?"
"Don't you know it's dangerous to mess with a wizard's belongings?"
Thump, thump, thump. Dobby didn't answer, just kept bashing his head against the floor.
Good thing house-elf skulls were tough, or he'd have given himself a concussion by now.
"Enough!" Dudley snapped, exasperated by the self-punishment. He leaned in, asking pointedly, "Last question: who's your master?"
"Dobby cannot say!"
Snap.
Dobby clicked his fingers, but this time, his magic didn't fizzle out. The transfiguration circle beneath him began to fade.
"Dobby must go. Goodbye, Mr. Dursley."
Most house-elves wouldn't have been able to break free of Dudley's trap—Dudley had tested it on the elves at Hogwarts, where over a hundred worked in the kitchens. His research came from there, too. He'd once thought an adult wizard without combat skills couldn't take down a house-elf alone, but his studies proved otherwise.
House-elf magic was different from a wizard's, sure, but their power wasn't all that overwhelming. A skilled senior Hogwarts student could likely handle one. Were house-elves strong? Honestly, if you accounted for their unique magic, they weren't that impressive. Goblins, the wizards' old rivals, posed a far greater threat. The elves' real edge was their ability to Apparate within Hogwarts' walls.
That was evident in the Battle of Hogwarts in the books. The elves fought with pots, pans, and cutlery, swarming Death Eaters in groups to subdue them—not exactly fearsome.
But Dobby? Dobby was different.
Dudley's curiosity piqued. No ordinary Hogwarts house-elf could escape his trap. Dobby must be an elite among his kind—a top-tier house-elf, perhaps?
"Well, then," Dudley said, a spark of interest in his voice. "Pixie."
A Cornish pixie appeared with a pop, matching Dobby's finger snap with one of its own. Blue dust trailed from its tiny fingers.
To Dobby's shock, his magic failed. He couldn't Apparate.
"You're not going anywhere," Dudley said coolly. "Not here. Your Apparition won't work."
If you targeted a house-elf's magic specifically, their strength plummeted. And Dudley? He'd done his homework.
"Pixie's magic is just as strong as yours," Dudley stated matter-of-factly.
Over time, this particular pixie—evolved and tamed through magic—had shown astonishing potential. Its growth under Dudley's charms was remarkable. Shame it was one of a kind. The rest of the pixies were still mischievous little terrors—think Peeves, but in a swarm.
"Let me take a guess," Dudley said, piecing it together. "You're Dobby, a house-elf with an old master and a young one. That means… you're from the Malfoy family."
Dobby's eyes widened in panic. His magic had failed, and now this?
A house-elf meant a pure-blood family, and there weren't many of those. Even if Dudley knew nothing else, it wouldn't take long to guess.
"Dobby didn't say anything!"
"Bad Dobby, bad Dobby!"
This time, he bashed his head against a cabinet.
Every house-elf was bound to their master by a magical contract, restricting their actions unless freed.
"One more guess," Dudley said, his voice sharp. "This dangerous thing you mentioned… is it this?"
The floor rumbled, and a platform rose, revealing a blob of dark, gelatinous residue—the remains of a diary.
Dobby squealed with delight. "Mr. Dursley destroyed old master's plan!"
"Harry Potter is safe!"
"Harry's always been safe," Dudley said, his tone carrying an edge. "Though lately, someone's been making things less safe for him."
Harry's first crush had crashed and burned because of a certain elf's meddling. Poor guy. Another moment of silence for Harry—ouch, that's rough.
"It's all old master's plot!" Dobby wailed, oblivious to the subtext in Dudley's words.
"Dobby cannot speak ill of master! Bad Dobby, bad Dobby!"
He went to bash his head again, but Dudley caught him with a hand.
"Dobby," Dudley said, his voice softening but firm. "I can see you're no ordinary house-elf. You've got a strong will of your own. So, tell me—do you want to be free?"
"I think we could make a deal."