#if those two haven't banged I'm a desk lamp

[queequegsleash]

.

[thewidowsghost]

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 17

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Harry manages not to shout out, but it is a close thing. The little creature on the bed had large, bat-like ears, and bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls and for some reason, Harry associates the green of the creature's eyes with (Y/n)'s green eyes.

As they stare at each other, Harry hears Dudley's voice from the hall.

"May I take your coats, Mr. and Mrs. Mason?"

The creature slips off the bed and bows so low that the end of its long, thin nose touches the carpet. Harry notices that is wearing what looks like an old pillowcase, with rips for arm - and leg - holes.

"Er - hello," says Harry nervously.

"Harry Potter!" says the creature in a high-pitched voice Harry is sure would carry down the stairs. "So long Dobby wanted to meet you, sir . . . Such an honor it is . . ."

"Th - thank you," says Harry, edging along the wall and sinking into his desk chair, next to Hedwig, who is asleep in her large cage. He wants to ask, "What are you?" but thinks it sounded too rude, so instead, he says, "Who are you?"

"Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf," says the creature.

"Oh — really?" says Harry. "Er — I don't want to be rude or anything, but — this isn't a great time for me to have a house-elf in my bedroom."

Aunt Petunia's high, false laughs sounds from the living room. The elf hangs his head.

"Not that I'm not pleased to meet you," says Harry quickly, "but, er, is there any particular reason you're here?"

"Oh, yes, sir," says Dobby earnestly. "Dobby has come to tell you, sir . . . it is difficult, sir . . . Dobby wonders where to begin . . ."

"Sit down," says Harry politely, pointing at the bed.

To his horror, the elf bursts into tears - very noisy tears.

"S - sit down! he wails. "Never . . . never ever . . . "

Harry thinks he hears the voices downstairs falter.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I didn't mean to offend you or anything -"

"Offend Dobby!" chokes the elf. "Dobby had never been asked to sit down by a wizard - like an equal -"

Harry, trying to say Shh! and look comforting at the same time, ushers Dobby back to the bed where he sits hiccoughing, looking like a large and very ugly doll. At last, he manages to control himself, and sits with his great eyes fixed on Harry in an expression of watery adoration.

"You can't have met many decent wizards," said Harry, trying to cheer him up.

Dobby shakes his head. Then, without warning, he leaps up and starts banging his head furiously on teh window, shouting, Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

"Don't - what are you doing?" Harry hisses, springing up and pulling Dobby back onto the bed - Hedwig had woken up with a particularly loud screech and is beating her wings wildly against the bars of her cage.

"Dobby has to punish himself, sir," says the elf, who had gone slightly cross-eyed. "Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir . . ."

"Your family?"

"The wizard family Dobby serves, sir . . . Dobby is a house-elf - bound to serve one house and family forever . . ."

"Do they know you're here?" asks Harry curiously.

Dobby shudders.

"Oh, no, sir, no . . . Dobby will have go punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, sir -"

"But won't they notice if you shut your ears in the oven door?"

"Dobby doubts it, sir. Dobby will have to punish himself for something, sir. They lets Dobby get on with it, sir. Sometimes they reminds me to do extra punishments . . ."

"But why don't you leave? Escape?"

"A house-elf must be set free, sir. And the family will never set Dobby free . . . Dobby will serve the family until he dies, sir. . . ."

Harry stares. "And I thought I had it bad staying here for another four weeks," he says. "This makes the Dursleys sound almost human. Can't anyone help you? Can't I?"

Almost at once, Harry wishes he hadn't spoken. Dobby dissolves again into wails of gratitude.

"Please," Harry whispers frantically, "please be quiet. If the Dursleys hear anything, if they know you're here -"

"Harry Potter asks if he can help Dobby . . . Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew . . ."

Harry, who is feeling distinctly hot in the face says, "Whatever you've heard about my greatness is a load of rubbish. I'm not even top of my year at Hogwarts: that's Hermione, she -"

But Harry stops quickly, because thinking about Hermione is painful.

"Harry potter is humble and modest," says Dobby reverently, his orb-like eyes aglow. "Harry Potter speaks not of his triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named -"

"Voldemort?" asks Harry.

Dobby claps his hands over his bat ears and moans, "Ah, speak not the name, sir! Speak not the name, sir! Speak not the name!"

"Sorry," Harry apologizes quickly. "I know a lot of people don't like it. My friend Ron -" Harry stops again. Thinking about Ron is painful, too.

Dobby leans towards Harry, his eyes wide as headlights. "Dobby heard tell, he says hoarsely, "That Harry Potter and (Y/n) (L/n) met the Dark Lord for a second time, just weeks ago . . . that Harry Potter and (Y/n) (L/n) escaped yet again."

Harry nods and Dobby's eyes suddenly shine with tears.

"Ah, sir," he gasps, dabbing his face with a corner of the grubby pillowcase he is wearing. "Harry Potter is valiant and bold! He has braved so many dangers already. But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if he doesn't have to shut his ears in the oven door later . . . Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts."

There is a silence, broken only by the chink of knives and forks from downstairs and the distant rumble of Uncle Vernon's voice.

"W-what?" Harry stammers. "But I've got to go back - term starts on September first. It's all that's been keeping me going. You don't know what it's like here. I don't belong here. I belong in your world - at Hogwarts.

"No, no, no," squeaks Dobby, shaking his head so hard his ears flap. "Harry Potter must stay where his is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger."

"Why?" Harry asks in surprise.

"There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," whispers Dobby, suddenly trembling all over. "Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!"

"What terrible things?" says Harry at once. "Who's plotting them?"

Dobby makes a funny choking noise and then bangs his head frantically against the wall.

"All right!" cries Harry, grabbing the elf's arm to stop him. "You can't tell me. I understand. But why are you warning me?" A sudden, unpleasant thought strikes him. "Hang on - this hasn't got anything to do with Vol - sorry - with You-Know-How, has it? You could just shake or nod," he adds hastily as Dobby's head tilts worryingly close to the wall again.

Slowly, Dobby shakes his head.

"Not — not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, sir —" But Dobby's eyes are wide and he seems to be trying to give Harry a hint. Harry, however, is completely lost.

"He hasn't gotten a brother, has he?" Harry asks.

Dobby shakes his head, his eyes wider than ever.

"Well then, I can't think who else would have a chance of making horrible things happen at Hogwarts," says Harry. "I mean, there's Dumbledore, for one thing - you know who Dumbledore is, don't you?"

Dobby bows his head.

"Albus Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had. Dobby knows it, sir. Dobby has heard Dumbledore's  powers rival those of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the height of his strength. But, sir" — Dobby's voice drops to an urgent whisper — "there are powers Dumbledore doesn't . . . powers no decent wizard . . ."

And before Harry can stop him, Dobby bounds off the bed, seizes Harry's desk lamp, and starts beating himself around the head with earsplitting yelps.

A sudden silence falls downstairs. Two seconds later, Harry, heart thudding madly, hears Uncle Vernon coming into the hall, calling, "Dudley must have left his television on again, the little tyke!"

"Quick! In the closet!" hisses Harry, stuffing Dobby in, shutting the door, and flinging himself on the bed just as the door handle turns.

"What - the - devil - are - you - doing?" says Uncle Vernon through gritted teeth, his face horribly close to Harry's. "You've just ruined the punch line of my Japanese golfer joke . . . One more sound and you'll wish you'd never been born, boy." Uncle Vernon stomps flat-footed from the room.

Shaking, Harry lets Dobby out of the closet.

"See what it's like here?" he says. "See why I've got to go back to Hogwarts? It's the only place I've got - well, I think I've got friends."

"Friends who don't even write to Harry Potter," says Dobby slyly.

"I expect they've just been - wait a minute," says Harry, frowning. "How do you know my friends haven't been writing to me?"

Dobby shuffles his feet. "Harry Potter mustn't be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best -"

"Have you been stopping my letters?"

"Dobby has them here, sir," says the elf. Stepping nimbly out of Harry's reach, he pulls a thick wad of envelopes from the inside of the pillowcase  he is wearing. Harry can makes out Hermione's neat writing, (Y/n)'s neat scrawl, Ron's untidy scrawl, and even a scribble that looks as though it is from the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Hagrid.

Dobby blinks anxiously up at Harry.

"Harry Potter mustn't be angry . . . Dobby hoped . . . if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him . . . Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir . . ."

Harry isn't listening. He makes a grab for the letter, but Dobby jumps out of reach.

"Harry Potter will have them, sir, if he gives Dobby is word that he will not return to Hogwarts. Ah, sir, this is danger you must not face! Say you won't go back, sir!"

"No," says Harry angrily. "Give me my friends' letters!"

"Then Harry Potter leaves Dobby no choice," says the elf sadly.

Before Harry can move, Dobby had darted to the bedroom door, pulls it open, and sprints down the stairs.

Mouth dry, stomach lurching, Harry springs after him, trying not to make a sound. He jumps the last six steps, landing catlike on the hall carpet - feeling like (Y/n) for a moment - looking around for Dobby. From the dining room, he hears Uncle Vernon saying, " . . . tell Petunia that very funny story about those American plumbers, Mr. Mason. She's been dying to hear . . ."

Harry runs up the hall into the kitchen and feels his stomach disappear.

Aunt Petunia's masterpiece of a pudding, the mountain of cream and sugared violets, is floating up near the ceiling. On top of a cupboard in the corner crouches Dobby.

"No," croaked Harry. "Please . . . they'll kill me. . . ."

"Harry Potter must say he's not going back to school —"

"Dobby . . . please . . ."

"Say it, sir —"

"I can't —"

Dobby gives him a tragic look.

"Then Dobby must do it, sir, for Harry Potter's own good."

The pudding falls to the floor with a heart-stopping crash. Cream splatters the windows and walls as the dish shatters. With a crack like a whip, Dobby vanishes.

There are screams from the dining room and Uncle Vernon bursts into the kitchen to find Harry, rigid with shock, covered from head to foot in Aunt Petunia's pudding.

At first, it looks as though Uncle Vernon would manage to gloss the whole thing over. ("Just our nephew - very disturbed - meeting strangers upsets him, so we kept him upstairs . . . ) He shoos the shocked Masons back into the dining room, promised Harry that he would flay him within an inch of his life when teh Mason's had left, and hands him a mop. Aunt Petunia digs some ice cream out of the freezer and Harry, still shaking, starts scrubbing the kitchen clean.

Uncle Vernon might still have been able to make his deal - if it hadn't been for the owl.

Aunt Petunia is just passing around a box of after-dinner mints when a hug barn owl swoops though the dining room window, drops a letter on Mrs. Mason's head, and swoops out again. Mrs. Mason screams like a banshee and runs from teh house shouting about lunatics. Mr. Mason stays just enough to tell the Dursleys that his wife is mortally afraid of birds of all shapes and sizes, and to ask whether this is their idea of a joke.

Harry stands in the kitchen, clutching the mop for support, as Uncle Vernon advances on him, a demonic glint in his tiny eyes.

"Read it!" he hisses evilly, brandishing the letter the owl nad delivered. "Go on - read it!"

Harry takes it. It does not contain birthday greetings.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We have received intelligence that a Hover Charm was used at your place or residence this evening at twelve minutes past nine.

As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to preform spells outside school and further spellwork on your part may lead to expulsion from said school (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C).

We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity that risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offence under Section 13 of the Internation Confedeation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy.

Enjoy your holidays!

Yours sincerely, Mafalda Hopkirk Improper use of Magic Office Ministry of Magic

Harry looks up from the letter and gulps.

"You didn't tell us you weren't allowed to use magic outside school," says Uncle Vernon, a mad gleam dancing in his eyes. "Forgot to mention it . . . Slipped your mind, I daresay . . . " He is bearing down on Harry like a great bulldog, all his teeth bared. "Well, I've got news for you, boy . . . I'm locking you up . . . You're never going back to that school . . . never . . . and if you try and magic yourself out - they'll expel you!"

And, laughing like a maniac, Uncle Vernon drags Harry back upstairs.

. . .

(Y/n) runs up to the front door, and bursts inside the house, tackling Hermione in a tight hug.

Hermione throws down her book, and bursts into tears, hugging (Y/n) tightly.

(Y/n)'s emerald eyes soften, and she hugs Hermione tighter, the brunette's tears eventually stopping after a minute or so.

"You're home?" Hermione asks, her eyes still watery.

"I told you I'd be back soon," (Y/n) murmurs softly, smiling at her adopted parents sitting on the couch across from them, and Jean and Tom smile back.

Then she glances over to the door to see her father carrying her trunk, and setting it just inside the front door.

Tony walks over to the elder Grangers, and, with a quick word, the three adults walk outside.

Suddenly, (Y/n) is knocked out of Hermione's tight embrace and off the couch. (Y/n) lets out a yelp as her head slams into the coffee table, Marvel weaving excitedly on (Y/n)'s stomach, rolling around, shoving her face into the crook of (Y/n)'s neck, and nuzzling her face.

Hermione wipes her tears away, laughing at the black-and-white cat.

"There's my cheery sister," (Y/n) says with a grin, clambering to her feet, Marvel clutched in her arms.

Tony and the elder Grangers walk back into the house, Tony standing at the door and looking meaningfully at (Y/n).

Understanding the meaning of the look, (Y/n) follows, Marvel jumping up to perch on (Y/n)'s shoulder.

"Have a good school year," Tony tells his daughter softly. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Tony Stark says something that makes (Y/n) tear up a little. "(Y/n), you remind me so much of your mother."

(Y/n) steps forward, hugging her father tightly. "Thanks Dad. I love you," she murmurs, and Tony smiles softly, his brown eyes sparkling.

"I love you too, kiddo," Tony says softly, and after a moment, the billionaire steps back. "I'll write at least three times a week."

And, with that, Tony Stark walks to his car, waves, and gets inside, driving away.

A Month Later

The room is growing dark. Exhausted, stomach rumbling, mind spinning over the same unanswerable questions, Harry falls into an uneasy sleep.

Harry dreams that he is on show in a zoo, with a car reading UNDERAGE WIZARD attached to his cage. People goggle through the bars at him as he lies, starving and weak, on a bed of straw. He sees Dobby's face in the crowd and shouts out, asking for help, but Dobby calls, "Harry Potter is safe there, sir!" and vanishes. Then, the Dursleys appear, and Dudley rattles the bars of the cage, laughing at him.

"Stop it," Harry mutters as the rattling pounds in his sore head. "Leave me alone . . . cut it out . . . I'm trying to sleep . . ."

He opens his eyes. Moonlight is shining throuh the bars on the window. And someone is goggling through the bars at him: a freckle-faced, red-haired, long-nosed someone.

Ron Weasley is outside Harry's window, ready to whisk Harry off to the Burrow - The Weasleys' home.

Word Count: 3005 words