DOBBY’S WARNING
he said. “This makes the Dursleys sound almost human. Can’t any-
one help you? Can’t I?”
Almost at once, Harry wished he hadn’t spoken. Dobby dis-
solved again into wails of gratitude.
“Please,” Harry whispered 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 was feeling distinctly hot in the face, said, “What-
ever 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 he stopped quickly, because thinking about Hermione was
painful.
“Harry Potter is humble and modest,” said Dobby reverently, his
orb-like eyes aglow. “Harry Potter speaks not of his triumph over
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named —”
“Voldemort?” said Harry.
Dobby clapped his hands over his bat ears and moaned, “Ah,
speak not the name, sir! Speak not the name!”
“Sorry,” said Harry quickly. “I know lots of people don’t like it.
My friend Ron —”
He stopped again. Thinking about Ron was painful, too.
Dobby leaned toward Harry, his eyes wide as headlights.
“Dobby heard tell,” he said hoarsely, “that Harry Potter met the
Dark Lord for a second time, just weeks ago . . . that Harry Potter
escaped yet again.”
Harry nodded and Dobby’s eyes suddenly shone with tears.
“Ah, sir,” he gasped, dabbing his face with a corner of the grubby
15