DOBBY’S WARNING
You could just shake or nod,” he added hastily as Dobby’s head
tilted worryingly close to the wall again.
Slowly, Dobby shook his head.
“Not — not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, sir —”
But Dobby’s eyes were wide and he seemed to be trying to give
Harry a hint. Harry, however, was completely lost.
“He hasn’t got a brother, has he?”
Dobby shook his head, his eyes wider than ever.
“Well then, I can’t think who else would have a chance of mak-
ing horrible things happen at Hogwarts,” said Harry. “I mean,
there’s Dumbledore, for one thing — you know who Dumbledore
is, don’t you?”
Dobby bowed 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 dropped to an urgent
whisper — “there are powers Dumbledore doesn’t . . . powers no
decent wizard . . .”
And before Harry could stop him, Dobby bounded off the bed,
seized Harry’s desk lamp, and started beating himself around the
head with earsplitting yelps.
A sudden silence fell downstairs. Two seconds later Harry, heart
thudding madly, heard Uncle Vernon coming into the hall, calling,
“Dudley must have left his television on again, the little tyke!”
“Quick! In the closet!” hissed Harry, stuffing Dobby in, shutting
the door, and flinging himself onto the bed just as the door handle
turned.
17