CHAPTER THREE
window, the night air whipping his hair, and looked back at the
shrinking rooftops of Privet Drive. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petu-
nia, and Dudley were all hanging, dumbstruck, out of Harry’s
window.
“See you next summer!” Harry yelled.
The Weasleys roared with laughter and Harry settled back in his
seat, grinning from ear to ear.
“Let Hedwig out,” he told Ron. “She can fly behind us. She
hasn’t had a chance to stretch her wings for ages.”
George handed the hairpin to Ron and, a moment later, Hedwig
soared joyfully out of the window to glide alongside them like a
ghost.
“So — what’s the story, Harry?” said Ron impatiently. “What’s
been happening?”
Harry told them all about Dobby, the warning he’d given Harry
and the fiasco of the violet pudding. There was a long, shocked si-
lence when he had finished.
“Very fishy,” said Fred finally.
“Definitely dodgy,” agreed George. “So he wouldn’t even tell
you who’s supposed to be plotting all this stuff?”
“I don’t think he could,” said Harry. “I told you, every time he
got close to letting something slip, he started banging his head
against the wall.”
He saw Fred and George look at each other.
“What, you think he was lying to me?” said Harry.
“Well,” said Fred, “put it this way — house-elves have got pow-
erful magic of their own, but they can’t usually use it without their
master’s permission. I reckon old Dobby was sent to stop you com-
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