Table of Contents
Dobby’s warning came on a night thick with silence. The air in Harry’s small, caged room on Privet Drive felt heavy, as though even the stars outside had turned away from Number Four. Hedwig stirred restlessly in her prison of wires, while Harry stared at the moonlight tracing faint patterns across the floorboards. He longed for Hogwarts, for laughter echoing off enchanted ceilings, for letters from friends that never came.
And then, without warning, a sound split the night.
Pop.
There, perched trembling on the edge of Harry’s bed, was a creature unlike any he had seen before. Wide, tennis-ball eyes brimming with emotion, ears drooping like worn fabric, hands clasped as though in prayer.
“Harry Potter,” the little being whispered, bowing until his nose nearly brushed the sheets. “Such an honor… such an honor…”
Harry blinked. This was no dream. This was Dobby. A house-elf.
And he had come not with gifts, but with a plea.
The Elf Who Brought Fear
Dobby’s warning spilled out in hurried, broken whispers. He begged Harry not to return to Hogwarts that year. His voice trembled with urgency, with a terror that seemed larger than his small frame.
“Terrible things are to happen… terrible things!” Dobby cried, wringing his long fingers, ears twitching as though the very walls might be listening. “Harry Potter must be safe!”
But Harry’s heart rebelled. Stay away from Hogwarts? Away from the castle that was more home to him than the Dursleys’ house ever was? Impossible. Hogwarts was his refuge, his light, the only place he truly belonged.
And yet… Dobby’s eyes glistened with something Harry could not dismiss. A fear that felt older than both of them, tied to secrets buried deep in Hogwarts stone.
Disaster on Privet Drive
If words could not persuade Harry, Dobby turned to action. Unfortunately, his version of action was chaos.
With one loud snap of fingers, a pudding crashed in the Dursleys’ pristine dining room. Cream splattered across guests, dishes clattered, and the night spiraled into pandemonium. Harry’s protests meant nothing—by the time the plates had stilled, Uncle Vernon’s fury was uncontainable.
Bars were hammered across Harry’s window. Locks snapped into place on his bedroom door. Meals became a ration shoved through a gap. Harry was no longer just unwanted—he was a prisoner.
Exactly as Dobby had intended.
Shadows in Every Word
Lying on his bed behind the bars, Harry replayed Dobby’s warning over and over.
Danger at Hogwarts.
Terrible things waiting.
A darkness uncoiling within the castle walls.
Hogwarts, his haven, suddenly loomed in his mind as something fragile, under threat. And though Dobby never named it, the words whispered of an ancient story Harry had yet to unravel—of a Chamber sealed, of secrets stirring awake.
Hedwig hooted softly from her cage, as though echoing the unease that filled the room.
The Cliff of Hopelessness
Harry pressed his forehead against the cool glass of his barred window. Summer was supposed to be hard, yes—but this was unbearable. Isolated, locked away, no friends, no letters, only shadows and the echo of Dobby’s warning pulsing in his ears.
But while Harry felt trapped, the world was not done with him. Destiny was always a restless force. And already, somewhere beyond Privet Drive, headlights were glinting against the sky, wheels spinning, magic preparing to break the locks that held him.
Soon, a rescue would come roaring through the night.
To Be Continued…
The bars seemed unbreakable. But friendship has its own kind of magic. And the Weasley brothers had never been afraid of bending rules when Harry Potter’s freedom was at stake.