Chapter 20 “ With a little help from Dobby
Harry woke up early the next morning and headed straight to his Pensieve. He took out some of the carefully marked wails and poured their contents into the basin. One was marked “Hokey” and another “Dobby”. A third read “Dobby II”.
Harry plunged himself into the substance and was immediately hurled into the now very familiar living room of Hepzibah Smith. After scrutinizing the entire memory, it faded into “Dobby”.
Dobby was sitting in a cramped and filthy room. There was no evidence of effort in keeping the space clean. Dobby kicked his feet distractedly, staring at the door.
Suddenly, an older - evidently female - house-elf entered in tears. It was Hokey. She threw the tidy tea cosy from her head to the ground and stomped on it. She launched herself into a pile of rags beside her son.
“I wish I could quit!” she squeaked to the young Dobby. Judging by his size and the smoothness of his face, Harry might have guessed he was no older than six years old, even though it is always difficult to tell those kinds of things with house-elves.
“They are horrible people!” she continued, sobbing into her miniscule hands. “That young brat is the worst!”
Dobby shuffled towards his mother and draped his arm comfortingly across her shoulder.
“Can we go home now?” Dobby asked in a high-pitched whisper. Hokey turned her head slowly to face him and more tears ran down her cheeks.
“This is our home, Dobby!” she croaked miserably. “Ever since Miss Smith’s death “ and from now on, we must serve the Malfoys-“ she spat this word, each syllable dripping with contempt “ “and all of their descendants!”
“Why did she die?” Dobby repositioned himself and looked as if his full attention was on the words Hokey next spoke.
“No one knows for sure.” She rubbed her eyes so hard that she blinked several times when she emerged. “But I think that it was that Riddle boy! He was the last person to see her before it happened, and he seemed so fascinated by that cup of hers. I’ll tell you a secret, Dobby…” She pulled him closer towards her and whispered, “The cup is gone, Dobby.”
She leaned back and her eyes widened impressively.
“I don’t know why, and I don’t know how, but Riddle has it.” She stood up and began to tidy out of nervous habit.
Harry was examining the look on Dobby’s face. It was unsurprised and understanding. Harry could tell that there was something he wasn’t telling his mother. He was rocking back and forth slightly, his lips sealed shut.
Hokey turned around suddenly and noticed Dobby’s expression. Her brow furrowed and she hurried over to her son.
“What is wrong, my dear?” She placed her palm to his forehead, checking his temperature. “Are you ill?”
“No, Mother,” he whispered, and he turned to exit the room, with a rag in one hand and a pail in the other.
The memory began to fade, and the colour became less clear. Harry knew that the memory “Dobby II” was coming up next. As the colours returned, Harry found that he was in a different room. This had to be the most expensive room he had ever visited. Portraits of magnificently dressed witches and wizards covered room. Gold glistened from every corner. Treasured trinkets cluttered glass shelves. Harry had never seen anything cluttered so neatly.
Although he was mystified by the wondrous den, he felt a strange feeling deep inside him. He stared into the grate of a gold tiled fireplace where the lonely remains of a once cheerful and lively fire now glistened. Harry had a feeling that, although the room was filled with magnified riches and prizes, this was the loneliest room in the world.
Every item filling his surroundings looked like it must have cost more gGalleons that Harry had ever held, right down to the doorknob. As he studied the unusual engraving and material of the doorknob, it began to turn. Dobby the house-elf bustled in with a tiny water pail. Harry felt that rather than advancing in time, they had gone in reverse. Dobby looked a mere few months younger but was one hundred times happier than he had been at his new master’s house.
Dobby used all his strength to lift the pail high enough to pour over the pathetic fire, and it vanished. Harry stared at the ashes sadly before he heard a scream shatter the silence from the opposite side of the door. Dobby disappeared behind an extravagant armchair before Harry had registered what happened. He looked for a place to hide, but then remembered that he could not be seen. He wasted only seconds before the door was thrown open, dangling by one hinge. A familiar figure of a ghostly dark haired boy appeared menacingly by the frame.
He illuminated his wand tip, but to Harry, it gave no light. This boy was so dead inside that light fled from his control. Apparently, what he saw sufficed, for he began to destroy the room. Harry felt the walls shriek in protest, saw the shelves cry with indignation, and knew the fireplace was shuddering in fear. Fear. This boy provoked it. This young boy, barely out of school, had the power to induce mankind’s greatest weakness. His eyes clicked suddenly on a spot just about Harry’s head. He walked right through Harry and summoned a box from one of the top shelves of a glass cabinet. He peeked inside, and once the lid was tightly secured, he beamed in self-congratulations. He turned to leave, and with one foot already out the door, he flicked his wand and the room returned to its normal state. The walls no longer wailed, the shelves were silent, and the fireplace held only the secrets of past ashes.
Dobby emerged, terrified, from beyond the armchair and raced out of the room. Harry wanted to stop him from sure death, but then realized that in order to be viewing this memory, everything must have turned out fine. He ran to catch up with the young elf and found him pulling on a tiny coat and heading out the door. The elf suddenly disappeared, but Harry felt himself being pulled on by a strange force. He knew the elf must have used his own strong magic to camouflage, but Harry still needed to follow in Dobby’s memory. In the far distance, Harry saw a speck of a man disappear with a subtle popping sound. Harry thought for sure the chase had to be over now, but the elf contained magic far beyond that which Harry had ever imagined. With another crack, both boy and elf were gone.