It had been an especially tiresome day for Professor Severus Snape. He had been subjected to total incompetence in a first-years’ class trying to brew a simple potion to remove warts from bullfrogs. He also had to endure three separate detention sessions, including one with that preposterous Lovegood girl. How could she possibly believe that ground hens’ teeth mixed with butterbeer could cure chronic bad breath?
The most trying time however was his sixth-years’ class. He didn’t know which was worse…that insufferable know-it-all Granger, or the arrogance of Mr. Harry Potter. At least he no longer had to tolerate Malfoy’s two kowtowing toadies, Crabbe and Goyle. Toadies…hmm…he could do with some strong coffee. It was almost midnight, but he still had a table full of scrolls to grade.
Walking over to a small table in the corner of the classroom, Snape lit a small fire under a copper cauldron and with another wave of his wand initiated the auto-drip above it. Once again he reminded himself about the need to obtain a good espresso cauldron. Satisfied that the brewing was progressing in a proper manner, Snape removed a well-worn coffee mug from the shelf, and remembering an earlier experience, took the time to confirm that there were no small mice currently residing in the cup.
Returning to his desk, Snape suddenly froze. Had he heard something? No student would dare to be out of bed at this hour…which naturally caused him to suspect just that very thing. What was it that he had heard? Laughter…no…a shrill giggling?
“Who is there? Show yourself…immediately!” he called out. Then another thought occurred to him. “Peaves…if that is you making that infernal noise, I warn you that I have no patience this evening for your nonsense!”
“No patience? No patience for non-shense?” a strangely familiar yet slurred voice asked. “Ugly, greasy professor has no patience? Hee hee hee! Snape-Potions-teacher should visit nice Pomfrey-Healer…she has lots of patients. Ho ho ho!”
Snape drew his wand and looked about the room. He still was unable to ascertain from where the voice was coming. All at once, he was upside down and floating across the room just below the ceiling.
“Will not drop you. Promise that I will not drop nice professor. Would never, never do that…oops!”
Argus Filch awoke early that morning. It was his favorite time of the month; the day that he got to clean and oil the torture devices in the dungeon. His dearly loved the thumbscrews and the iron maiden, but being the sentimental old softy that he was, his favorite was still the stretching rack. Oh for the old days, he thought dreamily. Now the only use that his rack got was the occasional contract job for the Muggle basketball players.
First things first though, and the first thing for Filch today was personal grooming. He had already taken his annual bath, but knew that he was due a hair grease change soon. He found his tooth brush and applied a generous portion of molasses. Toothpaste is for Muggles, he thought, …and brown really is such a lovely color. Hmm…this toothbrush is getting worn. That reminds me…I need to finish cleaning that fourth-floor lavatory..
Filch checked on his left-over lizard gruel slowly warming on the room’s small stove, and decided that he had time for a quick shave before breakfast. Funny, thing though…his beard seemed to be especially bushy this morning. A moment later at his shaving mirror he found out why.
“What’s happened?” he wanted to say, instead all he heard was “Meow!” Someone had transformed his face into one like…Mrs. Norris! Filch darted away from the mirror and began to frantically search about the room for his beloved cat. Finally spotting the end of her tail protruding from under a blanket on his unmade bed, he pulled it back to reveal that she had indeed been given his face. Hmm…I do have a rather noble-looking nose. No wait…who’s done this to us Mrs. Norris? Mark my meows dearest…when I find out who’s responsible, my lovely rack will see some use again!
Somewhere…clearly in the distance…there was again the sound of high-pitched laughter. Shortly thereafter it was replaced with the sound of a bottle smashing against stone, as well as heart-felt sobbing that sent a chill up Filch’s spine.
“Harry! Harry wake up please! Oh blast…you are worse than my brothers sometimes! Orbus Frostee!” Ginny finally called out at him. A split-second later a very startled Harry leaped from his bed, wiping the remains of the snowball from his face.
“Ginny…what? What are doing in here, and what time is it?” Harry yelled, clearly not enjoying a rude awakening on his day off. He saw Ron quickly sit up on his own bed, clearly not awake, but not wanting to be the recipient of the spell that Bill had taught her last Christmas.
“It’s seven o’clock Harry, and I’m sorry but it is really important,” she said.
“Let me guess…Dean finally got too fresh and you turned him into a white rabbit. I love that Hocus Pocus Spell. Hey!” Ron finally received his own snowball.
“What is it Ginny?” Harry asked. He was suddenly angry with Ron for mentioning Ginny’s current boyfriend, and even angrier with himself for being angry. She’s Ron’s sister. She’s Ron’s sister, he kept repeating in his head. It didn’t help this time. It never seemed to any more. I wonder…I wouldn’t have to leave Dean a rabbit forever…probably. Ginny’s worried expression snapped him back to reality.
“Harry, Ron…someone attacked some teachers last night, including Professor Snape!”
“What?” Harry and Ron said together. Were there Death Eaters on the grounds? Was the school under attack? Who could possibly attack Snape, and how many Galleons could they collect on short notice for a nice thank you gift?
“They found Snape this morning hanging from his classroom rafters, dressed in a ballet tutu, his skin turned orange, ‘kick me’ painted on his forehead, and strangest of all…someone had shampooed his hair!”
Both boys gasped at her words. They were thrilled to tears, but still shocked that anyone could do such a thing.
“Wicked! I wish that someone had taken a picture of that. What…?” Ron finally asked. “No…they didn’t?”
“It’s larger than life and pasted on the wall of the Great Hall. They haven’t been able to get it down. I…I haven’t told you the rest. Professor Flitwick was turned into a goldfish and left in one of Mrytle’s toilets. Professor Slughorn was inflated in his sleep and tethered from the Astronomy Tower. Poor Hagrid…”
“What?” Harry asked, suddenly scared for his old friend.
“Someone stole his beard. He’s very upset about it. Hermione is down at his hut right now trying to calm him down,” Ginny told them.
“Hagrid’s beard gone…that’s terrible,” Harry said.
“Actually, he is quite handsome…I mean, yes it is awful, especially where they found it. Professor McGonagall woke up with it this morning.”
Once again both boys gasped at her words. Harry saw however that there was something more that she hadn’t told them yet.
“Okay, drop the other boot Ginny,” Ron said before Harry could. “What do you need help with, and where is your snookums sweet baboo?”
“My what?”
“Huh? Oh sorry Gin…I read that in some Yank’s horrible fan fiction story. I meant, where is Dean?” Ron asked. He noticed that Harry suddenly had a hurt look on his face, and made a mental note to ask him about it later.
“If you must know Ron, Dean and several other boys have detention this morning with Professor Sprout. She caught all of them stealing flowers from her greenhouse for Valentine’s Day. They’re spending the morning pruning the man-eating tiger lilies. Harry…I know who has been doing all of this. Winky came and woke Hermione and me this morning.”
“She’s not drunk again is she?” Harry asked.
“No Harry…your friend Dobby is, and according to Winky, he could embarrass a semi-professional rum taster right now.”
Ushering Ginny from the room, Harry and Ron quickly dressed and rejoined her down in the Common Room. They found her in front of a very nice marble statute that none of them remembered being there the evening before. For some reason it looked very much like…”
“Blimey Harry, it’s Neville! That crazy house-elf has been here,” Ron yelled out. Everyone’s concerned looks shifted to one’s of fear at the thought that Dobby’s mischief was actually becoming dangerous. “Why does everything seem to happen to him?”
Harry could just stare at their friend, but a moment later he noticed that Ginny had been holding his hand. Apparently she did at the same time and carefully pulled it away. Ron hadn’t seen it, and neither pointed it out to him. Harry steered everyone out the portal before he spoke again.
“Ron, Ginny, do you think that maybe we should split up to cover more ground?”
“Harry, Dobby may not listen to Ron or me. If he is really as drunk as Winky said, then you may be the only one that can persuade him to stop all this,” Ginny said.
“Actually Ginny, Dobby really likes you too. He calls you that ‘pretty Weezy’ when he sees you. You may be right though. I’m not sure what he will be like today.”
“Harry, why don’t you and Ginny go down and talk to the house-elves in the kitchen. I can go and take Neville to Madame Pomfrey…unless Dobby’s turned her into a hippopotamus,” Ron said.
Ron was passing up a chance to visit the kitchen? “No Ron, Dobby really loves her ever since she pulled that thorn out of his paw…er, foot,” Harry told him. In the distance they thought they could hear an elephant trumpet, and Ron suddenly had an even more scared expression (if that was possible). “I think that we had better hurry Ginny…just in case.”
When Harry and Ginny saw the kitchen, they decided that maybe they wouldn’t be having a timely breakfast that morning. There was more food on the floors, walls and ceiling then there was on the serving platters. All around them were house-elves, obviously losers in the ultimate food fight that had occurred. Some of them were trying to clean the mess up, while others were curled up under tables, apparently still in fear of another barrage of eggs, bacon and porridge.
Two of the elves tentatively approached them. They had embarrassed looks on their faces as if they had been responsible for the mess instead of Dobby. One had a pie plate upside down on his head, and the remnants of its contents covering him. The second one seemed to be drenched in pumpkin juice. Neither Gryffindor student was hungry any more.
“Great Harry Potter and his lady very much honor us with a visit. Curly and Bumpy apologize for messy kitchen. Very naughty, drunken elf Dobby throw food at other elves,” one of them said.
Harry’s eyebrows shot up when Ginny was referred to as his lady. He didn’t look over to see her reaction, and he decided not to correct the elf and make an issue of the mistake.
“Bumpy is it? Could you tell me where Dobby is now? What happened to him?” Harry asked.
“Bumpy does not know where Dobby is. Bad, bad house-elf gave Dobby firewhisky and tell Dobby that Frumpy doesn’t love him. Poor Dobby was very sad, and then very, very drunk.”
“Frumpy?” Harry and Ginny said together. Dobby was in love with someone? On cue, a small and very shy female elf approached them, but quickly hid behind the one named Curly. Her name was exceptionally misleading, since both Harry and Ginny thought her to be rather attractive…and not just for an elf. Harry gave her his best smile, and she seemed to relax a little. Just then Bumpy’s other words sank in. Bad, bad house-elf!
“Kreacher!” Harry yelled. “Come here NOW!” Harry raised his hands to calm the startled Frumpy. He smiled at her again, and she returned it…until Kreacher appeared before them.
“What does filthy master and ugly, red-haired blood traitor want with…eeyah!” he cried as Harry hit him with a stun spell which threw him against the far wall.
“I want to know exactly what you told Dobby about this young lady,” Harry told him in a fierce voice. He saw something that surprised him then; a blushing elf. “Kreacher, what did you do to Dobby? I am ordering you to tell me the truth and all of it.”
Kreacher went into convulsions and banged his head on the floor, but he knew that he had to obey. “Kreacher told traitor elf that Frumpy was marrying me. I told him that Frumpy hated dirty, stinky Dobby. Kreacher gave Dobby Firewhisky and told him that he should leave Hogwarts and never come back.”
Harry just stared at the elf with an expression that scared Ginny a little. She took his arm, as much to offer her support as to keep him from hexing Kreacher into apple sauce. Harry surprised himself as well as Ginny when he turned to her and the look on his face softened. The two just stared into each other’s eyes, not knowing for sure what was happening between them.
She’s Ron’s sister. She’s Ron’s sister. Merlin, she’s beautiful!
He doesn’t think of me that way. He could never… I’m just Ron’s little sister. I’m dating…what was his name again? I can’t believe how green his eyes are.
What are we doing here? What is happening? Oh, blast…Dobby, Harry suddenly remembered.
“Kreacher…I am ordering you to find Dobby and to safely restrain him until you can come and bring me to him,” Harry ordered the elf.
“No! No…Kreacher will not do this. Frumpy is mine! Mine!”
“Kreacher, you will do this or I will make you write out ‘Voldemort is an ugly doofus’ ten thousand times,” he told the elf then. Kreacher did not like it, and his eyes were wide with anger at Harry’s words, but after a full minute, he bowed his head and popped off without any further argument.
“Bumpy, Curly…it might be better if we don’t mention any of this to the school staff yet. I’ll try to stop Dobby before he causes any more trouble. Do you understand?” Harry asked.
“Kitchen elves understand Harry Potter. When teachers come to kitchen for breakfast, we will tell them that elves stepped on spilled dish soap and slipped.”
Looking at the destroyed kitchen, Harry was skeptical about the house-elf’s proposed explanation. “Sure…if you say so. Ginny…”
“Harry, I want to speak with Frumpy for a few minutes,” Ginny said. She could see the confusion on his face, but decided against explaining further, except to say “Girl-talk.”
“Okay…Ginny. I’m going to go find Ron. I hope that he hasn’t gotten into any mischief.”
“Ron, why are you on the ceiling and where are your clothes?” Hermione asked, quickly averting her eyes. A number of students had gathered in the Griffindor Common Room, laughing at her poor friend, but apparently sharing in his embarrassment. Well at least he still had his boxer shorts. Had those been bunnies?
“Once someone comes up with the counter-spell to get me down, I’m going to kill that elf. I don’t suppose that you know…well?” Ron really was sounding desperate.
“I…I might,” she said. Still not wanting to look up and further hurt his feelings, Hermione paced about the room for a full five minutes before drawing her wand. “Reverso Elevata Adherum,” she said, blindly pointing the wand upward.
“Hermione no…I’m too far up to…” Down he fell doing a perfect belly-flop on the hardwood floor. Someone mercifully tossed him an afghan from one of the sofas.
“Ron…oh I’m so sorry,” Hermione told him, rushing over to ensure he was all right. “I didn’t think that you would come down so fast.”
Ron rolled over to look at her, and it was fairly obvious that he was hurting. “Hermione, I know how you feel about house-elves, but why would you want to help one of them kill me?” A second later however he smiled at her, at which she gave him a tight hug. He suddenly forgot about his aches and pains.
Everyone in the room smiled at this, except for Lavender Brown. After the way she and Ron had broken up, several people wondered if she wanted to put him back on the ceiling.
Harry raced from the infirmary back toward his tower when a puzzled Madame Pomfrey had explained that she knew nothing about Ron bringing the petrified Neville to her. Harry quickly explained what had happened, omitting only that Dobby had been at fault. He ignored her cries to wait, calling back that he would explain everything later.
Almost to the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry pulled up short when Kreacher popped into the hallway ahead of him. He looked as if he had been beaten up by a bunch of Muggle housewives at a clearance sale. One eye was swollen shut, and his left arm was protruding in a strange direction. He was covered in blood, and limped badly as he stepped toward him. Harry was hard-pressed to feel sorry for the house-elf.
“Dobby is in Room of Requirement Wizard,” he managed to say, spitting blood onto the castle floor.
“Good. Now you will undo whatever Dobby has caused today,” Harry hesitated for a moment, “…including what was done to Professor Snape. You will stay away from Dobby and Frumpy. You will not directly or indirectly cause harm to anyone at Hogwarts…ever!”
“Kreacher will comply with your orders,” he said, his voice dripping with hate.
Harry started to walk away, but then stopped in mid-stride. “Kreacher…leave the giant picture of Snape in the Great Hall for now.”
Entering the Room of Requirements, Harry was surprised to see that it resembled a dark, wet forest. The trees were gnarled, and the stream that flowed to one side was black and smelled of rotten eggs. This was either Voldemort’s dream resort, or was somehow linked to Dobby’s downtrodden mood.
“Dobby, are you all right?” Harry asked as he slowly approached his diminutive friend. He decided that he still needed to be cautious, but refused to even consider bringing out his wand. In his own way, the house-elf looked as bad as Kreacher had.
“Harry Potter…great Harry Potter…Dobby is so happy to shee you,” he slurred.
The next thing that Harry noticed was the elf’s eyes. They were as red as Ginny’s hair. He didn’t know if this was from the firewhisky or Dobby crying over Frumpy. The elf was squatting under one of the larger trees, surrounded by a number of empty bottles. Harry wondered how someone so small could have consumed so much.
“I don’t suppose that you’re feeling too good at the moment are you Dobby?”
“Dobby feels wonderful…Dobby feels so happy…Dobby feels…”
Sick, Harry finished for him. He really hoped that there was some manner of cleaning spell on the room…oh, and on Dobby. Yuck!
“Dobby, why did you do this to yourself? You really hurt some good people today…and Professor Snape too. Most of them were my friends…some were even your friends.”
“Dobby does not have any friends other than Harry Potter. Evil, dirty Kreacher told Dobby. Let’s find more whiskey and then have fun. We can paint the school purple.”
“I don’t think that Professor Dumbledore would appreciate that Dobby,” Harry told him in a calm appeasing voice. He had to get through to his friend somehow.
“Harry Potter…we could paint Professor Headmaster purple,” he cheerfully offered.
“Dobby, what about your friend Frumpy? I know that you care for her.”
“Pretty Frumpy does not care for Dobby. She is going away with Kreacher. He told Dobby and gave me good firewhisky.” The elf began crying, and then was sick again. The little guy definitely could not hold his alcohol.
“Dobby, you’ve always struck me as a fairly smart elf. Well, maybe not in your current condition. Anyway, why would you ever believe anything that Kreacher would tell you?”
“Because…because…Dobby saw Frumpy kissing him,” he sobbed.
“Dobby that may not mean anything. It might have been a misunderstanding. Ron Weasley kept kissing another girl he didn’t care for until he came to his senses.”
“Pretty Weezy kisses another Wizard when she still cares for Harry Potter?”
“Hold on Dobby that’s different. Ginny really doesn’t feel that way about me. She’s Ron’s sister,” Harry told him. Dobby didn’t seem to be convinced. “Dobby, are you very sure that Frumpy was kissing Kreacher?”
“No she wasn’t Harry…Dobby,” Ginny said, surprising the two as she approached. She was holding Frumpy’s hand, and Harry couldn’t tell if the girl elf was scared, embarrassed or worried about Dobby. Probably all three he decided. “Keacher was making unwelcome advances with Frumpy, and Dobby saw something inappropriate at the worst possible time.”
Dobby stood up (as best he could in his condition) and wobbled over to Frumpy. They studied each other’s faces from different angles for a couple of minutes. Dobby was the first to speak, and his speech no longer sounded slurred.
“Frumpy is not in love with stupid Kreacher?” he asked.
“No, silly drunken elf. Frumpy wants to be with good and nice Dobby,” she answered.
“I don’t know about the good and nice part after today Harry,” Ginny whispered. She saw Harry smile at her and motion back toward the door. As they walked, the forest slowly lightened and bloomed to match the changed moods of the two elves. They didn’t know if this was from the room’s enchantment, or some more of the elves’ magic. Harry somehow suspected the latter, but regardless, he had a new respect for Dobby’s magic.
“Well Miss Weasley, may I buy you an early lunch? They probably have the kitchen put back together now, and it seems as if we’ve missed breakfast this morning,” Harry pointed out. He wasn’t sure afterward why he asked what he did next. “That is unless you want to go see if the tiger lilies ate your boyfriend.”
“No Harry. Please don’t tell Ron…or anyone yet, and please try to act really surprised later, but I am going to break up with my snookums sweet baboo. Harry are you all right?”
“Hmm…uh, yeah Ginny. I guess that I am just hungrier than I thought. Can I ask you why Ginny, or is it something that’s none of my business. He’s not a cross dresser or anything is he?”
“No Harry, nothing so dramatic…at least I don’t think so. It was just a lot of little things that I’ve been noticing…feeling. Then I had that nice conversation with Frumpy; that’s when I decided.”
“Really, what did you discuss?”
“Girl-talk Harry…just girl-talk.”
Despite his condition, Dobby had a wonderful afternoon with Frumpy. She tried to administer an elfin hangover spell, but neither one was surprised when it only had limited success. By Dobby’s rough count he had consumed forty-seven bottles of good firewhisky (good being a relative term). He crawled, rather than walked or even staggered into his tiny quarters that night.
Harry Potter had informed him that all the damage had been undone, and explanations and apologies had been offered to everyone. Even Hagrid was happy. Before having his beard restored, a large number of female students had insisted on having a photograph taken with him. He had been flattered to tears.
Dobby was especially surprised that Professor Snape had forgiven him so readily, even with the delay in taking down the large photograph of him. Seventy-five students had already approached Dobby about getting copies.
The house-elf knew how much he was going to hurt in the morning, and that he would always be ashamed of what he had done to the school that day, but he had received a nice hug and a quick kiss from Frumpy. Maybe that balanced everything out.
Dobby managed to reach the stool that sat next to his bed, and collapsed onto it. It was all he could do just to sit there and stare off into space.
“Good evening Dobby,” a voice from the dark said. “Your…friends from the kitchen have sent you a very nice gift.”
Plop, went the cherry pie as it came down on Dobby’s head.
“Oh, excuse me…I was told that you preferred pumpkin pie.” Plop!
It was unquestionably a less-than-perfect day. They had forgotten to send whipped cream for the pumpkin pie.
Plop!
Mischief managed!