Harry Potter 02 - Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

Riddle has vanished from the book. On the other hand, I would advise you, Lucius, not to go giving out any more of Lord Voldemort’s old school things. If any more of them find their way into innocent hands, I think Arthur Weasley, for one, will make sure they are traced back to you …’
    Lucius Malfoy stood for a moment, and Harry distinctly saw his right hand twitch as though he was longing to reach for his wand. Instead, he turned to his house-elf.
    ‘We’re going, Dobby!’
    He wrenched open the door, and as the elf came hurrying up to him, he kicked him right through it. They could hear Dobby squealing with pain all the way along the corridor. Harry stood for a moment, thinking hard. Then it came to him.
    ‘Professor Dumbledore,’ he said hurriedly, ‘can I give that diary back to Mr Malfoy, please?’
    ‘Certainly, Harry,’ said Dumbledore calmly. ‘But hurry. The feast, remember.’
    Harry grabbed the diary and dashed out of the office. He could hear Dobby’s squeals of pain receding around the corner. Quickly, wondering if this plan could possibly work, Harry took off one of his shoes, pulled off his slimy, filthy sock, and stuffed the diary into it. Then he ran down the dark corridor.
    He caught up with them at the top of the stairs.
    ‘Mr Malfoy,’ he gasped, skidding to a halt, ‘I’ve got something for you.’
    And he forced the smelly sock into Lucius Malfoy’s hand.
    ‘What the –?’
    Mr Malfoy ripped the sock off the diary, threw it aside, then looked furiously from the ruined book to Harry.
    ‘You’ll meet the same sticky end as your parents one of these days, Harry Potter,’ he said softly. ‘They were meddlesome fools, too.’
    He turned to go.
    ‘Come, Dobby. I said, Come !’
    But Dobby didn’t move. He was holding up Harry’s disgusting, slimy sock, and looking at it as though it were a priceless treasure.
    ‘Master has given Dobby a sock,’ said the elf in wonderment. ‘Master gave it to Dobby.’
    ‘What’s that?’ spat Mr Malfoy. ‘What did you say?’
    ‘Dobby has got a sock,’ said Dobby in disbelief. ‘Master threw it, and Dobby caught it, and Dobby – Dobby is free. ’
    Lucius Malfoy stood frozen, staring at the elf. Then he lunged at Harry.
    ‘You’ve lost me my servant, boy!’
    But Dobby shouted, ‘You shall not harm Harry Potter!’
    There was a loud bang, and Mr Malfoy was thrown backwards. He crashed down the stairs, three at a time, landing in a crumpled heap on the landing below. He got up, his face livid, and pulled out his wand, but Dobby raised a long threatening finger.
    ‘You shall go now,’ he said fiercely, pointing down at Mr Malfoy. ‘You shall not touch Harry Potter. You shall go now.’
    Lucius Malfoy had no choice. With a last, incensed stare at the pair of them, he swung his cloak around him and hurried out of sight.
    ‘Harry Potter freed Dobby!’ said the elf shrilly, gazing up at Harry, moonlight from the nearest window reflected in his orb-like eyes. ‘Harry Potter set Dobby free!’
    ‘Least I could do, Dobby,’ said Harry, grinning. ‘Just promise never to try and save my life again.’
    The elf’s ugly brown face split suddenly into a wide, toothy smile.
    ‘I’ve just got one question, Dobby,’ said Harry, as Dobby pulled on Harry’s sock with shaking hands. ‘You told me all this had nothing to do with He Who Must Not Be Named, remember? Well –’
    ‘It was a clue, sir,’ said Dobby, his eyes widening, as though this was obvious. ‘Dobby was giving you a clue. The Dark Lord, before he changed his name, could be freely named, you see?’
    ‘Right,’ said Harry weakly. ‘Well, I’d better go. There’s a feast, and my friend Hermione should be awake by now …’
    Dobby threw his arms around Harry’s middle and hugged him.
    ‘Harry Potter is greater by far than Dobby knew!’ he sobbed. ‘Farewell, Harry Potter!’
    And with a final loud crack, Dobby disappeared.
    *
    Harry had been to several Hogwarts feasts, but never one quite like this. Everybody was in their pyjamas, and the celebrations lasted all night. Harry didn’t know whether the best bit was Hermione running towards him, screaming, ‘You solved it! You solved it!’ or Justin hurrying over from the Hufflepuff table to wring his hand and apologise endlessly for suspecting him, or Hagrid turning up at half past three, cuffing Harry and Ron so hard on the shoulders that they were knocked into their plates of trifle, or his and Ron’s