Harry Potter 04 - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

are Dobby’s favourite, favourite clothes, sir!’ he said, ripping off his odd ones and pulling on Uncle Vernon’s. ‘I has seven now, sir … but, sir …’ he said, his eyes widening, having pulled both socks up to their highest extent, so that they reached to the bottom of his shorts, ‘they has made a mistake in the shop, Harry Potter, they is giving you two the same!’
    ‘Ah, no, Harry, how come you didn’t spot that!’ said Ron, grinning over from his own bed, which was now strewn with wrapping paper. ‘Tell you what, Dobby – here you go – take these two, and you can mix them up properly. And here’s your jumper.’
    He threw Dobby a pair of violet socks he had just unwrapped, and the hand-knitted sweater Mrs Weasley had sent.
    Dobby looked quite overwhelmed. ‘Sir is very kind!’ he squeaked, his eyes brimming with tears again, bowing deeply to Ron. ‘Dobby knew sir must be a great wizard, for he is Harry Potter’s greatest friend, but Dobby did not know that he was also as generous of spirit, as noble, as selfless –’
    ‘They’re only socks,’ said Ron, who had gone slightly pink around the ears, though looking rather pleased all the same. ‘Wow, Harry –’ he had just opened Harry’s present, a Chudley Cannon hat. ‘Cool!’ He jammed it onto his head, where it clashed horribly with his hair.
    Dobby now handed Harry a small package, which turned out to be – socks.
    ‘Dobby is making them himself, sir!’ the elf said happily. ‘He is buying the wool out of his wages, sir!’
    The left sock was bright red, and had a pattern of broomsticks upon it; the right sock was green, with a pattern of Snitches.
    ‘They’re … they’re really … well, thanks, Dobby,’ said Harry, and he pulled them on, causing Dobby’s eyes to leak with happiness again.
    ‘Dobby must go now, sir, we is already making Christmas dinner in the kitchens!’ said Dobby, and he hurried out of the dormitory, waving goodbye to Ron and the others as he passed.
    Harry’s other presents were much more satisfactory than Dobby’s odd socks – with the obvious exception of the Dursleys’, which consisted of a single tissue, an all-time low – Harry supposed they, too, were remembering the Ton-Tongue Toffee. Hermione had given Harry a book called Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland ; Ron, a bulging bag of Dungbombs; Sirius, a handy penknife with attachments to unlock any lock and undo any knot; and Hagrid, a vast box of sweets including all Harry’s favourites – Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum and Fizzing Whizzbees. There was also, of course, Mrs Weasley’s usual package, including a new jumper (green, with a picture of a dragon on it – Harry supposed Charlie had told her all about the Horntail) and a large quantity of home-made mince pies.
    Harry and Ron met up with Hermione in the common room, and they went down to breakfast together. They spent most of the morning in Gryffindor Tower, where everyone was enjoying their presents, then returned to the Great Hall for a magnificent lunch, which included at least a hundred turkeys and Christmas puddings, and large piles of Cribbages Wizarding Crackers.
    They went out into the grounds in the afternoon; the snow was untouched except for the deep channels made by the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students on their way up to the castle. Hermione chose to watch Harry and the Weasleys’ snowball fight rather than join in, and at five o’clock said she was going back upstairs to get ready for the ball.
    ‘What, you need three hours?’ said Ron, looking at her incredulously, and paying for his lapse in concentration when a large snowball, thrown by George, hit him hard on the side of the head. ‘Who’re you going with?’ he yelled after Hermione, but she just waved, and disappeared up the stone steps into the castle.
    There was no Christmas tea today, as the ball included a feast, so at seven o’clock, when it had become hard to aim properly, the others abandoned their snowball fight and trooped back to the common room. The Fat Lady was sitting in her frame with her friend Violet from downstairs, both of them extremely tipsy, empty boxes of chocolate liqueurs littering the bottom of her picture.
    ‘Lairy fights, that’s the one!’ she giggled when they gave the password, and she swung forwards to let them inside.
    Harry, Ron, Seamus, Dean and Neville changed into their dress robes up in their