Harry Potter 06 - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

knocked out half of his teeth. Harry and Ron both leapt out of their beds and wrenched the two elves apart, though they continued to try to kick and punch each other, egged on by Peeves, who swooped around the lamp squealing, ‘Stick your fingers up his nosey, draw his cork and pull his earsies –’
    Harry aimed his wand at Peeves and said, ‘Langlock!’ Peeves clutched at his throat, gulped, then swooped from the room making obscene gestures but unable to speak, owing to the fact that his tongue had just glued itself to the roof of his mouth.
    ‘Nice one,’ said Ron appreciatively, lifting Dobby into the air so that his flailing limbs no longer made contact with Kreacher. ‘That was another Prince hex, wasn’t it?’
    ‘Yeah,’ said Harry, twisting Kreacher’s wizened arm into a half-nelson. ‘Right – I’m forbidding you to fight each other! Well, Kreacher, you’re forbidden to fight Dobby. Dobby, I know I’m not allowed to give you orders –’
    ‘Dobby is a free house-elf and he can obey anyone he likes and Dobby will do whatever Harry Potter wants him to do!’ said Dobby, tears now streaming down his shrivelled little face on to his jumper.
    ‘OK, then,’ said Harry and he and Ron both released the elves, who fell to the floor, but did not continue fighting.
    ‘Master called me?’ croaked Kreacher, sinking into a bow even as he gave Harry a look that plainly wished him a painful death.
    ‘Yeah, I did,’ said Harry, glancing towards Madam Pomfrey’s office door to check that the Muffliato spell was still working; there was no sign that she had heard any of the commotion. ‘I’ve got a job for you.’
    ‘Kreacher will do whatever Master wants,’ said Kreacher, sinking so low that his lips almost touched his gnarled toes, ‘because Kreacher has no choice, but Kreacher is ashamed to have such a Master, yes –’
    ‘Dobby will do it, Harry Potter!’ squeaked Dobby, his tennis-ball-sized eyes still swimming with tears. ‘Dobby would be honoured to help Harry Potter!’
    ‘Come to think of it, it would be good to have both of you,’ said Harry. ‘OK, then … I want you to tail Draco Malfoy.’
    Ignoring the look of mingled surprise and exasperation on Ron’s face, Harry went on, ‘I want to know where he’s going, who he’s meeting and what he’s doing. I want you to follow him around the clock.’
    ‘Yes, Harry Potter!’ said Dobby at once, his great eyes shining with excitement. ‘And if Dobby does it wrong, Dobby will throw himself off the topmost tower, Harry Potter!’
    ‘There won’t be any need for that,’ said Harry hastily.
    ‘Master wants me to follow the youngest of the Malfoys?’ croaked Kreacher. ‘Master wants me to spy upon the pureblood great-nephew of my old mistress?’
    ‘That’s the one,’ said Harry, foreseeing a great danger and determining to prevent it immediately. ‘And you’re forbidden to tip him off, Kreacher, or to show him what you’re up to, or to talk to him at all, or to write him messages, or … or to contact him in any way. Got it?’
    He thought he could see Kreacher struggling to see a loophole in the instructions he had just been given, and waited. After a moment or two, and to Harry’s great satisfaction, Kreacher bowed deeply again and said, with bitter resentment, ‘Master thinks of everything and Kreacher must obey him even though Kreacher would much rather be the servant of the Malfoy boy, oh yes …’
    ‘That’s settled, then,’ said Harry. ‘I’ll want regular reports, but make sure I’m not surrounded by people when you turn up. Ron and Hermione are OK. And don’t tell anyone what you’re doing. Just stick to Malfoy like a couple of wart plasters.’

 
     
— CHAPTER TWENTY —
     
Lord Voldemort’s Request
    Harry and Ron left the hospital wing first thing on Monday morning, restored to full health by the ministrations of Madam Pomfrey and now able to enjoy the benefits of having been knocked out and poisoned, the best of which was that Hermione was friends with Ron again. Hermione even escorted them down to breakfast, bringing with her the news that Ginny had argued with Dean. The drowsing creature in Harry’s chest suddenly raised its head, sniffing the air hopefully.
    ‘What did they row about?’ he asked, trying to sound casual as they turned into a seventh-floor corridor which was deserted but for a very small girl who had been examining a tapestry of trolls in tutus. She looked terrified at