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Chapter 142: Killing the Little Monster Dobby
"I can't just let this go."
Now that the danger had passed, Harry finally felt afraid.
During the match, all he had thought about was catching the Golden Snitch and winning the game. He hadn't stopped to consider the consequences. But now, staring at his broken arm and remembering the Bludger hurtling at him again and again across the field, he felt a chill crawl down the back of his neck.
At that moment, the hospital ward door opened again. The Gryffindor team had come to visit Harry. They were still covered in mud and hadn't even changed out of their soaked uniforms.
"Harry, you were incredible today!" Fred said excitedly. "I just saw Marcus Flint yelling at Malfoy, saying the whole loss was his fault because he failed his job. Malfoy kept insisting he never even saw the Golden Snitch. He looked furious."
"Slytherin had such a huge advantage with those brooms, and they still lost," Alicia said happily. She was genuinely thrilled. The Slytherins had played dirty the entire match, constantly targeting the girls. Thankfully, Harry had caught the Snitch at the very end.
The team had brought food to celebrate—cakes, candy, juice—and soon they were all gathered around Harry's bed as though it were a victory party.
Unfortunately, Madam Pomfrey stormed in moments later.
"This boy needs rest! He has broken bones!"
She promptly drove everyone out of the hospital wing.
Left alone in the quiet ward, Harry quickly drifted off to sleep.
Some time later, Harry regained consciousness.
The room was silent and pitch-black, carrying an eerie chill. Suddenly, he felt something horrible touching his forehead.
"Get away from me!" he shouted.
Then he recognized the figure.
"Dobby!"
It was the house-elf belonging to Voldemort's side.
Harry scrambled backward in panic, his hands searching desperately for anything that could serve as a weapon.
"Damn it… this school is never safe. And I don't even have my wand."
His fingers finally closed around something sharp—a candlestick. He quietly hid it behind his back, feeling slightly reassured.
A dreadful voice echoed through the darkness.
"Harry Potter has returned to Hogwarts."
"Dobby warned Harry Potter again and again. Ah, Potter, why would you not believe Dobby's warning? Harry Potter missed the train—why did he not go home?"
Harry pressed himself against the wall, gripping the heavy candlestick behind him.
"What do you want?" Harry demanded coldly. "How did you know I missed the train?"
Then realization struck him.
"It was you," he said grimly. "You blocked the barrier. You tried to force us out of school."
"Yes, sir!" Dobby replied in a miserable voice. "Dobby hid nearby waiting for Harry Potter. When he saw Harry Potter appear, Dobby used magic to seal the barrier. Dobby had to use magic for it. The iron burned Dobby's hands."
He raised ten bandaged fingers.
"But Dobby did not care. Dobby believed Harry Potter would be safe then. Dobby never imagined Harry Potter would find another way to return to Hogwarts."
The ugly little creature rocked back and forth, his twisted head shaking wildly as he muttered.
"When Dobby learned Harry Potter returned to Hogwarts, Dobby became very sad. Dobby burned his master's dinner by accident and was beaten terribly for it. Worse than ever before, sir."
Harry shouted furiously, "You don't scare me. You nearly got Ron and me expelled, but I will never give in to you or your masters."
"Get out while I'm still injured," Harry snarled, "or I'll kill you, you filthy monster."
Dobby merely smiled with contempt.
"Dobby is used to death threats. Dobby hears five or six every day at home."
Then he added,
"Harry Potter must leave Hogwarts. Dobby believed the Bludger could help accomplish this."
"Your Bludger?" Harry's voice turned icy, filled with murderous intent. "So when your threats failed, you tried to kill me with that cursed Bludger."
Harry tightened his grip on the candlestick.
The culprit who had tried to murder him was standing right in front of him—the ugly creature that had attacked him three separate times.
At that moment, Harry no longer felt rage. Instead, he felt as cold as endless winter snow. Yet the iron candlestick in his hand seemed to burn with murderous heat.
"Sir, Dobby never wished to kill you!" the creature cried in alarm. "Dobby did not try to murder Harry Potter. Dobby wished only to save Harry Potter's life. If Harry Potter were injured badly enough, he would have been sent home. Dobby only wished Harry Potter a small injury so he would leave Hogwarts safely."
"Oh?"
Harry's eyes were freezing cold.
For a moment, he nearly laughed.
This ugly, insane little creature had repeatedly harmed him, tried to send him back to the nightmare of the Dursleys' house, tried to drive him from Hogwarts, and controlled a murderous Bludger that had repeatedly aimed for his head and neck.
And now it claimed it had done all this "to save him."
"I forgive you, Dobby," Harry said expressionlessly. "Come closer. Stand right in front of me. I want to thank you properly."
The little creature hurried forward, overwhelmed with joy.
"No need, sir! This is what Dobby should—"
His words stopped abruptly.
His eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at the gloomy boy before him.
A terrible chill flashed across Harry's face before vanishing once more into emotionless coldness.
Harry released the candlestick.
The heavy metal spike had pierced straight through the creature's temple. Dobby collapsed silently onto the floor.
Harry looked down at the body and said quietly:
"As thanks for not killing me outright—and only trying to cripple me—I'll let you die quickly. Then I'll bury you."
Suddenly, someone entered the room.
"Sorry! I didn't go watch your match. If I had been there, maybe I could've identified whoever cursed the Bludger and you wouldn't have gotten hurt."
George walked in looking annoyed.
Lately, he had been busy creating ghost books and researching further applications of Netherworld energy, so he had ignored many less important matters. That was why he hadn't attended Harry's Quidditch match this time.
Hermione had complained earlier that she wished George had been there.
Fortunately, Harry was still alive.
(To be continued.)