The morning they left for Ron's, the Grangers stood on the pavement in front of both houses and did the particular performance of people who are pretending they're not emotional about a twelve-year-old going to school.
"You have enough money," Mrs. Granger said. Not a question.
"More than enough," Kevin said. "Aunt — I'll look after her."
Mrs. Granger nodded. Then hugged him again, because the first one had been insufficient.
Mr. Granger shook Kevin's hand, which was the Granger male equivalent of the hug.
Hermione said goodbye to her parents with the particular efficiency of someone who has decided the goodbye will be shorter if she doesn't let it become a production.
Ron appeared at the end of the street. They gathered their minimal luggage and got into the taxi he'd arrived in.
Harry's window had bars on it now.
"Bars," Ron said, for the second time. He was no less outraged about it.
"Dobby again," Kevin said.
"The house-elf from before? How much damage can one tiny — "
"Considerable, it turns out." Kevin looked at the window. "Give me a moment."
He'd thought about this since the first encounter. Dobby's magic was complex — not sophisticated in the way trained wizard magic was sophisticated, but dense and instinctive, the way an animal is perfectly adapted to its specific environment. The barrier he'd constructed wouldn't yield to conventional counterspells. It would yield to overwhelming physical force.
Or to a conversation.
Kevin walked up to the front door and stood on the step.
"Dobby," he said, to the air. "I know you're here. Come out. I'd like to talk to you properly."
Hermione and Ron hovered at the gate.
Nothing.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Kevin said. "I understand why you're doing this. I want to explain why it's wrong." He waited. "I came back for Harry. That should tell you something about whether I think he matters."
Silence for a moment. Then a small figure appeared at the side of the porch, stepping out of shadow with the tentative quality of something that is not accustomed to being appealed to rather than commanded.
"Dobby," Kevin said, "what do you think Harry Potter's greatest protection is?"
Dobby blinked enormous eyes. "The great magic from his mother?"
"His friends," Kevin said. "People who care whether he lives or dies. Who come for him when he's in trouble. Who make him believe the world is worth fighting for." Kevin held Dobby's gaze. "What you've been doing — cutting him off, making him alone — you've been taking that away from him. Not adding to it."
Dobby opened his mouth.
"I know," Kevin said. "I know there's a conspiracy. I know it's real and I know it's dangerous." He paused. "The conspiracy is exactly why Harry cannot afford to be isolated. Do you understand the difference between protecting someone and removing everything that makes them worth protecting?"
Dobby was very still.
"He has to face what's coming," Kevin said. "That's not cruelty. That's the truth. But he has to face it with the people who love him beside him, not alone in a house where he's treated as an inconvenience." He waited. "Please, Dobby. Drop the barrier."
Dobby put his fists against his temples. He made the sound of something that is genuinely struggling.
Hermione, behind Kevin, was watching with an expression of someone who has been moved by something and is deciding how much to show it.
Then Dobby snapped his fingers.
The shimmer dissolved. The air around the house became ordinary air again.
"Thank you," Kevin said, simply.
He reached up, gripped the bars on Harry's window, and removed them without ceremony. They hit the ground. Harry's face appeared.
"Pack up," Kevin said. "We're leaving."
In the taxi on the way to the station, Hermione leaned against Kevin and said quietly: "You were kind to him."
"He means well," Kevin said. "He's just wrong about the method."
"You could have just broken the barrier and left him."
"He's going to keep trying to help Harry," Kevin said. "Better he understands why certain kinds of help are harmful. Then maybe next time he'll do it differently."
Hermione was quiet for a moment. Then: "You think about things further ahead than you let on."
"Sometimes."
She pressed her shoulder more firmly against his. It wasn't a question.