Chapter 25: The Chamber of Secrets and Maria ─ 1-1

I was on high alert. People tend to think the "final boss" of second year is the Basilisk, but they’re wrong. The one who is truly troublesome—is Dobby.

Even though it was his birthday, Harry hadn't received a single card from his friends. I stayed close to him in the small room we had recently been given, trying to comfort him as he moped.

The room had originally been Dudley’s second bedroom, used for storing his old toys. The Cupboard under the Stairs had finally returned to its intended purpose: a storage space for Harry’s and my Hogwarts trunks.

Perhaps the Dursleys had finally realized that we were, technically, growing human beings and that the cupboard was becoming a physical impossibility. I’m just glad they had enough brain cells between them to figure that much out.

In the morning, we had watched that family of animal-faced Muggles perform their little comedy routine—preparing for a "big business deal" dinner. When asked what our roles were, Harry and I had answered in a bored, perfect unison: "We’ll be in our room, making no noise and pretending we’re not there." Now, we were duly confined to our shared room (which had less than one person's worth of space). It was better than being kicked out onto the street, but I’ll say it again: it’s a miserable way to spend a birthday.

"I don't know why no one has written to us... I wouldn't even ask for a present. Just a card or a letter would be enough. Last year, even Hagrid gave us a squashed cake... maybe I expected too much. No one even remembers it's our birthday."

I struggled to find words for the dejected Harry.

The thing is, I knew exactly why this was happening. But I couldn't explain it. Or rather, while I knew the cause, I didn't understand why it was happening now.

In the original timeline, Dobby—the Malfoy family’s House-elf—intercepted the letters and broke the Elfish laws to warn Harry because of Riddle’s Diary. But in this world, that Diary has already been handed over to Draco. So why on earth was this "helpful" interference still necessary?

The answer arrived right after a dinner that tasted like pig swill. It came directly to us.

"Eep!"

Harry let out a yelp of pure shock, while I made a similar sound out of sheer despair. There, sitting on the bed, was that familiar, nostalgic figure of a House-elf.

The House-elf—Dobby—bowed low. Then, he began to speak in his characteristic high-pitched, piping voice.

"Harry Potter! Dobby has wanted to meet you for so long, sir..."

Harry tried to manage a polite "Good evening," but he was clearly reeling from the sight of the creature before him. As for me, I was busy escaping reality, thinking about how impressive my little brother was for remembering his manners even in this situation.

"Who are you?" Harry asked. His brain probably wasn't fully in gear yet; his voice sounded a bit thick, like a child's. It was cute. My brother is wonderfully earnest. My own brain, however, was definitely failing me.

"Dobby, sir. Dobby the House-elf."

Harry didn't even know what a House-elf was, but he seemed to decide to set his questions aside for the moment. He spoke cautiously, trying to be polite while also subtly asking the guest to leave.

Oh, Harry—that’s going to backfire.

"S-sit down! To Dobby? A wizard speaks to Dobby like an equal!"

As Dobby began to wail and squeal with tears of gratitude, Harry and I both threw him a desperate "Quiet!" gesture. The fact that our timing and movements were identical made me feel like we really were two halves of the same soul.

For a second, a heavy, confused silence drifted up from the floor below, where the guests were likely eating. Harry and I felt our hearts stop. If only I could use magic, I’d cast Silencio in a heartbeat!

"Dobby, please, be quiet—can you please be quiet? I'll listen to what you have to say."

"Oh, Harry Potter... Maria Potter... Dobby has never met such kind wizards and witches. The wizards Dobby serves, they..."

Suddenly, Dobby went deathly pale—hard to tell, given his naturally greyish skin—and made a move to smash his head against the windowpane.

"No 'Bad Dobby' allowed!" I shouted, thrusting my hand in the way.

His fit stopped after one collision with my hand. It hurt like hell, but if it kept Dobby quiet, it was a small price to pay. You don't need to look like you're going to cry, Harry. And Dobby, you've got a seriously thick skull...

Truly... you never change, do you?

Harry took my hand in both of his, listening as Dobby described the awful conditions at the Malfoy estate—the house he served—and asked if there was any way to help. Dobby, of course, wept with emotion again.

...I did tell Draco to be as kind to Dobby as possible. Looking at this, I suppose "not interacting with Dobby" was Draco's version of kindness.

"Harry Potter is valiant and bold! He has faced the Dark Lord twice... and survived... but Dobby must say it. Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts!"

Harry held my hand and stayed silent for a few seconds, his mind racing to catch up. Finally, he asked "Why?" in a thin voice.

"I—I can't stay here. Hogwarts is much more like home than this place. You’re a House-elf, you must understand, right? This place is horrible. And—I can't take Maria away from her friends."

"Harry..."

In the "previous" life, I was alone, so I never thought about that. Harry really is a kind boy.

"Maria Potter does not matter," Dobby added.

" 'I/she' don't matter?!" Harry and I exclaimed together.

I felt a little deflated and ended up laughing along with Harry. But that only made things more confusing.

Dobby’s warning originally stemmed from Lucius Malfoy using the Diary to orchestrate the Chamber of Secrets incident to ruin the Weasleys and Dumbledore. In the original story, Lucius definitely knew how to use the Diary.

But Draco had said his father didn't know the Diary's true nature. Draco had snatched it away with his clever tongue before his father could find out. If that’s true, what did Dobby hear—and from whom—that brought him to Harry?

Harry and Dobby continued their back-and-forth. And then, finally, Dobby let it slip.

"You wish to return to friends who have not even sent you a single letter since the summer holidays began? Even on your birthday?"

At that moment, I think Harry’s brain worked faster than it had all day. How did Dobby know that? Unless—unless—

As Harry fell silent and anger began to flicker in his green eyes, I slumped my shoulders. Oh, Dobby, Dobby. You’re a wonderful, fun friend. I love you. But at this stage of the story, you are a bit of a nuisance.

"Was it you? Did you stop our letters?"

"Harry Potter must not be angry with Dobby... Dobby did it for the best..."

"Oh, Dobby... that's—that’s not okay. I don't think I can forgive that. You even stopped Maria’s letters. She had nothing to do with this! You made her feel lonely too. As her brother, I can't forgive that."

"Harry, don't be so angry. I don't mind, really."

"Well, I do!"

It was rare for Harry’s temper to actually flare up, so I hugged him to calm him down. It’s okay, Harry. Because I knew everything all along. In reality, you should be angry at me for staying silent.

"Dobby, give the letters back."

"Will you promise not to go back to Hogwarts?"

"I can't do that. Even so, give Maria’s letters back. I bet there are presents for her too. Give those back as well!"

I bet there are some for you too! I wanted to interject, but Harry’s fierce expression stopped me.

"Harry Potter... please promise... please promise..."

"I told you I can't! We aren't talking about that right now! Give me Maria’s letters—"

"What... is... all... this... noise?"

Meeting Dobby, I had assumed the most terrifying thing that would happen today would be Aunt Petunia's cake flying through the air. That assumption was rewritten in an instant.

"---What... is that?"

"Um... Uncle..."

"It’s a doll, right? Eh? That’s what it is, isn't it? Say it!"

"Dobby is a House—"

"Dobby, shut up!" I hissed.

"---DOLLS DON'T TALK!!"

Upon seeing a House-elf—the most "un-normal" looking thing imaginable—Uncle Vernon’s face turned various shades of red and white from a mix of rage and terror. At his scream, Aunt Petunia came running upstairs and saw Dobby. She let out a shriek as if she’d stumbled upon a murder scene.

"To think—to think—did you go to that wretched school just to learn how to keep that as a pet? Eh? Something so... filthy... impossible... disgusting—"

"Don't talk about Dobby like that!" Harry yelled.

"SILENCE!! If you're going to bring things like this home... then you are never going back to that school again!"

Uncle Vernon declared this in a low, gravelly voice, his eyes bulging from his meaty face. He was dead serious. Aunt Petunia glared at us with pure loathing before following Vernon back downstairs.

Our efforts to keep "un-normal" things hidden had completely backfired. The shock must have been monumental for them.

Dobby simply cried out happily, "Now Harry Potter cannot go back to Hogwarts!" before tossing the letters and small parcels onto the floor and vanishing with a crack of Apparition.

All that was left were two twelve-year-old children, clinging to each other in a daze.

It had been three days since they installed the padlock on the outside of our door. Harry and I were huddled under a blanket, lacking even the energy to speak, feeling like we might actually starve to death.

We had only made it this far thanks to some cookies Hermione had sent as a birthday gift. They had been tucked in with the "real" presents—a book on Flying and a book about trendy witch fashion. Harry had been happy, though I only flipped through the fashion book once before closing it.

Even Hedwig, who hadn't been allowed out of her cage all summer and was now barely being fed, was looking bedraggled. I felt terrible for putting her through this.

I stroked Harry’s hair while constantly glancing at the window. Surely... surely Ron and the others would be coming to save us soon...

As I hugged Harry—whose school robes would surely be baggy on him now—and wondered if our stomachs would last until morning... Vroom. Vrooooom.

"Harry! Harry!"

I tapped Harry’s cheek and pointed. Outside the window, silhouetted against the night moon, was Ron, pressing his forehead against the glass.

"Wh-what is it, Mari... a...? Am I dreaming?"

"It’s not a dream, Harry! We’re saved!"

Behind Ron, the face of either Fred or George popped up, gesturing for us to open the window.

"We can't! They've secured the window so it won't open!"

The Dursleys' imprisonment of us was thorough. We weren't even allowed to walk through the house except to use the bathroom.

The twins shared a meaningful look, then gestured for us to stand back. I grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him as far from the window as possible. Harry’s wrists have gotten so thin... I really need to think of a solution for the food situation.

One of the twins pressed the tip of his wand against the window. Surely not...

CRASH!

With a subtle break, they began to dismantle the window, widening the cracks. They were remarkably practiced at this. Between your lock-picking and your breaking-and-entering skills, are you two planning on becoming spies?

"Harry! Maria! Are you okay?!"

Ron whispered, mindful of the time. The Dursleys didn't seem to have noticed the noise. I finally felt like I could laugh, thinking that a burglar could probably clean the whole house out without them noticing.

"Why didn't you answer our letters? Did you open the birthday card I sent? I wrote in there, 'If I don't hear back, I'm coming to get you.'"

"Yeah. That’s why we were waiting. For you to come and take us away."

The Weasley brothers looked at each other, then at the gaunt Harry, me, and poor Hedwig. They shook their heads with deep sympathy. I knew what they were thinking: To think such barbaric Muggles existed!

"...Want to come to my place?"

"Yes, please!" we both replied.

We nodded with every bit of energy we had left. As the car pulled closer to the windowsill, Harry finally realized that Ron and the others were at the second floor in something truly extraordinary.

"Wait, our trunks! We have to get them, but the cupboard is locked..."

""Leave that to us.""

The red-headed twins used a hairclip to pick the lock. It was a masterclass in delinquency. I’m just glad their interests lie in business and not professional thievery.

I gave Hedwig a kiss, apologizing for keeping her cramped for so long, and released her into the night sky. She flapped her wings beautifully and soared.

The twins and Harry loaded our heavy trunks into the car's boot. Ron and I, already in the car, organized the space to make room.

Once everything was packed and Harry and I were safely inside—our night flight through the sky began.