Dobby was as still as a statue, except his eyes which darted between the desk and the nearest wall. He looked torn between punishing himself and terrified anything he did would be taken as confirmation.
"Sorry, Dobby," Harry said. "Forget I asked. I should have known you wouldn't be able to answer that one either."
Dobby stiffly sat back down on the edge of the bed, looking very much like he had unknowingly strolled into a minefield, and still shooting glances at the desk from time to time.
Harry decided it was time to end it. "I want you to know, Dobby, that you're a very good elf. Thank you for warning me. Now that I know trouble is coming I can warn others and try to avoid it myself. You've done a very good job."
With the questioning seemingly at an end, Dobby finally seemed to relax.
"You've tried to help me, Dobby, and you're my friend. Now I'd like to help you, if I can."
Dobby turned and looked up at him, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "Harry Potter is too good for words, sir."
"I understand you probably can't tell me who your family is, but is there someone I could talk to about buying you? Is it even possible?" Harry asked.
"It is – possible, sir," Dobby seemed to hunt for words. "Sometimes Dobby must buy things for the family, sir. Small things. They would never trust Dobby with much, sir, but little things like food, quills and ink... There's a place Dobby can go for money. They know Dobby there, sir."
"You mean Gringotts? The bank in Diagon Alley?"
"Oh, yes, sir. They handle the family's money all the time. All the old families have someone there that handles it for them, sir. Dobby's sure–," Dobby said, twisting his ears as if he were trying to twist around his family's rules, "–that if Harry Potter asks around, that is that Harry Potter could find someone... who knows someone... who knows Dobby's family, sir."
Dobby heaved a sigh of relief. "Dobby's sure they could ask Dobby's family if they would sell Dobby to Harry Potter," he smiled.
"That's great Dobby."
Suddenly Dobby's face was stricken. "But sir! Harry Potter must not ask Dobby's family to sell Dobby to him!"
"What? Why not? Don't you want to leave your family?" Harry asked confused.
"Oh, yes, sir. More than anything Dobby would want to work for Harry Potter."
"Then what's the problem?"
"Dobby's family would never sell to Harry Potter, sir. They do not like Harry Potter. If Harry Potter asks the family to sell Dobby, Dobby would likely be killed!" Dobby's hands sprung back over his mouth, as if speaking the dreaded thought would somehow make it come true that instant.
"That's alright, Dobby. I don't want you to get in trouble because of me." Harry tried to comfort the elf. Suddenly, another part of what Dobby said struck him. "Dobby, you said that all the old families have someone there to handle their money?"
"Oh, yes, Harry Potter. That's how they breed their money, sir."
"Well, I have money there, Dobby. Money I got from my parents. That should mean I've got someone there too, shouldn't it? I don't know who it is, but I could write them and find out. Then they could find someone to find someone to find your family and ask them to sell you without them ever knowing who's buying you. Wouldn't that be alright?"
"Harry Potter would do that for Dobby?" Dobby asked standing.
"Absolutely," Harry smiled.
Dobby beamed.
"But you've got to do something for me though, Dobby," Harry said.
"Anything, sir," Dobby said earnestly.
"I'd like to have my letters back."
Dobby's face fell.
"Do you still have them?" Harry asked.
"Dobby has them here, sir," the elf quietly responded as his ears seemed to wilt.
Slowly Dobby's hand went into his pillowcase and withdrew a thick wad of envelopes. Harry could make out Hermione's neat writing, Ron's untidy scrawl, and even a scribble that had to come from the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Hagrid. Dobby held them tightly to his chest.
"Please, Dobby?" Harry asked. "I understand you only want to keep me safe, but I have to keep my friends safe, including you. If I can get those letters then I promise I'll do everything I can to get your family to sell you to me. After that, you can come with me to Hogwarts and help me keep my friends safe. I'll even introduce you and we can all be friends. What do you say?"
Harry could see that he had reached Dobby and put him between two things he really wanted. He had seen it before on Uncle Vernon, usually when it meant him having to choose between giving Harry something he wanted, meaning he wouldn't be around for a while, or refusing Harry's chance to be momentarily happy, even if it meant he'd still be under foot.
With Uncle Vernon it had always been funny; with Dobby it was just heartbreaking. On one hand Dobby could give up the letters and possibly be free from a family who hated him, only to have to follow Harry into danger, while on the other hand he could keep the letters and try to keep Harry from going to Hogwarts, even if it meant never being with people who liked him.
Slowly the tear-streaked Dobby extended the bundle of letters toward him and put them in Harry's hand.
"My apologies, sir. Dobby never should have done that," Dobby sniffed.
"Don't be sorry, Dobby. If you hadn't, you never would've come here and we never would've been friends."
Dobby gave him a watery smile.
"One last thing, Dobby," Harry said, thinking of a rather large flaw in his plan. "I don't have any quill or parchment. All my stuff is locked up in the cupboard under the stairs. Do you think you could get it for me? That way I could write to Gringotts straight away."
Hedwig rattled against the lock on her cage.
"Shh! Sorry, Hedwig, I forgot. She's locked up too. I'd do it myself but I'm not allowed to use magic outside of school," Harry explained.
"Not to worry, sir," Dobby said energetically. "Dobby can do it. House-elves is best at working unnoticed."
Dobby snapped and as quickly and as quietly as that he wafted away like smoke on a breeze, only to return a moment later with Harry's trunk and broom beside him.
"That's brilliant, Dobby. You're amazing! And now Hedwig?"
Dobby nodded, reached through the narrow bars of the owl's cage and wafted them both about a foot away from where they started, leaving only the cage behind.
"Thank you! She's been in there for ages," Harry said as Hedwig gave Dobby an affectionate nip.
"You're most welcome, sir," Dobby said as the snowy owl flew out of the window to finally do some hunting.
"Well, it was very nice to meet you, Dobby, and I hope to see you again very soon," Harry smiled.
"Oh, Dobby is looking forward to it, sir," Dobby replied before disappearing once again.
Harry wished he had been able to learn more about these terrible events that Dobby's family was plotting but since the whole family issue was a big red button that only caused the creature to hurt himself, he figured he had probably gotten everything he could from the tiny elf. He could only hope once he had convinced this mysterious family to sell Dobby to him he'd be able to find out more of what the elf knew.
The jovial sounds from below told Harry that the dinner party had begun to break up. Uncle Vernon must have weaseled his way into the sizable order of drills he'd been looking for and was now shuffling the Masons out the door before the builder could change his mind.
Not wanting his first glimmer of freedom in weeks to be quashed the first time someone opened the door, Harry placed his broom and Hedwig's empty cage inside his wardrobe and hauled his school trunk to the far side of it to hide it from view.
Soon enough, Harry heard the heavy thump of Uncle Vernon's footsteps on the stairs. Not wanting him to burn the recently-received letters like he had done to the first hundred or so letters from Hogwarts, Harry stashed them underneath his pillow before doing what he had intended to do all along, flopping back on his bed to relax.
He landed just in time for the door to crash open admitting the obese whale in question.
"What the devil are you doing up here!" his uncle bellowed, his mustache bristling.
"Nothing," Harry lied, still slightly bouncing.
"Have you any idea how many times I had to cough to cover your nothing? I wouldn't have been surprised if the Masons had fled thinking we had the plague!"
"It sounded like it went well," Harry said diplomatically, finally coming to a rest.
"No thanks to you!" Vernon roared.
Quickly his uncle's eyes darted around the room.
"Where's that bloody pigeon of yours anyway? You let her out?" he said, noting the open window.
"I didn't," Harry said quickly. "I put her cage in the wardrobe. I think this way she'll be quiet."
"Good! Leave it there. Maybe this way I'll get a decent night's sleep!" Vernon slammed the door as he left making more noise than Harry had the entire rest of the day combined.
Getting ready for bed, Harry stuffed his discarded clothes into the crack below the door. He hoped that blotting out the light coming from his side would make the Dursleys think he'd gone to sleep and leave him alone. At the very least he hoped it would slow any invasion down long enough for him to hide anything he didn't want them to see.
Hedwig landed on the window sill, the mouse she caught dangling from her beak, just as Harry sat down and took out his letters. When he went to open them she dropped her catch, flapped her wings and clicked her beak, looking at him reproachfully.
As he wondered what he had done he remembered. It wasn't what he had done that she disapproved of; it was what he hadn't done. He had told Dobby that he'd write to Gringotts straight away and as soon as the little guy had disappeared Harry had forgotten all about it.
Mentally thumping himself, Harry retrieved quill, ink, and parchment from his trunk and got to work as Hedwig returned to her nightly pursuits. Half an hour later he sat back to review what he'd done.