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Chapter 21 The House-elf Liberation Front

Harry, Ron, and Hermione went up to the Owlery that evening to find Pigwidgeon, so that Harry could send Sirius a letter telling him that he had managed to get past his dragon unscathed. On the way, Harry filled Ron in on everything Sirius had told him about Karkaroff. Though shocked at first to hear that Karkaroff had been a Death Eater, by the time they entered the Owlery Ron was saying that they ought to have suspected it all along.

“Fits, doesn't it?” he said. “Remember what Malfoy said on the train, about his dad being friends with Karkaroff? Now we know where they knew each other. They were probably running around in masks together at the World Cup.…I'll tell you one thing, though, Harry, if it was Karkaroff who put your name in the goblet, he's going to be feeling really stupid now, isn't he? Didn't work, did it? You only got a scratch! Come here - I'll do it -”

Pigwidgeon was so overexcited at the idea of a delivery he was flying around and around Harry's head, hooting incessantly. Ron snatched Pigwidgeon out of the air and held him still while Harry attached the letter to his leg.

There's no way any of the other tasks are going to be that dangerous, how could they be?” Ron went on as he carried Pigwidgeon to the window. “You know what? I reckon you could win this tournament, Harry, I'm serious.”

Harry knew that Ron was only saying this to make up for his behavior of the last few weeks, but he appreciated it all the same. Hermione, however, leaned against the Owlery wall, folded her arms, and frowned at Ron.

“Harry's got a long way to go before he finishes this tournament,” she said seriously. “If that was the first task, I hate to think what's coming next.”

“Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you?” said Ron. “You and Professor Trelawney should get together sometime.”

He threw Pigwidgeon out of the window. Pigwidgeon plummeted twelve feet before managing to pull himself back up again; the letter attached to his leg was much longer and heavier than usual - Harry hadn't been able to resist giving Sirius a blow-by-blow account of exactly how he had swerved, circled, and dodged the Horntail. They watched Pigwidgeon disappear into the darkness, and then Ron said, “Well, we'd better get downstairs for your surprise party, Harry - Fred and George should have nicked enough food from the kitchens by now.”

Sure enough, when they entered the Gryffindor common room it exploded with cheers and yells again. There were mountains of cakes and flagons of pumpkin juice and butterbeer on every surface; Lee Jordan had let off some Filibuster's Fireworks, so that the air was thick with stars and sparks; and Dean Thomas, who was very good at drawing, had put up some impressive new banners, most of which depicted Harry zooming around the Horntail's head on his Firebolt, though a couple showed Cedric with his head on fire.

Harry helped himself to food; he had almost forgotten what it was like to feel properly hungry, and sat down with Ron and Hermione. He couldn't believe how happy he felt; he had Ron back on his side, he'd gotten through the first task, and he wouldn't have to face the second one for three months.

“Blimey, this is heavy,” said Lee Jordan, picking up the golden egg, which Harry had left on a table, and weighing it in his hands. “Open it, Harry, go on! Let's just see what's inside it!”

“He's supposed to work out the clue on his own,” Hermione said swiftly. “It's in the tournament rules.…”

“I was supposed to work out how to get past the dragon on my own too,” Harry muttered, so only Hermione could hear him, and she grinned rather guiltily.

“Yeah, go on, Harry, open it!” several people echoed.

Lee passed Harry the egg, and Harry dug his fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around it and prised it open.

It was hollow and completely empty - but the moment Harry opened it, the most horrible noise, a loud and screechy wailing, filled the room. The nearest thing to it Harry had ever heard was the ghost orchestra at Nearly Headless Nick's deathday party, who had all been playing the musical saw.

“Shut it!” Fred bellowed, his hands over his ears.

“What was that?” said Seamus Finnigan, staring at the egg as Harry slammed it shut again. “Sounded like a banshee…Maybe you've got to get past one of those next, Harry!”

“It was someone being tortured!” said Neville, who had gone very white and spilled sausage rolls all over the floor. “You're going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!”

“Don't be a prat, Neville, that's illegal,” said George. “They wouldn't use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing…maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower. Harry.”

“Want a jam tart, Hermione?” said Fred.

Hermione looked doubtfully at the plate he was offering her. Fred grinned.

“It's all right,” he said. “I haven't done anything to them. It's the custard creams you've got to watch -”

Neville, who had just bitten into a custard cream, choked and spat it out. Fred laughed.

“Just my little joke, Neville.…”

Hermione took a jam tart. Then she said, “Did you get all this from the kitchens, Fred?”

“Yep,” said Fred, grinning at her. He put on a high-pitched squeak and imitated a house-elf. “'anything we can get you, sir, anything at all!’ They're dead helpful…get me a roast ox if I said I was peckish.”

“How do you get in there?” Hermione said in an innocently casual sort of voice.

“Easy,” said Fred, “concealed door behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Just tickle the pear, and it giggles and -” He stopped and looked suspiciously at her. “Why?”

“Nothing,” said Hermione quickly.

“Going to try and lead the house-elves out on strike now, are you?” said George. “Going to give up all the leaflet stuff and try and stir them up into rebellion?”

Several people chortled. Hermione didn't answer.

“Don't you go upsetting them and telling them they've got to take clothes and salaries!” said Fred warningly. “You'll put them off their cooking!”

Just then, Neville caused a slight diversion by turning into a large canary.

“Oh - sorry, Neville!” Fred shouted over all the laughter. “I forgot - it was the custard creams we hexed -”

Within a minute, however, Neville had molted, and once his feathers had fallen off, he reappeared looking entirely normal. He even joined in laughing.

“Canary Creams!” Fred shouted to the excitable crowd. “George and I invented them - seven Sickles each, a bargain!”

It was nearly one in the morning when Harry finally went up to the dormitory with Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean. Before he pulled the curtains of his four-poster shut. Harry set his tiny model of the Hungarian Horntail on the table next to his bed, where it yawned, curled up, and closed its eyes. Really, Harry thought, as he pulled the hangings on his four-poster closed, Hagrid had a point…they were all right, really, dragons.…

     *     *     *     *     *     *

The start of December brought wind and sleet to Hogwarts. Drafty though the castle always was in winter. Harry was glad of its fires and thick walls every time he passed the Durmstrang ship on the lake, which was pitching in the high winds, its black sails billowing against the dark skies. He thought the Beauxbatons caravan was likely to be pretty chilly too. Hagrid, he noticed, was keeping Madame Maxime's horses well provided with their preferred drink of single-malt whiskey; the fumes wafting from the trough in the comer of their paddock was enough to make the entire Care of Magical Creatures class light-headed. This was unhelpful, as they were still tending the horrible skrewts and needed their wits about them.

“I'm not sure whether they hibernate or not,” Hagrid told the shivering class in the windy pumpkin patch next lesson. “Thought we'd jus’ try an see if they fancied a kip…we'll jus’ settle ‘em down in these boxes.…”

There were now only ten skrewts left; apparently their desire to kill one another had not been exercised out of them. Each of them was now approaching six feet in length. Their thick gray armor; their powerful, scuttling legs; their fire-blasting ends; their stings and their suckers, combined to make the skrewts the most repulsive things Harry had ever seen. The class looked dispiritedly at the enormous boxes Hagrid had brought out, all lined with pillows and fluffy blankets.

“We'll jus’ lead ‘em in here,” Hagrid said, “an’ put the lids on, and we'll see what happens.”

But the skrewts, it transpired, did not hibernate, and did not appreciate being forced into pillow-lined boxes and nailed in. Hagrid was soon yelling, “Don panic, now, don’ panic!” while the skrewts rampaged around the pumpkin patch, now strewn with the smoldering wreckage of the boxes. Most of the class - Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle in the lead - had fled into Hagrid's cabin through the back door and barricaded themselves in; Harry, Ron, and Hermione, however, were among those who remained outside trying to help Hagrid. Together they managed to restrain and tie up nine of the skrewts, though at the cost of numerous burns and cuts; finally, only one skrewt was left.

“Don’ frighten him, now!” Hagrid shouted as Ron and Harry used their wands to shoot jets of fiery sparks at the skrewt, which was advancing menacingly on them, its sting arched, quivering, over its back. “Jus’ try an slip the rope ‘round his sting, so he won hurt any o’ the others!”

“Yeah, we wouldn't want that!” Ron shouted angrily as he and Harry backed into the wall of Hagrid's cabin, still holding the skrewt off with their sparks.

“Well, well, well…this does look like fun.”

Rita Skeeter was leaning on Hagrid's garden fence, looking in at the mayhem. She was wearing a thick magenta cloak with a furry purple collar today, and her crocodile-skin handbag was over her arm.

Hagrid launched himself forward on top of the skrewt that was cornering Harry and Ron and flattened it; a blast of fire shot out of its end, withering the pumpkin plants nearby.

“Who're you?” Hagrid asked Rita Skeeter as he slipped a loop of rope around the skrewt's sting and tightened it.

“Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet reporter,” Rita replied, beaming at him. Her gold teeth glinted.

“Thought Dumbledore said you weren’ allowed inside the school anymore,” said Hagrid, frowning slightly as he got off the slightly squashed skrewt and started tugging it over to its fellows.

Rita acted as though she hadn't heard what Hagrid had said.

“What are these fascinating creatures called?” she asked, beaming still more widely.

“Blast-Ended Skrewts,” grunted Hagrid.

“Really?” said Rita, apparently full of lively interest. “I've never heard of them before…where do they come from?”

Harry noticed a dull red flush rising up out of Hagrid's wild black beard, and his heart sank. Where had Hagrid got the skrewts from? Hermione, who seemed to be thinking along these lines, said quickly, “They're very interesting, aren't they? Aren't they. Harry?”

“What? Oh yeah…ouch…interesting,” said Harry as she stepped on his foot.

“Ah, you're here. Harry!” said Rita Skeeter as she looked around. “So you like Care of Magical Creatures, do you? One of your favorite lessons?”

“Yes,” said Harry stoutly. Hagrid beamed at him.

“Lovely,” said Rita. “Really lovely. Been teaching long?” she added to Hagrid.

Harry noticed her eyes travel over Dean (who had a nasty cut across one cheek). Lavender (whose robes were badly singed), Seamus (who was nursing several burnt fingers), and then to the cabin windows, where most of the class stood, their noses pressed against the glass waiting to see if the coast was clear.

“This is o'ny me second year,” said Hagrid.

“Lovely…I don't suppose you'd like to give an interview, would you? Share some of your experience of magical creatures? The Prophet does a zoological column every Wednesday, as I'm sure you know. We could feature these - er - Bang-Ended Scoots.”

“Blast-Ended Skrewts,” Hagrid said eagerly. “Er - yeah, why not?”

Harry had a very bad feeling about this, but there was no way of communicating it to Hagrid without Rita Skeeter seeing, so he had to stand and watch in silence as Hagrid and Rita Skeeter made arrangements to meet in the Three Broomsticks for a good long interview later that week. Then the bell rang up at the castle, signaling the end of the lesson.

“Well, good-bye, Harry!” Rita Skeeter called merrily to him as he set off with Ron and Hermione. “Until Friday night, then, Hagrid!”

“She'll twist everything he says,” Harry said under his breath.

“Just as long as he didn't import those skrewts illegally or anything,” said Hermione desperately. They looked at one another - it was exactly the sort of thing Hagrid might do.

“Hagrid's been in loads of trouble before, and Dumbledores never sacked him,” said Ron consolingly. “Worst that can happen is Hagrid'll have to get rid of the skrewts. Sorry…did I say worst? I meant best.”

Harry and Hermione laughed, and, feeling slightly more cheerful, went off to lunch.

Harry thoroughly enjoyed double Divination that afternoon; they were still doing star charts and predictions, but now that he and Ron were friends once more, the whole thing seemed very funny again. Professor Trelawney, who had been so pleased with the pair of them when they had been predicting their own horrific deaths, quickly became irritated as they sniggered through her explanation of the various ways in which Pluto could disrupt everyday life.

“I would think,” she said, in a mystical whisper that did not conceal her obvious annoyance, “that some of us” - she stared very meaningfully at Harry- “might be a little less frivolous had they seen what I have seen during my crystal gazing last night. As I sat here, absorbed in my needlework, the urge to consult the orb overpowered me. I arose, I settled myself before it, and I gazed into its crystalline depths…and what do you think I saw gazing back at me?”

“An ugly old bat in outsize specs?” Ron muttered under his breath.

Harry fought hard to keep his face straight.

“Death, my dears.”

Parvati and Lavender both put their hands over their mouths, looking horrified.

“Yes,” said Professor Trelawney, nodding impressively, “it comes, ever closer, it circles overhead like a vulture, ever lower…ever lower over the castle.…”

She stared pointedly at Harry, who yawned very widely and obviously.

“It'd be a bit more impressive if she hadn't done it about eighty times before,” Harry said as they finally regained the fresh air of the staircase beneath Professor Trelawney's room. “But if I'd dropped dead every time she's told me I'm going to, I'd be a medical miracle.”

“You'd be a sort of extra-concentrated ghost,” said Ron, chortling, as they passed the Bloody Baron going in the opposite direction, his wide eyes staring sinisterly. “At least we didn't get homework. I hope Hermione got loads off Professor Vector, I love not working when she is.…”

But Hermione wasn't at dinner, nor was she in the library when they went to look for her afterward. The only person in there was Viktor Krum. Ron hovered behind the bookshelves for a while, watching Krum, debating in whispers with Harry whether he should ask for an autograph - but then Ron realized that six or seven girls were lurking in the next row of books, debating exactly the same thing, and he lost his enthusiasm for the idea.

“Wonder where she's got to?” Ron said as he and Harry went back to Gryffindor Tower.

“Dunno…balderdash.”

But the Fat Lady had barely begun to swing forward when the sound of racing feet behind them announced Hermione's arrival.

“Harry!” she panted, skidding to a halt beside him (the Fat Lady stared down at her, eyebrows raised). “Harry, you've got to come - you've got to come, the most amazing thing's happened - please -”

She seized Harry's arm and started to try to drag him back along the corridor.

“What's the matter?” Harry said.

“I'll show you when we get there - oh come on, quick -”

Harry looked around at Ron; he looked back at Harry, intrigued.

“Okay,” Harry said, starting off back down the corridor with Hermione, Ron hurrying to keep up.

“Oh don't mind me!” the Fat Lady called irritably after them. “Don't apologize for bothering me! I'll just hang here, wide open, until you get back, shall I?”

“Yeah, thanks!” Ron shouted over his shoulder.

“Hermione, where are we going?” Harry asked, after she had led them down through six floors, and started down the marble staircase into the entrance hall.

“You'll see, you'll see in a minute!” said Hermione excitedly.

She turned left at the bottom of the staircase and hurried toward the door through which Cedric Diggory had gone the night after the Goblet of Fire had regurgitated his and Harry's names. Harry had never been through here before. He and Ron followed Hermione down a flight of stone steps, but instead of ending up in a gloomy underground passage like the one that led to Snape's dungeon, they found themselves in a broad stone corridor, brightly lit with torches, and decorated with cheerful paintings that were mainly of food.

“Oh hang on…” said Harry slowly, halfway down the corridor. “Wait a minute, Hermione.…”

“What?” She turned around to look at him, anticipation all over her face.

“I know what this is about,” said Harry.

He nudged Ron and pointed to the painting just behind Hermione. It showed a gigantic silver fruit bowl.

“Hermione!” said Ron, cottoning on. “You're trying to rope us into that spew stuff again!”

“No, no, I'm not!” she said hastily. “And it's not spew, Ron -”

“Changed the name, have you?” said Ron, frowning at her. “What are we now, then, the House-Elf Liberation Front? I'm not barging into that kitchen and trying to make them stop work, I'm not doing it -”

“I'm not asking you to!” Hermione said impatiently. “I came down here just now, to talk to them all, and I found - oh come on, Harry, I want to show you!”

She seized his arm again, pulled him in front of the picture of the giant fruit bowl, stretched out her forefinger, and tickled the huge green pear. It began to squirm, chuckling, and suddenly turned into a large green door handle. Hermione seized it, pulled the door open, and pushed Harry hard in the back, forcing him inside.

He had one brief glimpse of an enormous, high-ceilinged room, large as the Great Hall above it, with mounds of glittering brass pots and pans heaped around the stone walls, and a great brick fireplace at the other end, when something small hurtled toward him from the middle of the room, squealing, “Harry Potter, sir! Harry Potter!”

Next second all the wind had been knocked out of him as the squealing elf hit him hard in the midriff, hugging him so tightly he thought his ribs would break.

“D-Dobby?” Harry gasped.

“It is Dobby, sir, it is!” squealed the voice from somewhere around his navel. “Dobby has been hoping and hoping to see Harry Potter, sir, and Harry Potter has come to see him, sir!”

Dobby let go and stepped back a few paces, beaming up at Harry, his enormous, green, tennis-ball-shaped eyes brimming with tears of happiness. He looked almost exactly as Harry remembered him; the pencil-shaped nose, the batlike ears, the long fingers and feet - all except the clothes, which were very different.

When Dobby had worked for the Malfoys, he had always worn the same filthy old pillowcase. Now, however, he was wearing the strangest assortment of garments Harry had ever seen; he had done an even worse job of dressing himself than the wizards at the World Cup. He was wearing a tea cozy for a hat, on which he had pinned a number of bright badges; a tie patterned with horseshoes over a bare chest, a pair of what looked like children's soccer shorts, and odd socks. One of these, Harry saw, was the black one Harry had removed from his own foot and tricked Mr. Malfoy into giving Dobby, thereby setting Dobby free. The other was covered in pink and orange stripes.

“Dobby, what're you doing here?” Harry said in amazement.

“Dobby has come to work at Hogwarts, sir!” Dobby squealed excitedly. “Professor Dumbledore gave Dobby and Winky jobs, sir!

“Winky?” said Harry. “She's here too?”

“Yes, sir, yes!” said Dobby, and he seized Harry's hand and pulled him off into the kitchen between the four long wooden tables that stood there. Each of these tables, Harry noticed as he passed them, was positioned exactly beneath the four House tables above, in the Great Hall. At the moment, they were clear of food, dinner having finished, but he supposed that an hour ago they had been laden with dishes that were then sent up through the ceiling to their counterparts above.

At least a hundred little elves were standing around the kitchen, beaming, bowing, and curtsying as Dobby led Harry past them. They were all wearing the same uniform: a tea towel stamped with the Hogwarts crest, and tied, as Winky's had been, like a toga.

Dobby stopped in front of the brick fireplace and pointed.

“Winky, sir!” he said.

Winky was sitting on a stool by the fire. Unlike Dobby, she had obviously not foraged for clothes. She was wearing a neat little skirt and blouse with a matching blue hat, which had holes in it for her large ears. However, while every one of Dobby's strange collection of garments was so clean and well cared for that it looked brand-new, Winky was plainly not taking care other clothes at all. There were soup stains all down her blouse and a burn in her skirt.

“Hello, Winky,” said Harry.

Winky's lip quivered. Then she burst into tears, which spilled out of her great brown eyes and splashed down her front, just as they had done at the Quidditch World Cup.

“Oh dear,” said Hermione. She and Ron had followed Harry and Dobby to the end of the kitchen. “Winky, don't cry, please don't…”

But Winky cried harder than ever. Dobby, on the other hand, beamed up at Harry.

“Would Harry Potter like a cup of tea?” he squeaked loudly, over Winky's sobs.

“Er - yeah, okay,” said Harry.

Instantly, about six house-elves came trotting up behind him, bearing a large silver tray laden with a teapot, cups for Harry, Ron, and Hermione, a milk jug, and a large plate of biscuits.

“Good service!” Ron said, in an impressed voice. Hermione frowned at him, but the elves all looked delighted; they bowed very low and retreated.

“How long have you been here, Dobby?” Harry asked as Dobby handed around the tea.

“Only a week. Harry Potter, sir!” said Dobby happily. “Dobby came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir. You see, sir, it is very difficult for a house-elf who has been dismissed to get a new position, sir, very difficult indeed -”

At this, Winky howled even harder, her squashed-tomato of a nose dribbling all down her front, though she made no effort to stem the flow.

“Dobby has traveled the country for two whole years, sir, trying to find work!” Dobby squeaked. “But Dobby hasn't found work, sir, because Dobby wants paying now!”

The house-elves all around the kitchen, who had been listening and watching with interest, all looked away at these words, as though Dobby had said something rude and embarrassing. Hermione, however, said, “Good for you, Dobby!”

“Thank you, miss!” said Dobby, grinning toothily at her. “But most wizards doesn't want a house-elf who wants paying, miss. ‘That's not the point of a house-elf,’ they says, and they slammed the door in Dobby's face! Dobby likes work, but he wants to wear clothes and he wants to be paid. Harry Potter.…Dobby likes being free!”

The Hogwarts house-elves had now started edging away from Dobby, as though he were carrying something contagious. Winky, however, remained where she was, though there was a definite increase in the volume other crying.

“And then, Harry Potter, Dobby goes to visit Winky, and finds out Winky has been freed too, sir!” said Dobby delightedly.

At this, Winky flung herself forward off her stool and lay face-down on the flagged stone floor, beating her tiny fists upon it and positively screaming with misery. Hermione hastily dropped down to her knees beside her and tried to comfort her, but nothing she said made the slightest difference. Dobby continued with his story, shouting shrilly over Winky's screeches.

“And then Dobby had the idea. Harry Potter, sir! ‘Why doesn't Dobby and Winky find work together?’ Dobby says. ‘Where is there enough work for two house-elves?’ says Winky. And Dobby thinks, and it comes to him, sir! Hogwarts! So Dobby and Winky came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir, and Professor Dumbledore took us on!”

Dobby beamed very brightly, and happy tears welled in his eyes again.

“And Professor Dumbledore says he will pay Dobby, sir, if Dobby wants paying! And so Dobby is a free elf, sir, and Dobby gets a Galleon a week and one day off a month!”

“That's not very much!” Hermione shouted indignantly from the floor, over Winky's continued screaming and fist-beating.

“Professor Dumbledore offered Dobby ten Galleons a week, and weekends off,” said Dobby, suddenly giving a little shiver, as though the prospect of so much leisure and riches were frightening, “but Dobby beat him down, miss.…Dobby likes freedom, miss, but he isn't wanting too much, miss, he likes work better.”

“And how much is Professor Dumbledore paying you, Winky?” Hermione asked kindly.

If she had thought this would cheer up Winky, she was wildly mistaken. Winky did stop crying, but when she sat up she was glaring at Hermione through her massive brown eyes, her whole face sopping wet and suddenly furious.

“Winky is a disgraced elf, but Winky is not yet getting paid!” she squeaked. “Winky is not sunk so low as that! Winky is properly ashamed of being freed!”

“Ashamed?” said Hermione blankly. “But - Winky, come on! It's Mr. Crouch who should be ashamed, not you! You didn't do anything wrong, he was really horrible to you -”

But at these words, Winky clapped her hands over the holes in her hat, flattening her ears so that she couldn't hear a word, and screeched, “You is not insulting my master, miss! You is not insulting Mr. Crouch! Mr. Crouch is a good wizard, miss! Mr. Crouch is right to sack bad Winky!”

“Winky is having trouble adjusting, Harry Potter,” squeaked Dobby confidentially. “Winky forgets she is not bound to Mr. Crouch anymore; she is allowed to speak her mind now, but she won't do it.”

“Can't house-elves speak their minds about their masters, then?” Harry asked.

“Oh no, sir, no,” said Dobby, looking suddenly serious. “'Tis part of the house-elf's enslavement, sir. We keeps their secrets and our silence, sir. We upholds the family's honor, and we never speaks ill of them - though Professor Dumbledore told Dobby he does not insist upon this. Professor Dumbledore said we is free to - to -”

Dobby looked suddenly nervous and beckoned Harry closer. Harry bent forward. Dobby whispered, “He said we is free to call him a - a barmy old codger if we likes, sir!”

Dobby gave a frightened sort of giggle.

“But Dobby is not wanting to, Harry Potter,” he said, talking normally again, and shaking his head so that his ears flapped. “Dobby likes Professor Dumbledore very much, sir, and is proud to keep his secrets and our silence for him.”

“But you can say what you like about the Malfoys now?” Harry asked him, grinning.

A slightly fearful look came into Dobby's immense eyes.

“Dobby - Dobby could,” he said doubtfully. He squared his small shoulders. “Dobby could tell Harry Potter that his old masters were - were - bad Dark wizards!”

Dobby stood for a moment, quivering all over, horror-struck by his own daring - then he rushed over to the nearest table and began banging his head on it very hard, squealing, “Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!”

Harry seized Dobby by the back of his tie and pulled him away from the table.

“Thank you. Harry Potter, thank you,” said Dobby breathlessly, rubbing his head.

“You just need a bit of practice,” Harry said.

“Practice!” squealed Winky furiously. “You is ought to be ashamed of yourself, Dobby, talking that way about your masters!”

“They isn't my masters anymore, Winky!” said Dobby defiantly. “Dobby doesn't care what they think anymore!”

“Oh you is a bad elf, Dobby!” moaned Winky, tears leaking down her face once more. “My poor Mr. Crouch, what is he doing without Winky? He is needing me, he is needing my help! I is looking after the Crouches all my life, and my mother is doing it before me, and my grandmother is doing it before her…oh what is they saying if they knew Winky was freed? Oh the shame, the shame!” She buried her face in her skirt again and bawled.

“Winky,” said Hermione firmly, “I'm quite sure Mr. Crouch is getting along perfectly well without you. We've seen him, you know -”

“You is seeing my master?” said Winky breathlessly, raising her tearstained face out of her skirt once more and goggling at Hermione. “You is seeing him here at Hogwarts?”

“Yes,” said Hermione, “he and Mr. Bagman are judges in the Triwizard Tournament.”

“Mr. Bagman comes too?” squeaked Winky, and to Harry ‘s great surprise (and Ron's and Hermione's too, by the looks on their faces), she looked angry again. “Mr. Bagman is a bad wizard! A very bad wizard! My master isn't liking him, oh no, not at all!”

“Bagman - bad?” said Harry.

“Oh yes,” Winky said, nodding her head furiously, “My master is telling Winky some things! But Winky is not saying…Winky - Winky keeps her master's secrets.…”

She dissolved yet again in tears; they could hear her sobbing into her skirt, “Poor master, poor master, no Winky to help him no more!”

They couldn't get another sensible word out of Winky. They left her to her crying and finished their tea, while Dobby chatted happily about his life as a free elf and his plans for his wages.

“Dobby is going to buy a sweater next, Harry Potter!” he said happily, pointing at his bare chest.

“Tell you what, Dobby,” said Ron, who seemed to have taken a great liking to the elf, “I'll give you the one my mum knits me this Christmas, I always get one from her. You don't mind maroon, do you?”

Dobby was delighted.

“We might have to shrink it a bit to fit you,” Ron told him, “but it'll go well with your tea cozy.”

As they prepared to take their leave, many of the surrounding elves pressed in upon them, offering snacks to take back upstairs. Hermione refused, with a pained look at the way the elves kept bowing and curtsying, but Harry and Ron loaded their pockets with cream cakes and pies.

“Thanks a lot!” Harry said to the elves, who had all clustered around the door to say good night. “See you, Dobby!”

“Harry Potter…can Dobby come and see you sometimes, sir?” Dobby asked tentatively.

” ‘Course you can,” said Harry, and Dobby beamed.

“You know what?” said Ron, once he, Hermione, and Harry had left the kitchens behind and were climbing the steps into the entrance hall again. “All these years I've been really impressed with Fred and George, nicking food from the kitchens - well, it's not exactly difficult, is it? They can't wait to give it away!”

“I think this is the best thing that could have happened to those elves, you know,” said Hermione, leading the way back up the marble staircase. “Dobby coming to work here, I mean. The other elves will see how happy he is, being free, and slowly it'll dawn on them that they want that too!”

“Let's hope they don't look too closely at Winky,” said Harry.

“Oh she'll cheer up,” said Hermione, though she sounded a bit doubtful. “Once the shock's worn off, and she's got used to Hogwarts, she'll see how much better off she is without that Crouch man.”

“She seems to love him,” said Ron thickly (he had just started on a cream cake). “Doesn't think much of Bagman, though, does she?” said Harry. “Wonder what Crouch says at home about him?”

“Probably says he's not a very good Head of Department,” said Hermione, “and let's face it…he's got a point, hasn't he?”

“I'd still rather work for him than old Crouch,” said Ron. “At least Bagman's got a sense of humor.”

“Don't let Percy hear you saying that,” Hermione said, smiling slightly.

“Yeah, well, Percy wouldn't want to work for anyone with a sense of humor, would he?” said Ron, now starting on a chocolate eclair. “Percy wouldn't recognize a joke if it danced naked in front of him wearing Dobby's tea cozy.”


哈利、罗恩和荷米恩那个晚上起身到奥里路去找皮威军,因为这样哈利就可以给西里斯寄信,告诉他已经毫发未伤地击败了那条龙。在路上,哈利告诉罗恩每一件西里斯告诉他的有关卡克罗夫的事情。罗恩起初听到说卡克罗夫曾经是个食尸者时报震惊,但是当他们走进奥里路时,他还是说他们早就该怀疑他了。

  “很震惊吧?”他说,“你还记得那次在火车上,马尔夫说他爸爸和卡克罗夫是朋友吗?现在我们知道他们是在哪儿认识的了。他们很可能在那场世界杯赛上,戴着面具一起玩过呢。告诉你一件事哦,哈利,如果是卡克罗夫把你的名字写在名单上,他现在会感到自己很蠢,是吧?那没起作用,不是吗?你只是被划伤一下!过来——我帮你弄。”

  皮威军一想到寄信就有点兴奋过头,他在哈利头上飞呀飞,叫个不停,罗恩一把抓住他,按住他,让哈利把信系在他的脚上。

  “没有比这更危险的任务了,是吧?”罗恩边说边把皮威军送到窗口。“你知道吗?我认为你能赢这场比赛,哈利,我是认真的。”

  哈利知道罗恩这样说只是为了补偿他前几个星期的行为,但他仍然很感激。荷米恩却斜靠在墙上,交叉着双手,皱着眉头看罗恩。

  “哈利在完成比赛之前还有很长的路要走,”她认真地说,“如果那只是第一个任务,那么我讨厌去想第二个。”

  “只是刚开始,是吧?”罗恩说,“你和特雷络尼教授该找个时间聚一聚。”

  他把皮威军扔到窗外,它落下了十二英尺后又重新飞起。系在他脚上的信比平常重了很多——因为哈利迫不及待地要跟西里斯详细讲述他是怎么转弯、盘旋及怎样巧妙地避开号尾龙的。

  他们看着皮威军消失在黑暗中,这时罗恩说:“好了,我们到楼下去参加你的惊喜派对吧,哈利——弗来德和乔治本该去厨房偷点东西来吃的。”

  果然,当他们进入格林芬顿的公共休息室时,满屋子又一次爆发出欢呼声和叫喊声。屋里到处是如山般高的蛋糕,装有南瓜酱的瓶子和黄油啤酒。李·乔丹已经点燃了菲利布斯特博士的无热的烟花,所以空气中密密麻麻的星光火花相竞争辉。托马斯主任擅长画画,这时他已举起了醒目的新旗帜,上面是大部分画的哈利坐着他的火箭在号尾龙头上盘旋上升,还有一两面是画着塞德里克的头看火了。

  哈利尽情地吃着,他几乎忘了什么是饥饿。然后和罗恩和荷米恩一起坐着。他简直不相信自己有这么幸福:有罗恩在他身边,他已经完成了第一次任务,而且三个月内他不会有第二次任务了。

  “布林米,这个很重呢。”李·乔丹说。他举着一个金色的蛋,又拿在手里掂量着,这蛋是哈利留在桌子上的。“打开它,哈利,开吧!让我们看看里面是什么!”

  “他应该自己找出线索,”荷米恩很快回答。“那是比赛规则……”

  “我应该自己想出如何一个人击败那条龙。”哈利咕哝着,只有荷米恩听见,所以她很内疚似的笑着。

  “是啊,开吧,哈利,开吧!”有几个人也附和着。

  李把蛋递给哈利,哈利把手指甲插到槽线里,然后沿着槽线划了一圈,之后把它扒开。

  蛋里什么也没有,空的,完全空的——但在哈利打开的那一刻,有一种最可怕的声音,一种大声而且尖锐的哭号声充斥着整个房间。这使哈利想起他曾经听说过的那个无头脑尼克在忌日派对上的鬼魂交响乐团,他们经常演奏一些音乐名篇。

  “合上它!”弗来德吼叫着,双手捂着耳朵。

  “那是什么?”谢默斯说。他两眼盯着那蛋,这时哈利又把它“砰”一声合上了。“听起来像一个女鬼……那可能是你下一个要征服的目标了,哈利!”

  “好像有人在受折磨!”尼维尔说。他脸色已变得苍白,剥好的香肠都滚到地上去了,“你将不得不和克鲁希尔特斯符咒战斗!?”

  “别傻了,那是非法的。”乔治说。“他们不会用克鲁布尔特斯诅咒的。我倒觉得那听起来像伯希在唱歌……或许你可以在他洗澡的时候偷袭他一下啊,哈利。”

  “要一个果酱馅饼吗,荷米恩?”弗来德说。

  荷米恩很怀疑似的看着弗来德递给她的盒子,弗来德则在那里露齿而笑。

  “好了,看着我,”他说,“我没碰过他们哦,你们看清楚了,这是乳蛋糕奶油——”

  尼维尔刚咬了一口奶油,呛了起来,不得不把奶油一口吐出来。

  弗来德笑了。“尼维尔,那只是我的一个小玩笑而已嘛……”

  荷米恩拿了一块果酱馅饼,接着说:“这些都是从厨房拿的吧,弗来德?”

  “是的,”弗来德对他笑着说。接着又怪腔怪调地用高音调模仿一只佣人小精灵:“我们可以为你做任何事情,先生,任何事情!”

  “他们真的很有用……如果我说我饿得很,他们都给我拿来一只烤牛。”

  “你是怎么进去到那里的?”荷米恩很随便地问道。

  “很容易嘛,”弗来德说道,“密封的门后面有一幅画着一碗水果的画。你只要挠那颗梨,它就会咯咯笑,然后——”他停下了,疑惑地看着她,“怎么啦?”

  “没什么。”荷米恩很快答道。

  “现在去把佣人小精灵们带出来举行罢工吧,怎么样?”乔治说,“不要再搞什么宣传单的了,想办法让他们加入这场示威运动中吧?”

  几个人大声笑了起来,荷米恩则什么也没说。

  “你别总是惹他们生气,你应该告诉他们说他们会拿到衣服和工资的!”弗来德警告似地说。“你应该劝他们做饭!”

  这时,尼维尔变成了一只大金丝雀。

  “哦,太抱歉了,尼维尔!”弗来德叫着,边笑着,“我忘了——乳蛋糕奶油被我们施法了。”

  不一会,尼维尔就蜕变了,当他的羽毛脱落时,他又恢复原样了,他还跟着别人一起笑呢。

  “金丝雀奶油!”弗来德对着这群激动的人喊着,“乔治和我发明的——每个七个镰刀币,成交!”

  当哈利和罗恩、尼维尔、谢默斯和迪恩走到宿舍时,已是接近凌晨一点了。在把四张海报的床帘拉上之前,哈利把他的匈牙利号尾龙的小模型放在床边的桌子上,那东西打着呵欠,蜷缩着身子,然后闭上了眼睛。真的,哈利想,当他把窗帘拉上时,哈利想到……他们是对的,真的,那些龙……

  十二月刚开始,初冬就把风和露送到了霍格瓦彻。城堡冬天一直都很通风。哈利每次在湖上经过丹姆斯安的船时,看到船在海风中上下颠簸,黑色的帆朝天鼓起,就感到非常惬意。他想,比尔贝顿的住所也应该很冷吧,他注意到哈格力,正在把玛西姆夫人家的马喂得肥肥的,因为有他们喜爱喝的单麦芽威士忌。从马房一角的食槽上浮出的气味就足以使整班在上魔幻生灵保护这门课的人头晕目眩。这当然不好,因为他们照顾的可怕的史库斯需要他们的智慧。

  “我不清楚他们是否冬眠。”哈格力正在风很大的南瓜地里教学生们下一课。理特史姬特斜靠在哈格力的花园里的篱笆上,观察着这一片混乱。今天,她穿着一件较厚的紫红色大衣,衣领是毛制,紫色的,肩上还挂着一个鳄鱼皮手提包。

  在史库斯把哈利和罗恩逼到走投无路时,哈格力跳到了史库斯上头,把它压倒,这时,一阵阵火焰从它口里喷了出来,把附近的南瓜苗都烧焦了。

  “你是谁?”哈格力问。“我是理特。史姬特,《先知日报》的记者。”理特答道,微笑地看着他,她的金牙闪烁着金光。

  “丹伯多说你被学校开除了,是吧?”哈格力边说边皱着眉头,把已被制服了的史库斯拽给他的同伴。

  理特像是没听见哈格力说话似的。

  “这些奇形怪物叫什么?”她问,笑得更灿烂了。

  “尾巴会发火的史库斯。”哈格力咕哝着。

  “真的?”里特问,显然是真的很感兴趣。“我从没听说过有这种东西呢……他们从哪来的呀?”

  哈利此时注意到哈格力鬓须下面所泛出的阵阵脸红,他的心沉了,哈格力到底是怎样弄到这些史库斯的?

  荷米恩好像一直都在想这个问题似的,这时,她马上答道:“他们很有趣,是吧?哈利,你说是不是?”

  “什么?哦,是,是……哎哟……很有趣。”哈利叫了起来,因为她踩到他的脚了。

  “啊,你在这里啊,哈利!”理特。史姬特说着,环顾了一下四周,“所以,你喜欢魔幻生灵的保护这门课?你最喜欢的课之一?”

  “是的。”哈利很坚定地说。哈格力看着他笑了。

  “嗯,很有趣,”理特说,“真的很有趣,教很久了?”她对哈格力补充道。哈利注意到她的眼睛向每个人都扫视了一下,迪恩(一边脸上有一处很重的刀痕),莱文德(长袍被严重烫焦了),西摩斯(在那里护理着他那烫伤的手指),然后再扫向茅屋的窗子,那里有很多学生站着,鼻子紧贴在玻璃窗上,想把海滨看得更清楚些。

  “这是我在这里的第二年。”哈格力说。

  “嗯,有意思……我想你是不喜欢被访问的吧?但可以和我们分享一下你在接触魔幻生灵过程中的体验吗?我想你是知道的吧,《先知日报》上每个星期三都开一个动物专栏,我们让这群,呃——尾巴呼呼响的史库斯上报吧。”

  “是尾巴发光的史库斯,”哈格力急切地纠正道。“呃——对吧?”

  哈利对此感到很不舒服,但是理特。史姬特在场,他又没办法向哈格力表达。所以哈格力和理特在商量着哪个星期找个时间在三扫帚那里会面进行一次访谈时,也只有默默地站在那里忍受着。不一会儿,城堡的钟声响了,表明了又一节课的结束。

  “好了,再见了,哈利!”理特。史姬特看到他和罗恩、荷米恩起身要离开时,高兴地跟他道别。“星期五晚上再见了,哈格力!”

  “她会扭曲他说的每件事的。”哈利低声说。

  “只要他不非法进口那些史库斯或其它的什么就行了。”荷米恩绝望地说,他们望着对方——要是换成哈格力,他也会这样做的。

  “哈格力以前老闯祸,可丹伯多从没解雇过她,”罗恩安慰似地说,“最糟的是,哈格力得除掉那些史库斯。对不起,……我是不是说严重了,我本意是好的。”

  哈利和荷米恩都笑了,但因此而感到更欢快些,起身去吃午餐了。

  现在哈利和罗恩重归于好了。事情就又变得好玩了。他们那天玩双面预知玩得很开心,并且还在一起画星图啊,写预言啊。特雷络尼教授,原来看着他们两个在那里预言自己的死亡时还很开心,但当她解释柏拉图扰乱日常生活的不同方式时,哈利和罗恩窃笑不已,她一下子被激怒了。

  “我在想,”她说,又小声又神秘地说,为的是掩饰刚才的怒气,“如果我们中有些人,”——她意味深长地盯着哈利看,“在我昨天晚上的水晶占卜过程中看到了我所看到的东西,他们就不会那么轻浮了。昨天我正在这里,专心地干着手中的针线活的时候,一种强烈的地想要请教一下这水晶的欲念占据了我。我尽力使自己平静下来了,但我还是站了起来,注视着水晶……你们猜一下我看到的是什么?”

  “一只很丑的戴着一副巨型眼镜的蝙蝠?”罗恩低声说。

  哈利忍俊不禁。

  “我想可能是死神。”

  帕维提和莱文德听了吓得双手捂住嘴巴。

  “是的,”特雷络尼教授说,郑重地点了点头。“它来了,越来越近,就像一只兀鹰盘旋在半空中,向着城堡,越来越近……”

  她死死地盯着哈利,因为哈利正毫无遮掩地打着呵欠呢。

  “真是的,她都不知讲了几十次了,”当他们走出特雷络尼教授的房间、在楼梯间重新呼吸到新鲜空气时,哈利感叹道。“如果她每次说我快死了,我就死了的话,那我将成了医学上的奇迹。”

  “你本该是一个浓缩的鬼魂嘛,”罗恩咯咯地笑着说。当迎面经过布莱第。巴罗恩时,他的大眼睛很邪恶地瞪着他们。“至少我们没有作业。我希望维克特教授会布置很多作业给荷米恩,我喜欢没事干的时候看着她……”

  后来他们去找荷米恩的时候,她不在吃饭,也不在图书馆,在图书馆里的只有维特。克伦。罗恩在书架后转了一会,观察着克伦,和哈利一起窃窃私语,他该不该去要一个铅笔——但当罗恩注意到有六七个女孩藏在隔壁那排书后面,讨论著同一件事时,他顿时对这个想法失去了兴趣。

  他俩走回了格利劳顿塔,罗恩说,“不知她去了哪里?”

  “别……别走。”这时从后面传来的脚步声说明荷米恩已经到了。

  “哈利!”她快速跑到他身边停下喘息着说,“哈利,你一定要来——一定要来喔,最精彩的事呢——拜托啦——”

  她抓住哈利的手臂,而且开始设法把他拖着走。

  “什么事呀!”哈利说。

  “到了那儿我会告诉你的——喂,快点,快点嘛——”

  “好吧,”哈利说着,跟荷米恩起身跑出了走廊,罗恩赶紧跟上。

  “荷米恩,我们这是去哪呀?”荷米恩带他们走下了六层楼后,哈利问道。现在他们已走下了大理石楼梯进入到八门大厅。

  “你会知道的,你一分钟后就会知道的!”荷米恩激动地说着。

  到了楼梯下面,她就向左拐,跟着就快步走向那天晚上塞德里克。

  迪格瑞走过的那扇门。

  在高脚杯火种反复念叨着哈刮的名字之后,哈利就从没到过这里。他和罗恩跟着荷米恩走过了一段石头砌成的楼梯,跟着是一条宽大的石头走廊。火把照得这里一片光亮,还用一些看起来令人很愉快的画装饰着,这些画大多是关于食物的。

  “喂,停一下……”哈利不紧不慢地说,这时已到了走廊中间了。“等一下,荷米恩……”

  “什么事?”她转身看着他,满脸期待的样子。

  “我知道这幅画是什么意思。”哈利说。

  他轻轻碰了碰罗恩,指着荷米恩身后的那幅画。画面上是一个巨大的银制的水果托盘。

  “荷米恩!”罗恩叫着,“你又想把我们骗到呕吐物那里!”

  “不,不,我没有!”她匆忙解释道。“而且那也不是呕吐物啊,罗恩——”

  “你已经帮他们改些名字了?”罗恩说,皱着眉头看她。“我们现在是在做什么,佣人小精灵的解放运动?我不会干预厨房的事情,我不会让他们停止工作的,我不会那样做的——”

  “我没叫你那样做呀!”荷米恩不耐烦地说着。“我刚才才到这里的,跟他们每个人都说过话了,接着我发现——哎,来吧,哈利,我要带你看些东西!”

  她又一次抓住哈利的手臂,把他拉到那幅巨大的水果托盘前面,伸出她的食指,挠了一下那颗巨大的绿色梨。那梨开始蠕动了,还发出咯咯笑声,突然间就变成了一扇大门上的绿色把手。荷米恩抓住它,拧了一下,推开门,从后面把哈利用力推进去。

  哈利很快瞥了一眼这个房间。很大,天花板又很高,好像上面有一个会议厅似的,还有一堆堆如山高、闪闪发光的铜罐和平底锅堆积在石墙周围,另一边有一个很大的砖砌成的壁炉。这时,好像有什么东西从房间中间向他飞过来,发出嘎吱声,“哈利·波特,先生!哈利·波特,先生!”

  这时,一阵风刮过来,嘎吱小精灵摔在了他的脸部上,紧紧地抱着他,他想他的肋骨都会断掉。

  “多——多比?”哈利喘着气问。

  “是,我是多比,先生!”他肚脐周围发出了这种长而尖锐的声音。“多比一直就很想很再见到哈利·波特,先生,哈利·波特来看我了。”

  多比放开手,后退了几步,微笑着打量哈利,他的绿色的网球形的大眼睛溢着幸福的泪水。多比看上去和哈利记忆中的几乎一模一样:铜笔形状的鼻子,编幅形的耳朵,长长的手指和脚——除了衣服大大地改变了之外。

  多比为马尔夫工作的时候,一直就穿着那件肮脏的枕头套。现在,他打扮得比世界杯赛上的巫师还奇怪。他把茶壶罩当成帽子,戴在头上,还别了几个明亮的徽章在上面,一条有马蹄铁图案的领带挂在光着的胸前,还穿着小孩子踢足球时穿的短裤以及不成对的袜子。哈利看到其中一只是黑色的,那是他从自己脚上脱下来、哄骗马尔夫先生把它拿给多比的,而且多比因此获得了自由。另一只,是底色粉红有桔黄色条纹的。

  “多比,你来这干什么?”哈利惊奇地说。

  “多比已经在霍格瓦彻工作了,先生!”多比兴奋地用尖锐的声音说,“丹伯多教授给了多比和温奇工作呢,先生!”哈利说:“她也在这里?”

  “是啊,先生,是的!”多比说着,抓起哈利的手,把他拉到厨房,经过两排有着四条长腿而且是木制的桌子时,哈利留意了那些桌子,确实是上面大会厅里四个房间里的桌子。现在,桌面上没有食物,因为晚宴刚刚结束。他想,一小时以前,桌上肯定是摆满了各种各样的菜色,而且还通过天花板送到了上面的同伴那里。

  至少有一百只小精灵围在厨房里,当多比领着哈利经过他们身边时,精灵们有的微笑、有的鞠躬,还有的向哈利和多比行屈膝礼。他们都穿着清一色的工作服,茶具拭布上印着霍格瓦彻饰章,系的像温奇系的一样,像一件官服。

  多比在砖块砌成的壁炉前面停下了,然后指着那里说。

  “温奇,先生!”

  温奇正在炉火旁边一只桶上。和多比不一样的是,她没有老是搜寻衣服。她穿着一件上衣,和一条很干净的小裙子,戴着一项与之相衬的蓝帽子,那帽子因为她的大耳朵而穿了几个洞。但是,多比的奇装异服都很干净,而且保管得很好,所以看起来很新。而温奇根本就不在乎自己的衣服。她的上衣从上到下都是汤的污迹,裙子上还有一处焦痕。

  “你好,温奇。”哈利说。

  温奇的嘴唇微微颤抖着,接着就哭了起来,眼泪从她的棕色的大眼睛里溢了出来,顺着脸颊流到了她的胸前,就像那次在快迪斯世界杯比赛时一样。

  “噢,天啊!”荷米恩和罗恩已经跟着哈利和多比来到了厨房里面,荷米恩说:“温奇,别哭,拜托啦,别哭了……”

  但温奇哭得更凶了。多比却对哈利笑着。

  “哈利·波特想要一杯茶吗?”他大声又尖声说道,声音掩过了温奇的啜泣声。

  “嗯——好吧!”哈利说。

  很快地,大约有六个小精灵快步走到哈利后面,为哈利,罗恩和荷米恩送来了个装着很多茶壶、杯子以及一瓶牛奶罐和一大盘饼干的很大的银色盘子。

  “真是一流服务啊!”罗恩用很满意的语气说。荷米恩对他皱着眉头,但小精灵们都看起来挺高兴的,他们深深鞠躬后就退下了。

  “你在这里呆了多久了,多比?”当多比送来茶水的时候,哈利问道。

  “才一个星期,哈利被特先生!”多比高兴地说。“多比是来看望丹伯多教授的,先生。你想一下,先生,一个佣人小精灵被开除后要找到一份新工作是很难的,先生,真的很难的——”

  这时,温奇哭得更凶了。她的鼻涕流到她胸前了,而她根本就没能阻止。

  “多比已经周游全国两年了,先生,到处找工作呀!”多比尖声说道。“先生,因为多比现在就想要工钱!但是多比还没有找到工作呢!”

  小精灵们都围到了厨房,看着多比,听得津津有味,但听到这里,个个都看到别处去了,好像多比说了什么粗俗的或令人难堪的话。

  荷米恩却说,“你这样做很对,多比!”

  “谢谢,小姐!”多比说,露着牙齿对着她笑了笑。“但是很多巫师都不想要想得到工钱的小精灵的,小姐。”“那不是一个佣人小精灵的实质。”精灵们说。他们还当着多比的面呼地一声关了门呢!

  “多比喜欢工作,但他也想穿衣服,想有工钱呀,哈利·波特……”

  多比不断地说!霍格瓦彻的佣人小精灵们都从多比旁边挤过去,想离他远点,好像他有传染病似的。温奇却仍呆在原处不动。但是,她的哭声好像有了提高了。

  “然后,哈利·波特就去看望温奇,发现她也已经获得自由了,先生!”多比高兴地说。

  听到这里,温奇扑倒在地上,脸朝下,贴着铺着石头的地板,还用她的小拳头捶地板,显然是因为痛苦而尖叫着。荷米恩赶紧跪在旁边,尽力想去安慰她,但无论她怎么努力,她说了跟没说时没什么两样。

  多比继续讲他的故事,几乎是用尖叫声喊着,试图掩盖过温奇的尖叫声。“后来多比想到了一个主意,哈利·波特先生!为什么多比和温奇不一起找工作呢?但哪里有需要两人做的工作呢?多比想着。后来他想到了,先生!霍格瓦彻!所以多比和温奇就来拜访了丹伯多教授,先生!然后丹伯多教授就雇用了我们!”

  多比高兴地笑着,眼睛里又闪烁着幸福的泪花。

  “丹伯多教授说,先生,如果多比想拿工钱的话,他会付钱给多比!所以多比现在是一只自由的小精灵了,先生,而且多比还可以每个星期得到币,每个月还有一天假呢!”

  “那并不是很多呀!”荷米恩很愤怒地喊道,声音盖过了温奇的尖叫声和拳头捶地板的声音。

  “丹伯多教授付给多比每星期十币,还有周末休息呢,”多比说,突然颤了一下,好像这么多空闲和这么多的报酬反倒让人觉得害怕似的,“但是多比让他降低工作,小姐……多比喜欢自由,小姐,但他也不喜欢太多自由,小姐,他喜欢工作得更出色。”

  “丹伯多教授付给你多少钱呀,温奇?”荷米恩很轻声地问。

  如果她认为这样可以让温奇高兴起来的话,那么她就完全错了。温奇并没有停止哭泣,而且,当她坐起来时,她用那双很大的棕色的眼睛瞪着荷米恩,突然间变得很生气。

  “温奇是一只失宠的小精灵,而且温奇还没有得到报酬呢?”她尖声叫着。“温奇还不至于这么落魄吧!温奇正是因为被释放而感到羞耻!”多比说。

  “羞耻?”荷米恩感到莫明其妙,“哎——温奇,别这样啦!是克劳斯先生该感到羞耻,不是你!你并没做错事啊!是他对你太刻薄了——”

  然而,听到这番话,温奇却用手把耳朵压下来。这样,她就听不见荷米恩说话了,她还尖叫着,“你不能侮辱我的主人,小姐!

  你不能侮辱克劳斯先生!克劳斯先生是一个很好的巫师,小姐!克劳斯先生解雇坏温奇是对的!“

  “温奇还不能很快适应过来,哈利·波特,”多比很机密地尖声说。“温奇忘了她不再受克劳斯先生的约束的事了,她现在可以自由地说出心里话了,但她不会这么做。”

  “那么就是说,佣人小精灵不能自由地说关于他们主人的话了?”哈利问道。

  “噢,不,不,先生。”多比一下子变得认真起来,说:“这一点就是佣人小精灵所受的束缚了,先生。我们为她们保守秘密而且不能乱说话,先生,我们维护了整个家族的荣誉,从不讲他们坏话——但丹伯多教授告诉多比说,他并不坚持一定要他这样做。丹伯多教授说我们可以自由地——”

  多比突然间变得紧张起来,他招手示意哈利走近一点。哈利俯下身子。

  多比在他旁边耳语,“他说如果我们喜欢的话,先生!我们可以自由地叫他——呃,——叫他愚蠢的老头或疯老头子。”

  多比受惊吓似的傻笑着。

  “但是多比并不想这样做,哈利·波特,”他又恢复正常了,还甩了甩头,让他的耳朵拍起来。“多比很喜欢丹伯多教授,先生,所以为能帮他保守秘密而感到骄傲。”

  “但你现在能说说你为什么不喜欢马尔夫一家人了吧?”哈利问他,露齿而笑。

  多比的大眼睛里掠过一丝害怕的神情。

  “多比能——多比当然能啦,”他很不确定似的说。挺了挺他的小肩膀,“多比可以告诉哈利·波特,他的老主人是——是,很坏的阴险的巫师!”

  多比被自己的勇气吓呆了,站在那里全身都颤抖了好一会,然后,他冲到最近的那张桌子旁边,开始用头重重地去向桌子,很大力地尖声叫着,“坏多比!坏多比!”

  哈利抓着多比后面的带子,把他从桌子那里拉开来。

  “谢谢,哈利·波特,谢谢。”多比喘息着说,摸了摸他的脑袋。

  “你需要练习一下,习惯一下。”哈利说。

  “习惯!”温奇很恼火地尖声说,“你应该为你自己感到羞耻,多比,那样说你的主人!”

  “他们不再是我的主人了,温奇!”多比反抗似的纠正道。“多比已经不在乎他们是怎么想的了!”

  “哦,你真是一个坏精灵啊,多比!”温奇嘟囔着,眼泪又一次顺着脸颊滚下来。“我可怜的克劳斯先生,他现在没有了温奇在身边,不知道正在做什么呢?他需要我!他需要我的帮助!我要用我的生命来照顾克劳斯全家,我妈妈以前就是那样做的,我外婆也是那样做的……哦,他们如果知道温奇被释放了会怎么想呢?哎,羞耻啊!羞耻!”她又把脸埋进了裙子里,然后大喊大叫着。

  “温奇,”荷米恩很坚定地说,“我很肯定地跟你说,克劳斯先生没有你,现在仍过得很好。我们已经去看过他了,你知不知道”你看过了我的主人?“温奇喘息着问,又一次抬起了她那满是泪痕的脸,对着荷米恩咯咯地笑,”你在霍格瓦彻看过他了?“

  “是的,”荷米恩说,“他和巴格蒙都是三巫师争霸赛里的裁判。”

  “巴格蒙先生也来了?”温奇尖声问,使哈利感到惊奇的是,温奇又不高兴了。“巴格蒙先生是个坏巫师!是个坏透了的巫师!我的主人不会喜欢他的。懊,不,根本不可能的!”

  “巴格蒙——很坏?”哈利说。

  “嗯,是的,”温奇说,使劲点头。“我的主人告诉过温奇一些事情的!不过,温奇不会说的……温奇——温奇会为主人保守秘密的……”

  她又哭了,埋在裙子里呜咽着,“可怜的主人,可怜的主人呀,再没有温奇在身边帮他了!”

  他们再也没能从温奇那里听到更理智的话了,就让她哭着,继续喝他们的茶,听多比高兴地讲他作为一只自由小精灵的生活,还有他的工资设想。

  “多比接下来想买一件长背心,哈利·波特!”他高兴地说,批判他光着的胸膛。

  “告诉你,多比,”罗恩说,好像喜欢上了这只小精灵,“我给你这个圣诞节我妈妈给我的那件吧,她经常会织给我的。你喜欢茶色的吧?”

  多比高兴极了。

  “我们把它缩小点,才会适合你穿,”罗恩告诉他,“但是不衬你那顶茶壶罩帽子哦。”

  当他们准备离开时,很多小精灵挤向他们,拿了很多小吃给他们让他们拿到楼上吃。荷米恩拒绝了,脸上一副很痛苦的表情,因为她想到小精灵们对他们又是鞠躬,又是行屈膝礼的,就很难受。

  但,哈利和罗恩的口袋里却装满了奶油蛋糕和馅饼。

  “太谢谢你们了!”哈利对簇拥着到门口道晚安的小精灵们说。

  “再见了,多比!”

  “哈利·波特……多比能去看你吗?”多比突然冒出了这句话。

  “当然能啦!”哈利答道,多比高兴地笑了。

  “你知道什么?”他们走出厨房,来到了通向入口大厅的楼梯上时,罗恩问,“这些年来,弗来德和乔治确实给我留下了深刻印像,他们从厨房里偷食物——唉,不是很难,是吧?他们都很不得把他们派送掉呢!”

  “我想这就是能发生在那些小精灵身上最好的事情了,你知道的,”走回到大理石楼梯那里的时候,荷米恩说,“我想其它小精灵见多比来这里工作这么幸福,这么自由,慢慢地,他们也会想这样的!”

  “希望他们不要向温奇看齐。”哈利说。

  “哦,她会振作起来的。”荷米恩说,但是不太确定一样,“只要这场震惊过后,她就会习惯霍格瓦彻的,她会发现没有那个克劳斯,她还是会过得那么满足的。”

  “她好像很爱他呀。”罗恩声音沙哑地说(他已经开始吃那奶油蛋糕了)。

  “不喜欢巴格蒙,真的不喜欢?”哈利问道,“真不知道克劳斯在家里讲了他什么话?”

  “可能说他不是一个很好的领导吧,”荷米恩说,“唉,算了吧,面对现实吧……他说的也有道理啊,不是吗?”

  “但我更愿意为他工作,而不是老克劳斯,”罗恩说,“至少巴格蒙有幽默感。”

  “可别让伯希听到你这样说。”荷米恩说着,轻轻地笑了。

  “嗯,是哦,伯希不喜欢给有幽默感的人做事,是吧?”罗恩开始吃那巧克力酥卷了,他说,“伯希不会意识到那只是一个玩笑,如果有人戴着多比的那顶茶壶盖在他面前跳裸舞的话。”



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