Harry, Danny, Ron, Hermione and I go up to the Owlery after breakfast on Sunday to send a letter to Percy, asking, as Uncle Sirius suggested, whether he's seen Mr Crouch lately. We use Hedwig, because it has been so long since she's had a job. When we have watched her fly out of sight through the Owlery window, we proceed down to the kitchen to give Dobby his new socks.
The house-elves give us a very cheery welcome, bowing and curtseying and bustling around making tea again. Dobby is ecstatic about his present.
"Harry Potter and Dathaniel Rivera is too good to Dobby!" he squeaks, wiping large tears out of his enormous eyes.
"You saved our lives with that Gillyweed, Dobby, you really did," says Harry.
"No chance of more of those eclairs, is there?" says Ron, who is looking around at the beaming and bowing house-elves.
"You've just had breakfast!" says Hermione irritably, but a great silver platter of eclairs is already zooming towards us, supported by four elves.
"We should get some stuff to send up to Snuffles," Danny whispers.
"Good idea," says Ron. "Give Pig something to do. You couldn't give us a bit of extra food, could you?" he says to the surrounding elves, and they bow delightedly and hurry off to get some more.
"Dobby, where's Winky?" I say. I am looking around.
"Winky is over there by the fire, miss," says Dobby quietly, his ears drooping slightly.
"Oh dear," says Hermione, as she spots Winky.
I look over at the fireplace, too. Winky is sitting on the same stool as last time, but she has allowed herself to become so filthy that she is not immediately distinguishable from the smoke-blackened brick behind her. Her clothes are ragged and unwashed. She is clutching a bottle of Butterbeer and swaying slightly on her stool, staring into the fire. As we watch her, she gives an enormous hiccough.
"Winky is getting through six bottles a day now," I hear Dobby whisper to Harry.
"But it's not strong, that stuff," Harry says.
But Dobby shakes his head. "'Tis strong for a house-elf, sir," he says.
Winky hiccoughs again. The elves who brought the eclairs give her disapproving looks as they return to work.
"Winky is pining, Harry Potter," Dobby whispers sadly. "Winky wants to go home. Winky still thinks Mr Crouch is her master, sir, and nothing Dobby says will persuade her that Professor Dumbledore is her master now."
"Hey, Winky," says Danny, walking over and bending down to speak to her, "you don't know what Mr Crouch might be up to, do you? Because he's stopped turning up to judge the Triwizard Tournament."
Winky's eyes flicker. Her enormous pupils focus on Harry. She sways slightly again and then says, "M-master is stopped - hic - coming?"
"Yeah," says Danny, "we haven't seen him since the first task. The Daily Prophet's saying he's ill."
Winky sways some more, staring blurrily at Danny. "Master - hic - ill?"
Her bottom lip begins to tremble.
"But we're not sure if that's true," I say quickly.
"Master is needing his - hic - Winky!" whimpers the house-elf. "Master cannot - hic - manage - hic - all by himself..."
"Other people manage to do their own housework, you know, Winky," says Hermione severely.
"Winky - hic - is not only - hic - doing housework for Mr Crouch!" Winky squeaks indignantly, swaying worse than ever and slopping Butterbeer down her already heavily stained blouse. "Master is - hic - trusting Winky with - hic - the most important - hic - the most secret -"
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Dawn Rivera
Fanfiction"One is the lock, one is the key, one is the sacrifice the world shall shall grieve." Dawn has wanted to go to Hogwarts ever since she was a little girl, and nothing her older sister Gertrude says will discourage her. Little does she know that the m...
