the last verse ; harry potter [2]

twenty two ; the goblin and the wandmaker

Dobby the House-elf died at Shell Cottage, right in front of them.

His large blue eyes stared up, stared past, stared somewhere very far away. Luna, who had also been in the cellar, closed his eyes, and then he only looked like he was sleeping.

Ron took the unconscious body of Hermione inside, and Bill Weasley and Fleur came out and brought Harry the shovel he had asked for. Soon, Dean and Luna both left and it was just Diana and Harry and Dobby.

"You don't have to help me," he told her, his face red from crying. "I--I can do this by myself."

"I want to," she told him. He did not protest.

She brought some water from the lapping waves as Harry began to dig a small, elf-sized grave. She began to gently pull the knife from him and began to clean his wounds with the water and a spare shirt from inside her Extended bag, gently, as if trying not to hurt him, as if he could still feel.

She cleaned the wound and Harry dug and she pulled a pair of socks from her bag and set them aside. Harry lifted Dobby gently from the grass like a child and set him slowly into the grave, covering him with a blanket to keep him warm. They each took one sock and placed it on top, so Dobby could always have them, even in death.

Ron and Dean appeared beside them, and they silently took a moment to mourn Dobby, the Free Elf, the friend. They all said nothing as Harry tucked the blanket snugly beneath him, and they said nothing as they each poured in a hand full of sand, and then Harry began to shovel the rest in until there was no grave, only sand.

Ron and Dean said some kind words about Dobby then left them two in peace.

"Goodbye, Dobby," Harry said thickly.

"Goodbye, Dobby," Diana whispered.

Numbly, Harry grabbed a large stone nearby and stuck at the head of the grave, and with a wand that was not his, began to engrave the words:

Here lies Dobby, a Free Elf.

They looked at it, sparing just a few more seconds to mourn their friend, their equal, then stood with stiff knees and held hands all the way back down to the quiet cottage, leaving Dobby to rest soundly in peace.

++

Fleur opened the door to a small, well-lit bedroom. Griphook the goblin was perched on the bed, his eyes toward the open window. Harry, Diana, Ron, and Hermione, who had woken up a little while ago, trailed inside and Fleur closed the door behind them. Gryffindor's sword gleamed in the corner.

"I'm sorry to wake you," said Harry to the goblin. "How are your legs?"

"Painful," the goblin replied, eyeing each of them in turn. They lingered on Diana for a moment before his eyes fell to her necklace, though he said nothing. "But mending."

"You probably don't remember---" Harry began.

"---that I was the goblin who showed you to your vault, the first time you ever visited Gringotts?" said Griphook. "I remember, Harry Potter. Even amongst goblins, you are very famous."

The goblin watched Harry through slitted eyes.

"You buried the elf," Griphook said, his eyes sliding between him and Diana. "I watched you, from the window of the bedroom next door."

"Yes," said Harry,

Griphook watched him in silence.

"You are an unusual wizard, Harry Potter."

"In what way?"

"You dug the grave."

"So?"

Griphook did not answer.