Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
————————————
Aurora Areli
AFTER BREAKFAST ON SUNDAY, Harry, Ron, Hermione and I went up to the Owlery to send a letter to Percy, asking whether he had seen Mr Crouch lately, like Sirius had suggested. We used Hedwig, because it had been so long since she'd had a job. After we had watched her fly through the Owlery window, the four of us proceeded down to the kitchen to give Dobby his new socks.
The house-elves gave us a very cheery welcome, bowing and curtseying and bustling around making tea again. Dobby was ecstatic about his present.
"Harry Potter is too good to Dobby!" he squeaked, wiping large tears out of his enormous eyes.
"You saved my life with that Gillyweed, Dobby, you really did," Harry said.
"No chance of more of those éclairs, is there?" Ron said, looking around at the beaming and bowing house-elves.
"You've just had breakfast!" Hermione said irritably, but no sooner had the words left her mouth than a great silver platter of éclairs was zooming towards us, supported by four elves.
"We should get some stuff to send to Snuffles," Harry muttered.
"That's a good idea," I said, then turned to the elves and asked, "Would it be all right if we got some extra food?"
They bowed delightedly and hurried off to retrieve it.
"Winky is over there by the fire, miss," Dobby said quietly, his ears drooping slightly.
"Oh dear," Hermione said, as she spotted Winky.
When I followed Hermione's line of sight, it was clear why she said that. Winky was sitting on the same stool as last time, but she had allowed herself to become so filthy that she was not immediately distinguishable from the smoke-blackened brick behind her. Her clothes were ragged and unwashed, and she was swaying slightly on her stool, clutching a bottle of Butterbeer and staring into the fire. As we watched her, she gave an enormous hiccough.
"Winky is getting through six bottles a day now," Dobby whispered to us.
"Well, it's not strong, that stuff," Harry said.
But Dobby shook his head. "'Tis strong for a house-elf, sir."
Winky hiccoughed again. The elves who had brought the éclairs gave her disapproving looks as they returned to work.
"Winky is pining, Harry Potter," Dobby whispered 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."
Harry suddenly got a look on his face that could only mean he had a strong idea.
"Hey, Winky," he said, walking over and bending down to speak with 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."
