Although he didn't know what exactly a house-elf was, seeing that the creature had no intention of harming him, Harry felt slightly more at ease and continued asking,
"Do you have any particular reason for coming here?"
"Oh yes, sir."
The elf who called himself Dobby looked at Harry with enthusiastic eyes and said, "Dobby has come to tell you, sir... it's hard to say, sir... Dobby doesn't know where to begin..."
Seeing how the creature could barely string together a clear sentence, Harry sighed and pointed to the bed, "Why don't you sit down first and then talk."
What seemed like an ordinary, unremarkable statement had an unexpected effect.
To Harry's complete surprise, the elf named Dobby suddenly burst into tears upon hearing these words.
This startled Harry greatly, as the creature's wailing was far too loud.
"Shh—!"
Harry quickly tried to silence him, personally taking action to lead Dobby to sit on the bed.
Under Harry's soothing, Dobby finally quieted down.
He gazed at Harry with large, tearful eyes full of admiration.
"Never has a wizard asked Dobby to sit down—treating him as an equal—"
"You probably haven't met many decent wizards then."
Harry said this with the intention of cheering the creature up.
But unexpectedly, after hearing these words, Dobby suddenly jumped up.
Then he began frantically banging his head against the window while shouting,
"Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"
Harry was stunned.
He never expected the creature to react this way, leaving him unable to respond immediately.
Fortunately, thanks to Sherlock's training, he was now more agile than he had been a year ago. After being dazed for only a few seconds, he jumped up and pulled Dobby back onto the bed.
At that moment, Harry could even hear Uncle Vernon's voice from downstairs, which had been cheerfully telling jokes, become somewhat stuttered.
'Terrible—they had heard it!'
Victory had been within reach.
He absolutely could not let this creature that had suddenly appeared ruin everything.
"Don't do that—what are you doing?"
"Dobby must punish himself, sir."
The house-elf Dobby said. From the violent impact, his eyes had crossed and his head was beginning to bleed.
Yet he paid no heed, but began continuously berating himself, "Bad Dobby, bad Dobby! Dobby is a bad elf!"
"Quiet, I'm telling you to be quiet, do you hear me?"
Harry felt extremely frustrated. He desperately wanted to shout loud enough to drown out Dobby's voice, but was afraid of being heard downstairs.
So, he could only sternly silence the creature while keeping his voice low.
"Tell me, what exactly do you want?"
"Dobby wants to say... Harry Potter must not return to Hogwarts."
Harry, who had been feeling frustrated, was instantly stunned.
The room fell completely silent in that moment.
He could even hear the clinking of cutlery and Uncle Vernon's snoring sounds while eating from downstairs.
"Impossible! Absolutely impossible!"
Harry shook his head repeatedly, "I don't belong here. I belong to that world."
However, Dobby shook his head even more vigorously than Harry, his ears flapping with loud smacking sounds.
"No! Harry Potter must stay in a safe place. He is so great, so kind—we cannot lose him.
If Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger."
"What are you talking about?"
"A plot... there is a terrible plot. This year, the most horrifying things will happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
"What horrifying things?"
Harry immediately inquired, and instinctively spoke the name that terrified the entire wizarding world.
"Who's plotting this? Voldemort?"
Upon hearing this name, the house-elf immediately gasped.
Just as Harry was about to take it back, Dobby jumped up again and frantically began banging his head against the wall.
Fortunately, Harry was prepared and quickly stopped him.
What followed was Harry's repeated attempts to communicate with this house-elf called Dobby, trying to figure out exactly who wanted to harm him.
However, to his exasperation, this elf was completely stubborn.
It kept repeating the same few phrases,
Something about how he would encounter danger, so he couldn't go to Hogwarts.
Something about Harry Potter being a noble and great person, and that they couldn't lose him.
Something about how if Mr. Potter went to Hogwarts, he would lose his life.
But when asked about specifics, the creature would shut up, refusing to say a single word.
Even more helplessly, whenever he pressed a little harder with questions, the thing would start banging its head against the wall.
Harry had successfully prevented it several times with his quick reflexes, but eventually, in a moment of carelessness, he failed to stop it.
Although he prevented the elf from successfully hitting the wall, it jumped off the bed and grabbed the desk lamp, banging it against its own head while letting out piercing screams.
Downstairs suddenly fell completely silent.
Obviously, the commotion in the room had reached downstairs.
Two seconds later, Uncle Vernon's voice rang out,
"Dudley must have forgotten to turn off the television again, that little rascal!"
When Harry heard footsteps approaching, his movements were so fast that even he found it miraculous.
In an instant, he grabbed Dobby and stuffed him into the wardrobe, then used his leg to hook the door shut.
He had just thrown himself onto the bed when Uncle Vernon opened the bedroom door.
"What—the—hell—are—you—doing?"
Uncle Vernon brought his face close to Harry's, speaking through gritted teeth.
Harry wanted to explain, but when he opened his mouth, he realized there was no way to explain.
In the end, he could only accept his fate and silently take the blame,
"I... I'm sorry... Uncle..."
"I was just getting to the crucial part of the joke about the Japanese golfer, and you ruined it..."
Uncle Vernon's face turned red, "Make one more sound, and I'll make you regret being born, boy!"
After saying this, he stomped heavily across the floor and left.
After confirming he had gone, Harry pulled Dobby out of the wardrobe.
He could feel Uncle Vernon's fury.
This was because he felt the same anger as Uncle Vernon.
This creature calling itself an elf was simply sick!
It claimed to be doing this for his own good, but whenever asked specific questions, it would just repeat the same circular nonsense.
Even more infuriating, it would constantly create such a commotion that he couldn't even speak properly.
He suppressed his anger and patiently said to the house-elf Dobby,
"You see the situation here, don't you?
This is exactly why I must return to Hogwarts, return to my friends.
If I continue staying here, I'll go mad!"
"What friends? Friends who don't even write Harry Potter a single letter?"
When Dobby, who had just been released, said this, there was actually something cunning in his expression.
If this had been the old Harry, he probably wouldn't have found anything wrong with that statement.
But the current Harry had spent a year with Sherlock.
So, he quickly spotted the flaw.
"How do you know my friends haven't written to me?"
Harry's gaze instantly became sharp.
"It was you! You intercepted the letters they sent me?"
"Harry Potter must not be angry with Dobby—Dobby did it all for..."
"How could I not be angry!"
Harry was practically going insane.
The truth was revealed, and at this moment he truly wanted to throw this culprit right out the window.
"Where are the letters?!"
He asked, barely suppressing his rage.
"The letters are with Dobby, sir."
Dobby pulled out a thick stack of letters from the pillowcase he was wearing.
At that moment, Harry recognized Hermione's neat handwriting, Ron's sprawling script, and most familiar of all, Sherlock's distinctive handwriting.
"Please don't be angry, great Harry Potter...
Dobby had hoped... if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him...
Harry Potter might not want to return to school, sir..."
Dobby was still explaining, but Harry had no patience to listen.
He reached out to grab the letters, but the prepared Dobby nimbly jumped to a place where Harry couldn't reach him.
Harry was thoroughly enraged.
"Give me those letters!"
"It seems Harry Potter is still determined to go to Hogwarts. Then Dobby has no other choice."
The two entered a standoff, and Harry's head was spinning.
At this moment, he even had a thought that seemed absurd just thinking about it.
How wonderful it would be if Sherlock could appear here like divine intervention at a time like this!
...
Mr. Holmes's driving skills weren't actually as good as he claimed them to be.
By the time they reached Privet Drive, it was already eight o'clock in the evening.
Of course, this was also related to his unfamiliarity with the road conditions.
Add to that the rain that had started halfway through, which further increased the difficulty of finding their way.
Upon reaching their destination, Sherlock had originally planned to go straight up and knock on the door.
But when he saw a black sedan parked by the roadside, he changed his mind.
He greeted the two parents and Hermione, then got out of the car to observe.
Hermione immediately followed without a word.
Mr. Holmes and Mr. Granger exchanged glances, with the former parking the car properly before both men got out together.
After Sherlock finished examining the sedan, he walked along the path leading to the house.
In just moments, he returned and said to his father and Hermione's father,
"Father, Mr. Granger, Harry's family has guests. It would be better if you handled the negotiations."
"Of course, dear Sherlock, that's no problem at all."
Mr. Holmes said with a smile, "Isn't this exactly why I came here?"
"That's right, leave this sort of thing to us."
After saying this, Mr. Granger stepped forward without hesitation and rang the doorbell.
Meanwhile, in the house, Uncle Vernon was working hard on his big diamond order,
"Mrs. Mason, tell Petunia that joke about the American plumbers, she's been wanting to hear it..."
The sudden doorbell interrupted him abruptly.
The people at the dining table looked at each other in confusion.
After a moment, Aunt Petunia stood up to answer the door.
When she saw the tall, handsome Mr. Holmes and Mr. Granger, she couldn't help but feel puzzled, "May I ask who you are?"
Just then, Sherlock stepped out from behind his father, "Mrs. Dursley, it's been a while. We meet again."
"It's you!"
When she saw Sherlock, Mrs. Dursley immediately recognized Holmes.
This was because he had left too deep an impression on her.
Last Christmas, he had stood at the same doorway and said something she still couldn't forget.
"Madam, you wouldn't want your husband to lose his job, would you?"
Petunia, Σ(｀д′*ノ) ノ
When the same words were spoken by Sherlock in the same tone for the second time, Aunt Petunia felt dizzy.
'Again?
Was this some kind of sickness?!'
Five minutes later, Mr. Holmes and Mr. Granger had joined the dining table in the hall.
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