Hogwarts: My Grandmother is the Queen

Chapter 156 Dobby

Ron rolled over again and stared blankly out the window.

He suddenly remembered what had just happened; when the car was flying in the sky, he was terrified, but Prince Philip was laughing like a child.

The old man, over seventy years old, was wearing a bathrobe and sitting in a dilapidated car that looked like it could fall apart at any moment, doing somersaults in the air.

He said he flew fighter jets when he was young, and that it was even more exciting than that.

Ron imagined the scene—the young Prince Philip, sitting in the cockpit of a fighter jet, flying in the sky.

How old was he then? Twenty? Thirty?

At that time, he was probably doing somersaults, diving, and laughing out loud.

Ron suddenly realized that the old man was actually quite cool.

He rolled over; he should go to bed early, after all, he had to fly tomorrow, and judging from his two unreliable older brothers, they definitely wouldn't let him off the hook.

But suddenly he felt that it wasn't so scary after all. If the elderly weren't afraid, why should he be?

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," he said.

The door opened, and Harry poked his head in.

"Can't sleep?"

Ron nodded, and Harry came in and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Me too," he said. "So much has happened these past few days, my mind is a mess."

"Are you alright?" Ron asked with concern.

"Me? I'm fine," Harry said with a smile.

"I was referring to the Dursleys," Ron said. "You were locked up for three days; it must have been tough."

"It's nothing really," Harry shrugged, looking nonchalant. "I'm used to it."

39

Ron looked at him, unsure of what to say.

Harry continued, "They've always been like this since I was little. When they're happy, they pretend I don't exist, and when they're unhappy, they take it out on me. I'm used to it."

He paused for a moment at this point.

"But today, here, I suddenly realize that not everyone is like that. Neither the Henry family nor your family are like the Dursleys."

"Our family may be poor, but we would never treat anyone like that," Ron said.

"I know. That's why I like your family," Harry said with a smile.

Ron smiled too.

"Why don't you come over to our house in a couple of days? Charlie won't be here anyway, you can stay in his room, or squeeze in with me."

Harry nodded, and the two remained silent for a moment.

Ron suddenly asked, "What do you think of Henry?"

"He's great," Harry said. "Although sometimes I don't understand what he's thinking, he's really good to his friends."

"That's what I think too." Ron nodded in agreement. "He helped you so much and even let us stay here. I have to thank him properly."

"How should we thank them?" Harry became interested. He had been wanting to properly thank Henry's family, especially Princess Diana.

"I don't know," Ron shrugged. "We'll talk about it another time."

Then I heard George and Fred laughing next door; they sounded like they were arguing about something.

Ron sighed. "They're flying again tomorrow. I'll definitely have to go with them."

"You don't have to go," Harry said.

Ron shook his head and said, "No way. If they really throw His Highness out of the carriage, my dad will kill me."

Harry thought about the scene and couldn't help but laugh.

"Then good luck to you."

Ron rolled his eyes.

Aren't you going to comfort me at all?

"Comfort what?" Harry said. "You're going to scream again tomorrow anyway, I'm used to it."

"Fine. I'm just background noise anyway." Ron shook his head helplessly.

Harry suddenly seemed to remember something and said, "By the way, do you know a house-elf named Dobby?"

"Dobby? A house-elf?" Ron frowned and shook his head. "How would I know a house-elf? What's wrong?"

"That's how it is." Harry leaned back against the headboard, found a comfortable position, and began to recount what happened that day.

"That night, I was in my room—the one my uncle had locked up—when suddenly something appeared on my bed. It was the strangest creature I had ever seen, tiny with two big, bat-like ears and a pair of green eyes the size of tennis balls. It was wearing a pillowcase with a hole in it, and it stuck its head inside, like it was wearing a skirt."

Ron listened intently, his eyes wide open.

"He called himself Dobby and said he was there to warn me. He said Hogwarts would be in danger this year and that I shouldn't go back. I said I had to go back, and he got anxious. Then he ran downstairs and used magic to float Aunt Petunia's cake up and smash it on Mrs. Mason's head—that business guest who came to my uncle's house."

Ron gasped.

"So you didn't make that cake?"

"No," Harry shook his head. "It was Dobby. He wanted me to think I used magic myself, so the Ministry of Magic would warn me and I wouldn't dare go back to Hogwarts."

Ron remained silent for a while, processing the information.

"Then who is he? House-elves all have owners."

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “He only said he came to warn me that Hogwarts would be in danger, but he wouldn’t say what kind of danger. He said he couldn’t tell his master’s secrets, and he smashed his head with the lamp. My uncle heard the noise and came to check, and then Dobby snapped his fingers and disappeared.”

Ron frowned, somewhat puzzled: "Why would he do that?"

"He said it was because I deserved it," Harry said, a hint of confusion in his voice. "He said something about Harry Potter defeating the Dark Lord and being the hope of the wizarding world," so he had to protect me.

"So he's a good person?" Ron grinned.

“I don’t think so,” Harry said. “He ruined me—if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be locked up, and Uncle Vernon’s order wouldn’t have fallen through.”

Ron nodded, then frowned.

"Wait, what did you say he was wearing? A pillowcase?"

"Yes, a pillowcase."

Ron's expression became somewhat complicated.

"That's how it is with house-elves. They wear what their masters give them. If their masters give them real clothes, it means they're being fired. My dad said that some pure-blood families treat house-elves very badly, dressing them in rags and making them work until they die. But there are also families like Hogwarts that treat them quite well."

Harry nodded thoughtfully.

"Do you know anyone who keeps a house-elf?"

Ron thought for a moment.

"Many pure-blood families have them. The Malfoys definitely have them. I remember Draco saying that his family has several house-elves. The Parkinsons also have them, and so on—basically all those families have them."

At this point, he looked at Harry.

"Then why didn't you tell Henry about this?"