Harry blinked uncertainly at the little house elf which was standing at the end of the bed with a most helpful expression. Harry turned up the lamp beside his bed, casting the room in a dull glow. "Dobby? You came . . . but I didn’t think it would be so soon. How did you get past the wards and know where I was and –"

"Harry Potter set Dobby free," Dobby hopped up on the edge of the bed, his pile of hats nearly sliding off his head. He straightened the hats and crept nearer to Harry. "Harry Potter freed, so Dobby can find Harry Potter wherever he is. Dobby received the letter, Harry Potter sounded worried and needing, and Dobby feels worried. Dobby is come to make Harry Potter feel better. But," the house elf glanced around the room curiously, "why is Harry Potter in Mr. Snape’s house?"

"You’ve been here before?" Harry pushed himself up on his pillow, wide-awake.

Dobby looked very solemn. "Yes, yes, Master – er, Mr. Malfoy once take Dobby to Snapdragon Manor. Mr. Snape not let Mr. Malfoy kick Dobby down the stairs."

"Well, I’m stuck with Snape all summer," Harry explained. "He’s my temporary guardian, or something like that. Dobby, you have to help me."

Dobby seemed confused. "Is Mr. Snape cruel to Harry Potter? Mr. Snape should be kind to Harry Potter. Mr. Snape has saved Harry Potter many times at school and Dobby is thinking that –"

"Yes, yes, Snape’s been all right," Harry hastened. "I want to know about Malfoy Manor."

A white pallor swept over the house elf’s face, and he adamantly shook his head. "No, Harry Potter has no reason to know about Malfoy Manor. Harry Potter must be happy at Snapdragon Manor for the summer, and never go to Malfoy Manor."

"But –" Harry hesitated. He thought he heard footsteps in the hall. "Dobby, quick, disappear! Don’t let anyone see you. I’ll send Snape away, but I need to talk to you, and he can’t know you’re here. It would be very – uncomfortable for me if he found out."

Dobby still looked confused, but he nodded, and with a snap of his gnarly fingers, he vanished. Just in time too, because the door opened, and Snape charged in. Harry was sitting up so he did not have time to lie down and pretend to be asleep. Besides the light was already lit.

"Someone broke through the wards," Snape said tightly, wand grasped tightly in one hand. "Who was it?"

Harry pressed his lips together, annoyed. He didn’t mind being asked, but it was the way Snape demanded that got on his nerves. Not "Oh, Potter, I heard someone or something breaking the wards, do you know anything about it?" Or even "The wards have broken, and I need to know if you saw or heard anything." No, Snape just automatically assumed that whenever something went wrong, it was Harry’s fault. No matter what happened, Potter was to blame.

"I don’t know anything about it," Harry answered coolly.

"Don’t lie to me," Snape snapped, taking a few steps towards the bed. "Whatever it was came into your room. All the alarms pointed here, and you will tell me right now."

"Search the room," Harry answered back with a wave of his hand around the room. "No one’s in here. Not my friends from school or my fan club."

"Potter, this is not a joke," Snape was very serious. "We could both be in danger. I need to know who it was, and I need to know now."

Harry knew he was being stubborn and childish, and he should tell Snape because this was Snape’s house, but still!

"I don’t know," Harry crossed his arms.

"Why is the light on?" Snape nodded towards the lamp.

"I couldn’t sleep. I was reading," Harry answered.

"I don’t see a book," Snape glanced around, his shrewd eyes missing nothing.

"I was about to go looking for a book," Harry avoided Snape’s gaze.

"Potter, this is your last chance to tell me who came in. Tell me now, and you won’t get into trouble."

"I don’t know anything about it," Harry insisted. Hopefully, he could talk to Dobby during the night and send him home before morning. Snape would never be the wiser, and Harry could plan his next move.

"Very well," Snape turned down the light and reluctantly headed towards the door.

Harry breathed a moment’s relief, having evaded disaster.

"Oh, and Potter," Snape turned back, his hand on the door handle, "if I find that you’ve been lying to me after I gave you four chances to tell the truth, I will take your trousers down and tan your hide with my ruler until you can’t sit down for two days. Good night."

Snape shut the door behind him ominously, and Harry swallowed. This was bad, very bad. Part of him wanted to run after Snape and confess the whole thing. If he told Snape, surely the man wouldn’t punish him, or at least not as harshly as he had threatened. But another part of Harry resisted coming clean. Snape was always going on about Gryffindor nobility and honor, sneering at their virtue. Let’s see how Snape liked the Slytherian side of the Boy-Who-Lived. Besides, you were only in trouble once you were caught, and Harry had no intention of getting caught.

He waited about ten minutes, just to be on the safe side, and then whispered, "Dobby, come back."

The house elf appeared, looking very worried. "Dobby was watching, and Dobby very worried. Harry Potter lie to Mr. Snape, and Mr. Snape promise to punish Harry Potter for lying. Dobby would like to help, but he can’t stop Mr. Snape, not if Mr. Snape is Harry Potter’s guardian."

Well, that was just wonderful. Dobby could ruin the Dursleys’ dinner party if he wanted to, but he couldn’t stop a wrathful potions master from spanking the hero of the wizarding world. Just wonderful.

"Dobby, I need you to tell me about Malfoy Manor," Harry said hastily. "Do they have a thing called the Necklace of Timord over there?"

"Yes, yes, but Dobby is not wanting to talk about Malfoy Manor," the house elf squeaked. "Dobby would be glad to talk about Hogwarts. Winky is doing much better, and Dumbledore thinks about Harry Potter, and the whole kitchens is planning new treats for the school year. A pudding as tall as Harry Potter himself, with dates and nuts and toffee sprinkled –"

"Where in the house is the Necklace?" Harry interrupted.

Dobby shook his head. "No, no, Dobby cannot say. Dobby never say anything about the house. Dobby bad to think about his owners . . ."

Suddenly, the house elf leapt off the bed and started running himself into the wall, banging his stubby nose and forehead over and over again. The hats flew in every directions, and he was squealing and making enough noise to bring Snape running back into the room.

"Stop!" Harry jumped out of bed and grabbed one of Dobby’s bony arms. He swung the house elf onto the bed and clamped a hand over his mouth. "Quiet down, or Snape will come and he’ll be angry. If you can’t tell me where the Necklace is hidden, can you tell me about the layout of the place? Like how the manor is shaped, and where the rooms are, and where they hide things that need to be hidden? Ron said they’ve done raids over there."

"Yes," Dobby wore a miserable expression, "horrible things they were. Master would be so angry, and Dobby would have to punish himself over and over again. Once Dobby had to –" the house elf broke off with a shudder and hid his large face in his hands. "No, no, no, Dobby not talk about Master or the family. Dobby must not, must not."

"Dobby, Lucius Malfoy is in prison," Harry reminded the elf. "He can’t hurt you from there."

"Master Malfoy has many friends," Dobby crouched behind the bed until Harry could see only his round, staring eyes. "Many friends who would hurt . . . kill Dobby for talking about Master. And Mistress is still at the manor with Young Master."

This was going to be harder than Harry had thought. Dobby would not willingly part with information, and Harry knew it would be a while before he could get anything from the skittish house elf. He would have to get Dobby to stay for a while and slowly coax the information out of him. "Dobby," Harry tried to sound casual, "I was wondering if you would like to stay here for a few days? You’d have to keep out of sight, and stay hidden, but I’d love some company. It gets lonely here – just Snape and me."

He felt awful for lying. After all the poor house elf had been through – but Harry was lonely, and it would be nice to have someone to talk to that didn’t yell or scold him every second of the day.

The house elf gave a grand bow. "Dobby would like to stay, but only for one day. Dobby thinks Harry Potter should tell Mr. Snape about Dobby staying here, but Dobby understands how Harry Potter feels. Dobby will keep quiet and stay hidden. Dobby will appear in morning because Harry Potter is needing sleep. Good night."

The house elf disappeared with a small pop, and Harry lay back on his pillows, listening to the quiet sounds of the wind outside and the occasional creaking of the manor. He would have to get the information from the house elf and then send him away before attempting a barrage on Malfoy Manor. Dobby would probably tell Snape before he would let Harry Potter go to the horror that was Malfoy Manor.

Harry tried to get comfortable on the bed. The mattress was soft, the covers warm, and the pillows gentle under his head, but his stomach was doing uneasy flipflops. In the last few days, he had done a lot of things that he shouldn’t. He didn’t count things like trying to read Snape’s thoughts or blowing up the potions store. He had already been punished for them, and in his mind at least, a punishment erased the crime for those keeping score. But then there was trying to find a way into Malfoy Manor, going into Borgin and Borkes, lying about where he had been in Diagon Alley, testing the barriers near Malfoy Manor while knowing full-well he would be breaking through sooner or later, getting Dobby to come to Snapdragon Manor, lying repeatedly about Dobby being there, planning to hide Dobby for the next day, and finally trying to trick Dobby into giving information about the Malfoys. That was a long list. If Snape found out about one of those things, Harry would be in trouble. If he knew about all of them . . .

Harry tried not to think about that. He was on a mission, a hunt to find what he needed and to make things right. His intentions were perfectly honest; so what if his means were a little shady? In the end, everyone would be grateful for what he did: Sirius would be back, the Diggorys would have their son, and Snape would not have to spend all summer with his enemy’s son who constantly kept misbehaving.

Nevertheless, Harry was finding it harder and harder to convince himself of the rightness of his actions. This time, he went over his well-meaning actions four times before his conscience would allow him to settle down for the night. He drifted into an uneasy sleep where he was trapped in a maze of Malfoy Manor, trying to find Dobby and running from Snape who was holding out his wand while a hundred rulers flapped overhead menacingly, ready to have a go at Harry.

-----

Snape did not mention the previous incident at breakfast, but the man’s indifference only made Harry more nervous. Five years of classes had taught Harry that Snape rarely miss an opportunity to remind Harry of his abysmal behavior, and when Snape said nothing as they started eating, Harry grew even more worried. He wanted to say something about it, but saying anything to remind Snape would make Harry look guilty, and how could he say anything without lying again? After all, let’s face it – the more lies he told the more likely Snape was to catch him. Yet, it was terrible to just sit there and eat in the raw silence.

"I would like you to stick to the schedule today," Snape commented in between bites of egg. "I know a few days you’ve wandered away from it, but today you might as well keep to it, seeing as how I will be absent for most of the day."

"Where are you going?" Harry immediately asked.

"I have a few matters I need to attend to," Snape reached for another piece of toast.

"No, really," Harry insisted. "Where are you going? Is it another Death Eater meeting? I thought those only happened at night."

"Potter, it is rude to ask someone where they are going more than once," Snape frowned at Harry’s lack of manners. "If I do not answer right away, it would be prudent for you to assume that I either cannot or will not tell you."

"If I announced that I was leaving for the day, you would demand to know where I was going," Harry pointed out. "Why is it so wrong for me to ask you?"

"I am the guardian, you are the ward. I am in charge, and your one job is to try and survive the summer as best you can. So far, you’ve annoyed me everyday and managed to be far more trouble than I ever thought possible. Eat your breakfast, and be quiet, or you’ll be weeding the garden again this afternoon."

Harry nearly retorted that weeding wasn’t on the schedule, but caught himself just in time. There was no reason to add talking back to his list of sins. He was surprised at himself for feeling the way he did; after all, he had lied and snuck around at Hogwarts all last year, dodging Umbridge’s every move. But she had been trying to back his life miserable and Snape was, too, but Harry felt guilty about lying to Snape whereas he had almost enjoyed lying to Umbridge.

"I won’t ask where you’re going," Harry assented, "but you’ll be back later, right? And it’s not a Death Eater meeting? Just tell me it’s not a Death Eater meeting."

"And if I don’t?" a hint of a smirk played around Snape’s lips.

"Then I’ll think about it all day, and you know what happens when I think too much . . .

The smirk almost turned into a smile, but Snape caught himself just in time and schooled his _expression into a glower. "If you’re trying to blackmail me, I’ll lock you in your room and you can think all you like. But just to put your mind at ease, it’s not a Death Eater meeting."

Harry did not believe him entirely. He wished Snape’s sleeves were a bit shorter so he might catch a glimpse of the Death Mark and see if it were glowing. But Harry could think of no excuse to grab Snape’s sleeve and pull it up, so he kept eating.

After breakfast, though he was supposed to be out briskly walking the gardens, Harry hung around the entrance room, waiting to see how Snape left. Harry toyed with his green cloak though it was too hot for a cloak, and he pretended to have trouble with the clasp. It was nearly nine o’clock when Snape strode towards the hall, a large, leather satchel in hand.

"Potter, what are you doing? Get outside and start walking. You need some exercise so you don’t get fidgety tonight."

"I couldn’t get the clasp open," Harry said, then winced inwardly. Yet another lie. At this rate, perhaps it was best not to count them. By the end of the summer, he would have the word Liar tattooed across his face, like Marietta Edgecombe had the word Sneak when she betrayed the DA.

"Nonsense, it’s too hot for a cloak. You’ll get heatstroke and be sick. Stay out of the sun – you’re too pale and you’ll burn."

"I am not pale," Harry hung up the cloak and followed Snape outside. "You make me sound like a milksop or some puny invalid. I’m fine – I fly and play Quidditch in case you didn’t know."

"Yet someone keeps ending up in the hospital wing and faints when he sees dementors."

"That’s not fair! You know what they do to me," Harry felt his cheeks turning red, and he wondered if they looked scarlet because he was so pale, according to Snape.

"Calm down. The whole school knows what they do to you. All that swooning and falling, another attention-seeking ploy by our famous hero."

"Says the nasty potions master who looks like a dementors." It was a weak comeback, and Harry wasn’t even sure what it meant, but he couldn’t let Snape think he had fainted just to get attention.

"Most interesting of all," Snape continued, fastening the buckles of the satchel, "was the fact that the boggart turned into a dementor for you. I was sure that it would become the Dark Lord. I never would have dremt it would be a dementor to scare our hero."

"What? After all those awful potions classes, you thought the boggart should turn into you?" Harry scoffed.

Snape’s eyes narrowed, and Harry knew he was thinking about the time Neville’s boggart turned into Snape and then was defeated by wearing his grandmother’s clothes.

Harry thought about the huge hat the boggart-Snape had worn, and he snickered before he could stop himself.

"Start walking, Potter, or I’ll throw you in the lake," Snape threatened. "And you better behave, or you find that dementors are the least of your worries. The house elves are only going to bother you if you do something dangerous or foolish, and I expect you to keep to your schedule."

"Yes, your majesty," Harry wanted to give a mock bow, but he contented himself with nodding his head towards Snape.

Snape looked every inch of the stern, foreboding guardian, and despite his sarcastic tone, Harry couldn’t help feel like a little boy under Snape’s unwavering gaze. Then there was a loud crack, and Snape disappeared. Harry glanced around, but he knew it was pointless. Snape had Disapparated, and he could be anywhere by now. Harry had hoped that the man might leave by broom or charmed car, so Harry would have an idea where or not Snape was going somewhere magical. But he knew Snape didn’t like flying much, and the charmed car had already been returned.

Well, Snape would just have to take care of himself. As long as he wasn’t at a Death Eater meeting, everything would be fine. But what if Voldemort had arranged a private meeting, just the two of them? That wouldn’t be a Death Eater, technically. Just the two of them so Voldemort could have a little practice time to perfect his torturing curses.

The warm sunlight suddenly felt cold and menacing, and Harry forced himself to walk towards the lake, away from the manor. Snape was an adult and could take care of himself. Harry tried not to remember how weak and haggard Snape had looked the another night as he dragged himself in, that horrible look in his eyes that spoke of pain and suffering.

"Dobby?" Harry called out softly. The house elf would distract him for now. "Dobby can you hear me?"

The bustles rustled, and Dobby stepped out, pulling leaves and twigs from his many hats. "Good morning, Harry Potter. Dobby see Harry Potter go outside, and Dobby follows, knowing Harry Potter would like company. Harry Potter is kind to be worried about Mr. Snape, but Harry Potter is kind to everyone."

"Not everyone," Harry sat on a large rock by the lake and picked up a few rocks. He flung them haphazardly into the water, watching the ripples as he said very casually, "I’m not very nice to my cousin sometimes, pretending to be about to hex him so he runs away. And I’m not nice to – er, Crabbe and Goyle. And I’m definitely not nice to Draco Malfoy."

Harry wanted to see how Dobby was taking the mention of his former Young Master, but Harry didn’t dare look at the house elf for fear of giving himself away. "Yeah, Draco and I aren’t friends, but sometimes I wish we were. I thought maybe this summer would be a good time to make it all right. Does he spend summers at home, or do they travel or something like the Weasleys did one summer?"

"They travel, yes," Dobby answered, his voice reluctant. "But with Mr. Malfoy in prison, Dobby is hearing that that Mistress and Young Master are staying at home. Mistress likes her friends, but she no goes to them anymore, Dobby hears."

"I bet Mrs. Malfoy likes to dress up a lot," Harry picked up a flat rock and flung it out. It skipped along the water three times, and Dobby cheered.

"Yes, yes, Harry Potter is good at rocks. Mistress – no, Mrs. Malfoy is always dressing up. Dobby burns her dress one evening, and –" the house elf trembled, hugging his arms to his small body.

"I bet she has a lot of jewelry," Harry bent down to look for another rock. "I have a few pictures of my mum, but she never wore a lot of jewelry."

"Mrs. Malfoy is wearing lots and lots!" Dobby threw up his arms in attempt to show just how much jewelry the woman had. "And when anyone asks, she makes Dobby go fetch to show all the jewelry. Gold, and diamonds, and rings, and pearls – and Dobby only wearing a ripped cloth while he holds up all the trays. Mistress is very proud of her things, very proud."

Harry opened his mouth to ask a question, then thought better of it. There was no reason to tip Dobby off just yet. Instead, he handed a flat rock to the house elf and motioned towards the water. "Go ahead, Dobby. Give it your best shot."

The house elf flung the rock towards the water, and it fell in with a loud splash. Harry grinned. "Nice try, but you want the rock to go on top."

------

Somehow Dobby stayed out of the way of Snape’s two house elves, and around three o’clock, he joined Harry in his room where Harry was supposed to be resting. Harry was still not sure what "resting" entailed. He was not tired, and he was much too old to take a nap. Snape said he needed a quiet time, but Harry did not think he was that loud the rest of the time and always made a point of banging his shoes on the floor as he went to "rest." Before, he just stretched out on his bed and read whatever book he had on hand. Surprisingly, Snape’s library had a wide assortment of books, and though Harry chose primarily books about time-travel, he found a few other good books to read as well. The red book up high that he had tried to reach days ago had vanished, but Harry searched through the shelves hoping to see it hiding somewhere else.

Today, however, he didn’t read, just sat on the edge of his bed and talked to Dobby. The house elf knew most of the secrets of Hogwarts, and Harry listened in amazement as Dobby related stories about students and professors alike. Apparently, Professor McGonagall, for all her strict looks, was a great lover of pink flowers and her quarters held more pictures of roses and tulips than Dobby had ever seen. Ernie MacMillan wrote long letters to his mother every week that were overly sappy, and Pavarti once had died her hair a horrid violet when trying to curl it.

Harry enjoyed the stories, and he could not help thinking that it would be great to return to school armed with knowledge about other people. He was so tired of everyone else knowing so much about his life. He hated when teachers or students pointed out something about him that was important, as if Harry were some specimen to be examined and studied in class.

Harry thought fleetingly of trying to get more information out of Dobby, but he doubted that the house elf could or would tell him anything else useful. The only think that might help further would be a map of Malfoy Manor, and Harry doubted that Dobby would sketch out a floor plan for him. Harry would have to find a way in himself.

Having run out of stories to tell, Dobby hopped up on the bed. "Harry Potter thinks Dobby’s stories are amusing, but Harry Potter has not seen any of Dobby’s other tricks."

"What kind of tricks?" Harry asked.

Dobby produced a handful of bright red balls out of thin air and began juggling them. Harry could hear the balls landing on Dobby’s bony hands, but Harry was sure no one could juggle six balls so fast. The balls were making a blurry red circle in the air, going faster and faster. Then a picture appeared in the circle of the circling balls: it was Harry flying on a broom. Harry watched fascinated as the picture-him flew around and around. It was like watching a movie suspended in mid-air.

Then Dobby dropped the balls. The balls hit the floor heavily, bouncing once or twice before rolling around. Harry started, jarred back to the present. He saw Dobby looking at something, and Harry glanced where the house elf was staring.

Then the world stopped. Time slowed, and the only thing moving was the loud pounding of Harry’s heart in his chest.

In the doorway stood a very cross-looking, very displeased, very stern Snape looking straight at Harry and Dobby.