That question was a precise key.
It slid into the darkest, most fear-soaked lock in Winky's memory.
Then came the violent twist.
"Ah,—!"
A scream unlike anything human erupted from Winky's small body. It sounded like it came from an abyss in another dimension entirely, every inch of it saturated with the agony of being torn apart and a despair that had no edges, no end.
Her body convulsed violently, bouncing and twitching against the cold stone floor.
Her eyeballs rolled back. Only white remained.
She had broken.
In that instant, every drop of color drained from Ron's face. He went as pale as the wall behind him. The scream turned solid, became ice spikes, pierced straight through his eardrums and buried itself in his hammering heart.
This was the moment.
A light that had never existed before burst from Dobby's tennis-ball eyes.
Professor Holmes's words rang through his skull like a bell.
"Learn to walk on your own."
He exploded out of the shadowy kitchen corner.
He threw his pitifully thin arms wide , like an angry little bird shielding its nest , and planted himself between Moody and Winky. Every ounce of strength he had went into his voice. It came out so sharp it nearly tore him apart.
"You must not hurt Winky!"
"Dobby will protect her!"
"Dobby — is a free elf!"
Moody's Magical Eye, spinning its endless wild rotations, stopped.
It froze.
Locked on. Absolutely, completely locked on this ignorant little creature standing before it.
Then something happened on that scarred, deeply furrowed face.
A cold, twisted smile. Crawling across it, inch by inch.
"Brave little thing."
Moody's voice rolled up from somewhere deep in his throat, thick with lethal promise.
"But sometimes, bravery and foolishness are separated by nothing more than a thin layer of skin."
He slowly straightened his hunched body.
The air in the room shifted.
One moment he was a manic interrogator. The next, he had snapped back into the iron-faced, impartial Hogwarts Academic Affairs Office inspector, without a single crack in the transition.
"This unauthorized gathering of students and staff constitutes a serious violation."
His voice wasn't raised. It didn't need to be. It carried like it was enchanted, threading cleanly into every corner of the kitchen, into every set of ears.
"Given that this gathering has severely disrupted the normal working order of the kitchens."
"Gryffindor loses twenty points."
"No!" Ron blurted out. Anger and indignation burned his ears red.
Harry seized his arm before he could lunge forward. Harry's own gaze stayed locked on Moody, but there was a stone in his throat, heavy and immovable, and nothing came out.
Moody's Magical Eye drifted slowly toward Hermione.
"As for your so-called 'cooking competition.'"
"Professor Holmes does not have that authority."
"Any school-wide activity must be submitted for application by the relevant Head of House and approved by the Academic Affairs Office."
"This proposal of yours , on behalf of the Academic Affairs Office, I—"
He paused. Savored the color leaving Hermione's face.
"Reject it."
Each word landed like a cold iron hammer.
Shattering everything Hermione had built, piece by careful piece.
Then Moody turned. In the last second before his wooden leg carried him out the door, his normal brown eye , the human one , swept a long, meaningful glance across Winky, still twitching on the floor.
No anger in that look. No suspicion.
Just a barely perceptible, complex confirmation.
A hunter, checking that the right prey had stumbled into the right trap.
Then he was gone.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The heavy rhythm of wood striking stone , carrying the unhurried cadence of a victor , faded through the door and disappeared.
The kitchen was left looking like a party after a gale had torn through it. A group of badly shaken house-elves. And the trio, forced to leave.
They gathered up Winky, who was still sobbing quietly, and walked out under the complicated stares of the other elves. Those looks held sympathy and fear. But more than either of those, they held relief.
---
The fire in the Gryffindor common room crackled and popped.
Warm light danced across three grave faces. No one felt any of the warmth.
The air sat heavy as a lead ingot, pressing down on every chest.
"Moody wasn't randomly losing his mind."
Hermione had found her voice again. She sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, staring into the flames. Her logic was cold and precise.
"He was after Winky."
Ron slumped back into the sofa. "But what right does he have? Winky didn't do anything!"
"No, Ron. That's not the point." Hermione shook her head. "The point is that Moody thinks she knows something."
"He knows something happened the night of the World Cup. He went to the kitchens specifically to pry that information out of her."
Harry's hand drifted unconsciously to the scar on his forehead.
It had started aching the moment Moody appeared. Not a sharp pain , something else. A resonance. An ancient alarm buried under skin and bone, humming low as a specific presence drew near.
"But why?" Harry's voice was full of confusion. "What exactly is Mr. Crouch's secret?"
Hermione repeated the words softly, almost to herself. "A secret significant enough that Mad-Eye Moody would investigate it this way..."
Ron's anger burned out the way a scrap of paper burns , fast and completely, leaving only gray frustration behind.
Harry sank into a different kind of silence.
The lightning-shaped brand on his forehead still held a faint, prickling warmth even now that Moody was gone. He knew the feeling too well. It only rang for specific dangers.
"Mr. Crouch's secret..."
Hermione's voice drew him back. She looked up, her gaze moving between Harry and Ron before settling on his scar.
"Harry , do you think this secret might be connected to..." She paused. The name itself seemed to carry weight, made the air thicker around it. "You-Know-Who?"
---
In Douglas's office.
After Dobby settled Winky down, he pushed the door open carefully and slipped inside. He set a cup of hot cocoa gently on the desk.
He had already told Professor Holmes everything , every detail of what happened in the kitchen, exactly as it unfolded.
Douglas had simply listened.
No anger. No surprise. The expression of someone hearing a story whose ending they already know.
He reached out and rubbed Dobby's large, bat-like ears. The texture was like soft, worn velvet.
"It's all right, Dobby." His voice was gentle and even. "For the cooking competition , I'll go speak with Head of House Sprout. I think she'll be more than glad to help."
Then he looked into Dobby's eyes with complete seriousness.
"You did very well. You protected your friend. That matters more than anything else." He gave the ears one last gentle pat. "Keep looking after Winky. Right now, what she needs most is a friend."
"Yes, Professor." Dobby's great eyes went bright.
"As for what happened the night of the World Cup..."
Douglas's gaze shifted to the window. To the Forbidden Forest, dark and soaked in night beyond the glass.
"I know now."
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
"We just need to wait for the signal."
Dobby nodded, understanding some of it, perhaps not all.
Silence reclaimed the office.
---
A week passed the way a single drop of water falls into a deep well. It left a few small, insignificant ripples across the vast castle of Hogwarts, then vanished without a trace.
The stir from the kitchen incident was swallowed quickly , buried under the weight of coursework and the castle's perpetual noise.
Douglas's office remained, as always, quiet.
The air carried a faint scent of pine, threaded through with cooled metal and old parchment.
He was bent over his workbench, his focus as absolute as a Muggle craftsman restoring an antique clock. A slender silver needle glinted softly between his fingers. Beneath its tip sat a transparent glass bead, no bigger than a thumbnail.
Each time the needle descended, it left a rune inside the bead , fine as a single strand of hair.
Not Ancient Runes.
Not any known magical symbol.
Something from a distant Eastern land. Another ancient power entirely , Chinese characters.
Draw.
Dragon.
Dot.
Eye.
This was his current research: a tracking charm built around an ancient Eastern idiom. He was trying to press a concept , an image , directly into the core of a magical artifact.
If it worked, this glass bead would cease to be a simple tracker.
It would become a living beacon.
The moment the marked target appeared, it would be like a dragon given a soul.
And open its eyes.
Suddenly ,
Beep , beep , beep ,!
A rapid, ear-splitting alarm tore through the quiet office without any warning.
Sharp. Piercing. Like a rusted saw dragged hard across every auditory nerve.
The hand holding the silver needle went rigid.
Douglas jerked his head up.
The magical radar.
---
PS: Daily Question.
The core limitation of the house-elf "Compulsory Obedience Charm" is ( )
A. Cannot force an elf to harm itself (e.g., stab itself with a knife)
B. Ineffective against elves possessing a "family crest"
C. The spell's effect cannot last longer than 72 hours
D. Must be personally recited by the family heir to take effect
➤ Next: Senior Tom, You Were Ultimately Even More Impatient Than I Thought!
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