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Chapter 133 — The House-Elf Whose Eyes Burn the Soul!!
After Dumbledore confirmed the matter several times, he finally accepted that Nicolas Flamel was absolutely serious.
He also finally understood why Nicolas had made such a drastic decision.
Nicolas had actually entered Darren's spiritual world.
Although the outcome was good, such behavior was far too dangerous.
If Darren had the slightest impurity in his heart, Nicolas would have become a shell—
a body with only physical life, no soul, a fate no different from someone kissed by a Dementor.
He would have been buried alive, trapped in a living body.
And once that happened, there would be no possibility of Nicolas embarking on one last great adventure with Perenelle.
Even the idea of adopting Darren would have died then and there.
Still… adopting Darren was not a bad thing.
Darren's future concerned him deeply.
Harry was the heir of the Potter family, and Dumbledore had already spoken with the portraits of the Potters.
They had not yet given a definite answer.
But—
hadn't they already implied their will by approving Harry's inheritance of the Invisibility Cloak?
If Harry received the Cloak, it meant the Potter ancestors had chosen him.
Which, in turn, made Darren's situation look even more pitiable.
So if Nicolas and Perenelle wanted to raise him as their heir…
it was, in every way, a blessing.
Nicolas would never let Darren starve or suffer.
Even if he did not give Darren a fortune, the knowledge he could teach was priceless.
From this perspective, the Potters would surely agree.
As for Darren himself…
Nicolas could handle it.
Dumbledore no longer intended to mislead the child.
He took Nicolas's letter, filled it with several lines of gentle explanations, and handed it to Fawkes.
The phoenix delivered it directly to Page, the Potter family house-elf.
Page would read it to the ancestors in the portrait hall…
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At Privet Drive
Harry stared in horror at the creature sitting on Darren's bed.
A house-elf.
He certainly knew what house-elves were—
the Potter family had one: Page.
Page was dignified, clean, organized, strict, and frighteningly meticulous.
Every time Page was beside him, Harry felt like a junior standing before an old general.
But Darren always said Page was gentle and sentimental.
Harry was convinced Darren simply thought all elders were gentle.
Still—Harry respected Page deeply.
Page not only managed money but also purchased clothes and supplies for both brothers.
Harry never knew their prices, but judging by other people's reactions, they were valuable.
At first, he felt embarrassed accepting them.
But once Darren explained he had asked Page to spend the money, Harry accepted—
because Darren was always soft-hearted like that.
Darren always left Harry embarrassed by being too considerate.
But… that was their bond as brothers.
However—
that was not the point right now.
The point was—
How can house-elves differ so much?!
The one in front of him had Page's large bat-like ears and huge eyes,
but it was filthy.
Absolutely filthy.
It was sitting directly on Darren's bed.
Harry's mind went blank.
Darren is going to scream. Aunt Petunia is going to scream. I am going to scream.
He already pictured himself needing to convince Aunt Petunia to throw away Darren's sheets entirely.
Darren would faint from disgust.
Actually—Harry was already close to fainting himself.
For Merlin's sake—
were there house-elves who didn't believe in cleanliness at all?
Fortunately, Darren was downstairs entertaining Uncle Vernon's business guests, the Masons.
Aunt Petunia had prepared a lavish dinner.
Darren had tried dragging him down as well, but Harry had fled.
He hated those occasions.
Of course, Darren—thoughtful as always—had forced enough food into him first so he wouldn't go hungry.
Now, Harry was simply grateful Darren wasn't here to see this disaster.
He was protecting his brother's eyes. That was his duty.
"You are… who?" Harry asked carefully.
He could still hear Mrs. Mason's praises drifting up from downstairs—
"What a handsome young man!"
Harry smiled despite himself.
Of course Darren was handsome.
He looked just like their mother.
Just thinking of that made him feel warm.
However, the house-elf misunderstood his smile.
It bowed deeply, trembling, and then squeaked:
"Harry Potter!!
Dobby has waited his whole life to see you—
My name is Dobby!"
Its voice was enormous.
Harry felt his soul leave his body.
Uncle Vernon's final warning echoed in his head—
"If you make a single disturbance, boy, I'll drag you down to greet the guests!"
Harry turned pale.
Ever since Darren appeared, Uncle Vernon no longer feared magic.
But Harry? Uncle Vernon still found him unreliable.
Originally, Harry was supposed to be a decorative prop downstairs.
He refused, and Darren saved him by persuading Uncle Vernon to let Harry go upstairs.
If Dobby exposed him, he'd be doomed.
"You—keep your voice down!" Harry hissed.
"Oh—yes!
Dobby is sorry—Dobby is only too excited to see Harry Potter—!"
Dobby wiped his tears with his filthy rag of a garment.
Harry's face twitched.
Ever since Page managed the household, Harry had become accustomed to order and cleanliness.
Seeing a house-elf behave like this felt unreal.
"You… came because something is wrong?"
"Yes… Dobby has something important…
But Dobby does not know where to begin…
Harry Potter…"
It hesitated.
Harry was annoyed but remained polite.
"You can—sit down and talk."
The instant he said it, he regretted it.
If Darren saw this—
Merlin, burn this entire scene from existence.
He swore he would throw out Darren's quilt the minute Dobby left.
"So polite…
Harry Potter!!"
Dobby burst into noisy tears.
Harry stared in disbelief.
"No one…
has ever…
allowed Dobby…
to sit down…"
It cried even harder.
Harry wondered whether he would die on the spot if Page ever behaved like this.
He even began to miss Page's cold, stern glare.
But that wasn't the bottom.
No.
Dobby had further depths.
Because right after saying that, Dobby suddenly turned—
and smashed his head against the window frame.
"Bad Dobby!
Bad Dobby!
Dobby must punish himself for speaking ill of his masters!"
CRACK!
Harry turned greener than Aunt Petunia's salad.
He desperately wanted to summon Page and beg him to remove this creature.
But imagining Page's disapproving stare, he held himself back.
Maybe… maybe there was something important after all.
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