A small, familiar being was stepping into view. The creature outline was now visible.
The being was much shorter in stature than humans, standing only around 1 meter. First, Harry saw the two bat-like pointed ears, and then, when the being was fully visible, he saw the large, green eyes, a pencil-like nose, and brown skin. Harry immediately recognized the being wearing a mismatched variety of jumpers, shorts, and socks.
It was Dobby the house elf.
"Dobby?" Harry gasped, his voice a mix of surprise and relief.
Dobby's enormous, rounded eyes were wide, and he was trembling from his feet to the tips of his ears. He was back in the home of his old masters, and it was clear that he was petrified.
"Harry Potter," he squeaked in the tiniest quiver of a voice, "Dobby has come to rescue you." He kept turning his head, looking around as if the Malfoys were going to appear any second now.
Harry, his initial shock giving way to gratitude, managed a weak smile. "Dobby, how did you... I mean, why are you here?"
"Sir Harry Potter asked for help. Dobby came to help his best friend."
Harry watched as the elf approached. However, as if guided by an unseen force, the elf's attention was diverted to a piece of cloth lying on the cold cellar floor. Harry noticed the change in Dobby's focus and watched curiously as the elf's eyes fixated on the familiar, tattered piece of fabric.
The cloth, worn and stained, was a remnant of Dobby's previous servitude to the Malfoy family. It represented a time when he was enslaved and mistreated. Yet, instead of revulsion, an inexplicable attraction seemed to pour from the fabric, drawing Dobby toward it with an undeniable pull.
Seeing this strange act, Harry became worried. "What is it, Dobby?"
Dobby, giving in to this strange urge, reached down and took hold of the cloth. "This is the previous cloth that Dobby wore. Dobby wants it back."
His long fingers curled around the fabric and lifted it from the ground.
On his side, Harry watched anxiously. They should not be wasting time like this. What if someone came? He wanted to rush Dobby, yet he could not deny his saviour just a few seconds for his own.
Harry felt his worry was for nothing as Dobby hugged the old piece of cloth, and a serene smile spread across Dobby's face.
"This is what Dobby used to wear before, kind Sir Harry, free Dobby."
Dobby's enormous eyes met Harry's gaze. The elf's smile grew as he had finally found a way to repay the kindness Harry had shown him in the past.
However, as Harry looked closer, he saw an unsettling change in Dobby's eyes. They were no longer the bright, vibrant orbs he remembered but were now filled with an unnatural red color.
"Are you okay, Dobby?" Harry asked.
He couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.
"Yes, Dobby now coming to rescue Harry Potter." As he said that, Dobby closed his eyes and resumed his approach. But just as the elf took another step, his eyelid was unable to hold whatever was expanding inside his eyes.
Harry realized that it was blood as they began to erupt from the elf's eyes.
Harry flinched. He blinked hard, convinced it was a trick of the light. But no, he saw it.
"D-Dobby?" Harry whispered again, frozen in place.
But this was just the start of the nightmare.
Dobby coughed. It was harsh, dry. But what escaped his mouth wasn't air. A thick, dark glob of blood splattered on the floor.
Then another. And another.
To Harry's shock, the blood was also starting to flow out from Dobby's mouth and nose.
"Dobby!" Harry cried out.
He was so relieved when Dobby first appeared, but now it was replaced by shock and horror.
Harry, paralyzed by the surreal and gruesome spectacle, could hardly comprehend what was unfolding before him.
As the seconds ticked by, the blood did not show any sign of decrease. Harry, overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness, desperately called out, "Please! What's happening? Tell me what's happening!"
The elf's legs buckled.
Suddenly, Dobby crumpled to the floor, falling onto his own blood. Dobby's trembling hand rose weakly, his fingers twitching as he tried to point at Harry. His lips parted. Harry could barely make out the words, "It... hurts..."
But before Dobby could say more, his arm gave out. His small hand hit the blood-soaked floor with a splat, his body going completely motionless.
"Dobby, wake up." Harry could not believe what was happening in front of him. "Please wake up, there is no need to save me. Just wake up!"
Finally, reality struck Harry as there was no response.
Harry, his eyes wide with shock and sorrow, stared at Dobby's lifeless form. The once-vibrant eyes were now vacant.
Harry let out a sudden agonizing cry that echoed through the cellar and even reached the floor above the mansion.
"No... noo!"
These were the very same cries that Voldemort heard just before commanding Wormtail to spy on Nicolas Flamel.
"No." Harry's voice cracked. "No. No, no, no, no…"
"Wake up. Please, Dobby... wake up! You don't have to save me, you don't... just wake up!"
Harry did not know how long he remained staring at the elf's corpse.
Only when the blood on the floor flowed toward him did he finally break from his trance. Panic gripped him as he desperately evaded the advancing streams, his mind struggling to accept the grim reality unfolding before him.
"How... How did this happen?" Harry whispered, his voice shaky with disbelief and grief. He couldn't comprehend the sudden and brutal demise of his loyal friend.
In his desperate attempt to make sense of the situation, Harry replayed the events in his mind. He was begging for someone to come help him. Then Dobby appeared, saying he was here to save Harry.
Harry's eyes widened as he reached a conclusion.
"If I hadn't asked for help, if Dobby hadn't come..." Harry's thoughts spiraled into a whirlpool of self-blame.
Tears blurred Harry's vision as he continued to evade the spreading blood.
First, it was Cedric, and now Dobby.
Harry's mind, unable to reconcile the reality before him, succumbed to the overwhelming shock. He fell on the cold stone floor, his consciousness slipping away.