"Hmm? What's wrong, meow?"
The little black cat emerged from the translucent container, carrying a pile of luxurious velvet fabric in its tiny paws. It noticed Harry's expression had shifted to something between confusion and alarm.
Following Harry's startled gaze, the spectral feline quickly spotted the diminutive figure standing beside the bed. The creature wore what appeared to be a tattered cloth sack, its thin arms and legs trembling with nervous energy.
"It's you again, meow!"
Emerald fire blazed in the little black cat's eyes as recognition dawned. Fury transformed its ethereal features as it let out an indignant yowl and launched itself forward with predatory intent.
The memories came flooding back with crystal clarity. At Harry's aunt's house, this miserable little monster had tried to prevent Harry from returning to school. At King's Cross Station, it had nearly caused them to miss the Hogwarts Express entirely!
Now it dared to appear before them once more!
It would bite the wretched thing to death, meow!
The ghostly feline aimed for Dobby's spindly arm, but the house-elf's reflexes proved surprisingly quick. He dodged with desperate agility, his massive tennis ball eyes wide with panic.
After two failed pouncing attempts, the little black cat noticed the infuriating smile spreading across the creature's face. Its spectral fur bristled with outrage as it suddenly drew a miniature wand from its ethereal waist.
"Hmph, Wingardium Leviosa, meow!"
Dobby's feet left the ground as the Levitation Charm took hold, sending him floating helplessly through the air. He flailed his arms frantically while dodging another aerial assault from the furious feline.
"Don't! Dobby has very important things to tell Harry Potter!" The house-elf squeaked in terror, his bulging eyes fixed pleadingly on Harry.
"How about we listen to what he wants to say?" Harry suggested hesitantly, watching the ongoing magical chase with growing concern.
Hearing Harry's intervention, the little black cat ceased its relentless attacks with visible reluctance, though it continued glaring daggers at the floating house-elf.
"What do you want to say, meow!" it demanded with barely contained hostility.
Released from the charm's effects, Dobby crashed to the floor with an ungraceful thud. After catching his breath and straightening his makeshift garment, he looked at Harry with deep worry etched across his wrinkled features.
"Harry Potter should not have returned to school, sir. You should never have come back."
"You said that before, but why?" Harry studied Dobby with mounting bewilderment.
This house-elf had made the same cryptic warning months ago. According to the little black cat, when they'd attempted to board the train, this very creature had used magic to seal the barrier at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. If his ghostly companion hadn't discovered the sabotage, they would have missed their journey to Hogwarts entirely.
"Forgive Dobby, sir, but Dobby cannot say more. You must trust Dobby!" The house-elf's voice carried desperate pleading. "Originally, Dobby planned to tamper with your Bludger when Harry Potter played Quidditch but never found the proper opportunity."
A violent shudder wracked Dobby's frame as he recalled his failed attempts. Once, he'd nearly found the perfect moment, but just as he'd prepared to execute his sabotage, that professor who remained close to Harry Potter had passed by carrying a Niffler. The unexpected presence had terrified him into abandoning the plan.
Even though he'd never followed through, that sharp-eyed professor had seemed to sense his lurking presence. If Dobby had actually tampered with the Bludger, that formidable wizard would certainly have intervened.
Then making Harry Potter leave school would become even more impossible. Since house-elf magic prevented him from speaking ill of his master to others, he had no way to explain his true motivations for wanting Harry's departure.
"You still want to harm Harry, meow!"
After processing Dobby's confession, the little black cat prepared for another furious assault. But just then, rustling sounds emerged from a nearby bed.
Perhaps their commotion had grown too loud. Seamus from the neighbouring four-poster seemed to have awakened and was fumbling for his slippers in the darkness.
Hearing the disturbance, Dobby straightened with renewed urgency and fixed Harry with one final, desperate look.
"Harry Potter cannot remain in this school. They have already begun to act. When they finish their terrible work, when the master is free, Harry Potter will surely face revenge!"
His voice dropped to a horrified whisper. "This is a conspiracy, a conspiracy targeting both Harry Potter and this ancient school."
"Harry Potter must leave. Harry Potter must leave..."
Dobby continued his frantic muttering, raised his hand with a theatrical flourish, and snapped his fingers. The sharp crack echoed through the dormitory as he vanished into thin air.
The next second, Harry's bed curtains were yanked open to reveal Seamus peering at him through bleary, sleep-heavy eyes.
"What was all that noise about?"
The following morning dawned crisp and clear.
Draco carefully arranged his textbooks and parchment notes across the Slytherin common room table, then paused as his gaze fell upon the diary nestled within his bag's inner compartment.
For months, he'd kept this mysterious journal pressed close to his body, treating it like a treasured possession. But after yesterday's terrifying incident during the duel, he no longer dared maintain such intimate contact with the cursed object.
Recently, episodes of confusion had been occurring with alarming frequency. Though each blackout lasted only minutes, afterward he would invariably discover himself in completely inexplicable locations throughout the castle.
Sometimes he'd awaken in abandoned bathrooms filled with broken fixtures and stagnant water. Other times he'd find himself standing in shadowy corridors he'd never seen before. The most disturbing incident had left him on the school grounds at dawn, clutching a struggling rooster in his trembling hands with absolutely no memory of how he'd acquired the terrified bird.
He'd long wondered about the source of these mysterious episodes, but as the diary's communications grew more frequent and insistent, the blackouts had increased proportionally.
Yesterday's duel had finally provided the missing piece of this horrifying puzzle.
The sensation of foreign magical power flowing through his body had been unmistakably clear. He remained absolutely certain that such a devastatingly powerful Reductor Curse lay far beyond his current capabilities.
Given this evidence, the cause of his confusion no longer required investigation.
Staring at the innocuous leather-bound journal, Draco hesitated for several heartbeats before speaking in a carefully controlled whisper.
"Yesterday, you were the one who cast that spell, weren't you?"
Golden letters materialised across the page with elegant flourishes.
[Helping you defeat your opponent. Isn't that wonderful?]
"I don't want to defeat him through such methods." Draco's response carried firm determination as he wrote carefully. "Could you please refrain from such actions in the future?"
[Oh, of course, Draco.]
The diary's handwriting flowed with deceptive gentleness before a new line appeared below.
[We are friends, aren't we?]
Reading those seemingly innocent words, Draco felt ice-cold dread spreading through his chest.
Recalling the journal's behaviour over the past month, he finally acknowledged the terror he'd been suppressing.
It had made similar statements before, and every time those particular words appeared, a strange warmth would bloom in his heart. As if the diary truly was his closest friend and confidant.
But Draco knew with absolute certainty that he'd never genuinely considered this journal a friend. The emotion felt foreign, imposed, and utterly wrong.
So where did these artificial feelings originate?
Moreover, if his blackouts resulted from the diary temporarily possessing his body, what exactly had it been controlling him to do during all those lost hours?
Watching the golden text gradually fade from the pages, sudden determination blazed in Draco's grey eyes.
This madness had to end.
He reached out with steady hands, grasped the diary's leather spine, and before the malevolent artefact could react, threw open the window beside him and hurled it into the morning air.
After completing this decisive action, his expression grew melancholy as an overwhelming sense of loss crashed over him like a physical blow.
This book has provided invaluable assistance during the past month. If circumstances were different, he genuinely wouldn't have wanted to discard it.
But he understood with crystal clarity that keeping the diary would only invite more episodes of terrifying possession.
"Bang!"
A distant thud echoed from the courtyard below, presumably the sound of leather and parchment striking stone.
Forcibly suppressing the artificial grief clawing at his heart, Draco turned his attention to the textbooks spread before him with determined focus.
Better to study. As long as he immersed himself in academic pursuits, all those manipulative emotions would disappear entirely.