Another City, Not My Own

"ANOTHER CITY, NOT MY OWN"
Chapter Four
"Dobby's Confession"

In their final year as students at Hogwarts, Fred and George Weasley had been extremely busy inventing new practical jokes for the joke shop that they planned to open in Diagon Alley following their graduation. Harry Potter had given them his winnings from the Triwizard Tournament at the end of the previous year and, the twins said, they were not about to let down their chief investor. George had even taken the magical business management course that was now being offered at Hogwarts by Professor Simoleon, so that they would know how to run the joke shop properly when it opened.

The imagination that the twins showed in creating new magic practical joke items was astounding (to everyone except their parents, of course). In that last year at Hogwarts, Fred and George had invented "Dribble Cauldrons" that dribbled their contents all over the floor; trick magic top hats that did not produce rabbits or doves (instead, a white-gloved hand on a spring popped out of the hat and threw a custard pie in your face); and "Singing Wands," which sang magical songs like "Do You Believe In Magic?," "That Old Black Magic," "I Put A Spell On You," "This Magic Moment," and "Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered." Harry remembered the first time he'd picked up a Singing Wand, thinking it was his own wand. To his surprise, it had immediately started crooning the song "Witchcraft" in a perfect Frank Sinatra voice. ("And although I knoooow it's strictly tabooooooooooo--!")

Among the items invented by the Weasley twins was a special something called "Apparating Soap." It looked and smelled like ordinary soap, until you put water on it. Then, as soon as you smeared the lather on your face or hands, it suddenly Apparated you to a random location somewhere within a three-mile radius. It was useless at Hogwarts, of course, where no one could Apparate inside or outside the castle. But Fred and George had tested it at the Burrow on their brother Percy. He'd used it to wash his hands in the upstairs bathroom and had suddenly been Apparated down to the basement broom closet. After that, Mrs. Weasley had warned the twins that if they ever used Apparating Soap in her house again, she would make them each eat a bar of it.

Harry himself had learned very quickly that you had to be extra careful to make sure that these magic practical joke items didn't fall into the wrong hands. At the end of his fifth year at Hogwarts, Fred and George had given him a special commemorative basket of their best practical jokes, including a bar of Apparating Soap. Harry had taken this basket home with him to Number Four, Privet Drive that summer, where the Apparating Soap had somehow gotten mixed in with the regular soap in the Dursley household. Apparently, Aunt Petunia had seen the soap lying on a table in the hall outside Harry's room and, assuming that it was an ordinary bar of soap, had put it in the upstairs bathroom. A few days later, Harry's cousin Dudley had used the soap while taking a shower.

One second, Dudley had been standing in the shower, singing the most godawful, out-of-tune version of "Stairway To Heaven" as he washed himself with the soap. The next second--POOF!!--he suddenly found himself standing in the recreation room of the Magnolia Crescent Senior Center four blocks away. He'd landed, wearing nothing but soap suds, in the middle of the Saturday Afternoon Ladies' Bridge Club. The resulting stampede of elderly ladies from the Senior Center had made the local TV newscast.

Fortunately, Arabella Figg, a witch with the Order of the Phoenix who lived in the neighborhood, just happened to be a member of the Bridge Club. She was there at the Senior Center when Dudley made his unfortunate sudden appearance. After her companions had all run screaming from the room, overturning tables and chairs and scattering decks of playing cards everywhere, she had quickly conjured up a bathrobe for Dudley to wear. She had coaxed him out from behind the pinball machine where he'd taken refuge and had driven him home, just before the police arrived at the Senior Center to arrest him. Harry had been doing his summer homework in his room at Number Four, Privet Drive all afternoon. He hadn't even known that Dudley was gone until Uncle Vernon, purple-faced, yanked the door of Harry's room off its hinges with one hand and started bellowing at him like an angry drill instructor.

Needless to say, the rest of Harry's time at the Dursley house that summer had been even more tense than usual. Arabella Figg and Professor Dumbledore managed to smooth things over with the Misuse of Magic Office at the Ministry of Magic, saying the whole thing had been an unfortunate accident. But Harry's relatives were less forgiving. They simply stopped speaking to him--which was tolerable (even preferable as far as Harry was concerned). But each time he walked into the kitchen or living room, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would fix him with angry, withering looks, as if they were trying to burn holes into his skin using heat vision. They would stare at him relentlessly, their searing gazes following him around the room until he left. It got to be quite unnerving after a while for Harry to have his relatives glaring at him like vultures each time he ventured out of his bedroom.

After two weeks, Harry had written to the Weasleys, asking if he could come and stay at the Burrow until the end of the summer. Molly Weasley had written back to say that he no longer needed to ask, that he was one of the family now and was welcome at any time. Harry had called the Knight Bus to take him to Ottery St. Catchpole. It had been a relief to leave Number Four, Privet Drive, especially since Dudley, having been traumatized by the Apparating Soap incident, had refused to take a shower for two weeks.

* * *

Harry walked down the stairs to the underground passage that led to the Hogwarts kitchens. He was carrying another item that the Weasley twins had included in their basket of magic practical jokes. It was a large mallet that had been treated with a "rubberizing spell." For all appearances, it looked like an ordinary hammer, with a black, rectangle-shaped iron head and a thick wooden handle. But when you hit a nail or anything else with it, the head of the hammer instantly transformed into rubber on impact. It then instantly transformed back into iron as it bounced away from the object that you had just hit.

Fred and George had tested this hammer on Argus Filch a few weeks before they left Hogwarts. ("One final memento, so Filch can remember all the good times we've had together," George had explained.) They'd replaced the hammer in Filch's toolbox with one of their own. Hiding behind a statue in the hallway outside the staffroom, they had watched deliriously as Filch tried to hammer a nail into the wall.

According to the Weasley twins, Filch had pounded away on the nail for ten minutes, becoming increasingly enraged as, each time he hit the nail on the head, the hammer he was holding bounced back and almost hit him in the face. Several times, he stopped pounding and felt the head of the hammer with his fingers, trying to determine what was wrong with it. But of course, each time he touched the hammer head, it had transformed itself back into cold iron. Only when Filch heard Fred and George sniggering behind the statue did he realize that he'd been tricked. He'd chased them all the way back to Gryffindor Tower, screaming at the top of his lungs and hurling tools at them from his toolbox.

Harry stopped in the underground passage, in front of the huge painting of a silver fruit bowl that marked the entrance to the Hogwarts kitchens. He tickled the giant pear in the painting. As usual, it chuckled and turned into a doorknob. Harry turned the knob and walked into the kitchens.

The Hogwarts house-elves were bustling around the kitchens, getting ready for the evening meal. The delicious smell of Shepherd's Pie came from the great black ovens along one side of the room. The elves were laying plates, silverware, and glasses on the four long tables that stood in the kitchen. In another hour, the food and dinnerware would be magically Apparated up through the ceiling to the four long tables in the Great Hall above. (The magical security spells that prevented humans from Apparating themselves or anything else into or around Hogwarts castle never seemed to apply to house-elves and their magic. Harry had never found out why.)

Harry spotted Dobby among a group of house-elves laying plates and silverware on the Hufflepuff table. When Dobby saw Harry at the kitchen entrance, he shouted "Harry Potter!"--and tossed the stack of ten plates that he was holding up in the air!

For a second, Harry expected the plates to come crashing down on the table! But Dobby suddenly held out his hands, palms up--like a magician performing a trick--and the falling plates came to a stop, hovering in midair! Smiling, Dobby slowly lowered his hands and the ten plates floated down and settled perfectly in their places on the table top. The other house-elves immediately placed glasses, knives, forks, and spoons around the plates as if nothing had happened.

Harry laughed and walked over to his friend. Dobby grabbed Harry's hand and pumped it with his usual strength. "Welcome back to the kitchens, Harry Potter, sir!"

"Ergh! Hello, Dobby," Harry gasped, wincing. He extracted his hand from Dobby's grip and shook it to restore the feeling in his fingers. Then he gestured to the plates on the table. "That's a neat trick you just did."

"An old house-elf trick, sir," said Dobby. "House-elf masters doesn't like us to do that sort of thing, though. They gets nervous when we start tossing their best china dishes up in the air, y'see. But Dobby is an old hand at it."

Harry looked around the kitchen. "Where's Winky tonight?"

Winky the house-elf was now Dobby's wife. They had married the previous fall. Harry had served as Dobby's official proposer, delivering a somewhat haphazard marriage proposal to Winky on Dobby's behalf. He had also been the "Wurst Man" at their wedding.

"Oh, Winky is around, sir, but not in the kitchens," said Dobby. "She went down to the laundry to get a clean tablecloth for the Ravenclaw table."

"I see," said Harry. Well, that makes what I have to do a bit easier, he thought. If Winky were here right now, she might try to stop me.

He gestured to a pantry door on the far side of the kitchens. "Dobby, I need to talk to you alone. Can we go into the pantry over there?"

"Of course, Harry Potter, sir."

Dobby led the way across the kitchen floor. As they headed for the pantry, Harry noticed that the long counters along the kitchen wall were stacked with cast-iron skillets. "What's with all the frying pans, Dobby?"

"Oh, they is for tomorrow, sir," Dobby explained. "We thought we'd get 'em all out today and give 'em a good scrub, so they'd be nice and polished for tomorrow."

"Oh, that's right," Harry said. "Tomorrow's Pancake Day, isn't it?"

Pancake Day in England (known as "Shrove Tuesday" or "Fat Tuesday" elsewhere) celebrates the last day before Lent. It is an old tradition on this day that people in England use up all their leftover butter, eggs, and fat--usually by making pancakes--before the fasting time of Lent begins. At Hogwarts, Pancake Day usually started with a big pancake breakfast in the Great Hall, followed by pancake races in the afternoon. Students from all four houses competed with each other, running through the Great Hall in the aisles between the four long house tables, while magically flipping pancakes in skillets. (It was an event borrowed from the traditional Pancake Day races that are held every year in the English town of Olney.)

Harry grimaced as he looked at the stacks of frying pans. The traditional pancake breakfast would probably go on tomorrow morning as planned. But he wondered if the pancake races might have to be cancelled. With Professor McGonagall still fighting for her life up in the Infirmary, it was doubtful that anyone, teacher or student, would feel like having fun tomorrow.

The pantry was deserted of other house-elves as Harry and Dobby walked in. Harry shut the door behind them and sat down on a wooden footstool, next to the shelves stacked with boxes and cans of foodstuffs.

"Okay, Dobby," he began. "Did you and the other house-elves hear about what happened to Professor McGonagall today?"

Dobby nodded, sadly. "Yes, sir. We has heard. Is the professor all right, sir?"

"No, she's not all right, Dobby," Harry said, softly but firmly. "She's been poisoned. We don't know if she's going to make it or not, but we're trying to help her. We've given her a special medicine that will slow down the effects of the poison. But if we can't find an antidote for it within the next few days, it's very likely that Professor McGonagall is going to die."

"Is there anything that Dobby can do to help, sir?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, that's why I'm here. Dobby...it was Lucius Malfoy who poisoned Professor McGonagall."

Dobby's bat-like ears shot up. "Mr. Malfoy, sir?! But why would Mr. Malfoy want to poison Professor McGonagall?"

"He wasn't after her," Harry explained. "He was trying to poison Professor Dumbledore because Dumbledore expelled his son, Draco, from Hogwarts last week. Lucius Malfoy sent an owl to Professor Dumbledore with poison on its talons. But Professor McGonagall was up in Dumbledore's office this morning, and the owl scratched her by mistake."

Harry rested his forearms on his knees, and looked at his friend. "Now, Dobby, we've identified the poison that Mr. Malfoy used. It's a very rare poison called Chimaera's Root. In order to make an antidote for it, we need a sample of the Chimaera's Root itself. But it's so rare that we don't know where to find it. The one thing we're sure of is that Lucius Malfoy has a sample of it. It was on the talons of the owl that he sent to Dumbledore. Do you understand so far?"

"Yes, sir," said Dobby. "But you said there was a way that Dobby could help?"

Harry sighed. "I need to ask you some questions about the Malfoys, Dobby."

The house-elf looked horrified. "Questions, sir?"

"I wouldn't do this if there were any other way," Harry explained. "I know it's hard for you to give up secrets about your former masters. But we don't have a choice right now. Professor McGonagall's life depends on it."

Dobby nodded, nervously. "Yes, sir. Dobby knows that Harry Potter is trying to help his teacher. And Dobby knows that Professor McGonagall is a good and kind lady. She helped out Winky when Winky was in distress."

Professor McGonagall had been one of the first to help Winky to get back on her feet after Winky had witnessed her former master, Barty Crouch, receiving the Dementor's Kiss. Professor McGonagall had also been present several months ago on a happier occasion, as a guest at Dobby's and Winky's wedding.

"You'll answer my questions then?" Harry asked.

"Yes, sir," Dobby said, shaking. "Dobby will answer your questions best he can."

"Good. Now, do you trust me, Dobby?"

The house-elf looked at him as if this were an odd question to ask. "Sir?"

"Do you trust me?" Harry repeated calmly.

Dobby seemed to think about this for a moment. He nodded. "Yes, sir. Dobby trusts Harry Potter more than anyone else in the world."

"Then trust me now." Harry held up the special hammer he had brought. "I want you to hold this hammer while I ask you my questions."

Dobby stared in horror at the huge hammer in Harry's hand. "H-h-hammer, sir?!"

"Just trust me, Dobby. Hold onto this hammer. It'll make things easier."

"All right then, sir. If you says so," Dobby said, skeptically. He wrapped his small hands around the wooden handle and held the hammer, quivering like a leaf.

Harry quickly pulled out a pencil and a small notepad. "Okay, first question. We know Lucius Malfoy has a sample of Chimaera's Root. But where did he get the sample?"

"Probably from Mrs. Narcissa, sir," said Dobby.

"Narcissa Malfoy?" Harry asked. Narcissa was Lucius Malfoy's wife, and Draco's mother. Harry had met her only once, when he and the Weasley family had sat, reluctantly, with the Malfoys in a stadium box at the Quidditch World Cup, just before the start of Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts.

"Yes, sir," Dobby said. "Mrs. Narcissa collects exotic poisons, y'see. 'Tis a hobby of hers. The Chimaera's Root would probably have come from her collection."

"Really?" Harry said. He'd never thought much about Narcissa Malfoy, but he supposed now that she must have some deadly and evil talents of her own. Otherwise, someone like Lucius Malfoy would never have married her. "Do you know where Narcissa got the sample of Chimaera's Root?"

Dobby shook his head, slowly. "Not precisely, sir. But the Malfoys, they was always traveling abroad, going to places like Baghdad and Transylvania for their holidays. Mrs. Narcissa always liked to look 'round in the bazaars and markets there. Sometimes, they gots wizard shops in those places that specialize in exotic poisons. She might've picked up the Chimaera's Root from one o' them."

"Where does Mrs. Malfoy keep her collection of poisons, Dobby?"

"Usually, in Malfoy Manor, sir."

"Yes, but...well, is there a special place that she keeps them?"

"Oh, yes, sir. She keeps 'em all in bottles in a rosewood case, about yea big." Dobby spread his hands wide to demonstrate the size of the case. "'Tis a small, flat case with a skull-and-crossbones on the lid. 'Tis very special to her."

A horrified look suddenly appeared in Dobby's eyes. Trembling violently, he grasped the handle of the hammer he was holding, and started to pound himself over the head with it. "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby! Bad! Bad! Bad! Bad! Bad!"

After a minute, the house-elf stopped hitting himself. He shook his head, as if to clear the cobwebs, and looked at the hammer oddly.

Harry had a very hard time keeping a straight face. He turned his eyes away from Dobby and concentrated very hard on writing the words "small flat rosewood case" down on his notepad. He was playing a very slippery game here. This whole deception depended on Dobby believing that the hammer he was holding was real. If Harry suddenly burst out laughing, Dobby would suspect a trick. The house-elf might discard the hammer and start banging his head against the pantry wall.

"Okay, Dobby!" Harry said suddenly, snapping his attention back to the matter at hand. "This rosewood case with the poisons in it. Is it something that Narcissa Malfoy would keep in the secret chamber under the drawing-room floor at Malfoy Manor?"

Dobby's ears flew up. "How does Harry Potter know about that, sir?!"

"Never mind. Just answer the question. Is that where she would keep it?"

Dobby nodded. "Well--yes, sir! That's where she kept it when Dobby lived with the Malfoys."

"Good," Harry said. "All right. Now, Dobby, what I'm about to tell you, I don't want you to tell anyone else, understand? You know my friends, Ron and Ginny? Well, their dad, Arthur Weasley, is an Auror with the Ministry of Magic. A few hours ago, Mr. Weasley raided Malfoy Manor. But the Malfoys weren't there, they'd fled. They put Memory Charms on all the servants so they couldn't tell anyone where their masters had gone. Mr. Weasley searched the manor house and found the secret chamber under the drawing-room floor. But when he opened it, it had been cleared out. It was empty."

"Now, Dobby, we both know that Lucius Malfoy would never get rid of his Dark Arts collection. It's too valuable to him. So he must have moved the collection to a new hiding place, so that Mr. Weasley couldn't find it. Now think, Dobby. Where is the most likely place that Mr. Malfoy would have moved his Dark Arts collection?"

Dobby thought hard for a moment. "He'd probably move it to his summer home in Latrece, sir."

"Latrece?" Harry repeated. "That's a city in France, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir." Dobby nodded. "'Tis on the Mediterranean."

Harry had heard vaguely of Latrece. It was a summer hot spot for the rich and famous. There was an annual film festival there that supposedly rivaled the one at Cannes. Harry had a general idea of the city's location on the southern coast of France, but knew that he would have to look it up on a map somewhere.

"And Lucius Malfoy has a summer home there?"

"Yes, sir. He calls it the 'Chateau Malfoy.' 'Tis up on a hill overlooking the city, sir. Dobby has been there several times."

Dobby's lip trembled. His hands shook, and he started to pound himself furiously with the hammer again. "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby! BAD! BAD! BAD!"

Harry reached out and grabbed the flailing hammer, stopping the house-elf. "Now, Dobby--!"

At that point, he snorted, and almost laughed, but quickly recovered himself. It was the baffled expression on Dobby's face that almost did him in.

Ask the questions quickly,

he said to himself, looking at Dobby. Keep him off-balance. Don't give him time to think about the fact that he's hitting himself on the head with the hammer and it's not hurting him.

"Can you give me the address of the Chateau Malfoy in Latrece?"

"Yes, sir," said Dobby, dazed. "'Tis at 606 on Rue du Scélérat. 'Tis a large house with a tower on the side."

Harry wrote this down on his notepad, asking Dobby to spell out the name of the street. "And you said you'd been there before?"

"Yes, sir. With the Malfoys."

"Where inside the chateau would Lucius Malfoy hide his Dark Arts collection?"

Dobby gulped. "T'would be in the secret chamber in the wine cellar, sir."

"There's a secret chamber in the Chateau Malfoy as well?"

"Yes, sir. 'Tis underneath the wine cellar floor."

The house-elf quivered all over. He started to hit himself with the hammer again. "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

A minute later, Dobby stopped hitting himself. His eyes rolled and once again focused on the hammer he was holding. He stared at it, completely confused.

Harry's ribs hurt with suppressed laughter. "All right now, Dobby!" he said, quickly. "Let's say I was inside the Chateau Malfoy. How would I find the wine cellar with the secret chamber?"

"Inside the Chateau Malfoy, sir?" Dobby's expression changed to a look of terror. "You is not thinking of going down there and sneaking into the chateau, is you, Harry Potter?! You mustn't do it, sir! 'Tis too dangerous!"

"I don't know, Dobby," said Harry. "It may be the only way to save Professor McGonagall. I mean, if the Chimaera's Root is in Latrece, somebody's probably going to have to go down there and find it. If it's not me, maybe Mr. Weasley or one of his Aurors could do it. Now please, answer my question! How do I find the wine cellar inside the Chateau Malfoy?"

"Well, sir," said Dobby, "you would first need to get inside the chateau itself. And that would be very hard to do, sir."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, first of all, sir, you'd have to find the Chateau Malfoy. And it's a little hard to find. 'Tis off the main road a bit, away from the Muggle houses."

"All right, let's say I was on the--er, the Rue du Scélérat," Harry said, checking his notes. "How would I find the chateau?"

"Well, sir, as Dobby said, the chateau's up on a hill, kind of on one side of it, lookin' down over the city. But if you was on the Rue du Scélérat, sir, you'd first have to go up to the very top of the hill. You can see the Mediterranean from the hilltop. Then you goes down the hill a bit, as if you was heading towards the sea. And then, just a little ways down from the top of the hill, there's a bend in the road. It's near a bunch o' Muggle houses. They got built up there a few years ago, and the Malfoys was in England and couldn't do nothin' to stop it."

"Anyway, sir, just inside this bend in the road on the Rue du Scélérat, there's an entrance to a long driveway that goes down through the woods. The entrance is hidden a bit under the trees. Most of the Muggles that live on the street don't even know it's there. There's a couple o' big stone pillars at the entrance, with signs on 'em that says, 'Don't come in,' that sort o' thing. You goes between the two stone pillars and down the long driveway. It's about maybe half a mile down through the woods. And then you comes around a bend in the trees, and there's the gate to the Chateau Malfoy. The house is surrounded by a big stone wall, sir."

"Okay, so now I'm at the gate of the chateau," Harry said, writing as quickly as he could. "How do I get inside the house? Could I Apparate in?"

He hadn't yet learned to Apparate, but he knew other wizards like Bill Weasley and Oliver Wood who could do it. If they could get to Latrece, they might be able to Apparate into the Chateau Malfoy.

Dobby shook his head. "No, sir. Can't no one Apparate in unless they're a Malfoy. Mr. Lucius, he put special spells on the house so that nobody who wasn't a Malfoy could Apparate in or out. Even Dobby had to go outside the house when he wanted to Apparate somewhere."

"Right," Harry said grimly. So no one could Apparate in. That left one other option for sneaking into the Chateau Malfoy: The Invisibility Cloak.

Which meant that Harry probably was going to Latrece tonight!

"All right, so how would I get in through the front gate, Dobby?"

"You couldn't do it without the passwords, sir."

"Passwords?" said Harry. "You mean Lucius Malfoy has magical passwords? Like the ones we use here at Hogwarts to get in and out of the dormitories?"

"Yes, sir. That's it exactly."

"Do you know these passwords, Dobby?"

"Yes, sir. Well, that is to say, Dobby knows the ones that Mr. Malfoy used at the chateau when Dobby worked for him."

Great

, Harry thought. What do I do if Lucius Malfoy has changed the passwords at his chateau since Dobby left him? I guess, for the moment, I'll have to take the chance that he HASN'T changed them.

Dobby was trembling violently in the knowledge that Harry was about to ask him for his former master's passwords. Harry quickly put his hand over the head of the hammer to stop Dobby from hitting himself. "Dobby, I know this is hard for you. Just keep with me a little bit longer. Remember, you're doing this to help Professor McGonagall."

"Y-y-yes, sir," said Dobby, his voice quavering.

"Now, tell me. What is the password for the gate at the chateau?"

"Well, sir," Dobby stammered, "when you gets to the gate, you sees the Malfoy family coat of arms on it. You points your wand at the coat of arms, and you says, 'Long live the Malfoys.' And then it opens, sir."

"Long live the Malfoys," Harry repeated, scribbling this on his notepad. "Okay."

"Then you goes up to the front door of the chateau, and you points your wand at the doorknob, and you says, 'Long live the Death Eaters.'"

"Long live the Death Eaters," Harry muttered, still writing. "Okay, so I'm inside the chateau. Now, how do I find the wine cellar?"

"Well, sir," Dobby said, "when you comes in through the front door, you is in the vestibule, the main hall. There's a huge staircase in front of you, and an open archway just to your right. You goes through the open archway and into the salon. It's the big room with all the paintings on the walls, y'see, sir. About halfway across the room, there's a big door on your left, with a brass handle in the shape of a dragon's head. It leads down to the wine cellar. But you gotta have the password for that one too. sir. To open the door, you points your wand at the handle, and you says, 'Unica.'"

"Unica?" Harry repeated, curiously. "What does that mean?"

"Dobby never asked, sir," said the house-elf, with a shrug. "'Twas just the password for the cellar door. So anyway, you goes through that door and down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, there's another big door, sir--but you don't need no password to open this one. It leads right into the wine cellar."

Dobby shivered again, and beat himself on the head with the hammer. "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby! BAD!"

Harry let Dobby beat himself with the trick hammer as he quickly wrote down what the house-elf had told him. "Okay! I'm inside the wine cellar. How do I find the secret chamber?"

Dobby was fingering the iron head of the hammer now, with a puzzled look. He seemed to be trying to figure out if there were something wrong with it.

"Dobby!" Harry said, sharply.

The house-elf looked up, startled. "Uhh, well, sir--now you has to look on the floor and find five big stones in the floor, sir. All five of 'em is perfectly round, and together they forms the shape of a cross. They is right in the very center of the floor."

"Five round stones that form the shape of a cross. Okay?"

"There's a high window in the wall on your right, sir, as you're comin' in the wine cellar door. 'Tis right behind the wine racks along that wall. On nights when the moon is shining, the moonlight comes right in through the window and shines down on the spot in the floor where you want to look, sir. You stands facing the window, and you taps the five stones on the floor with your wand."

Dobby turned the hammer around in his hands. Holding it by its head, he made a jabbing motion with the handle, as if he were tapping the stones in the wine cellar floor with a magic wand.

"You taps the first four stones in the cross-shape like you would the points on a compass, sir. North!--South!--East!--West! And as you taps the stones, you says, 'All!--hail!--You-Know!--Who!' Only you doesn't say, 'You-Know-Who,' sir. You says his real name--if you gets my meaning?"

Harry imitated Dobby's movements, jabbing the air with his pencil as if he were waving his wand. "So it's North--South--East--West. And as I hit each stone in the floor with my wand, I say, 'All--hail--Lord--?'

He made a final stabbing motion with his pencil, as if tapping the fourth stone, and looked at Dobby for confirmation.

"Yes, sir. That's right," said Dobby. He looked visibly relieved that Harry hadn't said Voldemort's name. "And then you taps the fifth stone in the center of the cross-shape with your wand, and you says, 'Open!' And the stones in the floor slide apart."

Harry scribbled this down, then looked at Dobby. "And that's it?"

Dobby shook his head, sadly. "No, sir. That's not quite it. Underneath the stone floor, the secret chamber has a pair of steel doors laid over it. Kind of like a bank vault. And the steel doors is held shut with a crystal lock. But, sir--Dobby does not know the Combination Spell! And the crystal lock can't be opened without the Combination Spell!"

"They didn't trust you with it?" Harry asked.

"No, sir. Only Mr. Lucius knows the Combination Spell, sir."

Harry took a deep breath. Well, the secret chamber in Malfoy Manor had also been guarded by a crystal lock, and Fleur Delacour had somehow managed to open it. Maybe she could tell him how to open the crystal lock in the Chateau Malfoy.

"I'll deal with that problem when I come to it," Harry said. "Now Dobby, when you worked for Lucius Malfoy, did he ever change his passwords? Like maybe once every year or so?"

Dobby thought a moment, and shook his head. "No, sir! Kept 'em pretty much the same the whole time that Dobby worked for him."

"Let's hope he hasn't had a chance to change the passwords at the Chateau Malfoy since I terminated your employment with him. One more question, Dobby. Can you think of any place--any place--other than the chateau in Latrece that Lucius Malfoy could have hidden his Dark Arts collection?"

Dobby thought carefully, and shook his head once more. "No, sir! Dobby can't think of anywhere else. Mr. Malfoy always said that there was no safer place to hide things than the chateau--except for Malfoy Manor."

Dobby's entire body quivered. He squeezed the iron head of the hammer in his hands. And then, to Harry's horror, the house-elf started whacking himself over the head with the wooden handle of the hammer!

"BAD DOBBY! BAD DOBBY! BAD! BAD! BAD! BAD! BAD!!"

"Dobby!" Harry shouted. He snatched the hammer from Dobby's hands!

Dobby stood erect for a moment, his tennis-ball eyes wider than they had ever been. Then he fell forward, and landed face down--KLUNK!--on the pantry floor!

Harry knelt beside his fallen friend. "Dobby! Dobby, are you okay?!"

Dobby raised himself up on his forearms. A strange smile came over his face. "Ahhh, that's much better!"

"Oh, Dobby, I'm sorry!" Harry groaned. "This is a trick hammer! Its head turns into rubber when you hit something with it. Here, look!" He demonstrated by hitting himself on the forehead several times with the head of the hammer, to no effect. "I gave it to you because I knew you'd start hitting your head on things when I asked you about the Malfoys. I wanted you to use this trick hammer so that you wouldn't hurt yourself. But I never thought you'd start hitting yourself on the head with the handle!"

Dobby looked at the hammer in Harry's hands, then smiled again dizzily. "Don't feel too bad for Dobby, Harry Potter, sir. 'Tis hard for humans to understand--but to a house-elf, a little pain now and then can be a good thing. Nothin' like a good headache to make you feel better after you've given up your master's secrets. Makes you feel less guilty, y'see? Right now, Dobby is perfectly happy!"

Harry shook his head, smiling in disbelief. "Dobby, you may have helped me to save Professor McGonagall's life. When this is over, I'm going to buy you a dozen pairs of new socks."

"Harry Potter is too good to Dobby," the house-elf said, in a slurred voice. "If you doesn't mind, sir, Dobby is going to take a little nap--right here!" Dobby's head fell to the floor again with a loud plunk!

"You're hopeless, Dobby," Harry said, with a small laugh. He patted the house-elf's unmoving form. "Sleep well, old friend. It's probably more than I'll be doing tonight."