A momentary impulse – that was how one could characterize Harry's actions. The impulse and the hints of Sweet Tooth that literally rolled off the boy's tongue indicated that, despite the appeal to the Indivisible, the influence of the spirit advisors on his mind still remained to a sufficient degree. It was similar to… possession, as the four spirits described it – but to a lesser degree. More like… well, yes, an impulse is the best description.
And now he had to deal with the consequences of that impulse. Namely, with the unconscious policewoman, now laid out on some dirty mattress dragged from the depths of the "temple."
"Forgive me for the tautology, Harry," Snot, standing next to the puzzled boy, scratched his head, "but you've done us a great favor, my friend!"
- Well, I'll take her! Somewhere, - Potter repeated the Nurgling's gesture uncertainly. - Or here...
- "Here" - no need! - the little demon frowned. - It's you, my friend, who serves everyone at once and it makes no difference to you where to shit and who to pet. And "here" is the temple of Grandfather specifically, that's it! So do what you have planned, further away.
"How did you know what I was going to do?" Harry blushed and frowned.
- Pfft! I may be small, but I'm not stupid, my friend, - Snot shook his horned head. - You've already registered this lady as a patient of one multi-breasted entity, haven't you?
- Well... - Harry blushed even more. Snot was quite perceptive, and the boy sometimes felt frankly uncomfortable under his gaze. And considering that with this policewoman he acted more on the advice of Sweet Tooth than really understanding what he was doing and saying - then he began to feel stupid. - I think so. I just need to figure out how and where to drag her, - the boy scratched the back of his head again.
- Oh, youth! Okay, I'll help, out of great friendship, - the Nurgling rolled his pale eyes. And then he turned to the reverend, who was politely waiting at the altar with a dreamy smile. - Andy, my friend! Tell me, do you have a secluded place... untouched by the Blessing of the Lord? - Snot said the last phrase in a deliberately pious tone, but for some reason Harry heard irony in his voice...
And just an hour later, a cheerful company of Harry Potter, Reverend Andy, Martin and Snot were lifting Megan's unconscious body up the stairs of some shabby high-rise building.
The front door of this building was missing, the walls inside were peeling and covered in graffiti. The concierge desk was empty, although light was pouring in from a slightly open door behind it. The stairs were dark and stank of urine.
"Well, that's it," Andy shrugged as they reached the fifth floor. Martin was carrying the unconscious Megan with surprising ease, throwing the short but rather massive woman over his shoulder. Harry followed along with the Reverend, in whose sports bag Snot was hidden. "Here we go."
The apartment. Small, shabby - like everything here - but surprisingly clean. To be honest, after Grandfather's temple, Harry expected dirt, rot and filth from everything that Andy and his flock touched. But - no. Only the ingrained smell of dichlorvos was clearly felt - the inhabitants of the house have clearly been waging an Eternal War with cockroaches for a long time and hopelessly.
"Ha-ha-ha!" - Zabiyaka suddenly burst into laughter. "It brings back nostalgia... Our world also had its own battle with the "cockroaches". Only they were a huge swarm of trillions of creatures that threatened to devour the entire East of our galaxy. Or even the entire galaxy!" - he added dreamily. "That time the attack was repelled. But at what cost!"
"Since when does a spawn of Khorne care about loss?" Sweet Tooth exclaimed in surprise.
"And I'm not talking about killed people and destroyed cities ," Zabiyaka laughed terribly. "I'm talking about collateral damage! Those losses that are not visible at first. Which are revealed later, when the warriors who fought and seemed to win, realize that their imaginary victories were not enough !"
"Fallen ," Dobryak hummed understandingly, beaming with benevolence near the Nurgling and two of Grandfather's followers who were comfortably settled in the sports bag. "The Bloody One has probably reaped a large harvest of souls."
"Oh, yes!" the Khornate chuckled. "Even some of those supposedly unyielding Ultramarines Astartes have accepted His Furious Gift into their minds! Not to mention thousands of mere mortals!"
Harry didn't understand most of their conversation. No, it was clear that these were memories from the home world of his spirit advisors, but what did they mean?..
A twelve-year-old boy who could confidently delve into his future two minutes ahead, was able to jump tens of meters, break through walls with his bare hand, produce streams of otherworldly fire from his hands and influence the brains of ordinary people around him - nevertheless, he did not understand or even care about these "adult" conversations. Especially since he simply did not understand many things.
What are these "Astartes Ultramarines"? Especially "Fallen"?..
"If everything goes according to our plan, student, then you will meet the Fallen in a few years," the Smart One whispered against the background of the squabble of the other spirits. "And you will have to work very hard on yourself and your retinue to make these willful and extremely touchy people obey you!"
"People?!" Harry wondered, trying to comprehend the visions the Tzeentch was sending him. "It looks a little... inhuman!"
"Oh, yes, they have long been more than just men! For ten thousand years now, they have not only survived the Ascension to the Supermen - the Space Marines - but also learned the joys of the Truths of Chaos! But they were and remain men ," the Daemon of Tzeentch chuckled. "As are you, apprentice ," added the Clever One. "And I would not even raise this topic if it were otherwise!"
"But what surprises me is how easily our new friends help our Garry with a ritual that is clearly not in favor of their beloved Grandfather ," Sweet Tooth said warily. "Since when have Nurglites contributed to the glorification of Slaanesh?"
"You know Nurgle's subjects so poorly and you are so quick to judge," Dobryak sighed regretfully. "But in this situation, even a small Nurgling understands what's what."
"Another world, different rules ," the Smart One hastened to explain, before the Slaaneshi responded with sarcasm. Or, alternatively, before the Bully intervened with outright rudeness. "In the universe we inhabited before, the Great Four had myriads of souls and servants at their disposal, their domains stretched across the warp and beyond - but that is not the case here. And while there the need to negotiate between the servants of different Gods arose rarely, here..."
"We're all in the same boat. Got it ," Sweet Tooth waved his hand, losing interest in the conversation. Because two of Grandfather's servants laid the unconscious Megan on an old sofa unfolded in one of the rooms and went out into the stairwell.
- Ho-ho-ho, - Snot, who remained next to the boy, laughed like a little Santa Claus. - That's all, my friend. From now on, forgive me, you're on your own. I don't know what your pink friends are whispering to you...
"I'm not pink! I'm marbled purple!" Sweet Tooth immediately protested, but the Nurgling, of course, didn't hear him.
"...But if anything happens," Snot continued, "Andy can call one of his ex-girlfriends. These days he's all about the Righteous," the demon snorted mockingly, "but before, he and Martin were real naughty."
- Uh... - Harry hesitated under the snorting of Sweet Tooth in his head. He understood little of the Nurgling's phrase, but the demon Slaanesh inside him suggested a sequence of actions. - I think... I think when Megan wakes up, she will need this. But then let this friend come in half an hour - not earlier!
It was already getting late - it was about seven o'clock in the evening - and although Potter was not afraid of being scolded for being late, not showing up at the house on Privet Drive later than eight o'clock would arouse the suspicions of Mrs. Figg or other wizard observers - and so it was worth hurrying.
"With that, I take my leave," Snot bowed mockingly, already heading out the door. "It's a pity, of course, that our first acquaintance ended with you ultimately conducting a ritual in honor of these arrogant sodomites, but soon, I hope, we'll make up for it?"
"A very apt description of Slaaneshi mold ," snorted Ruffnut.
"Shut up!" the Sweet Tooth snapped back. "And anyway, enough chatter! It's time to see what kind of candy we got!"
Closing the door, Harry set to work on the "candy" that lay sprawled on the sofa. Taking out the dagger, he set to work on the "wrapper".
"This is a size three, maybe even a size four," Sweet Tooth licked his lips when Potter cut and threw aside the bra, revealing two juicy mounds of breasts. "Hard, strong, but at the same time soft as a bun - I love them!"
"Could you just tell me what to do without any unnecessary comments?" Harry snapped, red as a lobster. He had never seen a naked woman before - surely he wouldn't consider a house-elf slave to be one? And even then, he was more busy holding her down and simultaneously carving the Chaos star into Quinky's stomach.
"As you say ," the Slaaneshi snorted mockingly, but put aside extraneous comments.
Harry, having imbued the dagger with warp, began to carve symbols on the policewoman's body…
Half an hour later, when everything was ready, Harry wiped the copious sweat that covered his forehead and soaked his bangs. After all, such rituals were quite energy-consuming for a schoolboy.
And almost as soon as he extinguished the warp lights, destroyed the traces of the ritual and threw a blanket lying around on the naked Megan, there was a knock at the door.
- Boy? - the girl standing behind the door in a short jacket and a leather miniskirt stared at him in amazement when Potter opened the door. - What are you doing here?!..
"Ah!" Harry smiled happily, moving aside to let the woman pass. "Andy must have sent you! Just in time."
- Uh... - the girl glanced uncertainly first at Harry, and then at Megan, who was still unconscious. - Kid, you... I may be a loser, but not so much that I would do anything with minors... This and that...
Harry looked with interest at the prostitute Andy had invited - and it was she. Brightly made up, in a short black wig, fishnet stockings, and high platforms, she looked rather tasteless and provocative. But the boy liked her appearance. First of all, because he thought that her appearance would have brought the Dursleys into real horror!
- Oh, don't worry! - Potter smiled broadly, slightly releasing the Love Stare. - It's not for me. It's for her, - he pointed at the policewoman. - My aunt is very tired after a hard day! She needs to relax a little. Will you help her?
- Oh... - the prostitute was a little embarrassed. But she quickly came to her senses: - Okay, boy. Only... - she looked at the bed with greater interest. - I charge more with chicks. That's how I go with boys.
"She's lying ," Sweet Tooth said ingratiatingly. "Serving women isn't that physically hard - so for her it'll be a real resort! And don't talk to me about picky whores - she's not one of those. This girl doesn't care who she rolls around with."
"Besides, she's clearly on some kind of drugs ," Smart Guy commented when Harry's keen gaze picked out the syringe marks on the woman's hands. "So she'll fuck even a bulldozer, as long as she gets paid."
"You're trying to trick me now," Potter smiled even wider, increasing the pressure with his Love Gaze. "You want it yourself - don't hide it!" he grinned. "You'll get undoubted pleasure, miss..."
"Helen," the prostitute swallowed nervously, unable to tear her gaze away from the boy's green eyes. "Just Helen," she clarified.
"A blushing slut! How cute ," laughed the Sweet Tooth.
"So this is your city, Miss Helen!" Potter laughed too, completely surrendering to the joy of the Slaaneshi. "But don't worry," Harry suddenly interrupted the effect of the Love Gaze and took hold of his backpack. "Money is not a problem."
Under the woman's astonished gaze, he took out a wad of banknotes with a magician's gesture and handed it to her.
"Boy, there's at least a thousand pounds here!" she muttered in a suddenly hoarse voice.
"My aunt is very tired," Harry said earnestly, gently pushing Helen toward the sofa. "So if she's rested and happy in the morning, Andy will give you the same amount. Okay?"
The girl nodded slowly, stunned by the amounts that were announced.
"Uh..." she drawled as Potter was already leaving the apartment. "Just that... Don't tell anyone, kid. Well... about the amount."
Harry looked at her in surprise and frowned.
"I'm under the Lord's boys," the prostitute explained, speaking again in a confident and slightly cheeky voice. "And they'll want their share, or even everything - I already owe them something. So let them think I've earned three hundred pounds."
"And she's impudent ," the Smart Guy chuckled. "Or stupid. It's better not to joke around like that with guys like the local Lord. For "cheating" they can cut off something... substantial."
"But we won't tell anyone about this money?" the boy didn't understand.
"We are not ," the Tzeentchite chuckled. "But it is quite easy to find out that a common whore suddenly has money, and without our words. And then the Lord will have questions for this Helen."
"So what should we do?" Harry asked worriedly, already going down the stairs to the first floor.
"Are you going to do anything?" snorted Sweet Tooth. "Well, they'll bury this whore in a few bags in a dumpster – what business is it of ours?"
"Harry just sees this woman as more than just a disposable tool and a passing whim ," the Smart Guy chuckled. "He's getting used to turning even these passing people into his chess pieces. First Megan, now this Helen... and soon perhaps a Lord - a very interesting game is brewing!"
While Harry Potter was going down, jumping onto the roof in his invisibility cloak and racing back to Little Whinging at full speed, the prostitute Helen was counting the money she had received in the flat he had left behind with mixed feelings.
One thousand three hundred and eighty-seven pounds sterling - even more than she had said to that terribly strange boy! She giggled nervously, looked around furtively, as if someone might follow her here - and hid the wad of money in her cheap handbag.
"Or maybe I should just forget about this creepy schoolboy?" an uninvited thought flashed through my mind. "Get out of here right away, hide the cash – what will he do even if he finds out?"
But for some reason this thought made her feel very uneasy. As if the strange green-eyed boy had not left, but was still standing in the corner and watching Helen's actions. Shrugging her shoulders with a chill, she decided that it was still curious to at least take a look at this boy's "auntie".
Having thrown off her jacket and remaining in only a leather vest and elbow-length mesh gloves, the prostitute approached the sagging fold-out sofa on which her "client" was sprawled.
"And the boobs are not bad," she said with a vulgar smile, pulling the blanket off the naked woman.
Helen herself was slim, even a little skinny, with a size two bust, but she never envied those who had a more fleshy "udder". It was uncomfortable and heavy, and the suit wouldn't fit everyone. But she definitely liked to stare at big boobs!
And in general, Helen enjoyed fucking women much more than men. It was a pity that she rarely had women among her clients - they mostly preferred to lick each other with their girlfriends rather than hire whores. After men, especially if there were two or three of them, the ligaments on her hips ached, her crotch and anus hurt - some of those lousy bastards were in such a hurry to copulate that they sometimes even forgot about lube!
True, if such freaks started to really go too far, Lord's guys always gave them a short shrift - that's probably the only pleasant fact about working for this bastard. But that's the thing, "in the ass" without lube was not considered a particularly cool screw-up - it just cost more. And the fact that Helen couldn't take a normal shit for several days afterwards, because this process caused terrible pain - no one cared.
So yes, the damn boy was right - she herself will enjoy tumbling with a woman. Especially such a juicy one!
- Wow! - Helen chuckled, stroking the unconscious woman's massive breasts. - Her face - just like a bulldozer or a pharaoh's wife, - she barely audibly said, not even suspecting that she had hit the mark. - A modest mouse, and a battalion of devils is joking around in her crotch! Look at her tattoos, the bitch in heat...
And indeed: the boy's "auntie" looked like an ordinary, lean Englishwoman, and not particularly feminine - there are many of those, in fact. But on her body was visible a strange tattoo, which temptingly twisted all over her body - but so that it was not visible under her clothes.
On both nipples and the pubis there was a strange rune, very similar to the symbol of the masculine principle. Also a circle with an arrow extending from it - only at the end this "arrow" ended with something like a claw or a crescent. The second crescent, larger, crossed the "arrow" at the base. From the symbols on the chest to the pubic tattoo there was a chain of smaller icons, and from the pubis exactly the same two chains went along the hips somewhere to the back.
Clicking her tongue contentedly, Helen quickly pulled off her vest and the T-shirt underneath, threw off her boots, skirt and panties, remaining only in fishnet stockings and gloves. After thinking for a bit, she threw off her wig, revealing a head shaved to a short hedgehog.
"Okay, bitch, let's have some fun!" With some uncharacteristic excitement, Helen settled down between the unconscious woman's legs and began to stroke the inside of her thighs.
Megan sobbed slightly and, without regaining consciousness, began to breathe faster - the grinning Helen began not only to stroke, but also to lick the woman's thighs widely.
And then the policewoman let out another sob and… finished.
- What?! - Helen was surprised. - So fast? And without confessing? And I haven't even gotten to your strawberries yet! Girlfriend, how long have you been without sex?!
"Ten years..." the policewoman answered automatically, having somehow come to her senses. But almost immediately she opened her eyes wide and stared at the shaved woman between her legs. "And who are you?! And where?... Oh!"
The last sound was provoked by the grinning slut who pressed her mouth to Megan's crotch. Throwing her head back and clutching the greasy sheet with her hands, she could only breathe convulsively and moan dully!
This time she didn't last long again - and now her legs were twitching in convulsions, and Helen's lips and tongue were covered in the secretions from the woman's orgasm.
- That's nothing, baby! - the prostitute fell to her knees and demonstratively licked her lips, looking straight into the policewoman's eyes clouded with pleasure. - We've only just begun!
That night, Megan Cornhill, a London suburban police officer, was unable to utter a single coherent word. Everything merged into one tangle for her, consisting of sweaty skin, the taste of vaginal lube on her lips, pinches, wet kisses and fingers sliding inside her. Well, and the constant orgasms that rolled in wave after wave, finally merging into a single sweet agony! Common sense tried to raise its head, but was deprived of it before it could utter a word. The dam of abstinence had stood in Megan's mind for too long, and now that the flow of Slaanesh's will had broken through it, it was impossible to stop...
At the same time, Harry Potter, who was already approaching Little Whinging, almost flew head first, making another turn with the help of the Power of Khorne. He wanted to catch his hand, smoking from the energy of the warp, on a thick branch of a tree that grew next to the highway, and jump further, like Tarzan, but then he was covered by a powerful wave of sensations from the Mark of Slaanesh left on that policeman - and the branch was literally torn by his palm, and he flew to the ground with it!
- Wha... what is this? - he shook his head, driving away the images of two female bodies sliding against each other, merging in slippery ecstasy. Wet breasts, lips smacking in a kiss, other... fragments - all of this flashed before Harry's eyes in a split second, until he was able to fence himself off from these images with a mental wall. The boy was red as a lobster, and was breathing convulsively from the suddenness and power of this flow of feelings and emotions!
No, of course, he was no longer a small child and knew where babies come from and what sex was (in theory) - there were sex education classes in state schools in Britain, to which almost everyone was herded**. And it would be stupid to claim that he didn't suspect what this vulgar Helen was going to do with Megan. And it would be strange if it weren't so - certainly not with a demon of Slaanesh in her head.
But still, it was a bit… unexpected.
"That's nothing!" - Sweet Tooth chuckled. "In a couple of years, you'll be howling like a wolf and climbing the walls from such pictures, cursing fucking Hogwarts and the Sorting Hat with its fucking restrictions! Because you won't be able to observe much, much less join in, until you're sixteen."
"It's too bad..." Harry muttered sullenly, but his phrase sounded very uncertain. Like all boys his age, any "such" topic caused him to feel some kind of latent shame . And a desire to deliberately distance himself from any "girly" topics like kisses and any such "love".
True, the topic here was really girly. And they went a little further than "kisses"...
- Ugh! Sweet tooth! - Harry snapped at the Slaanesh laughing in his head. - Stop it!
"But it wasn't me!" Sweet Tooth became even more cheerful. "You're imagining it yourself! You're growing, Harry, in all sorts of places, ah-ha-ha-ha-ha!"
In short, they arrived at number four on Yew Street just in time - exactly at eight. And judging by the fact that the Dursley family was gathered in the kitchen, and Uncle Vernon's face was practically glowing with pleasure - the get-together with his business partner was a great success!
However, the appearance of his nephew somewhat darkened his mood, but not much. The elder Dursley simply muttered something indistinctly dissatisfied and went off to the living room to watch TV. His cousin immediately darted after him, and soon Petunia joined them - she only chirped something about "dinner on the stove."
When he was already gobbling up the remains of the pie that his aunt had baked for the guests, suddenly the roar of Zabiyaka rang out in his head:
"I sense a strange presence! Somewhere nearby! Here! In the house!"
Harry froze, halfway through his mouth. He immediately closed his eyes and plunged his mind into the Immaterium, looking around the "surroundings".
In the distance, where he had just come from - that is, in the area of South Helens - a bright purple star was burning. It was Megan and Helen, having become excited, continuing to please each other. There was also a nasty, slurping, sticky presence of Snot, and much weaker - Andy and Martin.
The cold, snow-white mind of an animal, just beginning to be saturated with Chaos, is Celestine, currently sitting on a branch of some tree a few blocks away.
Grey shadows, indistinct whispers and faint traces in the warp - these are the Dursleys and the inhabitants of Privet Drive.
A mixture of fear, adrenaline and delight - this is...
- Quinky? - Potter was surprised, realizing that his slave had forgotten something in his room on the second floor. - And who is that with her?
In the same place where the house-elf was now, an astral trace of an unknown intruder was discovered. Judging by the familiar echo in the Ether, it was also a house-elf.
"More and more interesting ," chuckled Smart Guy. "I suggest we finish the pie and go see what's going on there."
"Since when do you like pies?" Dobryak asked warily.
"Not at all ," the Tzeentch explained, slightly condescendingly. "It's just that our snake-like friend is now, having had his fill of the lust of those two ladies, overflowing with strength and enthusiasm. And therefore, it is unlikely that he and Harry will be able to tear themselves away from Aunt Petunia's pie at the moment."
No one would even think of arguing with this statement. Especially Sweet Tooth and Harry - despite all the latter's hatred for his relatives, he admitted that Petunia cooked like a goddess!
And judging by the background in the warp and the quickly scanned threads of fate, nothing special is happening in the boy's room. So it could wait.
Well, "nothing special" really happened there. More precisely, everything that could happen, already happened.
In the middle of Potter's room sat a flushed Quinky with a kitchen knife in her hands, looking with burning eyes at another house-elf tied to a chair - a male, apparently.
- Harry Potter, sir! - the slave turned joyfully to her master. - Quinkie caught a vile spy and saboteur! He tried to sabot... sabot... sa-bo-ti-ro-vat, - she pronounced clearly, syllable by syllable, - your uncle and aunt are celebrating, sir! Quinkie knows that the great Harry Potter, sir, did not want his relatives to have problems today - and Quinkie was guarding the house. And she caught this spy! - the elf said again, pointing a long finger at the unfamiliar house-elf's face.
Judging by the indignant moaning of the prisoner - and he could only moan because Quinky had shut his mouth - he categorically disagreed with the definition of him as a "spy and saboteur."
As for Quinky's changed attitude towards his new master, it was worth thanking the Smarty and the thirst for knowledge he had given him. While rummaging through volumes on the history of the Goblin Wars and other historical works from the school library, Harry also read several books on the customs and nuances of the relationships between pure-blooded wizards and magical creatures.
Including gifts for brownies.
House elves have served wizards since ancient times. In different countries, individual details varied, but the essence remained the same - servant creatures, whom the magician himself was obliged to water, feed, give a roof over their heads, share energy, and in return they swore unquestioning obedience.
These relationships were entangled in a bunch of additional rules, laws and traditions. And among them - symbolic gifts!
Harry specifically asked his friends from wizarding families about this topic - and was surprised to realize that most wizards only knew about one such tradition: if the owner gives his servant any item of clothing, without demanding anything in return - then the house-elf becomes free! And even then, they did not understand the essence of the phenomenon.
As the boy himself understood, in ancient times this was specifically written into the great Treaty of the elven race with the wizards - the house-elves then expected that one day they would all be able to work off a certain "Debt" and regain their freedom, for which they insisted on this point.
But they didn't take one thing into account - human treachery. The naive bright people, who before the formation of this mysterious "Debt" did nothing but dance among the hills and on the heather fields, the elves sincerely thought that people would allow them to escape from the bondage into which they had driven themselves. To lose completely dependent servants who could fulfill almost any desire with a snap of the fingers? Who else could do this, for reasons of honor or nobility. But man turned out to be a creature not particularly noble.
To confuse the good-natured elves, delaying the fact of paying the "Debt", simultaneously hanging a bunch of debts on them - in such matters the vile human race has become quite skilled. And then several generations changed, and the race of "elves" finally turned into the race of "house elves". The memory of what the ancient traditions really mean was erased. Only that same vague "Debt" remained! Which now, in addition, meant that a free elf is a dishonored elf!
Complete savagery and demagogy, but after so many centuries and generations, this interpretation of the ancient Treaty has become so ingrained in the subcortex of the unfortunate house elves that even a hint of receiving clothes as a gift - that is, realizing the Right that they themselves entered into that agreement with people - caused a natural shock in the unfortunate ones!
Slavery, ingrained in the brain at a subconscious level - that's how Smart Guy described it.
By the way, this is one of the reasons why elves were forbidden to read books - wizards were afraid that their slaves would get to the bottom of the truth.
Although, considering that the vast majority of wizards themselves did not know this truth - they simply did not think about it - the house elves would hardly have dug into it either. Harry dug up all this only thanks to his meticulousness and thirst for knowledge, granted by Tzeentch through the Smarty.
Digging through old volumes, Harry found a couple more mentions of such traditional gifts for different occasions. But he was primarily interested in one.
Gift of the Sword.
Oh, yes! A wizard could give his house-elf a weapon. This did not make the slave free, unlike clothing. It merely symbolized his higher status among the slaves - a much higher status! And at the same time allowed him to use the weapon, of course, only on the master's orders.
Needless to say, the brownie accepted this Gift - and the kitchen knife in Quinka's hands was precisely that - with delight? So much delight that it finally allowed her to overcome her horror and disgust for her current master.
- And who do we have here? - Harry drawled, slowly entering the room. Walking around the chair with the house elf tied to it, he sat down on the bed opposite the captive. - Quinky, where did you get this from? - Harry asked in surprise, looking at the gag in the mouth of the tied elf.
A gag, a pink ball with holes to allow breathing through the mouth, connected to a leather strap that was currently wrapped around the head of the elf captured by Quinky.
- Quinky found this in the back cupboard in Mr. and Mrs. Dursley's bedroom, sir! There were a lot of other amazing things there, - the slave reported happily. - They were hidden so deep that I thought your relatives had already lost and forgotten them. There were a lot of interesting things there... yes, - for some reason Quinky became embarrassed and blushed deeply.
"And the Dursleys are quickly rehabilitating themselves in my eyes!" Sweet Tooth laughed.
"How unexpected ," the Smart Guy chuckled. "It's even curious: what else was there besides the gag?"
"Kill them already, Harry Potter!" growled Ruffnut. "This is simply disgusting! A fat pig with that skinny worm in it is beyond my patience!"
"And you have already imagined this in detail, yes, Zu-Zu?" the Slaaneshi laughed again.
"DON'T YOU DARE CALL ME THAT!!!!" the Khornate roared, causing a spasm of pain in Harry's head. Although Potter acknowledged Ruffnut's right to be angry, the derivative of his nickname was, although apt, in the style of Sweet Tooth, still offensive. For a Khornate.
But getting into another argument between the voices in his head wasn't in his plans. Harry had more important things to do.
"Take out the gag," he said to the slave, after which she hurried to carry out the order.
"Harry Potter... sir," the elf tied to the chair said uncertainly. His ears were timidly pressed to his head, and his gaze darted from the knife in Quinky's hands, aimed at his face, to Harry himself. "Dobby... Dobby wanted to warn... to protect... Dobby wanted..."
"Dobby," Harry smiled, realizing that it was the house elf's name. "Tell me: what did you want to warn me about?" he asked ingratiatingly.
"The vile spy had this on him," Quinky hastened to interrupt her master, holding out a thick stack of envelopes, among which Harry was surprised to find letters recently sent to friends. But before accepting them from the hands of his slave, he said coldly:
- You. Interrupted. Me, - he said sharply, which made Quinky press her long ears to her head in horror, just like the strange Dobby. - But okay for now, - the boy said a little more softly. - I'll think of a punishment later. As for you... - here he turned to the prisoner, who was looking at Harry with horror and distrust, as if all his hopes and dreams were collapsing right before his eyes. - First, tell me: who sent you?
- Dobby... Dobby himself... But, sir, you... you are like Master Lucius! - the house elf even shed a tear.
"Lucius?" Potter was amazed, like a boy, having lost all the grandeur and aura of fear that he had previously radiated. "Lucius Malfoy?! Your master is Lucius Malfoy?!"
Dobby was convulsing in some strange convulsions, biting his lip until it bled - as if he was fighting with himself!
"Quinky?" the boy asked his slave, puzzled.
"He can't say anything bad about his master or give out information that his master has forbidden him to give out," the elf explained timidly. "He must punish himself - such is the oath of Duty! But he can't, because he is bound. And that makes it even worse for him!" she hissed maliciously towards the prisoner.
"I see," the boy said with a grin. "Okay, if he can't do it himself… We'll help."
For some reason, the terrible grin on Harry's face and the anticipatory expression on the house-elf's face made the unfortunate Dobby thrash around in his bonds even more...
More chapters on my P@treon: https://patreon.com/OOOTEN