Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything else that you recognise.
A/N Well, I'm finally back people! Sorry to have kept you waiting but I had exams and was really busy. That and the fact that I was just too lazy to bother using my worthless imagination to think up a sequel to my first fic.
Anyway, I also want to welcome back my wonderful beta-reader, Jeni Black. Round of applause everyone! (Claps madly and wolf-whistles)
Well, that's it from me, now on with the story.
Chamber of Secrets: Slytherin Style!Chapter 1
"Dudley, pass the ice-cream."
"Dudley, change the channel."
"Dudley, get me another drink."
Harry Potter was, for the first time in his short life, enjoying his summer holidays. Coming back from Hogwarts after his 1st year of school, he had resolved to never let his relatives order him around as they had done for the past eleven years of his life. To accomplish this rather impressive feat (his relatives had always treated him as their personal slave and they definitely wouldn't change without a lot of persuasion) he had immediately begun to intimidate his miserable family with the few things at his disposal. One principal advantage was the fact that Harry's so called 'family' was unaware that he was forbidden to use magic out of school. Since Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were scared stiff of "that freakish mumbo-jumbo" and would do anything to prevent the neighbours from discovering their shameful secret, after a few threats they were sufficiently cowed. Any further protests on their part were immediately quelled by one purple-eyed glare from Harry's pet snake, Nemesis. Nemesis, or Isis as she preferred to be called, was more than happy to oblige her friend and would follow the Dursleys around the house, hissing menacingly.
Once the Dursleys were suitably intimidated, they were at Harry's beck and call 24-7. Harry spent his days lazing around the house, occasionally doing some homework or practising his karate. He had also gently persuaded Aunt Petunia to give him some money (all the while making sure his wand was in view) and had happily squandered it all on decent clothes and pizza. For the most part, the Dursleys stayed out of his way. Aunt Petunia was always out visiting friends and Uncle Vernon seemed to live in the office. Only Dudley was around for a longer amount of time, his hate of exercise outweighing his hate of Harry, so he stayed at home and was forced into doing Harry's bidding. The Dursley's rued the day that "abnormal boy" and his "freak snake" came back from that "horrible school." Harry, on the other hand, was, understandably, taking vicious enjoyment from his relative's plight and felt smug satisfaction at the iknowledge that he was making their worthless lives hell.
The only blight on Harry's otherwise amusing holidays was his friends. It was his 12th birthday, and yet he had received no cards, no presents and he would be spending the evening upstairs pretending he didn't exist.
Earlier that morning, while the Harry and the Dursleys were eating breakfast, Uncle Vernon had cleared his throat importantly and said,
"Now, as we all know, today is a very important day," he paused for dramatic effect, then continued. "This could well be the day I make the biggest deal of my career."
Harry rolled his eyes in annoyance. Uncle Vernon was talking about a stupid dinner invitation. He'd been obsessing about it for a fortnight. Some rich builder and his wife were coming to dinner and Uncle Vernon was hoping to get a large order of drills from him.
"I think we should run through the schedule one more time," said Vernon. " We should all be in the position at eight o'clock. Petunia, you will be-?"
"In the lounge," said Petunia promptly. "Waiting to welcome them graciously into our home."
"Good, good. And Dudley?"
"I'll be waiting to open the door." Dudley put on a foul, simpering smile. "May I take your coats Mrs and Mr Mason?"
"They'll love him!" cried Aunt Petunia rapturously, while Harry faked being sick. Honestly, nobody could be so gullible as to fall for this staged reception.
"Excellent, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon. Then he rounded on Harry with a vicious glare on his face. "And you?"
Harry just raised an eyebrow at his uncle, who suddenly changed his threatening stance and instead said, "I mean, uh, where will you so graciously be tonight?" with what obviously was supposed to be a smile on his face, but which looked more like a grimace to Harry.
"I'll be in my luxurious bedroom, trying to be silent so as not to disturb your exalted guests downstairs," said Harry passively, while inwardly smirking. Unfortunately, none of the Dursley's acknowledged Harry's attempt at sarcasm, probably because they were too thick to understand words of over one syllable.
"Right, yes, um, very good," choked out Uncle Vernon, red with indignation at having to praise his worthless nephew. "Well, anyway, we should aim to slip in a few compliments at dinner. Petunia, any ideas?"
"Oh, do tell me where you bought you dress Mrs Mason, it looks incredibly elegant."
"Excellent, and Dudley?"
"We had to write an essay on our hero for school and I wrote about you Mr Mason."
This was too much for both Harry and Aunt Petunia. While Petunia bust into tears, flinging her arms round Dudley's neck, Harry decided he had to get away from his relatives if he didn't want to die of laughter. He slipped out of the kitchen and ran up the stairs to his room, wondering just how stupid the Dursleys were. They just didn't seem to grasp the fact that compliments should not be preplanned. They also did not seem to realise that just looking at Dudley's fake simper would be enough to scare away even the bravest of guests. Harry would be very much surprised if the Masons stayed longer than half an hour.
Opening the door to his room, all thoughts of the Dursleys left his mind. There was something sitting on his bed. Harry stared in shock until outrage removed any feeling of surprise. This was his room. How dare a misshapen rat jump up and down on his bed!
Harry managed not to shout out in anger, but it took a lot of self-control. The little creature on the bed had large, bat-like ears and bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls. Whipping out his wand, Harry eyed it warily. While he was pissed of at the creature's audacity to bounce around his room as if it owned it, Harry was not so reckless as to yell at it without knowing if the thing was dangerous or not. It looked harmless but appearances could be deceptive. Instead he said, in a calm voice, "What the hell are you?"
After hearing Harry's voice, the creature whipped round, slipped of the bed and bowed so low that the end of its long thin nose touched the carpet. Harry noticed that it was wearing what looked like an old pillow case, with rips for arm and leg holes.
"Harry Potter!" said the creature in a high-pitched voice. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you sir. Such an honour it is."
"Thank you," said Harry, still suspicious but slightly mollified by the respect the creature was showing him. "But please answer my question. What the hell are you?"
"I is Dobby, sir. Dobby the house-elf."
"Really?" Harry had read about house-elves but the book hadn't been very informative. All it said was that house-elves were servants that were bonded to a wizarding family for life. "Well, Dobby, could you be so kind as to tell me why you are running around my room, which, by the way, is private."
"Dobby is sorry sir, but he has come to tell you, sir... it is difficult... Dobby wonders where to begin, sir."
"Start at the beginning of course," said Harry abruptly. He was getting seriously annoyed at the creatures inability to form a comprehensible sentence. Also, the way it was referring to itself in third-person all the time was seriously freaking him out.
"Dobby serves a family of wizards, sir and my master is not knowing Dobby is here, sir. Dobby has come here in secret to tell Harry Potter a thing that is very important, sir. Dobby will have to iron his hands for coming, sir, but Dobby knows it is worth it, sir."
"Iron your hands?" echoed Harry, shocked.
The little elf nodded glumly. "My master is very strict, sir. Sometimes he..." Suddenly, without warning, the creature leapt up and started bashing its head against the wall.
"What the hell do you think your doing? Stop it! You'll dent the wall!" yelled harry, grabbing the elf and pulling it away. What the hell did I do to deserve this, wondered Harry. I'm already stuck here with the Dursleys, and now I have a freak elf who's into self-harm running around and wreaking the furniture.
"Dobby is sorry, sir. Dobby had to punish himself. Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir."
"Why is that such a big deal? Anyway, what family do you serve?" asked Harry curiously.
The elf immediately looked guilty and said, "Dobby can't say, sir."
"Whatever, just tell me what is so important and then leave," said Harry, exasperated. Getting information out of the house-elf seemed close to impossible.
"Dobby has come to tell Harry Potter that he cannot go back to Hogwarts. T'is too dangerous, sir."
"What! Not go back? Stay here all my life? No fucking way! And what about my friends? if its so bloody dangerous then they'll need help."
"Oh, Harry Potter is brave and noble, but he must not go back. He must save himself. Dobby has heard young master say that you are a good friend, but Dobby never dreamed that the mighty Harry Potter could be so courageous!"
Harry was liking the elf less and less every second. To be called brave and noble was to any self-respecting Slytherin the worst possible insult. The elf made him sound like a dumb Gryffindor! And what did it mean when it said that its young master had talked about him. The only people that Harry knew who would talk about him in a favourable way were other Slytherins, (he didn't have many friends in other houses.) and they would never call him "courageous". For a slytherin, being called a sneaky bastard would be a compliment. In fact, Harry didn't know any people outside of his own house who could even afford a house-elf. You had to be really rich, like the Malfoys... it clicked.
"you're Draco's house-elf!" exclaimed Harry.
The creature looked even more guilty and seemed to be struck dumb with terror. With one last squeak it disappeared with a loud "crack!" leaving a pile of letters behind it. Bending down, Harry saw that they were all addressed to him from his friends.
"That elf's been stealing my mail!" raged Harry. "If I ever see it again it will seriously regret it."
He then settled down to read the letters and plot revenge.