A/N: Thanks for the reviews. Also thanks to my lovely sounding board and beta Mad-Eyes4U. This chapter is a bit short but I hope it's entertaining.
As Harry sat staring at his homework which was supposed to be twelve inches long but only measured 4 ½, he looked at his watch for the third time in the past five minutes. It was a quarter past one in the morning and he was one of the few people still left in the common room. Ron and Hermoine had long since said their goodnights and left for the sanctuary of their warm beds. The reason Harry had not gone to bed yet was not because of his potions essay, but rather because he was mystified by the strange occurrences that had happened that day. As his eyes looked at a passage from his book about shriveling toes his mind was wondering what had happened to his socks and why of all the people in Hogwarts he had wound up with Malfoy's. His mind was also plagued with questions of how Dobby had gotten stuffed into a box full of Ping-Pong balls. It was all very suspicious.
So deep in thought was Harry that he jumped slightly when he heard a voice whisper in his ear, "Harry Potter."
"Dobby! What are you doing here?"
"Dobby came to tell you news of your socks."
"Did you find them."
"No sir, I am very sorry that I cannot locate your socks."
"Oh, that's okay Dobby."
"I did learn something though."
"Harry Potter must promise not to tell anyone."
"Harry Potter must promise."
"Okay, I won't tell anyone."
Dobby looked at his strangely then bent his head towards Harry's and whispered so quietly Harry could barely hear. "Dobby sent another house elf to see if Malfoy had your socks and she saw something…" Dobby stopped and cocked his head to the side.
Harry looked around the common room but did not see anything.
"There is someone approaching. Dobby must go."
"Wait Dobby, what did she see?"
But Dobby did not answer Harry's question and a second later he was gone.
'Well, that was odd,' Harry thought as he turned back to his essay. But sure enough, ten seconds later a groggy second year student tripped down the steps and made his way over to the cushy armchairs in front of the fire.
As the student sat down, Harry wondered what the house elf could have possibly seen that would make Dobby so jumpy that he would bolt at the first sign of another person. Thinking that he could worry about his socks later, Harry scribbled in 2 inch print enough facts about fungus and foot attacking potions as to make his essay 11 inches long. Putting his quill down, Harry wondered what else he could possibly say about feet.
Two minutes later, Harry rolled up the parchment and tucked it securely into his bag for class the next day. Neatly written across the bottom, the last sentences read; "But all these ailments of the foot do not compare to the natural and mysterious odor which emanates from the feet of a certain potion professor's mother. Indeed the smell of her feet is enough to knock out a troll and make a ghost turn up its nose. So when you contract the awful Pedismellus disease, just be glad you are not a member of the Snape family."