"Harry grabbed the diary and dashed out of the office. He could hear Dobby’s squeals of pain receding around the corner. Quickly, wondering if this plan could possibly work, Harry took off one of his shoes, pulled off his slimy, filthy sock, and stuffed the diary into it. Then he ran down the dark corridor.

He caught up with them at the top of the stairs.

‘Mr Malfoy,’ he gasped, skidding to a halt, ‘I’ve got something for you.’

And he forced the smelly sock into Lucius Malfoy’s hand.

‘What the -?’

Mr Malfoy ripped the sock off the diary, threw it aside, then looked furiously from the ruined book to Harry.

‘You’ll meet the same sticky end as your parents one of these days, Harry Potter,’ he said softly. ‘They were meddlesome fools, too.’

He turned to go.

‘Come, Dobby. I said, come!’

But Dobby didn’t move. He was holding up Harry’s disgusting, slimy sock, and looking at it as though it were a priceless treasure.

‘Master has given Dobby a sock,’ said the elf in wonderment. ‘Master gave it to Dobby.’

‘What’s that?’ spat Mr Malfoy. ‘What did you say?’

‘Dobby has got a sock,’ said Dobby in disbelief. ‘Master threw it, and Dobby caught it, and Dobby – Dobby is free."

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