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<v Speaker 1>USU Studious. Hello there, welcome back. I'm so glad you're here.

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<v Speaker 1>To night. This is Muggle Snuggle, a boring Harry Potter

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<v Speaker 1>podcast to make you sleep. I'm Nigel, and to night

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<v Speaker 1>we begin a brand new book, Harry Potter and the

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<v Speaker 1>Chamber of Secrets. Just close your eyes and let me

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<v Speaker 1>take you there. Now where were we last time? Harry

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<v Speaker 1>had finished his first year at Hogwarts. He had faced

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<v Speaker 1>a troll, survived a deadly game of quidditch, and discovered

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<v Speaker 1>something about the mirror of heires that he kept tucked

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<v Speaker 1>away in his heart. Then he went back to the

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<v Speaker 1>Dursleys for the summer. Back to privet drive, back to

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<v Speaker 1>the cupboard under the stairs. Well almost back to the cupboard.

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<v Speaker 1>Uncle Vernon had actually given Harry a real bedroom. Now,

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<v Speaker 1>not out of kindness, out of fear. Harry had threatened

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<v Speaker 1>to hex Dudley's pig tail off if things didn't improve,

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<v Speaker 1>and Uncle Vernon, trembling behind his mustache, had agreed to

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<v Speaker 1>let Harry sleep in the spare room. And that is

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<v Speaker 1>where we find Harry now on a hot summer night,

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<v Speaker 1>the last night of July, his birthday. Let your mind

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<v Speaker 1>wander to that little room the bed with the thin sheets,

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<v Speaker 1>rumpled and warm from the heat. The wall paper faded

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<v Speaker 1>yellow with little flowers printed on it, flowers that looked

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<v Speaker 1>tired and droopy, as if they too wanted to be

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<v Speaker 1>somewhere else. The desk by the window stacked high with

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<v Speaker 1>Dudley's old home work that Harry had been forced to

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<v Speaker 1>copy out by hand, and the window opened just a crack,

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<v Speaker 1>letting in the water warm night air that smelled of

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<v Speaker 1>cut grass and the faintest hint of the distant sea.

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<v Speaker 1>Harry ly there in the dark, staring at the ceiling.

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<v Speaker 1>He counted the days until he could go back to Hogworks,

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<v Speaker 1>that wonderful place that felt more like home than this

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<v Speaker 1>house ever had. But tonight there would be no birthday ache,

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<v Speaker 1>no cards, no presents. The Dursleys did not celebrate Harry's birthday.

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<v Speaker 1>They barely acknowledged he existed at all. To them, Harry

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<v Speaker 1>was a burden, a nuisance, a strange boy who had

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<v Speaker 1>been dumped on their doorstep as a baby, and who

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<v Speaker 1>refused to behave normally. Harry rolled on to his side

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<v Speaker 1>and stared at the wall. On it hung a row

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<v Speaker 1>of faded photographs, not real people, of course, just the

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<v Speaker 1>flowers in his bedroom at Hogwas. He had managed to

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<v Speaker 1>make them bloom using magic, a little spell from her

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<v Speaker 1>bology class that Professor Sprout had taught them, And now

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<v Speaker 1>they sat in their frames on the wall, swaying gently

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<v Speaker 1>in a breeze that wasn't there. He missed those flowers.

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<v Speaker 1>He missed everything about Awkwards, the great Hall with its

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<v Speaker 1>thousand floating candles and its enchanted ceiling, the common room

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<v Speaker 1>with its crackling fire and its squashy arm chairs, Hagrid's

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<v Speaker 1>hut with its warmth and the smell of something always

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<v Speaker 1>cooking on the fire, even the cold stone corridors. At night,

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<v Speaker 1>when the only sounds were his own footsteps and the distant,

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<v Speaker 1>sleepy murmur of the portraits on the walls, he was

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<v Speaker 1>so deep and thought that he didn't hear the footsteps

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<v Speaker 1>on the stairs, not until the door burst open and

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<v Speaker 1>a shape filled the doorway. It was Uncle Varnon. His

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<v Speaker 1>purple face was already turning down, his mustache twitched with irritation.

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<v Speaker 1>His small, piggy eyes darted around the room, checking for

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<v Speaker 1>anything that might look unusual. No glowing books, no floating feathers,

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<v Speaker 1>just a perfectly ordinary perfectly miserable bedroom dinners in ten minutes,

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<v Speaker 1>he growled, And I want you to be quiet. The

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<v Speaker 1>Masons are coming. They're very important people. If you so

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<v Speaker 1>much as breathe the wrong way, I'll lock you in

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<v Speaker 1>that cupboard so fast your head spins. Harrison nothing, He'd

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<v Speaker 1>just watched as Uncle Vernon's eyes narrowed, as if trying

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<v Speaker 1>to find something to complain about, but unable to find it.

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<v Speaker 1>Then Uncle Vernon grunted, apparently satisfied, and left. Harry heard

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<v Speaker 1>him stomping back down the stairs. Then the distant clatter

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<v Speaker 1>of plates, the squeak of the china cabinet being opened,

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<v Speaker 1>the murmur of Aunt Petunia giving instructions about which glass

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<v Speaker 1>is to you. The Dursleys were getting ready for their

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<v Speaker 1>dinner party, the Masons. Mister Mason was some kind of

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<v Speaker 1>business man who would with Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia

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<v Speaker 1>had been planning this evening for weeks. She had polished

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<v Speaker 1>the silver, she had eye in the tablecloth twice. She

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<v Speaker 1>had even made a cake, a proper cake with layers

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<v Speaker 1>of sponge and cream and fresh strawberries on top. Not

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<v Speaker 1>for Harry, of course, the cake was for the Masons.

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<v Speaker 1>There would be fancy food and polished silver and Aunt

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<v Speaker 1>Petunia's famous lemon drizzle cake. There would be laughter that

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<v Speaker 1>was too loud and smiles that were too wide, and

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<v Speaker 1>all of it would happen while Harry sat in his

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<v Speaker 1>room pretending not to exist. Harry sat up and looked

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<v Speaker 1>at the desk. On it sat a pile of Dudley's

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<v Speaker 1>old homework. Aunt Petunia had made him copy it out

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<v Speaker 1>by hand, all the essays and worksheets that Dudley had

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<v Speaker 1>never bothered to do. He was supposed to keep him busy,

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<v Speaker 1>keep him quiet, keep him invisible. Harry stared at the

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<v Speaker 1>pile and sighed. Then he reached for his wand he

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<v Speaker 1>couldn't help it. He just missed it. The weight of

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<v Speaker 1>the wood in his hand, the smooth, worn surface where

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<v Speaker 1>his fingers had held it a thousand times, the way

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<v Speaker 1>it felt when he pointed it at something and whispered

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<v Speaker 1>a spell, and the whole world seemed to tilt just slightly,

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<v Speaker 1>as if acknowledging that something extraordinary had just happened. He

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<v Speaker 1>picked up a beetle that had crawled on to the

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<v Speaker 1>desk and nudged it with his warned tip wing guardium leviosa,

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<v Speaker 1>he whispered. The beetle floated gently into the air, turning slowly,

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<v Speaker 1>its legs dangling in the empty space. Harry smiled. It

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<v Speaker 1>was a tiny thing, a tiny wonderful thing that reminded

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<v Speaker 1>him that magic was real, that it belonged to him,

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<v Speaker 1>that somewhere out there, Hogwarts was waiting. He let the

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<v Speaker 1>beetle drift back down to the desk and set his

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<v Speaker 1>wand back in its hiding place, a gap ning, a

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<v Speaker 1>loose board in the wall, stuffed with socks to muffle it.

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<v Speaker 1>Not exactly a proper wand holster, but it would do.

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<v Speaker 1>Then he heard something, not from downstairs, not from the garden,

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<v Speaker 1>from inside his own bedroom, A small, squeaky sound, like

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<v Speaker 1>a hiccup or a sob, very faint, almost too faint

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<v Speaker 1>to hear, but in the silence of that small room

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<v Speaker 1>it was as clear as a bell. Harry turned slowly,

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<v Speaker 1>his heart beating a little faster, and there, sitting on

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<v Speaker 1>his bedside table, was the most peculiar thing he had

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<v Speaker 1>ever seen, and he had seen quite a few peculiar

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<v Speaker 1>things this year. It was a small creature, no bigger

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<v Speaker 1>than a foot tall. It adn enormous bat like ears

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<v Speaker 1>that stuck out from its head like wings. Its eyes

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<v Speaker 1>were enormous and green, like a cat's, and they filled

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<v Speaker 1>most of its wrinkled face. It was wearing a pillowcase,

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<v Speaker 1>a clean white pillowcase, tied at the waist with a

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<v Speaker 1>piece of string. It was staring at Harry with an

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<v Speaker 1>expression of absolute devoted adoration. Harry Potter, it whispered. Its

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<v Speaker 1>voice was high and squeaky, like a mouse. But there

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<v Speaker 1>was something deeper underneath it, something old and tired and

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<v Speaker 1>desperately sad. Harry Potter, Sir, Harry stared at it for

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<v Speaker 1>a long moment. The creature stared back, its lower lip

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<v Speaker 1>trembling er said Harry, Hello. The creature burst into tears.

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<v Speaker 1>It was quite extraordinary. The tears rolled down its wrinkled

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<v Speaker 1>cheeks and splashed onto the pillowcase. Its enormous ears flapped,

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<v Speaker 1>Its whole body shook with sobs. The sound was high

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<v Speaker 1>and thin, like a kettle just beginning to whistle. Harry Potter,

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<v Speaker 1>It wailed, Dobby has come to see Harry Potter at last.

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<v Speaker 1>Dobby has heard so much about Harry Potter, Sir, so much,

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<v Speaker 1>the most wonderful wizard. The kindest heart, and Dobby. It

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<v Speaker 1>broke off into another fit of weeping, burying its face

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<v Speaker 1>in the pillowcase. Its shoulders heaved, its ears flopped forward

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<v Speaker 1>over its face. Harry looked around the room, hoping for

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<v Speaker 1>someone else to appear, but there was no one, just

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<v Speaker 1>him and the crying creature, Dobby. Harry said, softly, is

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<v Speaker 1>that your name? The creature looked up, its huge eyes

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<v Speaker 1>glistening Dobby, Sir, Dobby is a house else, Sir, and Dobby.

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<v Speaker 1>Dobby has come to warn Harry Potter. Warn me. Harry

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<v Speaker 1>sat up straighter, pulling his knees toward it. Chest warned

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<v Speaker 1>me about what Dobby's ears flattened against its head. It

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<v Speaker 1>looked genuinely terrified. Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts.

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<v Speaker 1>The words hanginging air like a cold mist. Outside, a

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<v Speaker 1>car engine rumbled past on Privet Drive. Somewhere in the distance,

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<v Speaker 1>a dog barked. The curtains stirred in the warm breeze

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<v Speaker 1>from the window. But inside that small bedroom everything was

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<v Speaker 1>very quiet. Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts.

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<v Speaker 1>Dobby repeated its voice, barely above a whisper. There is

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<v Speaker 1>a plot, sir, A terrible plot to make most terrible

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<v Speaker 1>things happen. At Hogwarts, Harry felt a chill run down

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<v Speaker 1>his spine. Despite the warm summer night, despite the open window,

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<v Speaker 1>despite everything, he felt cold, the kind of cold that

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<v Speaker 1>comes from inside, from the pit of your stomach. What

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<v Speaker 1>kind of plot, Harry asked, But Dobby just shook its head,

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<v Speaker 1>its face crumpling again. Dobby cannot tell, Sir Dobby. Dobby

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<v Speaker 1>has said too much already. Dobby is a house elf.

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<v Speaker 1>Dobby is bound to serve. But Doarby could not let

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<v Speaker 1>Harry Potter go back. Without warning, the creature reached behind

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<v Speaker 1>its ear and pulled out a small, square object. Harry blinked.

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<v Speaker 1>It was a sock, a dirty, ragged sock with a

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<v Speaker 1>hole in the heel and a faint smell that suggested

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<v Speaker 1>it had been worn many times before being washed, which

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<v Speaker 1>it probably hadn't been. Dorby wrought Harry Potter a present,

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<v Speaker 1>Dobby said, holding it out with trembling hands. Its eyes

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<v Speaker 1>were shining with hope and fear all mixed together. Harry

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<v Speaker 1>took it more out of surprise than anything else. It

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<v Speaker 1>was a very old sock, very worn. It had clearly

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<v Speaker 1>been mended many times. The fabric patched with different colored thread.

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<v Speaker 1>Dobby knew, Sir, Dobby said, wiping its eyes with the

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<v Speaker 1>corner of its pillowcase. Dobby knew that Harry Potter did

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<v Speaker 1>not have a proper birthday present this year. Harry looked

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<v Speaker 1>at the sock, then back at the small creature. Something

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<v Speaker 1>about this was both deeply sad and deeply strange. A

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<v Speaker 1>house elf he had never met had sneaked into his

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<v Speaker 1>bedroom on his birthday to bring him a sock, a

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<v Speaker 1>sock that probably belonged to someone else, a sock that was,

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<v Speaker 1>by any reasonable standard, a terrible gift. But Dobby had

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<v Speaker 1>given it with such hope, such genuine affection, that Harry

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<v Speaker 1>felt something warm and tender in his chest. Thank you,

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<v Speaker 1>Harry said, because he didn't know what else to say.

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<v Speaker 1>That's that's very kind of you, Dobby. Dobby's face lit

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<v Speaker 1>up like a small lantern. Harry Potter is so kind, Sir,

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<v Speaker 1>so kind. Dobby will remember this forever. Then the creature's

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<v Speaker 1>expression darkened again, its ears up, its eyes grew rat

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<v Speaker 1>once more, per persing. But Harry Potter must promise, promise

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<v Speaker 1>not to go back to Hogwarts. Harry shook his head

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<v Speaker 1>I can't promise that Hogwarts is. It's my home, It's

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<v Speaker 1>the only place I've ever belonged. Dobby let out a

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<v Speaker 1>moan so loud and so piteous that Harry leaped out

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<v Speaker 1>of bed and clapped his hand over the creature's mouth.

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<v Speaker 1>Its skin was warm and slightly damp, and it smelled

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<v Speaker 1>faintly of something metallic. Dobby, he hissed, sh they'll hear you.

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<v Speaker 1>He could hear movement downstairs, the clink of glasses, Aunt

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<v Speaker 1>Petunia's sharp voice giving orders about the soup. Uncle Vernon's

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<v Speaker 1>deep laugh, the kind he saved for important guests. Dobby's

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<v Speaker 1>enormous eyes stared up at Harry in gratitude, Then very gently,

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<v Speaker 1>it wriggled free. Dobby is sorry, sir. Doppy did not

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<v Speaker 1>mean to shout. It looked at Harry with such sorrow

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<v Speaker 1>that Harry felt something twist in his chest. Harry Potter

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<v Speaker 1>is the only one who has ever been kind to Dobby.

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<v Speaker 1>What do you mean, Harry asked, sitting back on the bed.

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<v Speaker 1>Dorby serves a wizard family, Sir, the Malfoys. The word

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<v Speaker 1>came out like a curse, like something foul tasting. Doppy's

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<v Speaker 1>whole body shuddered. Master is a dark wizard, sir, very powerful,

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<v Speaker 1>But Dobby is bound house Elves cannot leave, they cannot disobey.

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<v Speaker 1>They can only try, try what try to save Harry

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<v Speaker 1>Potter from going back to hogwartsu The plot, sir, The

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<v Speaker 1>plot is terrible, and Harry Potter is in danger. Harry

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<v Speaker 1>knelt down so he was closer to Dobby's level. Can

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<v Speaker 1>you tell me anything more? Just a little? Dobby's lips

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<v Speaker 1>moved as if fighting with itself. Its hands twisted, the

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<v Speaker 1>fabric of its pillow case. Its whole body tensed. Then

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<v Speaker 1>in a whisper so faint Harry could barely hear it.

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<v Speaker 1>The Chamber of Secrets is going to be opened. The

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<v Speaker 1>words made no sense to Harry. The Chamber of secrets.

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<v Speaker 1>He had never heard of it. He looked at Dbby,

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<v Speaker 1>hoping for more, but Dobby shook its head violently. No more, Sir,

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<v Speaker 1>Darby has said too much. Dubby must go. But please, sir,

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<v Speaker 1>please do not go back, for your own safety. And then,

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<v Speaker 1>with a faint parped up it was golm vanished into

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<v Speaker 1>thin air, leaving behind nothing but the faint impression of

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<v Speaker 1>a pillow case, the echo of those terrible words and

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<v Speaker 1>a small crumpled sock lying on the bedside table. Harry

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<v Speaker 1>stood in the middle of his room, Hart pounding the

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<v Speaker 1>chamber of secrets? What was the chamber of secrets? Who

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<v Speaker 1>were the Malfoyse? What was Dobby trying to protect him from?

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<v Speaker 1>He sat back down on the bed. His mind raced.

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<v Speaker 1>He thought about the howler he had received from Ron

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<v Speaker 1>that morning. Ron's mother, Molly Weasley, had sent it in

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<v Speaker 1>a red envelope. When Harry opened it, her voice had

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<v Speaker 1>echoed through the entire house like a fog horn. Dear

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<v Speaker 1>Rung told, how dare you steal that car? I am

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<v Speaker 1>absolutely disgusted. Your father is facing an inquiry at work,

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<v Speaker 1>and it is entirely your fault. If you put another

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<v Speaker 1>toe out of line, I will send you home by

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<v Speaker 1>owl mail. Vernon had heard, of course, Vernon had heard.

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<v Speaker 1>The howler had practically shaken the house. Vernon had snatched

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<v Speaker 1>it from Harry's hands and torn it to pieces, his

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<v Speaker 1>face going the color of a plum. Harry had felt

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<v Speaker 1>a stab of guilt. Poor missus Weesley. She had been

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<v Speaker 1>so worried about Ron that she had sent the howler

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<v Speaker 1>without waiting to hear his side of the story, But

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<v Speaker 1>underneath the guilt, Harry had felt something else, a warmth.

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<v Speaker 1>Missus Wesley cared enough to write. The Dursleys didn't care

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<v Speaker 1>enough to ask. He thought about writing back to Ron

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<v Speaker 1>to tell him about Darby, about the warning about the

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<v Speaker 1>Chamber of Secrets, but he didn't have an owl Headwig

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<v Speaker 1>was in her cage downstairs, probably asleep, and Harry didn't

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<v Speaker 1>dare risk going down to get her, not with the

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<v Speaker 1>Masons arriving any minute. So he lay back on his

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<v Speaker 1>pillow and stared at the ceiling. The sounds of the

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<v Speaker 1>Dursley's dinner party drifted up through the floor. Laughter, the

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<v Speaker 1>clink of cutlery had Petunia's voice smooth and welcoming, the

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<v Speaker 1>way she only sounded when important people were watching. Harry

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<v Speaker 1>pulled the thin sheet over himself and closed his eyes.

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<v Speaker 1>The warm night air drifted through the window, carrying the

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<v Speaker 1>scent of the garden, the roses that on Petunia tended

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<v Speaker 1>so carefully, the honeysuckle climbing the fence, and somewhere far away,

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<v Speaker 1>an owl called a long, slow note that faded into

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<v Speaker 1>the darkness like a sigh. Harry let the sound wash

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<v Speaker 1>over him like water. He thought about Hogwards, the moving

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<v Speaker 1>staircases that shifted and groaned, changing destinations without warning, The

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<v Speaker 1>portrait halls that whispered and laughed as you tried to

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<v Speaker 1>climb through them, the ghosts drifting through the walls, transparent

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<v Speaker 1>and shimmering trailing mists like wedding veils. He thought about

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<v Speaker 1>the Great Hall with its enchanted ceiling that showed whatever

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<v Speaker 1>the sky was doing outside. On clear nights, you could

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<v Speaker 1>see the star round. Rainy nights, clouds drifted overhead, and

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<v Speaker 1>drops of water fell through the ceiling and vanished just

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<v Speaker 1>before they reached your head. He thought about Hagrid, probably

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<v Speaker 1>feeding buckbeak in his hut right now, or trying to

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<v Speaker 1>hatch some new months from a forbidden egg. He thought

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<v Speaker 1>about Neville, probably losing his towed traver again, searching under

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<v Speaker 1>every cushion in the Briffin Door dormitory. He thought about Hermione,

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<v Speaker 1>already back in the Muggle world, probably reading every book

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<v Speaker 1>she could get her hands on before term started. She

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<v Speaker 1>had probably finished the summer reading list three times over

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<v Speaker 1>by now. And he thought about ron Ron, who had

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<v Speaker 1>sent him the most extraordinary birthday gift, a sweater with

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<v Speaker 1>a big orange ar on it, knitted by missus Wesley herself.

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<v Speaker 1>Harry touched his chest, remembering the soft wool against his skin.

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<v Speaker 1>I was folded in his trunk, now packed and ready

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<v Speaker 1>for the journey back to Hogwarts, the Chamber of Secrets.

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<v Speaker 1>He would find out what it was. He would ask Dumbledore,

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<v Speaker 1>he would ask McGonagall, he would ask any one who knew.

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<v Speaker 1>Because Doarby's warning, as frightening as it was, had only

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<v Speaker 1>made Harry more determined to go back. He could not

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<v Speaker 1>stay here, not at the Dursley's, not in this cold,

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<v Speaker 1>quiet house when the boy wanted him. Hogwarts was his home,

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<v Speaker 1>and he was going back. The sounds of the dinner

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<v Speaker 1>party faded, the footsteps on the stairs grew lighter. The

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<v Speaker 1>lights creaped off one by one, until the whole house

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<v Speaker 1>was dark. Harry lay in the silence, listening to his

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<v Speaker 1>own breathing, slow, steady, in and out, in and out,

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<v Speaker 1>each bather little slower than the last. The warm night

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<v Speaker 1>wrapped around him like a blanket. The distant hum of

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<v Speaker 1>the town settled into stillness, and slowly, gently, Harry's thoughts

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<v Speaker 1>began to drift like clouds across a summer sky. He

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<v Speaker 1>thought of the sorting hat, sitting on its stool in

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<v Speaker 1>the Great Hall. He thought of the way it had

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<v Speaker 1>whispered inside his head, not slitherin, not slitherin? But why not?

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<v Speaker 1>What was slytherin? And why had the hat wanted to

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<v Speaker 1>put in there? He thought of the quidditch pitch soaring

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<v Speaker 1>through the clouds, the wind in his hair, the golden

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<v Speaker 1>flash of the snatch, tiny and bright against the gray sky,

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<v Speaker 1>the feeling of catching it, of winning, of the whole

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<v Speaker 1>crowd roaring his name. He thought of the chest pieces

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<v Speaker 1>clicking and clattering across the board, Ran sitting in the dark,

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<v Speaker 1>guiding his pieces with fierce concentration, sacrificing himself so Harry

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<v Speaker 1>and Hermione could move forward. He thought of the mirror

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<v Speaker 1>of Airy Said, and the family he had seen standing

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<v Speaker 1>behind him, his mother and father, their faces smiling, their

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<v Speaker 1>hands reaching for him. The warmth of knowing that somewhere,

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<v Speaker 1>somehow they were watching over him. And somewhere in those thoughts,

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<v Speaker 1>in those soft, drifting memories, Harry fell asleep. The room

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<v Speaker 1>was quiet, the night was warm, and on the bedside

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<v Speaker 1>table where Dobby had been sitting, there was nothing left

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<v Speaker 1>but a small crumpled sock. Just close your eyes. There

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<v Speaker 1>is no rush we have all night. Let your mind

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<v Speaker 1>drift to Hawkwartz, where the towers are glowing in the moonlight,

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<v Speaker 1>and the owls are settling into their purchase, Where the

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<v Speaker 1>common room fire is crackling softly, and the portraits are

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<v Speaker 1>snoring in their frames. Where the womping willow is swaying

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<v Speaker 1>gently in the night breeze, and the black lake is

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<v Speaker 1>still and dark and silent. Harkwartz is waiting, and Harry,

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<v Speaker 1>he's going back. Good night.