Dobby Sock Quotes

Socks are Dobby’s favorite, favorite clothes, sir!” he said, ripping off his odd ones and pulling on Uncle Vernon’s. “I has seven now, sir. . . . But sir . . .” he said, his eyes widening, having pulled both socks up to their highest extent, so that they reached to the bottom of his shorts, “they has made a mistake in the shop, Harry Potter, they is giving you two the same!

Got a sock,” said Dobby in disbelief. “Master threw it, and Dobby caught it, and Dobby — Dobby is free.

Harry wrapped the elf more snugly in his jacket. Ron sat on the edge of the grave and stripped off his shoes and socks, which he placed upon the elf's bare feet. Dean produced a woollen hat, which Harry placed carefully upon Dobby's head, muffling his bat-like ears.

Master had given Dobby a sock," said the elf in wonderment. "Master gave it to Dobby

he was going to buy Dobby a pair of socks for every day of the year.

What’s that?” spat Mr. Malfoy. “What did you say?” “Got a sock,” said Dobby in disbelief. “Master threw it, and Dobby caught it, and Dobby — Dobby is free.

Tis a mark of the house-elf’s enslavement, sir. Dobby can only be freed if his masters present him with clothes, sir. The family is careful not to pass Dobby even a sock, sir, for then he would be free to leave their house forever.

Master has given a sock,” said the elf in wonderment. “Master gave it to Dobby.” “What’s that?” spat Mr. Malfoy. “What did you say?” “Got a sock,” said Dobby in disbelief. “Master threw it, and Dobby caught it, and Dobby — Dobby is free.

Master has given Dobby a sock,

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

Harry’s other presents were much more satisfactory than Dobby’s odd socks — with the obvious exception of the Dursleys’, which consisted of a single tissue, an all-time low — Harry supposed they too were remembering the Ton-Tongue Toffee. Hermione had given Harry a book called Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland; Ron, a bulging bag of Dungbombs; Sirius, a handy penknife with attachments to unlock any lock and undo any knot; and Hagrid, a vast box of sweets including all Harry’s favorites: Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, and Fizzing Whizbees. There was also, of course, Mrs. Weasley’s usual package, including a new sweater (green, with a picture of a dragon on it — Harry supposed Charlie had told her all about the Horntail), and a large quantity of homemade mince pies.

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.

Dobby now handed Harry a small package, which turned out to be — socks. “Dobby is making them himself, sir!” the elf said happily. “He is buying the wool out of his wages, sir!” The left sock was bright red and had a pattern of broomsticks upon it; the right sock was green with a pattern of Snitches.

ugly head. “Dobby was so shocked when he heard Harry Potter was back at Hogwarts, he let his master’s dinner burn! Such a flogging Dobby never had, sir. . . .” Harry slumped back onto his pillows. “You nearly got Ron and me expelled,” he said fiercely. “You’d better get lost before my bones come back, Dobby, or I might strangle you.” Dobby smiled weakly. “Dobby is used to death threats, sir. Dobby gets them five times a day at home.” He blew his nose on a corner of the filthy pillowcase he wore, looking so pathetic that Harry felt his anger ebb away in spite of himself. “Why d’you wear that thing, Dobby?” he asked curiously. “This, sir?” said Dobby, plucking at the pillowcase. “’Tis a mark of the house-elf’s enslavement, sir. Dobby can only be freed if his masters present him with clothes, sir. The family is careful not to pass Dobby even a sock, sir, for then he would be free to leave their house forever.

THE MADNESS OF MR. CROUCH Harry, Ron, and Hermione went up to the Owlery after breakfast on Sunday to send a letter to Percy, asking, as Sirius had suggested, whether he had seen Mr. Crouch lately. They used Hedwig, because it had been so long since she’d had a job. When they had watched her fly out of sight through the Owlery window, they proceeded down to the kitchen to give Dobby his new socks. The house-elves gave them a very cheery welcome, bowing and curtsying and bustling around making tea again. Dobby was ecstatic about his present. “Harry Potter is too good to Dobby!” he squeaked, wiping large tears out of his enormous eyes. “You saved my life with that gillyweed, Dobby, you really did,” said Harry. “No chance of more of those eclairs, is there?” said Ron, who was looking around at the beaming and bowing house-elves. “You’ve just had breakfast!” said Hermione irritably, but a great silver platter of eclairs was already zooming toward them, supported by four elves. “We should get some stuff to send up to Snuffles,” Harry muttered. “Good idea,” said Ron. “Give Pig something to do. You couldn’t give us a bit of extra food, could you?” he said to the surrounding elves, and they bowed delightedly and hurried off to get some more. “Dobby, where’s Winky?” said Hermione, who was looking around. “Winky is over there by the fire, miss,” said Dobby quietly, his ears drooping slightly. “Oh dear,” said Hermione as she spotted Winky. Harry looked over at the fireplace too. Winky was sitting on the same stool as last time, but she had allowed herself to become so filthy that she was not immediately distinguishable from the smoke-blackened brick behind her. Her clothes were ragged and unwashed. She was clutching a bottle of butterbeer and swaying slightly on her stool, staring into the fire. As they watched her, she gave an enormous hiccup. “Winky is getting through six bottles a day now,” Dobby whispered to Harry. “Well, it’s not strong, that stuff,” Harry said. But Dobby shook his head. “’Tis strong for a house-elf, sir,” he said. Winky hiccuped again. The elves who had brought the eclairs gave her disapproving looks as they returned to work. “Winky is pining, Harry Potter,” Dobby whispered sadly. “Winky wants to go home. Winky still thinks Mr. Crouch is her master, sir, and nothing Dobby says will persuade her that Professor Dumbledore is her master now.” “Hey, Winky,” said Harry, struck by a sudden inspiration, walking over to her, and bending down, “you don’t know what Mr. Crouch might be up to, do you?

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