THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP Skower’s All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover: No Pain, No Stain! . . . Gladrags Wizardwear — London, Paris, Hogsmeade . . . Harry tore his eyes away from the sign and looked over his shoulder to see who else was sharing the box with them. So far it was empty, except for a tiny creature sitting in the second from last seat at the end of the row behind them. The creature, whose legs were so short they stuck out in front of it on the chair, was wearing a tea towel draped like a toga, and it had its face hidden in its hands. Yet those long, batlike ears were oddly familiar. . . . “Dobby?” said Harry incredulously. The tiny creature looked up and stretched its fingers, revealing enormous brown eyes and a nose the exact size and shape of a large tomato. It wasn’t Dobby — it was, however, unmistakably a house- elf, as Harry’s friend Dobby had been. Harry had set Dobby free from his old owners, the Malfoy family. “Did sir just call me Dobby?” squeaked the elf curiously from between its fingers. Its voice was higher even than Dobby’s had been, a teeny, quivering squeak of a voice, and Harry suspected — though it was very hard to tell with a house-elf — that this one might just be female. Ron and Hermione spun around in their seats to look. Though they had heard a lot about Dobby from Harry, they had never actually met him. Even Mr. Weasley looked around in interest. “Sorry,” Harry told the elf, “I just thought you were someone I knew.” “But I knows Dobby too, sir!” squeaked the elf. She was shield- ing her face, as though blinded by light, though the Top Box was ‘ 97 ‘