He dug with a kind of fury, relishing the manual work, glorying in the non-magic of it, for everydrop of his sweat and every blister felt like a gift to the elf who had saved their lives.
He expected the elf's smile to vanish, his ears to droop; he expected him to say that it was impossible, or else that he would try to find somewhere, but his hopes were not high.
Ron had given him an enormous box of Every-Flavour Beans, Mr and Mrs Weasley the usual hand-knitted jumper and some mince pies, and Dobby a truly dreadful painting that Harry suspected had been done by the elf himself.
Harry released him; Dobby straightened his tea cozy and said defiantly to Kreacher, " But Kreacher should know that Draco Malfoy is not a good master to a house-elf! "