Hoisting the groaning goblin, who still clung to the sword, over one shoulder, Harry seized Dobby’s hand and spun on the spot to Disapparate.

As he turned into darkness he caught one last view of the drawing room of the pale, frozen figures of Narcissa and Draco, of the streak of red that was Ron’s hair, and a blue of flying silver, as Bellatrix’s knife flew across the room at the place where he was vanishing—

Bill and Fleur’s… Shell Cottage… Bill and Fleur’s…

He had disappeared into the unknown; all he could do was repeat the name of the destination and hope that it would suffice to take him there.