Pete's Expert Summary
My human has once again dedicated hours to clicking together little plastic bits, neglecting my mandatory petting schedule in the process. The result is a tribute to some spindly, large-eared creature from one of those moving-picture stories. According to the box, this "Dobby" has a posable head and fingers, which presents a mild, fleeting interest for a cat of my caliber. It also comes with a small plastic cake and a book with a sock, items that are practically screaming to be swatted into the dark void beneath the credenza. Ultimately, however, it's a hard, static object meant for a shelf. While the initial act of knocking it over might provide a moment of sublime, clattering joy, it seems like a tremendous amount of human effort for a one-time demolition event. It's a stationary target, and I prefer my challenges to have a bit more... scurry.
Key Features
- The first LEGO Harry Potter buildable model of Dobby the House-Elf (76421) – Your young Harry Potter fan can build and display a recreation of one the most beloved characters in the Wizarding World
- Posable head, ears, arms and fingers – Create different looks and adjust Dobby’s fingers so he can hold the brick-built accessories
- Iconic accessories – Kids can relive classic movie moments as they build Aunt Petunia’s ‘floating’ pudding cake and a detailed model of Tom Riddle’s diary with Harry Potter’s sock
- Made for display – Build and display the Dobby figure on the brick-built stand with a nameplate
- Perfect birthday gift for 8 year olds and up – Give this 403-piece building set as a treat, birthday present, Halloween toy, or holiday gift to kids and any Harry Potter fan
- LEGO Harry Potter memorabilia designed to make a big visual impact – This buildable figure measures over 7.5 in. (19 cm) high, 5 in. (12 cm) wide and 4 in. (10 cm) deep
- A helping hand – Let the LEGO Builder app guide kids on an intuitive building adventure. They can save sets, track progress and zoom in and rotate models in 3D while they build
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The air in the living room, my kingdom, had been thick with the sound of tiny, clicking plastics for what felt like an eternity. Finally, the noise ceased. My human, with an insufferable look of pride, placed their creation on the coffee table—an altar I typically reserve for my afternoon naps. It was a pale, gangly thing with ears that could catch a breeze from a different time zone and eyes the size of bottle caps. It stared blankly, a silent usurper in the heart of my territory. I narrowed my eyes, my tail giving a single, irritated thump against the rug. I approached with the silent, fluid grace befitting my station. A low growl, a mere whisper of my displeasure, rumbled in my chest. I circled the plastic effigy. It smelled sterile, of the factory it came from and the hands that assembled it. My human had adjusted one of its flimsy arms to make it look like it was presenting a preposterous-looking cake. A cake it couldn't eat. A cake I couldn't eat. The sheer pointlessness of it all was offensive. With a flick of my paw, I tested a large, floppy ear. It wobbled pathetically. This was no warrior. This was a glorified knick-knack. My gaze fell upon the other accessories placed beside it: a small book and a miniature sock. A sock! The symbol of laundry-day ambushes, the pinnacle of stolen prey, rendered here in lifeless plastic. An outrage. This could not stand. I gave the little book a firm bat, sending it skittering across the smooth surface of the table and onto the floor. A satisfying, if minor, victory. But it wasn't enough. The main figure still stood there, perched on its ridiculous stand, judging me with its vacant, green eyes. This affront required a more definitive statement. I gathered my haunches, and with a powerful spring, I landed silently on the table before the creature. We were face to face. In the reflection of its enormous eyes, I saw my own handsome gray face, my white tuxedo immaculate, my expression one of regal contempt. It was me versus the pretender. I raised a paw, extended my claws just so, and delivered a swift, decisive hook to its oversized head. The result was glorious. The creature toppled from its stand, taking the ridiculous cake with it. The crash was a symphony of cascading plastic, a beautiful, sharp clatter that echoed in the quiet room. It lay in a heap, its reign of terror lasting a mere seven minutes. It was, I decided, an excellent toy for breaking. Perhaps the human will be kind enough to rebuild it tomorrow so I can do it all over again.
