Notes: I was being harassed by my friend Scott about writing fan fiction. When I said he was missing out, he replied that he wouldn’t be able to write such things because he is much too twisted. Or something. Then he wrote me this. I conned him into giving me permission to post it and he admits to being curious to see what people will make of it. So flames are very welcome!

Title: Dobby is here to serve.

Author: Rekahneko’s friend, Scott

Disclaimer: Scott doesn’t own it either…

ooooooooooooooo

Crack.

"Dobby is here to serve..."

Dobby's eyes grew wide in horror. Numerous butterbeer bottles littered the floor. In the center of the Gryffindor common room sat a bubbling cauldron. Bodies laid collapsed near the exits.

"Harry... Potter... ?" stammered Dobby.

"Accio brain!"

Dobby's head began to hurt.

"ACCIO BRAIN!"

Blood began to run from Dobby's ears.

"ACCIO BRAIN!" screamed Harry.

Pop!

Harry giggled as he dumped Dobby's brain into the cauldron. Harry took another swig of butterbeer from a nearby bottle, belched, thought for a second, then shrugged and poured the remainder into the cauldron. Turning to the next page in the book, he quietly sounded out a phrase.

If only Hermione were here, he thought. She'd be able to sound this out. He looked over his shoulder to one of the piles of bodies and corrected himself: if only Hermione were alive.

After a few tries, he finally managed "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!" A deep rumbling from the bowels of the earth confirmed his pronunciation.

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named versus a Great Old One? Wicked.