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Dobby House Elf and the Popular Culture

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Summary: Harry makes the mistake of letting people around an impressionable poor house elf. Dobby takes his obsessions a little too seriously. Rating for violence. Yes, violence.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Harry Potter > General > HumorDireSquirrelFR1838,18296011,84129 Sep 1021 Sep 11Yes

Hedwig vs. Hamburgers

Thanks to GreyWizard once more!

Dear Mr. Harry Potter,

While you no doubt have never heard of me, I am Sanguini, one of the few vampires in the isles. I am fully compliant with the Ministry's laws and registration, so please do not consider this to be a threat.

I respectfully request that you command your house elves to stop sending me hair gel, black dusters, crimson silk shirts and pre-carved stakes. While I was amused at your house elves' enthusiasm at first, it has become tiring and I am losing patience with the situation.

Please inform them that this 'Buffy' show is nothing like real existence for vampires in this day and age. Vampires who play the mysteriously-sexy-creature-of-the-night card are looked down upon as posers. We actually have a rather active social life.


P.S.: Please inform Dobby that I do not appreciate being referred to as “Deadboy,” “Gel-Head,” “Angel,” or any of the other vampire monikers from the show.

“Hey, Dobby,” Harry said. An instant later, the house elf, still sporting his dreadful Hawaiian shirt, appeared at his side.

“What's the what?” Dobby asked.

“I got another letter from Sanguini again,” Harry said in a disapproving-father tone.

“Oh,” Dobby said, looking at his feet.

“Don't worry, Dobby,” Harry continued. “Just let him be, and everything will be fine. However, I do have a project for you in a bit.”

The smile on the creature's face was wider than should have been physically possible, so Harry figured magic had to be involved.

“Let me take care of somethings, and I'll let you know,” the wizard told him.

Dobby nodded eagerly before popping away. As soon as the elf was gone, Harry leaned back, slumping into his chair. He didn't know what was going on, but all of Harry's clothes had become tweed, including his boxers. That was rather uncomfortable, and he was fervently hoping that the situation could be satisfactorily resolved in the very near future. Hermione was also still unsuccessfully trying to convince Dobby to change her back. She wasn't too appreciative of her pseudo-Weasley appearance. Harry had caught his best friend cursing the elf's name more than once under her breath. And Harry had twice caught himself sniffing books. On the other hand, his grades had never been higher.

Harry leaned back in his chair, put a hand through his prematurely gray hair and sighed. He paused a moment, setting the letter down long enough to clean his glasses. After taking a sip of tea, he sat down to compose his response.

Dear Mr. Sanguini,

I regret to inform you that I have no magical hold over Winky or Dobby, seeing as neither are bound to me nor to anyone else. As their friend, I can suggest that they hold off, but a command from me has never been something Dobby has paid close attention to in the past.

All I can suggest is waiting it out or, alternatively, sending them some movies, comic books or other bits of popular culture. They will probably leave you alone after this.


Harry Potter

“Dobby is ready for the project!” the house elf said with a crisp salute. He was currently dressed as Halloween Xander complete with Kung-Fu grip. He was even wearing a tag that advertized that particular ability.

“Great!” Harry said. “You and Hedwig need to take care of something for me. I've been having some problems with a certain politician.”

“Stupid Fudge-Monkey?” Dobby asked.

“Exactly,” Harry said. He handed the house elf a small package. “In here is everything you should need.”

Dobby looked in the nondescript brown paper bag and Harry watched as his little friend's smile grew to manic proportions. “Dobby will take care of it wonderfully!”

Next to him, Hedwig gave her master a wink and a head bob.

A second later, both were gone. Hermione looked on with concern.

“Harry,” she said. “Are you sure this was a good idea?”

“Ever since the Skull Fracking Snakes came back, Fudge has been causing me problems,” Harry explained. “This should take care of issues with him, and keep Dobby occupied. How goes the work with Winky on returning us to our previous state of being?”

“Your Giles-type speech is kinda creepy,” Hermione said. “I haven't been able to get her to change us back yet, but I think she's caving. Maybe soon.”

“Good,” Harry said. “While I do agree with my increase in marks, and my new ability to play guitar, along with some limited wandless magic, I would rather have my hair returned to its natural state.”

“Yup, me too,” Hermione said. “Although the ability to speak paragraphs without taking a breath has been useful at times. I'm also able to cast almost all my spells wandlessly, and it's scaring the new DADA professor. He seems to think I'm going Dark. But that's just silly-talk. I can handle it.”

“That's good,” Harry said.

“There is something I've been wondering about,” Hermione continued. “You said Dobby was confronting bullies in your relatives' neighborhood?”

“Yes, he managed to solve many of the problems Dudley had started,” Harry assured her.

“But isn't that breaking the Statute of Secrecy?”

Harry smiled conspiratorially.

“Not really,” Harry said with more than a hint of glee. “I just told the neighbors that Dobby was really Dobbson Dursley. My relatives try to keep him out of sight because they're embarrassed by him and don't want the neighborhood to know about him. Which is true.”

“Wait, you let them believe Dobby's your mutant baby cousin?”

Harry nodded with a grin.

“That's rather brilliant,” Hermione admitted.

“It does seem to work,” Harry said. “And it's a little bit of revenge.”

One week later, Hedwig dropped off a response.

Dear Mr. Potter,

As you said, they have ceased sending me their previous packages. Instead, they have sent me a black leather '70s style duster with hair bleach and hairspray. And while the Cockney Rhyming Slang dictionary was amusing, I doubt that I shall start assuming the accent. This has nothing to do with me. As far as I know, the only vampire that resembled me in personality was Walton, and I have little physically in common with him.

Please, Mr. Potter, I only ask that this harassment ceases.


“Harry,” Hermione said later.

“Yes, Hermione?”

“What was in that bag you gave Dobby?” the brown-haired girl asked apprehensively.

“A classic movie,” Harry said.

“Oh,” Hermione said in a slightly shocked tone. “Well, that's not too bad, I suppose.”

Concurrently, at the Minister's residence:

Cornelius Fudge, current Minister of Magic and long time Lucius Malfoy contributee, awoke to find a house elf standing on his chest.

“Wake up, you piece of shite,” the House elf commanded, stepping off his chest. Fudge-Monkey sat up in bed in surprise. He recognized the elf as one that Lucius Malfoy used to send with “donations” before his *ahem* untimely demise. He also knew this elf had been freed by his former financial backer.

“What are you doing here? Guards! Guards!” Fudgy called out, only for an Owl to whack him in the side of the head with a wing.

“Dobby sorry,” Dobby said condescendingly. “Did she break your concentration?”

Fudge just looked back numbly as he pressed his hand to the surprisingly hefty wound the feathered invader had just delivered.

“Tell Dobby,” the house elf said. “What does Harry Potter look like?”

“What?” Fudge-Monkey asked.

“Describe Harry Potter,” the house elf commanded, pointing a strange silver object at the Minister's head. Dobby pulled back a sliding part on top of the object and it snapped in place with a click.


“What country are you from?” Dobby demanded, as the owl nodded menacingly behind him, her golden eyes burrowing themselves into Fudge's skull.


“'What' ain't no country Dobby's ever heard of!” Dobby said, waving the silver object around. “Do they speak English in 'What'?”

“What? What?

“English, Mother-Fracker! Do you speak it?”

“Yes! Yes!” Fudge said, nodding pitifully. He wasn't sure what the silver object the elf was waving around might be, but it was always best to play things safe when dealing with possibly insane people. And possibly inane elves, too.

“Then you understand the words that are coming out of Dobby's mouth!” Dobby snarled.

Hedwig barked out a bit of Owl-Speak, noting that Dobby's last line was from a different movie. Dobby was too In-Character to respond.


“Then, what does Harry Potter look like?” Dobby asked again, slowly enunciating every syllable.


“Say 'What' again! Say it, Mother Fracker! I double dare you!” Dobby commanded, pressing the silver object to Fudge-monkey's forehead. “What-does-Harry-Potter-look-like?

“He-he's short,” Fudge stuttered.

“Go on.”

“He-he's got glasses and me-messy black hair,” Fudge finished.

“Does he look like a bitch?” Dobby demanded, eyes bulging with menace.


Harry leaned back in his chair. “I think it will take care of my problems.”

Hermione gave him a suspicious look before standing up in her chair. “I think I'm going to make a deal with Winky. I think this one will work.”

She walked out of the rooms, and strode right to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where Winky was “patrolling” for vampires. Four unfortunate blood-sucking fiends had already fallen beneath her stake.

“Winky!” Hermione called out. An instant later, the house elf was right in front of her. “I've come to realize I've been going about this the wrong way. I understand that you won't change me back.”

“A Slayer needs her Scoobies,” Winky agreed with a firm nod.

“Right,” Hermione said, shaking her frizzy red hair slightly. “However, I realized you made me the wrong character.”

“Really?” Winky asked with wide eyes. “Winky so sorry!”

“That's okay,” Hermione said. “While I'm smart enough to be Willow, I think I'd do better as Dawn. Then we could be sisters. Wouldn't you like to have a sister?”

Winky's eyes grew wider as she launched herself at the girl, hugging Hermione with all her elfy-might. “Winky thinks Hermy would make great sister!”

“And wouldn't Ginny be a better Willow? She's got the right build and the right hair already,” Hermione pointed out. “She could use the better grades as well.”

“Wow! Winky's Sister Hermy is being sooooooooooooooo right!” the house elf agreed, hugging the girl tighter.

“So, shouldn't you change me to Dawnie so we can be sisters?” Hermione asked. Winky smiled, winked twice, and Hermione found herself with her original natural brunette hair, but without a bit of frizz in sight. She glanced down and realize she had better-than-original curves as well. With a squee of delight, she pulled her now pseudo-sister into a hug. “Thank you so much!”

It would only be later that Hermione realized she had traded in diligence and pure obsession with magic for a tendency to “acquire” other people's objects. That was a lot easier to deal with than explaining her new “older sister” to her parents. But at least her grades didn't suffer.

A while later, Harry and Hermione were sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall as Hedwig flew in, landing on Harry's shoulder.

“Prek!” said Hedwig with a bob of her head.

“How's the Minister?” Harry asked.

Prick!” said Hedwig.

“I couldn't agree more,” Harry said stroking her chest feathers. After a moment he reached down and handed his familiar a 140g beef patty, grilled over charcoal, with lettuce, cheese, mayonnaise, ketchup, mustard, pickles and onions on a sesame seed bun. Hedwig was quite pleased with herself as she started devouring the poor quarter pounder.

“Harry, don't you usually give her bacon?”

“Yeah, but this time, I thought she deserved a Royale with Cheese,” Harry said with a smile. He glanced over at his friend with an appreciative look. “'re looking … ...”

“-For a bigger bra next time we go to Hogsmeade?” she suggested with a raised eyebrow.

“Right,” Harry said. “That works. So, I take it the talk with Winky went well?”

“Yeah,” Hermione said. “Having a house elf as an older sister is a bit of an adjustment.”

“Having one as a mutant cousin is just as troublesome,” Harry agreed.

I do not own Pulp Fiction, although I do consider it a classic movie.
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