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Dobby House Elf and the Popular Culture

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Story

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 > HumorDireSquirrelFR1838,18296011,69329 Sep 1021 Sep 11Yes

Harry Verses Sanity

Dear Mum and Dad,

This might be a little difficult for you to understand, but I accidentally got an older sister. She's a house elf. She might be visiting, so be wary, she's more than a little insane, but I don't think she'd do anything to hurt you. Just treat her like you'd treat me and everything should be A-OK.

Thanks,

Hermione




Dobby knew something was up. There was danger in the air. Hogwarts was a dark place that knew how to keep its secrets. But one free house elf would ferret out the answers to life's persistent questions: Dobby, Private Eye.

Dobby knew things had changed. Naughty mistress (sometimes very, very naughty mistress) was in moaning for her lost husband and son. Dobby think it supposed to be “mourning,” but Dobby can never really tell. The grief must have changed things, because the Naughty Mistress couldn't remember her dead husband's name. At least that's what Dobby been assuming, cuz now-fertilizer-former-bad-master wasn't named Filius (whatever a Filius was), but that was the name that she was screaming at the top of her lungs.

Weeks (1.5 weeks to be specific) had passed since Dobby remade the Scooby Gang. Dobby had to admit that Neville made a better Xander than Dobby did. And the looks he got was awesome, especially when Neville repelled a skull fracking snake attack by axe, trowel and wand. Dobby was impressed. Maybe Longybuttocks should be the new Punishererer.



“Harry?”

The boy in question looked up to see his friend looking down at him. 5th year wasn't doing so well since there had been a string of incompetent DADA profs.

“What's up, Hermione?”

“Have you considered teaching us DADA? You know it better than us already,” she noted.

“I'll think about it,” Harry agreed.



There was a meeting at Hogsmeade and it was later decided to start off as a secret club hidden from the “High Inquisitor” assigned by the Ministry. Since three former DADA teachers had been revealed to be Skull Fracking Snakes, and several others suspected to sympathize, their “mysterious” deaths from decapitation, small arms fire and stakes to the chest required frequent replacements. As such, Hogwarts Education was less than optimal.

“We need a name,” Hermione said.

“A name?” Harry asked.

“Something that sets us apart, like the Scoobies,” Hermione said.

“Oh dear lord, no, we are not the Scoobies,” Harry said, pulling off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Defense Association?” Cho Change suggested.

Ppft! Scoffed Ginny Weasley from where she was sitting very closely with Hanna Abbot. If they were any closer they would have to be in each other's clothes. “How about Dumbledore's Army?”

Some people thought that was a better choice, but Dobby raised his hand with more eagerness and energy than Hermione in first year.

“Yes, Dobby?” Harry asked patiently. The excitable elf ran over and whispered in the Great Wizard Harry Potter Sir's ear and a moment later, a wide grin spread across Harry's face. The wizard turned to a muggleborn Hufflepuff with an amused smirk. “Tell me, Justin, what is the first rule of Fight Club?”

Justin's face went into a wide grin, as did nearly every other muggle born or muggle-raised witch and wizard present. As one, they stood up, gave a romanesque salute and belted out the answer.

“YOU DO NOT TALK ABOUT FIGHT CLUB!”

“Does anyone know the second rule of Fight Club?” Harry asked with a sly smile.



“So, has anybody seen or heard from Ron in the last few weeks?” Harry asked the crowd. There were many shaking heads, but Ginny, not breaking eye-contact with Hanna, raised her arm.

“He said he was getting ready for Halloween,” Ginny supplied. “He owled Mom, er, Mum --sorry, Californization guys -- and told her to send him as much clothing and scraps as she could find. He was making costumes and he signed it as 'Her degenerate son,' and he's been muttering about someone named Yan-oos or Jan-oos or us, or something like that. I'm not to sure what that means, but it seemed significant, so I went to the library and I didn't find anything in the rituals section nor the charms section, so I went to the muggle information section and brushed the dust off the books and found out that Janus is a Roman deity of endings and beginnings, of change and doorways. So I thought, yeah, Ron might have heard about that from Dad, but I don't think Daddy has every really spent much time on anything other than Muggle technology, and by the way, I managed to get a computer working in the library and hitched it to a satellite dish on the top of the astronomy tower, so we now have internet and I've been watching a lot of porn. Did you know there's porn about everything? There's even a website, that's like a book in digital form for you who don't know, and digital is this -not-really-physical-thingy that computers do and it can hold a lot of information, but getting back to porn, there's this site that talksabouthowthereisn'treallyathingunlessithaspornaboutit. AndsoIwentthereandlookedatalot. What'shentai,cuzIdon'tunderstandbutthere'salotoftentaclesinvolvedandalotofnastystuff,butthere'sbetterstuffwiththewerewolfpornandthelesbiangirlporn,butthereisn'ttoomuchoflesbianwerewolfporn. Oh, and maybe I should breathe now.”

The rest of Fight Club watched as the youngest Weasley passed out from lack of oxygen.

After a long moment (Hanna having made sure Ginny was breathing, an act that required lips and chest compressions that looked more like gropes and tongue), Ginny was awake once more. She stood up and looked around to see eyes on her. Grabbing Hanna's hand, she pulled the older girl to her feet.

“We, uh,” Ginny said, her eyes staring at the ceiling as she tried to find and excuse to leave. She looked to Hanna for a suggestion.

“We need to practice our magic,” Hanna prompted.

Ginny blushed and had an entirely poor acting job as she pretended to remember that just then.

“Oh, Riiight, Practice our 'magic'. Yes, Hanna let's go 'practice our magic' together,” Ginny said, blushing as red as her hair. She grabbed Hanna by the hand and was gone almost as fast as apparation.

Fred looked to George.

“Fred?” asked Fred.

“Yes, George?” asked George.

“Our dear little sister does know that lies work better if you don't use finger-quotes, right?” Fred asked.

“I do believe she forgot that part,” said George.

Then both Weasley twins snapped their fingers and made finger-quotes themselves before turning towards their paramours.

“Want to go 'practice some magic' my dear?” they asked in unison, both looking towards their respective paramours and received positive responses.

Harry glanced about the room, noticing that more than a few couples were teaming up to “practice their magic” in broom cupboards and the like. Harry looked away and let out a mumbled “oh dear lord” as he pulled off his glasses for cleaning, before turning the conversation back to Ron.

“So, my old best friend has turned into a chaos mage worshiping Janus,” Harry said, taking a sip of tea as he sat back down. “Dobby? Why did you turn Ron into Ethan?”

“Dobby didn't,” the house elf said with a romanesque salute. He was dressed as Julius Caesar. “Dobby was too busy subjugating the Gaulish Hordes.”

“What Gaulish Hordes?” Hermione asked. Winky snapped her fingers and a door opened, revealing about half the upper years of Beaubatons, trussed up and gagged with white silk over their blue uniforms. With their eyes alone, they pleaded to be saved. Hermione smirked slightly, cocked her hips slightly and stood with her legs wider than usual. “Winky?”

“Yes little sister Hermy-Dawnie?”

“I don't think you should let Dobby watch my parents' Rome DVDs, and you do need to return them to their school,” Hermione instructed. Winky looked up at Hermione for a long moment.

“Whatever,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “At least the sex was being good.”

“In a feeble attempt to utterly change the subject from that rather disturbing topic,” Harry said as he cleaned his glasses, “would anyone care for a cuppa?”



“I don't know Dobby,” Neville said. “I guess I do have the hair, but I'm not so sure black is my color.”

Dobby and Neville were in the Room of Requirement currently disguised as the place where Dobby kepted the Punisherer's Armory.

“Dobby knows that Mister Nevy Longybuttocks can do this,” Dobby said with a reassuring pat on the back. “Dobby knows Mister Longybuttocks wants to kill-Whoops! Dobby mean punish, punish the skull frackin' snakes for what they did to Mister Longybuttocks father/mother sirs ma'mes.”

“But I'm not sure. Won't they know it's me?” Neville asked. “I'm not wearing a mask.”

“Hmm...Mister Nevy Longybuttocks be having a point,” Dobby mused, pacing in place as he pondered the situation. Then a literal light-bulb lit up above the elf's head. “Dobby be knowing! They will never look at Mister Nevy Longybuttocks face! Has Mister Nevy Longybuttocks ever be hearing of the Watchmen?”



Fifteen minutes later:

The entire population of Hogwarts looked up in horror. The sight was...impressive to say the least, intimidating for many others. Hermione leaned over and grinned as she whispered in Harry's ear.

“What's blue and sounds like a bell?” she asked impishly.

Harry looked at her like she was crazy. “Sorry, besides Neville, I haven't the slightest idea.”

Dong!” she said with a tone like the ringing of a bell and a Cheshire Cat grin.





Harry stared at her with a blank, frankly shocked look on his face.

“While I give you points for the Monty Python reference, that was still a horrible pun,” he stated flatly.

She just stuck her tongue in her cheek and winked.

From high above them Neville's voice echoed down.

"Uh, Dobby," the gigantic blue boy said. "I'm not sure this is an improvement. And it's kinda cold. But you're right, no one's looking at my face."



Dumbledore decided to start looking for the Horcrux-thingies part way through fifth year for Harry and decided to bring him along. The seaside cavern was filled with undead bodies that clambered up out of the soupy mess surrounding the fake soul container, and had cut off the intrepid adventurers, preventing the usual means of escape. An attempt at apparation showed that Voldemort had considered that possibility as well, leaving the duo stranded.

“Harry, my boy, I'm not sure we'll make it out of this,” Dumbledore told him, as the poison started shutting down his body. Already the old wizard's reflexes were slowing and it was only a matter of time before the undead overcame their defenses. That time finally came when Dumbledore passed out cold.

“Dobby!” Harry called out.

“Yeses, Great Harry Potter Sirses?” Dobby said, appearing before them.

“We're in real trouble and Dumbledore needs something to help us fight the undead!” Harry screamed as he sent gobs of fire at encroaching undead.

“Dobby hases its!”

Pulling out a chainsaw, Dobby cut off Dumbledore's hand, preventing the withering curse from traveling further up the appendage. He then whisked the poison out through the wound and replaced the hand with a steel gauntlet. With a snap of the House Elf's fingers, Dumbledore sat up straight. He paused for a moment before looking at his new steel hand.

“Groovy,” he said as he fanned his new fingers.

What?” Harry asked in surprise.

“The gauntlet: it's got grooves all over it,” Dumbledore clarified before summoning a double barreled shotgun. He held it high before the attacking undead hordes. “This is my boomstick!”

He cocked it once, and pulled the trigger, sending zombie parts flying every which way. “Shop Smart, mother-frackers!”

After a little while, he tossed the shotgun to Harry and jumped head first into the Zombie Horde using Dobby's Chainsaw +5 of Zombie Slaying. It has a +9 against Zombies, or at least that's what Dobby said.

“Oh dear lord!” Harry exclaimed as he ducked under a flying torso, three legs, an arm and 3/4 of a head, none of which came from the same zombie. He looked down scandalously at his zombie-juice ruined tweed and grumbled. “Now I know how Buffy felt.”

Needless to say, the duo survived quite well and many deadites, er, zombies, er, inferi did not.



Harry arrived back in Hogwarts alive and moderately well. I say moderately because his mental condition suffered a bit of damage and there was much cleaning of glasses thereafter. The biggest blow came when Dumbledore told Professor Babbling to “Gimme some sugar,” and proceeded to bend her backwards in a near jaw-crushing kiss.

Tired and exhausted after watching the raw enthusiasm Dumbledore apparently had for the removal of the walking dead, he made his way to the Room of Requirement. He knew that all he had to do was walk past a picture a few times and he could have his own personal fortress of solitude where he could enjoy a cuppa all by himself with nothing to disturb him.

He had, unfortunately, made an assumption, and we all know what that makes of you and me.

This particular assumption was that the room would be unoccupied.

It wasn't.

In fact, it was so spectacularly occupied that the very sight of it shocked the young wizard to the core. The room, larger than he had ever seen it before was filled with lines and lines of people. Standing in the front of the room was a familiar blonde fiddling with some controls.

“Luna? What's this?” Harry asked.

The girl looked up and gave him her usual half-there smile of greeting.

“Oh, hello, Harry,” she said. “But I'm not Luna.”

“You're not?” Harry asked, thoroughly confused by the idea that Luna might not be Luna. “Then who are you?”

“Oh, I'm Number Six,” she said as if it was completely obvious to all. Once more, Harry made an assumption, this time that it was just Luna being Luna.

“Number six of what?” he asked.

“A Model Six, of course,” she said. “Of the Hogwarts Cylons.”

Harry froze.

This was bad.

It had the potential to be very bad.

He glanced around and realized there was a line of Seamuses, a line of Deans, a line of Hedwigs and a line of Crookshanks in addition to the line of Lunas. He could see several other lines off in the distance, he could just barely make out a line of Patils, no, make that two lines of Patils. He closed his eyes and took a deep, deep breath.

“Dobby?” Harry asked the air. There was a popping sound as his popular culture addicted friend magically appeared.

“Yes, oh great-wonderous of all, Mister The Great Harry Potter sir?” his bug-eyed friend said in a chipper voice.

“Did you just make a whole bunch of Cylons?” Harry asked.

“Yuppers!” Dobby said with a wide grin. “Dobby be making 1300.”

“1300?”

“Each,” Dobby clarified.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and clenched his eyes shut as he tried to head his impending headache off at the pass. He was so focused on this he barely registered Dobby's commanded to his Cylon Legions.

“Yous all go kill Skull Frackin' Snakes!” he commanded imperiously, pointing towards the door.

The giant room echoed with the sound of thousands of voices.

“By your command!” most of them said, their eyes going red from side to side before marching out the door.

Harry looked at the Hogwarts Cylons, then looked back at Dobby, then at the doors that miraculously appeared to give them exit.

Harry Potter did the only thing he could do.

He sighed.

Harry Potter sighed again and pulled off his glasses

And then he cleaned them.




The End.



Though I feel it should be obvious, I own none of the popular culture hinted or blatantly mentioned in this story, it's just for fun and larfs.

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