Who Really Killed Lord Voldemort???

Everyone says that Harry killed Valdemort. All the facts agree, but is that what actually happened? Not even close! Here's what really happened…

"Hello, Harry!" Dobby the house-elf greeted Harry happily as he poofed into the Gryffindor common room, where Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat talking quietly to each other.

Harry jumped up from his chair. "Dobby! You know I don't like it when you appear out of nowhere like that!"

"Dobby is very sorry, sir! Dobby always forgets! Dobby must hit himself with a hard book now!" Dobby cried, grabbing a bulky textbook off the table nearest to him.

"Stop it, Dobby!" Harry shouted, snatching the book out of Dobby's hands before he could repeatedly hit his head with it. "Would you just quit it, already?" He said, and then sighed.

"I am very sorry, sir. I have been a very bad house elf." Dobby said sadly, and then started to cry.

"Dobby, stop crying, you aren't a normal house-elf. I freed you, remember? You can do pretty much anything you want." Harry told him.

"Oh, I remember, alright. Dobby will never forget Harry Potter's marvelous gift. Dobby keeps it with him at all times." Dobby said, taking out an old, smelly sock from the bag over his shoulder.

"Are you serious, Dobby? Have you ever even cleaned that thing? Ugh!" Harry groaned, not daring to take another whiff of his old sock from so many years ago.

"Dobby wouldn't clean his sock for anything, sir. It is his most precious item." Dobby explained to Harry.

"Well it reeks like Ron after an exam." Harry said, to Ron's obvious annoyance.

"Blimey, Harry! What was that for?" Ron asked crossly.

"Sorry, Ron. But seriously, Dobby, could you at least spray it with some sort of air freshener?" Harry asked.

"Dobby prefers sock this way, sir. Smells perfectly fine to him." Dobby said, putting the sock right up to his long, pointed nose and taking a few sniffs.

"That's sick, Dobby. Ugh, I'm leaving." Harry said, and left the common room, with Ron on his heels.

"Don't worry, Dobby," Hermione began before Dobby could start crying again. "Harry's just in a bad mood. He's so worried about everyone. With Dumbledore gone, and You-Know-Who more vigorous than ever, there's a whole lot more to be anxious about. We're just waiting now that all of his horcruxes have been destroyed. Harry will come around, though. Don't you worry."

"Dobby knows Harry is very busy. Dobby also knows how He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gaining more and more power as we speak. And Dobby wants to do something about it." Dobby said confidently.

"No, Dobby. You stay out of it." Hermione ordered. "You could get hurt, or worse, killed."

"Fine, Dobby will stay out of it." He said, and with a snap of his fingers, disappeared out of the room with a puff of smoke.

Dobby appeared in a graveyard. But not just any graveyard, he was in the graveyard of Voldemort's mother, Merope. Dobby had secretly crossed his fingers behind his back when telling Hermione he would stay out of it. For that is the exact opposite of what he was about to do. And he knew he was probably going to die. He didn't even have any weapons! "But Dobby doesn't care. Dobby is doing this for Harry Potter! Dobby only listens to Harry Potter." Dobby whispered to himself.

And then Dobby called him. He used his name and called him from the unknown. "…V…v…v…Voldemort…" Dobby stuttered. Nothing happened. He trotted over and stood right in front of Merope's grave. "Voldemort." He said, a little surer of himself. "VOLDEMORT!" He yelled with full courage, his rage building up. He stood on his tiptoes and shouted, "Dobby knows you're out there! If you're afraid, then do not come! But if you will accept Dobby's challenge, then show yourself to Dobby!" And like he set off some sort of trigger, smoke started gathering around him. There was a loud crack that sounded like lightning, and the smoke started to part, revealing Voldemort in all his wickedness.

He was about twenty feet away from Dobby. "Poor, poor, little house elf. It's a shame you have to die like this. But you are no use to anyone anymore. So I might as well kill you off. Lucius is quite displeased of you." Voldemort said in a raspy voice, which showed much anger and irritation.

"Dobby does not care what Mr. Malfoy thinks. Dobby is free now. Harry Potter gave Dobby a sock." Dobby said, trying to sound confident, but part of what he said came out in a little squeak. He then started to take out his ghastly sock.

"Well, it doesn't matter now. Say goodbye, house elf. Do you have any last wor-?" Voldemort started to ask, but stopped mid-sentence when he caught sight and smell of Dobby's sock. Dobby looked down at the sock in sudden shock, which turned into amazement, which gave him an idea. A smirk appeared on his face. Dobby tested his theory by bravely walking up to Voldemort (which trust me, took a lot of guts), and held the sock a few feet away from face. Voldemort's reaction is just what Dobby hoped for. If he had backed away from the sock when it was a few feet away from him, what if it was right on his face?

"Ahhhhhh!" Dobby screamed as he ran toward Voldemort. But he tripped over a rock where Voldemort had just been. Ok, so running wasn't going to work. Voldemort was by his mother's grave now. They had pretty much just switched spots. Dobby decided to try a different tactic. So with a snap of his fingers, he vanished, and then reappeared on Voldemort's shoulders. Voldemort screamed, but before he could shake him off, Dobby stuffed the sock into his open mouth and down his throat. Voldemort immediately stopped screaming, and started to choke on the filthy sock. (Apparently, it didn't just stink. I do not wish to know what Dobby has done with it in the past…) Dobby leaped off of Voldemort's shoulder. He then stood there like a statue, not sure at all what to do. Had he killed Voldemort? Or had he just made him even angrier. If the second case is true, then Dobby's pretty much doomed.

But then the unthinkable happened. Voldemort fell to his knees (with the sock still lodged in his throat), and then collapsed will one final choke. He stopped struggling. Dobby didn't want to move, but he knew he had to. He walked over to Voldemort and poked him, not knowing what else to do. He was afraid that he would jump up and kill him, but there was no sign of any life he may have had left. Voldemort was dead. Dobby had killed him. With a sock. He thought for a moment about trying to get the sock back, but didn't want to risk it, so he left with another snap of his fingers to go tell the wizarding world of his triumph. A job of which so many wizards had tried to do, but could not. And now, in the craziest of times, a simple house elf killed one of the greatest wizards to ever live, with a sock. But he should've known. It wasn't just any sock. It was Harry Potter's sock.

Yes, I know, this didn't happen. But I thought it would be fun and interesting to change it up a little. Or a lot. And I know, Dobby died. But again, I changed it. In this version, he didn't die. I love Dobby, and think he deserves more credit. Now, I am a devoted J.K. Rowling fan. I wouldn't change the books one bit. But sometimes, I like to think about what might have happened. Even if it's completely out-of-the-ordinary and totally unlikely. I hope you liked it!