DISCLAIMER: Once again, I must say that I did not create any of the characters in this story and do not own any of them. Not even Dobby. I am not affiliated with J. K. Rowling, and I'm sure if she met me she'd run the other way.

SHOUT-OUT: To everyone who read my story (and enjoyed it), you should seek professional help. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. That being said, I love you all!! [sob] Your reviews totally made my millennium. Okay, on with the story.

EXCUSE: This is all I can give you guys till the weekend. Sad, I know.

RECAP: Harry goes to bed. Dobby is there. (Whew, that was some summary, I know.)

"Mr. Harry Potter, Dobby has some very troubling news for you!"

"What is it now Dobby?" Harry groaned, shoving Dobby off his bed.

Dobby lept off Harry's scarlet comforter and sat on his trunk. "Oh Mr. Potter is indeed in much trouble now!"

"Goodnight Dobby," Harry firmly insisted. He pulled the sheets over his head.

"Mr. Potter is not listening to Dobby?"

Harry pretended to snore.

"Mr. Harry Potter is going to die tomorrow!" Dobby shrieked.

"What??" Harry darted from his sleeping position.

Dobby's little mouth formed a great "O" shape. "Dobby should not have told you that, sir!" Dobby began banging his little elf head against Harry's four-poster bed.

"SSHHH!!" Harry hissed.

The other Gryffindor lads stirred in their sleep, but none woke.

"Dobby is a bad house-elf, Mr. Harry!"

"Dobby is a good house-elf! Dobby just needs to tell Mr. Harry Potter about the news! Mr. Harry – I mean, me – I, rather – I feel I deserve to know if I'm going to die tomorrow."

"The good news sir, is that Harry has sixty-two percent of life if he avoids doing anything!" Dobby offered.

"Dobby, please tell me what's going to happen to me!"

"The Dark Lord has it in for Mr. Potter!" Dobby whispered. Then he bit his lip. "Dobby has done it again! Dobby has said something he shouldn't! Dobby deserves much pain for this!" Dobby slammed his fingers in Harry's trunk.

"Dobby, pleeeease stop it," Harry pleaded. "Dobby, why do you need to be so secretive anyway? You're no longer under the house of Lucius Malfoy."

"Dobby has been working for someone. Dobby does his errands. Dobby has been trusted with secrets. Dobby has told these secrets to Harry Potter. Dobby is not a good house-elf. Dobby wishes he were dead. Dobby thinks he should go into the forbidden forest and wait for something to eat him. Dobby thinks-

"Dobby go away," Harry interrupted, rubbing his temples.

"Please do not get mad at Dobby," Dobby begged. "Dobby exaggerated. Mr. Potter is not going to die tomorrow; Dobby just said that to get his attention." Dobby's eyes grew to the size of doughnuts. "Oh no, Dobby has told a lie! Dobby is a bad house-elf!" Dobby grabbed George's wooden beater club and began hitting himself with it in the head.

"DOBBY!" Harry warned, as loud as he dared.

"Harry Potter has yelled at Dobby! Dobby is even worse then he thought! Dobby should die!" And with that, Dobby threw himself out of the window.

Harry was silent for a moment, waiting for him to return. He didn't.

"Well thank goodness that's over with," Harry sighed with relief, and pulled himself back into bed.