Author's Notes: I'm not flattenedowl. I typed this since flattenedowl's words per minute is, like, ten. I hold no credit for the idea, nor the random craziness. I'm just a girl who's desperate for money and will do anything to get it. I characterized Hedwig though, and smoothed out the general flow of the story. The point is, the only reason this story is post-able is because of me. Read his notes and you'll see why…
Flattenedowl: I am a slow typer and I hav bad grammar too so I came up with the idea and paid my friend to type it. I need coffee.lol……owls…….owls are funny I am obsessed with owls.Disclaimer: We no own.
Warnings: Madness within… Approach with caution… Do not feed animals.
Die, Harry, Die!
Hi, I'm Hedwig. The lovely, lightly cooked- no wait, wrong phrase – turning pages of a thesaurus tends to be difficult when one does not have an opposable thumb. I meant rare. Rare, not lightly cooked, see? And a Nyctea scandiaca (I got that from of those books that bushy haired friend of Harry's adores).
As you may know, I'm the owl of Harry Potter, formerly known as the Boy-Who-Lived. Now, the Boy-Who-Was-Killed-By-Dobby.
I really should be sad, shouldn't I? I mean, he was nice and all, ignoring me, taking me for granted, not saving any treats for me… I'd been with him for years, how could he not know what my favourite food was? Blueberry pie, of course! But he never bothered to find out, did he?
Nooo… damn Potter.
I trample on his remains! Muahahaha! I remember this memory with fondness…
It was two years after leaving school, when the event occurred; my beloved owner's death, that is. The whole group was is number 12, Grimmauld Place, with the shrieky painting that kept accusing me of dyeing my feathers (I do no such thing!) and being a 'blood traitor'.
I tried ripping her apart, but there seems to be some invisible force that kept her together, under my beautiful, manicured talons. I preen.
Dobby. Funny name, isn't it. Than again so is 'Hedwig'. Sad really, what he named me. Really quite dumb – he put NO thought into it at all! So remember the time Dobby almost got Harry into deep pellets? Yes, I say pellets. It's the owl equivalent of what you measly humans know as 'shit' you see. I was cackling when Dobby was blubbering about the end of the world and whatnot.
I don't really like Dobby, but you must admit – he got Harry killed, and that's a definite plus.
No, actually, the more accurate version was that he 'killed Harry'.
Yes, that's right. I love recalling this memory – it was the best day of my owl life…
Harry had inherited Grimmauld Place (Grimy Place, in my opinion) from Sirius. I liked Sirius. Well, I liked his owl. Not Pigwidgeon – I'd wanted to strangle Pig many, many, MANY times than I would care to admit…
Sirius' owl was very delicious eye candy…
Wait, going off track… So Harry was in Grimmauld Place, and Dobby offered to be his house elf, since he adored him. That sounds really wrong… Anyways, Harry accepted (that STILL sounds really wrong…) and they moved in together. That just put me off my food…
So Harry was trying to kill Voldie, you know, the bald guy with the weird eyes, and he was enlisting Dobby's help. They found a very interesting spell that gave the caster immeasurable power. Harry was drooling.
But Dobby was more resourceful than I thought. He replaced Harry's magical signature with his own during the complex ritual. Unfortunately, House Elves don't really have a magical signature, so the whole thing went wrong. Harry got the power, but Dobby ended up leeching it away. His tiny body couldn't handle the immense energy and he unwittingly unleashed it. It flooded the room.
And Harry died. Woot!
Well, I kind of got hurt too, but I was too jubilant to care. Dobby was blasted out of the room – he must have flown fifty feet. That certainly was a sight to see…
Dumbledore showed up in about two seconds, flanked by his cronies, and studied the mess with (gasp) cold eyes. No twinkle. I was amazed. Then I started pouting when he started ignoring me too. Damn humans.
He surveyed the scene, then muttered a few sentences to himself that would make me very, very confused:
"The deed is done. There is no more reason for Tom… it's time to take him off Imperius and present him to the Ministry."
Then he did something that scared me very much.
He…
Giggled…
A/N: Um… review? If he gets reviews, maybe he'll pay me more…
Flattenedowl: you better r&r