Harry and Ron and Hermione were walking along the Hogwarts grounds one day. They were talking about pickles. JUICY pickles. They finally made themselves want some pickles so they went into the castle to get some pickles.
When they got into the castle to go to the kitchen, Dobby the house-elf was standing in front of the door.
"Move your ass, Dobby," screamed Hermione.
"DON'T YOU TALK TO HIM LIKE THAT!" screamed the gargoyle in the shape of a pickle next to the Cheese-Making Room.
"SHE WILL TALK TO HIM HOWEVER SHE LIKES!" said Ron. His face was a turquoise-reddish color from him being so mad. (A/N: Don't try to picture that color in you mind because it will hurt your brain a lot. I know. I tried.)
Anyway after Harry broke up the fist-fight between Ron and the gargoyle, which was no longer shaped like a pickle anymore, but it was still green so it still made Harry, Ron, and Hermione hungry, they finally got to the kitchen to get a pickle.
It was dark.. Not very dark, like pitch-black dark, but it wasn't broad daylight, but it wasn't REEEALLY dark and it wasn't light, it was like a dim-lighted sort of color, yeah. So the three of them went searching for that damn pickle they've wanted for a whole 26 minutes now but haven't gotten it.
They were growing very sad. They couldn't find a pickle. Not one. Then they found some cake but they didn't want cake. They wanted pickles. Duh.
All of sudden, Harry noticed that Dobby was standing alone in a corner of the kitchen, whimpering.
"What's the problem, Dobby?" Harry asked.
"Oh, great Harry Potter, Dobby is forbidden to give Harry Potter and his loyal friends pickles of any sort. Not Dill, nor farm, nor any kind of pickle. It was ... it was..." Dobby's voice trailed off.
"It was WHAT you little short BASTARD?" Hermione said, and made the spoon lying on the table laugh hysterically until the knife laying next to it got up and cut the handle off of the spoon.
"Ouch." said the spoon.
"Ya know, if you were sharper like me you'd know that fun-size packets of M&M's were square instead of rectangle," said the knife fiercely to the spoon.
"BOTH OF YOU SHUT THE HELL UP ALREADY!" ordered the fork, who was turning a very metally shade of silver. Oh, wait. Never mind.
Anyway.
Harry was wondering why Dobby hadn't given them the pickles already. They wanted them. How could he keep his dear pickles away from him?
"Dobby, how could you keep my dear pickles away from me?"
But before Dobby could answer, they heard loud, strange noises coming from the table. Everyone was scared, but they all decided to check it out as a brave group.
The foursome turned the corner slowly, slowly, all having pictures in their minds of what could be behind the table.
Harry thought it would be Malfoy staring down Dumbledore yelling "Sarcasm! Sarcasm you old man! When I said , "No, I would NEVER want to seduce YOU, Dumbledore I was being SARCASTIC." Damn that would give me nightmares, Harry thought.
Hermione's prediction was about Professor Finch giving her a T on a test. The thought of it almost made Hermione faint.
Dobby thought about his master being on the other side and whipping him. Even though it happened almost every hour of his life when he was a slave, he still feared the day when Lucius Malfoy would whip him across the stomach again.
Ron was thinking about that pickle.
Finally, all together they turned the corner to find ... the spoon and the knife? What was so scary about that?
But then, all of a sudden, the knife lunged itself at the spoon and pinned it to the ground. They were making out.
Now that was scary.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" everyone screamed, even the pickle-shaped gargoyle.
Harry, Hermione, Ron and Dobby ran as fast as they could out of the kitchen and up to the Gryffendor common room. Unfortunately pickle-shaped gargoyles do not move very much so the poor statue had to witness the whole thing. Poor little gargoyle.
In the common room, Harry was saying to Dobby, "So, why can't you give us pickles again? We really want them.
"Because, Mr. Potter, Dobby has been ordered by Malf-" Dobby was cut off by the sudden urge to split his head open on a dresser drawer.
"DOBBY STOP IT!" said Hermione. He stopped.
"Okay I'll tell you. Lucius Malfoy ordered Dobby to not give Harry Potter and his friends pickles because the pickles belong to the Drank Lord! They are evil, Master Harry Potter."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione all had stern looks on their faces.
"Malfoy," they said darkly in unison.
The three of them, without Dobby, who was busy intentionally injuring himself, went to the Malfoy house and together they murdered that whole Malfoy family. With the blood of Lucius Malfoy they wrote on the wall, "NEXT TIME GIVE ME MY PICKLES."
Hermione snuck away with a cup of blood, unable to control herself.
"THE DIAMETER OF 4 COOKIES MELTED TOGETHER IN THE SHAPE OF A Q-TIP EQUALS THE SQUARE ROOT OF 49 LEMON-FLAVORED BOWLING BALLS." is what was written on the wall of Draco's room.
"Hermione, let's go!" the boys shouted. Hermione came down gigging histerically. Harry Rom figured it was something girls do when they've just finished murdering people and then writing stuff of the wall with blood.
The they were bored.
So they decided to go into the Malfoy's refrigerator and see what was in there. What do they find but pickles.
"Ya know, guys," said Hermione thoughtfully, "I don't really feel like having pickles anymore. I really want some pretzels."