Why isn't anyone reviewing this story? Evil.

Disclaimer: Shall I list the things that I don't own? Lets see…I don't own Harry Potter. I don't own Voldemort. I don't own Webster's Unabridged Thesaurus or even know if it exists. I don't own Dobby. I don't own ANYTHING! There! Is that good enough? And I never WILL own anything, so if I forget the disclaimer in a later chapter, my readers (even the ones who don't review!) will know that I still own… nothing! And NO, I don't mean Nothing as in the Keys to the Kingdom. But that really doesn't matter at the moment; not only do I not own it, but it's not even from the book that this fanfic is based on, so…well…I don't own it. Or anything else.

Chapter Three now begins!

Harry looked at the sleeping book and grew very angry. It had been very difficult to give that speech and he wanted acknowledgement! He hollered for the house-elf to bring some water. When his orders were obeyed, he took the offered glass of water and dumped it on Voldemort, who awoke, startled. "AAAHHHH!" the so-called Dark Lord screeched. "I'm wet! Soaked! Drenched! I'm a book! Soon I'll get soggy! Mushy! Squelchy! I am waterlogged!" Harry laughed evilly. Unfortunately, wet books were not as flammable as dry books. However, it was satisfying all the same. He was just deciding what to do with the thesaurus when there was a loud explosion. The cause of the explosion was a fanfiction author millions of miles away, who was having trouble thinking of a plot and decided that a new Dark Lord should come into the story. At the moment, Dark Lord II was apparently catapulting large objects that were on fire at Harry Potter's house. However, our characters did not know that, so back to the story.

Harry Potter and the sodden object that was Voldemort screamed loudly, busting Dobby's eardrums. Poor, poor Dobby. Luckily, he knew how to read lips… sort of.

"Run!" yelled Harry. Dobby didn't think that having the house blown up was a lot of fun, but he decided to just do what Harry did. Which seemed to be running toward the exit of the house. Voldemort was having some trouble, but somehow was managing to drag himself along the floor.

"We're going to die!" yelled Harry.

"Can't they bring the pie to us?" hollered Dobby.

"I can't move fast, rapidly, quickly, speedily enough!" screamed Voldemort.

"My house is being destroyed!" yelled Harry.

Dobby blinked. "Why would someone employ your house? How so? And why are they blowing it up first?"

"I need help, assistance, support, aid, succor!" whined Voldemort.

"I don't care, I just want to save myself!" Harry shouted in reply.

Dobby's lip reading skills were getting better. He wrenched the shelf that Harry seemed to want to save from the wall and, tripping every few steps, carried it to the door, which he was nearing.

"I'm getting mushier and squishier and I'm having trouble moving, stirring, employing motion!" called Voldemort weakly.

"It's tracking water all over my hardwood floors!" Harry screeched, angrier than ever at this newest turn of events. However, it no longer mattered, because they were outside the house. And before them, holding a wand, stood…

"Draco Malfoy?" all three chorused.

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Ha ha! A cliffhanger! And I'm not updating until I have at least ten reviews! That's not asking a lot, is it? So…

REVIEW! Or I'll sic my gremlin army on you! (By the way, I don't own gremlins either. Well, metaphorically, but all the same, I don't own gremlins. Don't know who does, though.)