Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Dungeons & Dragons or a cat. Happy International Harry Potter Day!

The year is 1992. Three hundred years ago, the Wizarding World broke away from the inferior muggles by signing the Statute of Secrecy. Muggles are as a result largely safe from the internal mechanics of the utterly broken world that exists beyond their reach.

Summer is ending, and the dawn rises over Privet Drive 4. The shadows creep away from the bed of a young boy. It is his twelfth birthday, and he is ready to take on the world. He gets up and dons his most awesome clothing – a set of heavy black leather robes purchased on Knockturn Alley – and slips into a fighting stance. His wand slides out of his sleeve into his hand and he performs a series of quick gestures, going through the movements to cast a few useful spells that he's been practicing in magic-heavy areas where the Trace cannot catch him casting spells outside of Hogwarts.

Moments later, he sheathed his wand and put on a pair of sunglasses, heading out of his room looking like an absolute gigachad.

"Good morbin', nystas!" he hollered. "Happy birthday to me!"

Nobody replied, so he just walked down the stairs and into the kitchen to cook some fish for his pet manul.

All was going well, but suddenly the fish he was cooking started levitating into the air. As most fish were unable to fly (with the exception of flying snakes), he knew this was wrong. So he did the logical thing and swung his magical battleaxe at it. The fish fell back on the frying pan.

"Great Harry Potter sir!" came a voice from behind.

He spun around, weapon still in hand. His gaze fell upon a small creature with big ears and a suspiciously long nose. The creature stared at him in a pathetic way, like a wimp. It was clothed in the shittiest rags ever.

"Who are you?" he asked. "I don't appreciate intruders in my stronghold."

"I is named Dobby, great Harry Potter sir." he said. "I is a house-elf."

"Why are you here and who sent you?" Harry demanded.

"Dobby came here himself, to warn great Harry Potter sir." Dobby declared. "Terrible things will be happening at Hogwarts this year. Harry Potter must not go."

"Terrible things, Dobby?" Harry looked at him with disbelief. "Why do I care? My friend's cat eats terrible things for breakfast."

"Dobby has heard about His Royal Floppiness Big Floppa the Minus First." the elf declared. "But this is a threat far beyond the power of a cat to face."

"The Four Against Madness will destroy the threat." Harry countered. "Whatever it is."

"Harry Potter must not come back to Hogwarts!" Dobby insisted.

"Fuck off, you little shit." Harry spat. "I will not listen to a knife-ear."

"Dobby will do what he must." the elf said with a sigh, and snapped his fingers. Almost instantly, a hammer came flying from the kitchen in the direction of the Warlord Titan model that Harry was currently working on painting.

In an instant, he moved to interpose himself between the object and his superheavy walker.

"Protego!" he exclaimed, wand already in hand. Before the hammer hit the ground after crashing into his shield, his wand was already focused on Dobby's head. "Avada ke-"

A blast of energy slammed into him, forcing him back and nearly disarming him. Before he could ready another Killing Curse, the House Elf had disapparated.

A few minutes later, he received a Howler from the Ministry telling him that the use of the Shield Charm and Killing Curse were registered in his location and warning him not to use magic outside of school. The fact there was no comment about his use of a Dark spell way too advanced for a soon-to-be second-year confirmed his suspicions that the message had been sent automatically.

"Who gives a shit." he sighed, going back upstairs to do some gaming with his friends.

Somewhere on the Polish-American Border

"Meow, meow, meow meow meow." Floppa meowed impatiently, staring greedily at the shrimps in the frying pan. "Meeeow."

"Pamiętaj, że to też moje krewetki." Marc told his cat. "Nie wszystko jest dla ciebie."

Floppa decided to ignore that statement.

Just then, a loud popping noise could be heard outside Marc's home, on the American side. It sounded like a small annoying creature was trying to gain entry into the house.

"Poczekaj, sprawdzę to." he said, grabbing the shotgun hanging on his kitchen wall (it was useful for cooking).

He looked out the window, noticing the form of a vaguely humanoid creature with long ears and a weird face. This was without a doubt an eldritch abomination come to steal his shrimps!

He opened the door and unloaded two shots in the direction of the unwelcome visitor, who swiftly made himself scarce. Unfortunately, by the time he'd returned the shrimps were already severely burnt.

"KURWAAAAAAAA!"

Granger Estate

"No, mom." Hermione shook her head. "Bears are fish. It's literally written here."

She pointed to page 289 in the Dungeon Master's Guide.

"But bears aren't fish." her mother countered. "If they were we'd know."

"That's the thing about tech, people tend not to know it." she replied. "If you were aware that bears are fish I wouldn't need to prove it to you."

"But bears aren't fish." her mother went on.

Just then, an explosion rocked the ground, causing mugs and glasses to shatter. A tiny figure could be seen on their lawn shooting arcs of lightning at the walls of their home. In a flash, Hermione pulled out her rune-covered machine pistol and opened fire at the intruder through the window, though the mysterious foe vanished before the projectiles could hit. And there, on the wall of the house, was a huge inscription in big bold letters:

HERMIONE GRANGER MUST NOT GO BACK TO HOGWARTS.

Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire

"What do you mean you can't find it?" Draco was stunned. "Father, the Dark Lord entrusted it to you!"

"And we kept it safe!" Lucius answered, his voice rising. "We put it in the most secure vault in our manor and none of the servants were allowed entry. We are dealing with a thief who knows how to get past our wards without alerting us – I must admit that I find myself utterly outmatched."

The elder Malfoy was on the verge of losing his sanity. The black book that radiated pure power had been a source of pride for him – that his master chose him of all people to bear such a valuable treasure. Now that he knew the Dark Lord was back, he was perpetually torn between fear of Voldemort finding out about his failure and anger that someone had actually dared to rob him and succeeded.

"Come, son." he said after a moment. "We need to clear our heads. Let's go shopping."