Dobby Is Fine, You Is Nuts!

"Please Harry Potter sir, don't make Dobby go!"

"It's for your own good, Dobby," stated Harry as he dragged the kicking and screaming house elf through Hogsmeade. Dobby clawed at the pavement until they passed a signpost. Dobby grabbed onto it and refused to let go. Harry had to put his leg up on the signpost to aid his attempts to pull Dobby off. Several people stopped to stare at them. "Dobby, you're making a scene!"

"Dobby doesn't make scenes, Harry Potter! Dobby makes beds and cups of tea!" Harry finally managed to pry Dobby off the signpost and they arrived at their destination. They were outside Hogsmeade town hall where a short, thin witch in thick-rimmed glasses was waiting for them in the lobby. She extended her hand to Harry, who shook it while keeping a good firm grip on Dobby's leg with the other.

"Hello Mr. Potter, I'm Miss Slate," she checked a clipboard in her hand. "And I presume this is Dobby?"

"Uh ... yes. I'm afraid he's a little reluctant," said Harry. He was still dangling Dobby off the ground by his leg. Miss Slate tilted her head and smiled patronisingly at Dobby.

"Hello Dobby, are we feeling a little shy? Not to worry, I have some people inside who'd like to meet you."

"Go to hell, Miss Slate," stated Dobby. This kind of behaviour had been getting more and more frequent recently and his self-punishment problem hadn't got any better either. After Dobby slammed his own genitals in the oven door for thinking bad thoughts concerning a watermelon, Harry decided it was time that he sought professional help. After all, he didn't want Dobby to turn out like Kreacher. With some effort, Harry deposited Dobby in the hall and promised to pick him up later. As he walked back up to Hogwarts, he told himself that it was for the best. Miss Slate's 'Support Group For Those With Issues Concerning Their Tendency To Speak In The Third Person' had come very highly recommended. Miss Slate may be a world-class psychiatrist, but she thought up lousy names for her support groups.

Dobby found himself sitting in a small circle with three very strange people. Sitting in the chair to his right was a gangly, grey little man except he looked nothing like a man. He had several teeth missing, pointy ears, and a crazy look on his face and was wearing only a loincloth. Sitting next to him was a small, red, furry creature with a yellow nose and a big mouth. To Dobby's left was what looked like a blue dog, except it had two extra arms, antenna and spikes coming out of its back. The group was reasonably small but Miss Slate still had her work cut out for her. She took her place in the circle.

"Now everyone, we have someone new joining us today. Let's all give a friendly welcome to Dobby from Hogwarts."

"Hello Dobby!" squeaked the red thing in a high, annoying voice.

"Hello Dobby ...my preciousss!" hissed the grey creature sitting next to Dobby. The blue creature flexed its claws at Dobby in an almost threatening wave.

"Hi!" it growled in a nasally voice. Dobby instantly decided he didn't like it here.

"Now Dobby," said Miss Slate, her smile growing more annoying, "why don't you tell us why you're here?"

"Harry Potter made Dobby come," said Dobby as if that closed the matter. Miss Slate gave a demeaning false laugh. It didn't last long.

"Perhaps you'll feel more comfortable once you've heard from the others." She turned to the red creature. "Elmo, what progress do you feel you've made since our last session?" Elmo sighed deeply.

"Elmo's friends in Sesame Street still don't appreciate him and sometimes that makes Elmo sad." Miss Slate nodded understandingly.

"You don't feel that they take you seriously because you're vertically challenged and adorable?"

Elmo nodded glumly. "Elmo too cute for Elmo's own good,"

"And I bet that affects your self confidence? Which is why you don't like to refer to yourself as 'I' or 'me'?" Elmo hung his head.

"No one understands Elmo," Miss Slate placed her hand on his.

"But there are people who understand you Elmo, and they're right here. Mr. Gollum and/or Smeagol, why don't you update us on what's been happening in your life?" The grey creature shuffled uncomfortably in his seat.

"Ooh, we has been terrible, precious! Gollum, gollum! We shouldn't tell her, nasty little psychiatrist she is! But she is our friend!"

"That's right, I am your friend. Is there something on your minds that you'd like to tell me?"

"We can't find it, we searches and we searches but we've lost our precious!" Gollum began to sob into his hands. Miss Slate handed him a tissue.

"Listen to the words he uses, 'we've lost our precious'. I think we all feel that we've lost something precious to us sometimes, don't we?" Dobby had to agree with this. He would feel pretty bad if he lost his favourite sock. Miss Slate continued, "In a way, we're all searching for a precious. Perhaps for some of us that precious is the confidence to speak in the first person." The blue dog next to Dobby jumped up and stood on his chair.

"Stitch not lost anything! Stitch finds family!"

"Yes Mr. Stitch. I'm afraid your problem is something a bit more complex. Despite the fact that you have a happy family life in Hawaii, you continue your destructive behaviour. I'm guessing that this problem is rooted in a troubled past ..."

Bored, Stitch pulled a chainsaw out from under his chair, turned it on and began swing it around, narrowly missing Dobby's head. Stitch was jabbering in some kind of alien language. Miss Slate was able to shout over the roar of the chainsaw.

"Now Mr. Stitch, I thought we agreed that you weren't going to bring that in to these sessions anymore?" Cackling maniacally, Stitch jumped off his seat, cut a hole in the wall and ran outside. Miss Slate made a brief note on her clipboard and then carried on as normal. "Now Dobby, how about you tell us what's on your mind?"

"Dobby is thinking the crazy blue dog had the right idea," he confessed. Ignoring him, Miss Slate checked her clipboard again.

"Mr. Potter says you have a problem with self inflicted punishment whenever you say or do something that you might believe to be wrong. Could this link into a possible feeling of inadequacy?"

"Not really," said Dobby as he shrugged. "An old habit it is,"

"What about life under your former masters? That must have been hard for you. The uh... Malfoys, was it?" Dobby's impartial expression became very serious.

"The Malfoys are bad dark wizards and Mr. Malfoy used to put on Mrs. Malfoy's dresses. Dobby has seen him!" There was a moment of awkward silence, broken when Dobby ran over to Miss Slate, seized the clipboard and began bashing himself over the head with it. The clipboard shattered in two before Miss Slate could stop him. Her false smile flickered slightly.

"Well ...I think that's all we have time for today. I'll see you at our next session. Now if you'll excuse me, I need a vodka martini ...for...the ...first...time...in ... thirty ...years!" It was clear she was on the verge of her own nervous breakdown.

Dobby met Harry Potter out in the lobby.

"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" asked Harry. The diminutive elf looked up at his friend.

"Dobby will promise never to punish himself again if Harry promises one thing,"

"What's that?"

"Never try to save Dobby's sanity again!"