It was a perfect, sun-drenched afternoon on the private beach the Room of Requirement had conjured. Harley was still riding Lynn's shoulders like a victorious Quidditch champion, legs clamped around his neck while she waved her arms and shouted, "Faster, steed! The ocean is our kingdom!" Cho, in her modest one-piece, was giggling behind her hand as she built an elaborate sandcastle with actual miniature turrets that Neville had transfigured from seashells.
Lynn, sunglasses perched on his nose, sighed the sigh of a man who had accepted his fate. "Harley, if you choke me out, I'm billing your future swimsuit fund."
"Worth it!" she chirped, then reached down and patted his head. "Hey, grab the watermelon from your pocket? I'm starving after all this conquering."
"Fine, fine." Lynn stuck his hand into the Fourth-Dimensional Trash Bag slung at his hip—the same bag that had been refreshing itself with random junk every sunrise since he could remember. Today's haul felt… heavier than usual. "Should be right—huh?"
Instead of the chilled watermelon he expected, his fingers closed around something warm, furry, and very annoyed.
He yanked.
A round blue head popped out, followed by a little red nose, white belly, and a bell that jingled angrily.
Doraemon the robotic cat hovered in mid-air for half a second, blinking in the bright English sunlight. Then his eyes locked onto Lynn's bag.
His bag.
The bag.
"YOU—!" Doraemon's voice went from squeaky to full murder-mode in 0.3 seconds. "You thieving human! That's MY Yojigen Pocket! How dare you mass-produce knock-offs and fill them with broken junk?!"
Harley's legs loosened in shock. "Whoa, a talking blue tanuki? Lynn, did your pocket just barf up a new gadget?"
Cho tilted her head. "It looks… familiar. Like from those Muggle cartoons you showed us once."
Neville gripped his Lightning Edge, already in chūnibyō stance. "Is this a new enemy? Should I Dragon Slave it?"
Lynn, still holding the cat by the scruff, offered his most charming smile—the one that usually made upper-year girls melt. "Hey, little guy. You're a limited-edition model, right? Top-shelf tech. Want some Re'em blood pudding as an apology for the mix-up?"
Doraemon's eyes narrowed to glowing red slits. The bell on his collar began spinning like a siren.
"Apology? APOLOGY?!" He reached into his own (much cleaner, much more organized) pocket and pulled out a sleek silver ray-gun labeled in bright yellow: "Absolute Thief Eraser Beam – Limited Use, Don't Ask Questions."
"Listen here, you dimension-hopping copycat! Nobita steals my gadgets, fine. But you? You turned my beautiful invention into a bottomless dumpster of expired memory bread and half-broken Evolution Rays! This is an insult to every future inventor in Japan!"
Harley slid off Lynn's shoulders, eyes sparkling with pure chaos gremlin energy. "Oh my Merlin, he's mad. Do the thing, blue kitty! Do the dramatic monologue!"
"Harley, not helping," Lynn muttered, slowly backing up while his telekinesis coiled like a spring.
Too late.
Doraemon's whiskers twitched. "For the crime of trademark infringement, gadget dilution, and making me look like a bargain-bin Doraemon knock-off… I sentence you to deletion!"
He pressed the trigger.
A beam of pure white light—cleaner than any Patronus, colder than the Arctic—lanced straight through Lynn's chest.
No dramatic slow-motion. No heroic last words. Just a quiet fwoosh.
Lynn's body stiffened, eyes wide for half a second, then simply… ceased. No explosion. No blood. He folded like a cheap lawn chair and dropped onto the sand with a soft thump, sunglasses still perfectly perched on his now-empty face.
The beach went dead silent except for the waves.
Harley stared. "Lynn?"
Cho's hand flew to her mouth. "L-Lynn?!"
Neville's sword clattered to the ground. "He… he just… with a toy gun?"
Doraemon holstered the ray-gun with a satisfied huff, then reached over and casually unhooked the Fourth-Dimensional Trash Bag from Lynn's belt. It shrank neatly into a perfect, pristine sphere and vanished into his own pouch.
"Property reclaimed. Tell the author this is what happens when you give a Gary Stu my pocket." He pulled out the Anywhere Door, slapped it onto the air, and opened it to a bright Tokyo skyline. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go yell at Nobita for the 4,892nd time."
The door slammed shut. The cat was gone.
Harley poked Lynn's very still shoulder with her toe. "Um. Bro? This is the part where you say 'just kidding' and sit up, right?"
Nothing.
Cho's voice cracked. "Should… should we tell Professor Dumbledore that a blue cat from the future murdered our friend with copyright enforcement?"
Neville whispered, "I think I'm still in shock. He looked so cool when he died…"
Harley crouched down, brushed sand off Lynn's cheek, and sighed the longest, most theatrical sigh in the history of Gryffindor.
"Well… at least he died doing what he loved: being a walking liability with cool gadgets." She patted the corpse's head. "Rest in pieces, you magnificent trash-bag hoarder. We'll name the next company after you. Doraemon Inc. is now… uh… 'Lynn Was Killed By A Cat' Inc."
Somewhere in the distance, the Room of Requirement door flickered, as if even the magic of Hogwarts wasn't sure whether to respawn the MC or just call it a day.