Harry PottEd and the Sorcerer's Jawbreaker

Chapter 1: The Uncaring Muggles and the Boy Who Lived

Vernon Dursley was never a kind soul, nor was he an exciting one. Every morning he would get up, put on a boring gray suit and a dull black tie, he would go downstairs, eat three containers of bacon, hug his son Dudley for throwing cereal at the wall, peck his wife Petunia's cheek, and walk out the door and get into his old Ford mini-van.

Petunia's day started off almost the exact same way, only she would put on a dull light blue gown, dress up Dudley, put him in his high chair, cook breakfast, and spend the whole day cleaning a spotless house.

Vernon would continue his day screaming at people on the telephone and wish to do the same to his boss.

Usually he would continue his day by going to the bakery, eating six bagels, once more screaming on the telephone and wishing to do so to his boss, but today was (thankfully) different.

On his way to the bakery, as he rounded a corner, he spotted three cloaked figures, all wearing specifically different colors in odd fashions. As he waddled by he heard some of their mumbling.

"The whole family was blasted to bits, 'cept for their son Harry." one of them said.

"Oh dear." another said.

"That boy's a hero, bless them Potters, we knew them well, wish they were here in person so we could thank them properly.

"But we must rejoice and not feel sad, for the wizarding world is free once more."

And there were were three words in that conversation that made Vernon halt in his tracks. The words were Potter, Harry, and Wizard.

He practically acted like a zombie for the rest of the day, as usual he went to the bakery to collect his food, but he DIDN'T scream on the phone and he DIDN'T wish to scream at his boss, he just wanted to go home and forget the day. The reason for all this madness was because- heaven forbid- he had a sister in law, who had the last name Potter, WHICH HE GRAAAVELY LOAAATHED. He HATED the potter family, because he HATED abnormal, he barely appreciated excitement if it was Christmas day and Santa had given him a big break.

But today, for some reason he couldn't believe, he felt guilty, maybe grimly guilty.

"The Potters? Dead?" Vernon whispered under his breath, "Couldn't be." As he was wondering this, still walking down the street to his work building, he smashed into a tall thin fellow wearing a long robe and an pointy hat, Vernon rolled on his back from the blow, but it was like a capsized turtle attempting to get out of quicksand, finally he mumbled, "Help."

"Oh, sorry there, mate, couldn't watch where I was wanderin'." after he had helped him up he gave him a firm handshake and said, "Rejoice, we are free! Wizard or muggle!" and he lightly walked away.

Then Vernon said, under his breath, "I'll be happy when I'm free of you freaks you magical son of a-"

Then he remembered the conversation. "Bless them Potters" ."

The rest of the day Vernon was quiet and didn't laugh when his boss fired the neighboring employee. At 6:30, he packed up his suitcase, got into his car, and wen't home.

On his way home, he noticed many owls swooping down and landing on the telephone poles, he also noticed a black cat sitting in front of the fence of Petunia's garden.

"Go away!" Vernon said, "This is practically the cleanest house in the universe, there are no mice here!"

The cat just glared at him and hissed.

"Well HSSSSSSS to you, too!" Vernon said angrily.

Then the cat whispered, "Pss, muggles."

Later that evening after a large dinner that was eaten in silence (besides Dudley's annoying laughter/whines/spitting) Vernon took off his suit coat and sat down to watch TV and drank tea while Petunia played Solitaire with actual cards beside him and Dudley played with his Pokemon cards in silence.

Then Vernon looked over to Petunia as she muttered "Four of diamonds, four of diamonds..." then he said, "Uh, Petunia, so, had a good day?"

"Oh yes, sweety, mostly spied on the neighbors as they hid a peculiar-looking rubbish bag."

Vernon tried to forget that statement, "Oh... yes... um, any post?"

"Oh, no, just bills." Aunt Petunia replied.

"Nothing? No funeral invitations? No death certificates?" asked Vernon.

"Oh don't worry I don't think we were involved with the death of whoever was in that bag, why?" Petunia replied.

"OH I just heard some... odd rumors about- um, your sister."

"Has she gone to rehab?" asked Petunia.

"No, I heard some queer gossip of her... disappearance. Her and her husband."

Petunia looked shocked, "For one thing, that's impossible, I would've heard, for another thing, I thought you promised never to mention that man again, it always ends the conversation with a door slamming." With that, Petunia got up, left the room, and slammed the door behind her, and then Vernon heard her yell from the other room, "SEE?"

She didn't speak to him for the rest of the night.

After Vernon had changed into his pajamas, wen't up to his room, and stared out the window, he saw a light moving across the sky, he presumed it was a shooting star, he usually didn't do this but desperate times call for desperate measures, Vernon took a deep breath, "I wish everything would go back to normal." he mumbled. Oh this was just not his day.

The light in the sky was not only one light, but two. Two equally sized lights side-by-side, they became bigger and bigger and soon began to make noise. Brup brup brup brup brup brup brup brup brup, soon a shape was visible around the two lights, a square shape, soon it was clear that it was a large dark blue van, it had chipping paint and for some reason, hot rod flames painted on the sides, then with a gentle bounce it landed with a silent screech on the asphalt of Privet Drive.

The passenger side opened and a tall man with purple robes and a pointed rimmed purple hat with a blue beard got out, "Thanks for the ride, small bald Arthur-sir."

"No problem, Al, I'm off to a party, WOOT!" Then the (drunk) man in the van drove off into the moonlight.

The tall man with the blue beard giggled and pulled out a box of candy, "Om, nom, nom, nom, (gulp), om, nom- wait a 60-second-interval of a secondhand on a wristclock -(gulp)- what was Albus doing here again?"

Then a black cat made a meowing noise that sounded more like a clearing of the throat. "Down here?"

"Ooh, perhaps Dumbledore should've not underestimated the NOSINESS of his DEPUTY HEADMISTRESS!"

"You didn't have to be so rude about it," said a woman in a green robe, about 186 years of age, she was wearing square spectacles and a pointed greenish black hat.

"NO WONDER YOUR BOYFRIEND LEFT YOU!" said the man with the blue beard.

"THAT IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!" the woman in the greenish black hat replied. "Anyway, I have some lecturing for you, headmaster!"

"..."

"What in the God-forsaken magical hell of dark chocolate rainbows do you think you're doing, leaving a poor defenseless wonderful beautiful destined-to-have-eye-problems-and-finally-be-a-student-that-will-pass-my-class one-year-old with these, THESE, THESE, THESE..." the woman pulled out a bag that said 'motion discomfort container' and made a noise like someone strangling a duck into it, then she tossed it into a nearby rubbish can. "CAULDRON BUMS!"

"...What?" said Albus.

"I mean, muggles." said the woman, "Why leave a child who is destined to be famous with a family that will reject him and treat him as an outcast, WHAT THE UNICORN TURDS, MAN?"

"You've gone a bit... overboard... WITH THE FLAPDOODLE USED AS INSULTS IN OUR BEAUTIFUL MONKEY-MAKING WIZARDING WORLD THAT INVENTED SOME OF THE MOST INGENIOUS PARADOX JOKES KOWN TO MAN/WOMAN/PUPPY/CATGIRL/INTERNET NERD/-"

"Okay, I'm sorry." said the lady.

"See the circumstances, professor woman." said Albus, "His family is either in prison or dead... as a doornail... if we simply LEAVE him with any peachy wizard family that comes along, he will be raised to be a spoiled coward." Albus breathed, "Here he will learn discipline and respect and other crap like that, he will learn to be strong-minded and the magic will build up in him until he is ready, plus he will get his own fan-base in 20 years."

"How do you know that?" said the lady.

"Professor Trelawney told me this morning, before the boy's parents got poofed." Albus looked around, "Now where is the hairy beast we call Hagrid?"

"Oh, as far as you could have sunk, THIS IS THE LOWEST OF ALL, you're REALLY trusting HAGRID with this?" said Professor Mcgonagall.

"I would trust Hagrid... with my new wool socks and my box of lemon drops COMBINED!" Albus licked his lips, "Mm, lemon socks."

There was a rumbling overhead, the rumbling began to sound more like a beat, like the beat of a motorcycle engine- oh wait, the radio was just on too loud.

"CAN YOU PRANCE LIKE A HIPP-O-GRIFF?" boomed the short guy on the motorcycle, plummeting out of the air and onto the driveway. With a screech, the motorbike landed loudly onto the driveway, then the short guy threw his hands up in the air as he sang even louder.

"SHUT UP!" screamed Mcgonagall.

The short guy flipped a switch on the motorcycle's dashboard. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Did you bring the package, Hagrid?" Albus asked.

He patted the pockets of his coat worriedly, "He... couldn't make it." said Hagrid, then a baby fell from the sky into his arms, the baby wasn't bawling his eyes out annoyingly like most babies do when they plummet from thirty feet in the air. He was quiet, but from the look on his face he looked tortured and sad.

"When I found him, he was whimpering in a corner, and I had to drag him out of the house, obviously he didn't want to leave the corpses, he probably thought they were still alive and that there might've been hope, he was so quiet and obedient, I felt so sad for him. He never struggled, he just stayed curled up and quiet and never went to sleep." Hagrid slowly handed the bundle of blankets to Dumbledore as the baby stood awake with low eyes and a miserable expression, the child grew too tired to stay awake, however he still didn't want to go to sleep. He groaned and looked away from Dumbledore.

Dumbledore looked at the child's forehead, which contained a lightning bolt shaped scar that went all the way to the top of his head, where his hair was parted to make way for the small wound, Dumbledore reached into his pocket, pulled out a black wool sock, and tightened it around the child's forehead.

"Aww." said Mcgonagall, "He looks adorable."

ONCE AGAIN Dumbledore reached into his pocket and pulled out a white letter, then placing it in the bundle of blankets that the child was sleeping in and placing the bundle on the doorstep.

The three figures gave a solemn, sad look, and Dumbledore said, "Good luck, Harry PottEd."

END CHAPTER.