DISCLAIMER: Not only do I not own the Harry Potter franchise, I also am not in ownership of any of the characters/names that appear in this story, nor am I belonging to anything except breif parts of the plot that aren't excerpts and/or inspired from other films, books, tv shows, magazines or real life events. All characters in this story are made up, fictional, not real in their entirety, regardless if they may have similar names to real people, places or events.

A/N: This chapter was written in January 2005. Along with the rest of this story, there may be jokes that aren't as funny anymore. Laugh anyway, dammit!

HARRY GETS DISSED
By Elle

CHAPTER 1: Rap Stars and Fast Cars

Harry Potter woke up on the morning of his birthday, at Privet drive, and groaned. He wasn't groaning because he was there, or because it was his birthday and he still had to make breakfast, he was groaning because it was soooo boring when the author starts the story off here, on this exact day, every year.

"C'mon, I'm Harry Potter, gimme some variety!" he murmured.

No Harry, we must respect Boss Lady Rowling's wishes. Harry hurrumphed.

Suddenly there was a violent tapping on his door.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia?" he said, grudgingly. No doubt she wanted him to make breakfast.

"It'sh not Art Pertunya" said a strange voice.

"Who the hell?" Harry said, rapidly sitting up in bed. What was going on?

The door swung open, and there was Adam Sandler, standing in Harry Potter's doorway.

"Well you wanted variety, didn't you, Harry?" he said in his Billy Madison voice.

"Be Gone" Harry replied, on his feet as he slammed the door.

"Very funny, author." He said, rolling his eyes.

Well you wanted variety. If you've changed your mind about variety, then don't go downstairs.

"Why…?" Harry said suspiciously.

"HARRY!" Aunt Petunia's screaming could be heard from downstairs, "GET DOWN HERE AND MAKE BREAKFAST FOR ALL MY GANGSTA-RAP FRIENDS!" she shrieked.

"Oh no you didn't." Harry said, shaking his head.

Oh yes I did!

Harry slowly descended the stairs, terrified of what he might see when he made it to the bottom. And he was damn right to be terrified. Aunt Petunia was standing, wearing a J-lo jumpsuit and lots of bling-bling, surrounded by various rappers, such as Dr Dre, Snoop Dogg, LL Cool J, Nelly, 50 Cent and, of course, their posse's. The Beastie Boys were lecturing Dudley on the rules of being a wigga, while Uncle Vernon was involved in a freestyle rap battle with Jay-z.

Harry sighed, "You couldn't even get Eminem? That's pathetic." He said.

Eminem is busy recording a song with Headmaster Dumbledore, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were a fan?

"I'm not a fan," said Harry, "I'm not a fan of any music, as J.K. Rowling refused to write me with any taste in popular culture at all." He complained.

Oh well, you get that. Better feed those hungry rappers before they bust a cap in yo' ass.

"Yeah, Yeah."

Harry busied himself making breakfast for the hungry emcees. When he was finally finished, and they were all bursting out of their baggy gangsta wear or stylish pimp-attire, the rappers and their respective posse's split, muttering about some track they had to lay down for some album or other, leaving Harry with the mess. Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Dudley also tried this trick, but Harry, being the sharp minded wizard he was, was on to the fact that none of his three remaining relatives had recording careers, and made them all sit in the corner and face the wall.

"Yeah, justice for Potter!" Harry said happily.

"Tell me again," said Vernon to his wife, "Why are we sitting in the corner?"

"Oh, honestly Vernon, it's because we were told to!" she replied. Vernon could be so dumb sometimes. Harry picked up his Hogwarts letter that was sitting conveniently on the table. He couldn't see it before because Dr Dre had been using it as a coaster for his Cristal Champagne.

He opened it up.

Dear Harry Pothead.. er, Potter. Sorry Harry, I couldn't resist. All the muggle school children say it, and it makes me laugh every time I hear it.

Anyway, I regret to announce that Hogwarts has been blown up by the Al Queada network. But we rebuilt it and it's totally the same as it used to be, so really, I didn't even have to tell you that. So it's Albus: 1, Al Queada: 0. Those bastards. But anyways, I'm just doing this letter thing to remind you that you go to Hogwarts. Yeah, I know, it's like J.K. Rowling thinks her characters might forget what school they go to… and I 'spose if they do forget, it's her own fault anyways, she should have made them smarter. By the way, here's your booklist:

Charms: "The Standard book of spells, grade 6", by Miranda Goshawk

History of Magic: "Old Crap You Don't Need" by Pierce Brosnan

Potions: "Isn't Alan Rickman Gorgeous", by Professor Severus Snape

Herbology: "Can I Smoke it?" by Cheech & Chong

Transfiguration: "The Delicate Art Of Plastic Surgery" by Pamela Anderson

Care of Magical Creatures: "CEO Material" by Donald Trump

Divination: "Crossing Over" by John Edwards

Defence Against The Dark Arts: "Confessions Of An Heiress" by Paris Hilton

So, on a more personal note, how have you been lately? I'm sorry I don't call, or pay the child support when I should… Hey, wait a minute, I'm not your father, I don't owe you child support? What are you talking about?

I really shouldn't write these while I'm drunk.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumblebumblybeedore (Well you have to admit it is a funny name…)

"I think Dumbledore's going senile." Harry said, raising his eyebrows.

Suddenly, Harry heard the squealing of tires outside.

"Oh no. I hardly dare to ask."

Well, are you a fan of fast cars?

There was a knock on the door.

"I'll get it! I'll get it!" Harry squealed like a little girl.

"I do not squeal like a little girl!" he said indignantly.

Yes you do, take a listen to yourself, boy!

"Well HELLO!" Uncle Vernon said loudly, "Are you going to get it? One of us would but you made us face the wall and we're not allowed to move."

"Damn right you're not moving. And I said I'm getting the door, and that's what I'm doing, ok?"

Harry opened the door.

"Shit." He said. Paul Walker stood there, dressed in a bright t-shirt, jeans and black chuck's.

"Yo." He said, with a quick nod of his head.

"Who the hell-" Harry started.

"You don't know me, dawg?" he said, "Ain't you seen the fast and the furious? I'm Paul Walker, you know, Brian?"

Harry just stood there, scratching his head.

"Do – You – Like – Fast – Cars?" he said, really slowly.

"Um…"

"Look, Potter, I'm Ron's really cool American cousin. Do you like my ride?"

"Aw, it's alright, I 'spose." Harry said, "If you're related to Ron, where's your red hair and freckles?"

"Who cares, kid, this is fanfiction, and the author's hardly JK Rowling, she's allowed a few major plot holes, here there and everywhere. Now come out and look at my tricked out machine!"

Harry went outside, looked at Paul's automobile, and let out a low whistle.

"I only know crap about brooms, so what the hell kind of car is this?" Harry said.

"Nissan Skyline R34 GTR, full body kit, turbo, Nos, all the extras. Tite, huh?"

"Quit showing off. Now let me get my firebolt, that's what I call tite!" Harry exclaimed.

"Whatever." Paul said, being little miss attitude, sticking his bottom lip out. His mother just happened to be driving past in her 1980 Toyota Corolla, and screamed out the window:

"Quit pouting, Paulie!"

"Quit stalking me, Mum!"

Ron jumped out of the back of Paul's car, and said to Harry:

"We're going to go stay at the Hilton! Get your stuff!"

"I already got it." Harry said.

"When? You've been here the whole time!" Ron said.

"Well, this is a story about magic and enchantment, lets just put it down to that, hey?" Harry said in a conspiratorial voice.

Ron gave a discreet nod of understanding, and tapped his nose.

"Loser." Harry muttered.

After Paul's credit card was declined from the Hilton, the trio set off to the Leaky Cauldron. When they arrived, a woman that Harry didn't recognise ran straight up to them.

"Mum!" Ron cried, "What the hell have you done to yourself? You look like Michael Jackson!"

"I went to the clinic, and had a little nip/tuck. You don't like?" Molly Weasley asked.

"A little nip/tuck? A LITTLE? Mum, why'd you do it?" Ron cried, incredulous.

"Well, I always secretly wished that Lucious Malfoy would fall in love with me!"

"And did he?" Harry asked, fearing the answer.

"Yes!" she cried ecstatically.

"Lookin' like freakin' Shrek?" Marlon Wayans cried.

"Oh my god, Marlon, I'm such a big fan of your work… Where'd he go?" asked Ron.

"I think he only had a one liner." Said Paul.

"Hey, it happens." Harry said.