Harry Potter and the Stone with Two Names

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were quite ordinary, thank you very much. In fact, they were so ordinary they were rather boring and had this book detailed their lives, there would never have been a sequel as no-one would have read past the third chapter, and the world would never know what any of it had to do with the title character, Harry Potter.

But, as anyone in any even half-way decent story, the Dursleys had a secret they couldn't let anyone find out, ever- Mrs. Dursley had once cheated on a spelling bee in second year! That and her sister was a witch. Or a traveling circus performer. Or maybe a mime... At any rate, they didn't want the neighbors to know, so they lived their pitifully uneventful lives with their equally boring son, Dudley, and refused any and all contact with Mrs. Dursley's almost interesting sister, mildly intriguing husband, something Potter, and their equally more interesting son, Harry.

And so it was that one day, a Tuesday maybe, the Dursleys began a dreadfully plain morning talking about horribly uninteresting things and going to great lengths to be quite ordinary. Mr. Dursley was a typical fat, angry husband, and Mrs. Dursley was a gossipy toothpick and somehow, both were oddly proud of this. Mr. Dursley went to work for his company that made some equipment for something which was also painfully boring. When the mundanity of it all had began to sink in and the man was almost in tears over how monotonous and routine his life had began while waiting for the story to develop a plot line, he finally saw it-

'The cracker!' It was in fact the cracker he'd dropped last week. It was stuck right in the corner of his huge mustache. He took it out, carefully fixed the hair, then dusted off the cracker and ate it. Leaning back in his chair while he chewed, he noticed for he first time that it had gotten awfully dark. As he peered at the sky, trying to decide if there was an eclipse, something flew at him and bounced off the window, leaving feathers in it's wake. 'It isn't dark, it's that the sun is being blocked out by a flock of giant, angry seagulls! No wait, maybe parakeets.' The bird pitifully dragged itself onto the windowsill and collected it's feather, shooting a glare at the fat man. 'Oh yes, owls, that was it.'

As he watched this, he suddenly remember he'd seen a cat reading a map while he'd driven to work that morning and began to laugh to himself. 'That darned cat and the map...' When the novelty had worn off about 2.6 seconds later, he decided to go home, fighting his way past a number of the birds to finally get to his mind-numbingly undescript car.

Once in it, he began to speed towards his house and in the process, narrowly missed hitting another big bird. It was in fact, the biggest bird of all.

'Watch it ya [censored]! I got a show ta tape!' Yelled the six foot tall bird. It was yellow and walked, perhaps because it couldn't fly. The two exchanged angry words, consisting mostly of the ABCs, (though 123 were often thrown in the mix,) then the big bird looked both ways before crossing the road and left, calling him a muggle.

Mr. Dursley started to turn the car back on when he over heard some people on the street. They were all wearing cloaks and pointed hats and whispering about magic. 'Damn sci-fi conventions...' The large man cursed as the car sputtered out. A few more words drifted towards him and he was sure he'd caught the words "Killed" and "the Potters" and was almost giddy with excitement that the black sheep of the family may have met their fitting end when he realized it was important to the storyline he believe it all rubbish and started the car again. This time it worked, so he went home. Well, to the bar for a few hours and then home.

When he arrived a few hours later in a drunken stupor, he thought he noticed the same cat he'd seen this morning. 'Can't be...' He told himself, noting it wasn't reading a map. 'Do something funny or go home!' He ordered the cat and it looked at him like he was the biggest idiot in the world. Ah yes, it was a normal cat.

The oddities didn't end there. As the evening news came on around 5 or 6, whenever it comes on in England, they were talking about the sightings, too. The news caster said, 'American celebrity Big Bird has been sighted all across England today. If you see him, give us a call!'

'Wretched celebrities think they own the world...' Mr. Dursley slurred drunkenly.

'Oh yeah, and there were owls all day.' Added the anchor. "And shooting stars.'

'Stupid kids and their firecrackers..." The man went on until his wife entered the room. 'D'your sister call?'

'I don't have a sister.' Mrs. Dursley answered in a state of Prozac denial. She'd been taking mother's little helpers even since Dudley had been born. 'And if she did, she wouldn't call. And there were no owls, no shooting stars, and Harry didn't kill anyone, especially not an evil wizard who's been terrorizing the secret magical words for years!'

'Whoops, I meant your mother.' The man corrected. 'It's he birthday, isn't it?'

'Oh. Yes, she did.' The two finished watching the news and gossiping, then went to bed because they had little else in their lives to pass the hours.

Around midnight a man appeared on the corner by the name of Albus Dumbledoor, not hat it meant anything to the readers who'd never heard the name in their lives. He was tall and thin, with lots of white hair and an obsession with both purple clothing and sweets.

'Finally!' Hollered the cat, stiffly from their front lawn. The map was back out and she was studying it. 'I swear, I've memorized every street from here to Nottingham!' And, indeed, she had.

'I had to wait until midnight, that's when all the best plot developments occur,' The old man answered merrily and went to fish a candy out of his pocket. When he looked up the cat had turned into an equally stiff woman. 'Candy, Professor McGonagall?' He offered some kind of treat the "muggles" ate.

The woman politely refused, mumbling something about it giving her hairballs, then looked at him strictly. 'So is You-Know-Who gone now?'

'What's with all this "You-Know-Who" business? At least you should be able to call him Voldemort.' Professor McGonagall cringed at the name, as all did when it was heard. Not because of the foul condensations the name ensued, but because of a casual dislike of all names starting with "V".

'I meant Harry.' The woman replied cooly. 'You were supposed to bring him here.'

'Er, right. I left him with Hagrid, they should be here soon.' Dumbledoor searched his pocket again, found another candy which he quickly consumed, then took out a lighter which was really more of an unlighter because it sucked up all the lights in the area.

Moments later, there was a terrific crash somewhere near the road as a flying motorbike attempted to land in the pitch black. ' 'e're a'righ'...' Mumbled a slightly incoherent voice. The Earth shook a few times as the giant rider of the giant motorcycle made his way towards the pair, carrying something delicate in his massive hands. He was huge with masses of equally huge hair (it was the eighties, keep in mind) although no one could see it because Dumbledoor had stolen all of the light.

'There you are Hagrid,' Smiled the old man as he squinted through the dark at what had once been a large motorcycle. 'And where did you find that motorbike?'

'Got it from Sirius Black,' Answered the giant, mentioning another person who would mean nothing to the readers until they'd read the third book and immediately fallen in love with him or wanted to be him.

'Pity... I wanted one.' Dumbledoor quickly collected himself. They discussed whether the large man had had any trouble digging the boy out of the rubble of the house, and where this Sirius might have purchased such a fine vehicle until Hagrid burst into tears.

'You can't leave 'im with 'ese 'orrid peo'le!' He wailed. 'I'll take 'im instea', please!'

'He has to say hear to develop the storyline, or we'll all be out of the novel.' Said Dumbledoor rather harshly.

'Not just one novel, but seven,' Added McGonagall.

The three agreed to leave him, though they all secretly wanted to bring him home with them and vowed to treat him as their own son, then went home, wishing the boy luck.

The next morning Mrs. Dursley found Harry and a note in the flowerbed while spying on the neighbors where the trio had dropped him in their despair the night before. So began the worst ten years of young Harry's life.

The next night, Dumbledoor returned to give the street back it's light.