Larry Rotter
And the Philosophical Sorcerer's Bone
Chapter One... The Boy Who Wasn't Infected
All was quiet on Private Drive, thank you very much. Under the wall in front of a disgustingly perfect house with the number 4 on it sat a wine bottle reading a map... no, looking at the map, for we all know wine bottles can't read. At the end of the street with a loud sound vaguely reminiscent of a fart there appeared a fat old man with star-shaped glasses, a violent purple top hat, a white beard which was long enough for him to tuck into his belt (and so he did), a warty nose that looked as if it had been smashed repeatedly with a hammer (and it probably had), and mint green robes that came down below his feet, upon which he wore hot pink sandals that he had picked up at a yard sale. The fat old man waddled down the street for awhile and then reached into his robes and pulled out a strange device like a lighter and pointed it at the nearest lamp post. He clicked the Put-Outer several times but nothing happened. After several tries he became frustrated, throwing it to the ground and stomping on it. He then pulled out a gun and shot out all of the lights. He smiled, turning to the wine bottle.
"I hope you're having a pleasant evening, Professor McDonald."
The wine bottle shook violently and then exploded to reveal a sallow- faced old woman who appeared to be quite anorexic with magenta robes that hung loosely from her thin arms. She took a puff from a cigarette and said with a voice characteristic of a chain smoker and bad breath characteristic of a drunk, "How did you know it was me, Professor Rumblemore?"
"I've never seen a wine bottle that smelled so badly."
She smiled stiffly. "Is it true, then? Are the rumors that everyone is spreading true?"
"Yes, the good and the bad."
"Is it true that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Touched is gone?"
"Say his name, Professor. Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself."
"Oh, all right. Is it true that... Vaginalwart is gone?"
"It is true that he seems to have disappeared for now, but we must remain watchful of another outbreak." "Is it also true that he... that he killed Julie and Landau Rotter?"
"I'm afraid it is."
"Then... it must also be true... what they are saying. That he tried to kill their son, Larry, but he... but he couldn't. There was something that happened and that somehow, when he tried to kill him, his power just broke."
"You seem to know as much of the story as I do."
"But how? How did that little boy defeat the most powerful dark wizard of the age?"
"I don't know, and neither will you until the end of this book."
"And why is it that he tried to kill Larry in the first place?"
"I'm not even telling Larry about that until the fifth book... why would I tell you and give away the secret to all of the readers?"
"Oh yes, I understand... marketing techniques. As long as things remain secret we will guarantee that there will always be loyal consumers who wait in line at midnight and ravage one another in an attempt to be the first to get their hands on the next book."
"Exactly. Remind me to give you a raise."
"Don't bother, I'll just use it to buy cigarettes and cheap beer."
In the distance there came a strange scraping noise which caused both McDonald and Rumblemore to abruptly end their conversation and look down the street.
"What on earth is that?" asked McDonald.
"Oh, it must be Ragged. I asked him to fetch Larry for me."
"Can you really trust Ragged? I know he means well but he really is just a blundering idiot."
"Of course he is, and that's why I trust him. He's too thick to do anything to jeopardize the mission. Not to mention that nobody can understand a damn word he says."
The scraping sound continued for several minutes, progressively growing slightly louder. "What the hell is he doing that is making so much noise and taking so long?" asked McDonald.
"I don't know. I shot out all the street lamps."
After nearly an hour, a large wooden canoe began to take form from out of the darkness. In it sat an unbelievably squat old man with a beard that was quite possibly larger than his entire head and a stomach large enough to rival Rumblemore's. Behind him sat a tiny bundle which you would be correct in assuming was Larry. He continued to paddle the canoe up the street, which woke up every nosy good for nothing in the entire neighborhood. However, none of them could see because all of the street lamps lay in heaps upon the pavement. Rumblemore and McDonald stared in awe at the insurmountable stupidity of Ragged until he finally pulled alongside them, a cheesy toothless grin upon his face.
"W' 'llo th'r h'd m's't'r."
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Ragged?" wheezed McDonald.
"Br'g'n L'r'y t' th' h'd m's't'r l'k h' as'k'd m' t."
"And why are you bringing Larry to the headmaster in a canoe?"
"Because I told him to use Snmi (Stupid Non Magical Idiot) transportation so as not to attract attention. I should have realized he was too stupid to figure it out for himself."
"J'k'l'y W't l'n't' m' h's can'u."
"Jokely White?"
"Don't worry about him, yet. He will be pivotal to the plot of the third book but for now he is only mentioned as a subtle allusion."
"Oh... that whole marketing thing again."
"Yep. So, Ragged, thank you for bringing Larry to me. You've been a big helper. Now go on back to the castle and go to sleep. It's way past your bedtime."
Ragged gave another cheesy smile and started paddling away.
"Hopefully he'll be back by the time Larry goes to school."
"So, Rumblemore, why is it that we've gone through all of this? Why did you have me meet you and have Ragged bring Larry to this place?"
"Larry is to stay here until the time comes for him to go to school. This is the home of his aunt and uncle, his only living blood relatives."
"But Rumblemore, I've been watching them. They are the biggest Snmi's I've ever seen in my life. Larry will be famous. Books will be written about him, making Jo Rowling richer than the queen of England. The books will spawn movies and a billion-dollar merchandising scam. Every day that a new book is released will be called Larry Potter day and will be celebrated by children and adults around the entire world."
"Exactly... and Larry would be much better off growing up away from all of that. I have written a letter to Larry's aunt and uncle explaining everything. Don't worry, McDonald, Larry will be treated like dirt but in the end it will only serve to make him noble and a much more fitting hero for little children to god-worship."
"I suppose you're right."
Rumblemore nodded and gave Larry a slight squeeze. He set him upon the doorstep of number 4 Private Drive and put the letter on top of him. A slight breeze ruffled his already messy hair and played across a V-shaped scar on his head. "He will carry that scar with him forever," said Rumblemore thoughtfully. "The spot where he was touched by Vaginalwart. Larry Rotter... the boy who wasn't infected."
And the Philosophical Sorcerer's Bone
Chapter One... The Boy Who Wasn't Infected
All was quiet on Private Drive, thank you very much. Under the wall in front of a disgustingly perfect house with the number 4 on it sat a wine bottle reading a map... no, looking at the map, for we all know wine bottles can't read. At the end of the street with a loud sound vaguely reminiscent of a fart there appeared a fat old man with star-shaped glasses, a violent purple top hat, a white beard which was long enough for him to tuck into his belt (and so he did), a warty nose that looked as if it had been smashed repeatedly with a hammer (and it probably had), and mint green robes that came down below his feet, upon which he wore hot pink sandals that he had picked up at a yard sale. The fat old man waddled down the street for awhile and then reached into his robes and pulled out a strange device like a lighter and pointed it at the nearest lamp post. He clicked the Put-Outer several times but nothing happened. After several tries he became frustrated, throwing it to the ground and stomping on it. He then pulled out a gun and shot out all of the lights. He smiled, turning to the wine bottle.
"I hope you're having a pleasant evening, Professor McDonald."
The wine bottle shook violently and then exploded to reveal a sallow- faced old woman who appeared to be quite anorexic with magenta robes that hung loosely from her thin arms. She took a puff from a cigarette and said with a voice characteristic of a chain smoker and bad breath characteristic of a drunk, "How did you know it was me, Professor Rumblemore?"
"I've never seen a wine bottle that smelled so badly."
She smiled stiffly. "Is it true, then? Are the rumors that everyone is spreading true?"
"Yes, the good and the bad."
"Is it true that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Touched is gone?"
"Say his name, Professor. Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself."
"Oh, all right. Is it true that... Vaginalwart is gone?"
"It is true that he seems to have disappeared for now, but we must remain watchful of another outbreak." "Is it also true that he... that he killed Julie and Landau Rotter?"
"I'm afraid it is."
"Then... it must also be true... what they are saying. That he tried to kill their son, Larry, but he... but he couldn't. There was something that happened and that somehow, when he tried to kill him, his power just broke."
"You seem to know as much of the story as I do."
"But how? How did that little boy defeat the most powerful dark wizard of the age?"
"I don't know, and neither will you until the end of this book."
"And why is it that he tried to kill Larry in the first place?"
"I'm not even telling Larry about that until the fifth book... why would I tell you and give away the secret to all of the readers?"
"Oh yes, I understand... marketing techniques. As long as things remain secret we will guarantee that there will always be loyal consumers who wait in line at midnight and ravage one another in an attempt to be the first to get their hands on the next book."
"Exactly. Remind me to give you a raise."
"Don't bother, I'll just use it to buy cigarettes and cheap beer."
In the distance there came a strange scraping noise which caused both McDonald and Rumblemore to abruptly end their conversation and look down the street.
"What on earth is that?" asked McDonald.
"Oh, it must be Ragged. I asked him to fetch Larry for me."
"Can you really trust Ragged? I know he means well but he really is just a blundering idiot."
"Of course he is, and that's why I trust him. He's too thick to do anything to jeopardize the mission. Not to mention that nobody can understand a damn word he says."
The scraping sound continued for several minutes, progressively growing slightly louder. "What the hell is he doing that is making so much noise and taking so long?" asked McDonald.
"I don't know. I shot out all the street lamps."
After nearly an hour, a large wooden canoe began to take form from out of the darkness. In it sat an unbelievably squat old man with a beard that was quite possibly larger than his entire head and a stomach large enough to rival Rumblemore's. Behind him sat a tiny bundle which you would be correct in assuming was Larry. He continued to paddle the canoe up the street, which woke up every nosy good for nothing in the entire neighborhood. However, none of them could see because all of the street lamps lay in heaps upon the pavement. Rumblemore and McDonald stared in awe at the insurmountable stupidity of Ragged until he finally pulled alongside them, a cheesy toothless grin upon his face.
"W' 'llo th'r h'd m's't'r."
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Ragged?" wheezed McDonald.
"Br'g'n L'r'y t' th' h'd m's't'r l'k h' as'k'd m' t."
"And why are you bringing Larry to the headmaster in a canoe?"
"Because I told him to use Snmi (Stupid Non Magical Idiot) transportation so as not to attract attention. I should have realized he was too stupid to figure it out for himself."
"J'k'l'y W't l'n't' m' h's can'u."
"Jokely White?"
"Don't worry about him, yet. He will be pivotal to the plot of the third book but for now he is only mentioned as a subtle allusion."
"Oh... that whole marketing thing again."
"Yep. So, Ragged, thank you for bringing Larry to me. You've been a big helper. Now go on back to the castle and go to sleep. It's way past your bedtime."
Ragged gave another cheesy smile and started paddling away.
"Hopefully he'll be back by the time Larry goes to school."
"So, Rumblemore, why is it that we've gone through all of this? Why did you have me meet you and have Ragged bring Larry to this place?"
"Larry is to stay here until the time comes for him to go to school. This is the home of his aunt and uncle, his only living blood relatives."
"But Rumblemore, I've been watching them. They are the biggest Snmi's I've ever seen in my life. Larry will be famous. Books will be written about him, making Jo Rowling richer than the queen of England. The books will spawn movies and a billion-dollar merchandising scam. Every day that a new book is released will be called Larry Potter day and will be celebrated by children and adults around the entire world."
"Exactly... and Larry would be much better off growing up away from all of that. I have written a letter to Larry's aunt and uncle explaining everything. Don't worry, McDonald, Larry will be treated like dirt but in the end it will only serve to make him noble and a much more fitting hero for little children to god-worship."
"I suppose you're right."
Rumblemore nodded and gave Larry a slight squeeze. He set him upon the doorstep of number 4 Private Drive and put the letter on top of him. A slight breeze ruffled his already messy hair and played across a V-shaped scar on his head. "He will carry that scar with him forever," said Rumblemore thoughtfully. "The spot where he was touched by Vaginalwart. Larry Rotter... the boy who wasn't infected."