Harry Potter and the Tales of Interest – Chapter 1
Disclaimer: This is a Harry Potter parody, I am very familiar with the actual story etc. no hate plz. Critique and comments on the story are welcome.
Harry slowly opened his eyes and gazed upon the intricately decorated ceiling over his canopy covered four-posted bed. A voice suddenly flooded the room:
"Harry, dinner time" it was Dursley, the ol' bitch. She placed a silver tray of ketchup in front of him; its odour wafted towards Harry's nostrils, waftily. The smell wafted further though his nasal cavities and tantalised his appetite, to the point where he almost attacked the meal. It was amaze-balls.
Shortly after Harry had gorged himself, Dudley entered and sat at the foot of his bed, apparently mesmerised by Harry's socks.
"Where'd you get that ol' shite?"
Upon pondering, Harry could not reach a solution:
" I... Don't remember... where was I last night, Dudley?" Dudley removed the toupé from his mouth and replied: " How the hell should I know?"
Damn, he had attitude, the kind that Harry lusted for. The mere sound of his voice could curdle juice. Harry looked around the empty room for any signs of where he had been. His efforts were in vain. A wild Ginny flew past the window, which drew Harry's attention towards the weather: it was lashing rain, covered in dark, dull, sexy clouds. He couldn't take it anymore and burst into tears. Tears toppled in steady streams down his reddened cheeks. The flow of emotion so great from Harry's very soul forced a tear from the heavens as even the gods wept at the immense sorrow of the moment. The very earth convulsed with each heaving breath of the sobbing boy. Mrs. Dursley ran in with a jar and some tissues. She silently sat beside and hugged him, placing the jar beneath his cheek, and allowing the tears to drop in. She continued to tenderly hug him, reminding him of their strong love, despite her never being Harry's true parent.
Harry went to make a sandwich, but swiftly discovered a lack of mustard in the shining kitchen. After confirming with the maid that there was indeed a mustard deficit, a quest began in order to receive the yellow goodness. Harry collected his wand and car keys and left through the courtyard of the beautiful estate.
As he climbed into his mercedes, the sun was beating down in his neck, cracking the dry earth beneath him. He put on his shades and punched the truck into overdrive. His batmobile revved into action, wheels spinning furiously.
Harry had arrived; he placed his monetary offering of coins in exchange for his vehicle's safe lodging. Shades still on, he burst through the front door of Tesco, hitting an elderly couple on the way in. He ripped his wand from his front pocket and screamed: "ACCIO MUSTARD!". He could see the delightful substance fly from the shelves in bountiful quantities towards him. But alas, his efforts had failed him. The shop appeared to be carrying to much mustard for this wizard.
Harry arrived back the mansion, drenched, yellow and spicy. He returned to the newly refurnished kitchen and spotted the maid fleeing. He sneakily followed her to the slaves' quarters and could not believe his wizardly eyes : there was the maid feeding on his personal supply of the spicy, yellow nectar. That bitch! Harry whipped his wand out a third and final time and flogged the bejaysus out of the maid. Unaware of Harry's presence, the bewildered lady flailed her arms, wildly screaming at the unseen beast.
" back off my mustard, you whore!" Harry continued to jab her, repeatedly until she passed out. Victory was good.
All that beating had made Harry tired. He watched Dudley for a few more hours, then went to bed.
He awoke again to his loving substitute mother, granting him with another bountiful meal. The damn bitch was starting to creep Harry out, he slapped her and left the room.
After entering the kitchen for some water, he stepped over the motionless maid and opened the fridge. The cool liquid was refreshing.
But after all of this conundrum, Harry still could not remember how he came to be in the house, despite his last memory being in the pub.
This worried Harry. He worried worriedly, at the worry. the evening went as ordinarily as ever : a quick swim in the pool followed by some crying and skulking after Dudley.
The evening consisted of the family : bitch-face Dursley , Dudley , Harry and sparkles the magical rhino, watching the money burn over the fire, and watching saw 6. Their meal was interrupted by a thud at the door. Green beams burst the door from the hinges, clipping sparkles tusk. The wooden door lay in the floor in splinters, as fog poured in from the doorframe. A figure emerged, thin and spindly. The bearded figure opened its mouth and began to sing:
"First I was afraid, I was petrified!"
Harry is confused bout how his parents died. But the truth my sexy boy is that they were murdered by:
Pink Floyd!
But that's ok, cuz we'll all survive
Oh Harry boy, YOU'RE A WIZARD!
Harry promptly stood up and raised his wand: "The fuck is this?" he continued, " who the hell are you, you old coot?"
" I ", started the coot, " am Albus, Severous, Dumbledor!1!1!1!
Harry opened his mouth so wide that his jaw unhinged: "I'm a what?"
Dumbledor stared at him: "What was that deary?" as a wet patch began to spread on his robes. "Oh, right" he continued "You're a wizard Garry, and a bloody good looking one"
Harry gazed in amazement: "That's why I have a wand!" but Harry's gleam turned to anger "Wait... That's bullshit, get the hell out you geezer" Harry proceeded to advance on Dumbledor with a broom, and kick him out onto the doorstep. Dumbledor recoiled, meowing loudly as his beard hit the floor with a sickening crack. Dumbeldor told Harry of his blatant disgust with him "I am blatantly disgusted with you, Harry". "Is it just because I'm Jewish?" Harry questioned
"mostly" Dumbeldor replied as he flipped Harry off while flying away on his magic unicycle. Harry stres blankly into the dark expanse of space previously filled with Dumbledor's taillight. "I love you Harry" Mrs. Dursley said from the door.
"Shut it, cretin" he replied, lovingly. Being only ten at the time, Harry was emotionally unstable; never the less he brushed his stubble, and went inside, forgetting all about the bearded geezer.