DISCLAIMER: No. I don't own Harry Potter. And if I did, I'd be a rich,
English woman sitting on my pot of gold eating bon-bons. But, sadly, I'm
not.
Anywho! This is my first EVER submission to FF.net, review nicely =)
Another chapter will follow as per reviews.

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'The autobiography of Harry Potter' as written by Harry Potter.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary
In my bed, all warm and toasty, I knew of this time I should make the most-
y.
When from outside my door there arose such a clatter, I crawled on the
floor to see what was the matter.
"Yo, Potters, word fool," said a dark voice that sounded super cool.
"You biatches better back off my plans for world domination, before I bust
this here foundation!"
"Voldie, you whore, this ain't Kmart, yo!" said James, my dad, you know.
"Damn! True that holmes," said the dark voice, "Well, I might as well kill
you all, including your lawn gnomes."
I cowered in the corner as my Mother rushed in, and held me against her
whiskery chin.
"I love you son-- Harry, I mean," she said, her eyes flashing with a
frightened gleam.
The dark man came in, with a stick in hand, and screeched a scary sounding
command.
A flash of green, and a holler, and this white guy stood in front of me, an
Albino, I'd bet a dollar.
"Avada Kedavra," he wailed. The spell hit me and bounced off, and to the
wall he sailed.
Next I remember I was flying over Surrey on a machine, driven by a bloke
who resembled the lead singer of Queen.
A few short bumps, a whistle and to the ground we descended, into the night
that was truly splendid.
I can recall two figures before me, one dressed like an emcee.
The woman wore Timberlands and a bandana, and the man next to her looked
like Santa.
"Hagrid! Duuude, is he safe?" said the old man, fingering a wand that was
clearly marked 'Made In Japan.'
"Yesssereee. Har's Harry. Glad to see ya, Snoop Doggie M'gal," He smirked,
surveying the locale.
"Hagrid, like, ohymygawdd, where did you like, get that THING!?" McGonagal
said, her voice like a bee sting.
"Yee-Haw! Young Sirius Black a'let me use it, ya'll" said Hagrid, in his
thick Southern drawl.
"Duude, I'm gonna put him in this TUBULAR basket here," said Dumbledore,
letting out a cheer.
Santa shoved me into a basket and stuck me on the stoop, his beard swaying
like the hips of a Latin group.
Enclosed is a note, brief and to the point, sure enough not to disappoint.
"Cowabunga duuudes. This is your totally rad newphew.he survived a
TOOOTALLY bodaaacious attack from Lord Voldy-mortt. Enjoy, and.duuuude." So
what if it was crude?
So there Harry sat, as the emcee, the giant and Santa retreated, leaving
Harry feeling quite defeated.
Quite a few hours later, the door opened and a fat face poked out, round
and pink, complete with a pig snout.
"Petunia, there's a thing on our stoop, and it smells quite strongly of
poop"
The basket was taken inside, and the door clicked shut, and that is the
first year in the shell of a nut.