Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter!

Author's Notes: Hopefully I did that disclaimer thingy right. Here is my lovely parody that I made, after having a discussion with my friend about how funny it would be if every character in the Harry Potter series was like the opposite of what they really were, if you know what I mean. I plan on typing many chapters, the first few have been hard though, as I have had few ideas (actually, this one came quite easily, but still). This may be very unfunny to some, but thats alright. Warning: I have changed the name's of all of the characters, and they all pretty much SUCK, so be warned. Haha.

Chapter 1: The Girl Who Almost Died

Mr and Mrs Derby, of negative four, Private Drove, were very happy to say that they were both loud, and very unusual. They were the first people you'd expect to be caught trafficking drugs, or driving under the influence, because its just what they did.

Mr Derby was the star of a demolition company, named Gruntings, which was known to demolish anything from napkins to transport trucks to small children. He was short and curved, with bulging muscles, and a sturdy neck. Mrs Derby was just as pleasant. She had an amazing figure, blonde hair, and a butt nearly twice the size of a normal person's , which came in handy when she wanted to knock things over. The Derby's had a morbidly obese son named Spudley, and in their opinion, they'd seen better.

Mrs Derby also had a delightful sister and brother-in-law, who she frequently called upon for tea. Her invitations were seldom accepted. In fact, it had been over a year since the Derby's had been in contact with the Squatter family, and the last they had heard, Mrs Squatter had given birth to a girl.

When Mr and Mrs Derby went to bed that vibrant, psychedelic Tuesday, our story starts. Mr Derby slowly wheezed himself to sleep, forgetting he had work. Mrs Derby was already out cold, forgetting she had left he son inside the running bathtub.

A small owl zipped by their window, and Mr Derby then promptly passed out.

It had been a few hours before Mr Derby awoke and remembered he had to go to work. He quickly got ready, and pulled out his wrinkly son, Spudley, from the bathtub.

Jumping into the car, he stepped on the gas for about five minutes, until he realized he had no gas. After coming to this realization, he stepped out of his car, and walked to work - but not before stopping at his local bakery.

Upon arrival, however, her saw many people in oddly dressed cloaks and belly shirts. This was quite unusual, Mr Derby thought to himself, he thought that he was the only one who dressed like that.

Anxious to hear the latest gossip, Mr Derby joined a nearby circle of these people, unnoticed.

'The Squatters, that's right, that's what I smelt - '

' - yes, their son, Mary - '

Mr Derby froze. Fear flooded him. He farted loudly. Did the Squatter's really have a son name Mary? Looking back around at the whisperers, Mr Derby clubbed the nearest one, a small, stout man, and hurried off to Gruntings.

The day went by pretty quickly, as Mr Derby was lost in thought for most of it - something always concerning. He accidentally crushed two houses, three school buses and one employee, and by the end of the day, was on probation.

All the way home Mr. Derby tried to convince himself that Mary was a girl, and that those whisperers were fools. But he knew he needed to check. He was so lost in thought that he even ran into a tall, beefy man, with hardly any neck.

'So sorry, my wonderful, super-duper friend!' Mr Derby guffawed in apology, not realizing this man was wearing no clothing.

'You better! For today is a time to be happy! I-Don't-Remember-Who is vanquished!' the man's surly response was nearly inaudible, and he soon stalked off.

Upon arriving home, Mr Derby realized that an old woman was grazing on the garden fence, nodding off lazily now and again. He smiled good-naturedly to her, and she returned it with a sheepish grin. As he trotted inside his wide-open front door, he took note of the piece of paper stapled to her back that stated, "Hex Me!"

Mrs. Derby had a very unusual day. First, she awoke to find her shriveled son on the bathroom floor, eating the sink. Then, she noticed her long-necked neighbour staring suspiciously at her through the window, while she tried to feed her son fried cabbage and beans. And, to top it all off, there were about five hundred owls flying outside - which in itself wasn't out of the ordinary (for her anyway), but the fact that they were dragged down by gigantic parcels and oddly-shaped packages was a bit over the top. She swore she saw an owl carrying a piano.

Shaking off his wife's silly inquiries, Mr Derby sat at his kitchen table, and began to take out his stash. Thinking this the perfect opportunity, Mr Derby asked Mrs Derby, 'Is Mary a boy!?'

'Of course not,' was the giggly response.

'Oh, well, that's good. Heard stuff about ol' Mary today.'

'I wish we had a daughter,' Mrs Derby added, looking over at her unconscious son in mild disappointment.

'Can't help but feel Mary will show up on our front door step by next morning,' Mr Derby chuckled jokingly.

How very right he was.

Hours later, in the dead of night, a man appeared in the darkness. He was of average height, fit, and looked as though he had recently gone through lots of plastic surgery. He was wearing long, flowing silk robes of hot pink, with dazzling, ruby red high-heeled shoes. His eyes were mismatched, one a chocolate white, the other a urine yellow. He sported, long poorly dyed hair, and a long, multi-coloured beard, that made people cringe from even a distance. On the edge of his too-perfect-to-be-real nose, were shimmering, new moon spectacles. This man's name was not Albus Dumbledore.

Alpine Bumblebore appeared to have no familiarity whatsoever with his surroundings. In fact, he didn't even know where he was. He didn't need to however, as he rummaged around in his breezy robes, and pulled out a … map! It didn't help, and he soon discarded it.

Finally, he pulled out some dainty little matches, and stroked once against the side of the matchbox. Instead of producing light, it sucked in the nearby light, and he continued to do this until he stole all the power in the city. He then chuckled, spotting the old woman sitting uncomfortably on the fence.

'Fancy seeing you here, Professor McThongagal,' he sniggered.

'How'd you know it was me!?' Professor McThongagal inquired, shocked.

'Who?'

'Me.'

'Me?'

Becoming slightly impatient, Professor McThongagal changed the topic, 'I'm hungry.'

'Me too.'

They sat in silence for several more minutes, until Professor McThongagal broke herself away from her reverie.

'Is it true What's-His-Name is gone?'

'My dearest Professor, I have no idea what your talking about!' Alpine babbled unhelpfully, adding in an afterthought, 'Oh, do you mean Ford Baltimore?'

'Yes. That's not the half of it, though. Is it true Tilly and Games murdered each other, right in front of little Mary's eyes?'

'No, her eyes were closed. I'd know, because I'm smart!' Alpine said confidently through a burp. 'Apparently, there was some sort of a fair… or something like that. Caused rifts…"

McThongagal gasped as Alpine began to mumble incoherently to himself, 'An affair! Goodness! I had heard rumours - oh yes, many rumours! But never did I think Tilly and Games… I can SO believe it actually. Tilly always was a whore.'

'Yes, yes she was,' Alpine sighed, reminiscing.

McThongagal's tone rose, and she began to talk more excitedly - despite her friendly and push-over personality, she had a taste for gossip, 'They're saying Ford Baltimore tried to kill the Squatters' son, Mary. But - Mary is actually a girl. So he couldn't kill that boy. Because he didn't exist. And that's why his flower power is gone, because he tried to kill something that doesn't exist! That's why he is gone!'

'Yes!' Alpine screamed in happiness, waking up everyone in the neighbourhood (McThongagal quickly enchanted them back to sleep), 'I won the lottery!'

'No you didn't, dearie.'

'Fine. When's Ragrid coming! I want a bath,' the man whined impatiently.

'Do you really think it wise to rely on Ragrid to bathe you?' McThongagal asked patiently.

'Of course. I'd trust Ragrid with my life.'

'That's not the point…'

VROOM VROOM! A loud rumbling ripped through the sky, and before anyone could think twice, Ragrid jumped off of an over-sized motorcycle.

Ragrid looked too small to be allowed, in fact, it took Alpine and McThongagal several minutes to locate the man. When they did, they observed his neatly trimmed hair, black in colour, and his leather boots the size of a Barbie's foot. They also noted his neatly trimmed goatee, and could feel him emitting a very formal air.

'Ragrid! I want my bath!' was what he received as a greeting.

'Yes, yes,' the man named Ragrid boomed, shattering the nearby buildings. 'I have obtained Mary from the destroyed ruins of the Squatter's home, and Furious kindly lent me his flying motorcycle. She's right in the little basket here, Professor McThongagal, please take this letter and the baby, and drop it off on the front steps of the Derby's please.'

'Yes, sir!' Professor McThongagal saluted, carefully carrying the baby - letter taped on its forehead - to the front steps. She sighed, and burst into tears.

'Shhh!' Ragrid boomed even louder, making small children cry, 'You'll wake Professor Bumblebore up! Goodness gracious, remember the last time you did that? Could not get him to sleep for days!'

'S-s-sorry,' laughed McThongagal hysterically, wiping tears away from her eyes, 'I c-can't stand it - its just t-t-t-too funny! This child has a cheese imprint on her belly!'

'Ah, yes,' Ragrid nodded gravely. 'She shall have that mark her whole life I fear. It will be especially painful for her growing up in a house that only contains belly shirts and sweatpants, well, au revoir.'

'Good luck, Mary Squatter,' a mysterious voice said in the background, 'And good bye…'

Twenty hours later, Mrs Derby stepped outside to take in the garbage when she stepped on something rather squishy on her front porch. Shrieking in delight, she noticed a letter, and picked it up, running inside to read it. It would be many more hours before the Derby's would notice Mary.

To identify the characters more easily I will provide you a little list of whos who:

Mary Squatter - Harry Potter

Burnin' Derby - Mary's Uncle

Begonia Derby - Mary's Aunt

Spudley - Dudley

Alpine Bumblebore - Dumbledore

McThongagal - McGonagal

Furious Smack - Sirius Black

Ragrid - Hagrid