Once upon a time, in some random part of Scotland, there was a castle of awesomeness where semi decent people with awesome powers got together to learn how to be awesome. One of these awesome people was a John Lennon look alike named…Harry Potter! Though emos called him Vampire for reasons unknown.
Harry Potter had a horde of followers, most of which were insignificant gingers. Oh, and he had a bunch of people who totally despised him as well, like this weird-as-hell guy Voldemort who didn't have a nose, a sexually confused emo with a pointy face named Draco, and Draco's Lady Gaga-impersonator father, Lucius. Then there were some random nameless Death Eaters, Draco's Katy Perry obsessed mother, Draco's terrifyingly sexy aunt, and then this weird little fat kid with a lollipop named Dudley. But anyway! Harry Potter was famous, he had a bunch of friends, and…he was hated by a bunch of random people! YEAH! HATERS!
As the narrator was saying (typing? telling?), Harry Potter was sitting in his music studio with Kanye West and Snoop Dog, discussing politics, when suddenly…
"OMG it's VAMPIRE!" screamed a tall and gorgeous girl who was skinny with curves and was tan but pale and had enormous eyes that flickered the rainbow and full lips and a tiny nose and long blonde hair that shimmered the rainbow in the sunlight streaming in from the windows. Seeing this, Kanye and Snoop Dog evaporated into the Land of Ooo.
"Damn it!" cursed Harry, waving his long glittery fingernails. "What the hell was that?"
But the girl didn't seem to notice his anger and flew into his arms. "Oh, Vampire," she sighed dreamily, staring romantically into his eyes. "It's been so long—"
"How is that even possible?" asked Harry, staggering under her .02 pounds. "We've never even met!"
The girl threw back her head and laughed a trilling soprano. "Well, duh," she said. "I'm Sirius's illegitimate daughter and/or a cousin of your ginger friend's brother's wife! So, we're not even close to be related!"
"Um…great," said Harry, biting his lip. "So, I'll just leave you now and go home to my gir—"
She looked at him pitifully, lower lip trembling. "You're—you're not going to just leave me here, are you?" she whispered, her eyes shining with tears. "Because you can't just leave your pregnant wife—"
"What?" demanded Harry. "You're not my wife, and you can't be pregnant!"
The girl sniffed. "Well, yeah," she admitted. "I'm not pregnant, but our fathers arranged a wedding when we were in utero."
At this point in time, Harry decided to kill her. The End.