I had the idea to do humorous little stories for properties that I'm not very familiar with. I've seen one of the Harry Potter movies and know a little bit about the plot from cultural photosynthesis, and thought it would be fun to do a silly little fic about it. I plan to do other movies like Star Wars and Lord of the Rings. Love and respect to Potter fans. This isn't meant to insult anybody, just hopefully to make at least a few people chuckle.

One day, Harry Potter was chilling under the stairs when a note slipped under his door.

Like, twelve or something, Harry lived with his aunt, uncle, and cousin. All three of them were fat and mean and honestly, this place sucked. They made him do chores from sunup to sundown, wouldn't let him eat people food (it was Gravy Train all the way, baby), and called him hurtful names like "that kid who lives under our stairs" and "Harry Wanker."

Curious, Harry got up from his bed to retrieve the note, and his uncle burst in, looking exceptionally British. "Wot's this then?" he asked and stooped to pick up the note. "Ay, ye won't be needin' this, ye lil' bugger. Back to stewin' with you."

He slammed the door and Harry sighed. This blew. He sat on the edge of his bed and rested his face in his hands. Not for the first time, he wondered what his life would be like if his parents weren't murdered. He'd probably have a car and bitches by now. He'd probably even be rich. Instead of that, he had to put up with the 3 Stooges and their constant bullshit. School was no better: He got his ass kicked on a daily basis for being a nerd, and the only girl who liked him weighed like five stone or whatever. She was big is what I'm trying to say. So big that she made his aunt and uncle look thin and petite by comparison. His teachers all hated him and the food was awful, even by British standards.

"Ugh, I hate my life," he said.

Getting up, he paced around the room like a caged animal. They better hope he didn't get jacked, because he'd totally tighten them up, starting with his aunt. Pull up, bitch. Next he'd own his cousin like a West African slave trader. You ever see a rock 'em sock 'em robot catch a fist to the jaw? That's what his cousin's head would look like. It would be mad gruesome. They might even put it on Faces of Death.

Fat boy straight murked by cousin.

He'd save his uncle for last. He'd kick him in the balls, punch his lights out, then stand over his quivering body and pound his chest like a fucking ape. He could see it now: He was six feet tall and so muscular it looked painful. The cops wouldn't even come at him. They're not allowed to have guns here, what were they gonna do, shoot him with rubber bands? He'd pick one up and use him as a club, then he'd stroll into Buckingham Palace and instantly become king. After that...who knew. He might even go to America and take the colonies back.

Ahhh.

Only none of that would ever happen because he was a four-eyed little dork with a curious scar on his forehead. It looked like a lightning bolt, but some older Paki boys at his school swore it was a swastika and beat him up for it. He was weak and frail and generally lame.

Now he felt sorry for himself.

What was in that note, anyway?

Eh, probably nothing.

Only it was something alright.

Over the next few days, random notes started popping up everywhere. In his cereal, in his water dish. One even fell out of his butt when he was taking a shower. His aunt and uncle were super salty about them and forbid him from reading them. When he tried to sneak one, his uncle kicked him in the butt and banished him to his room. Oooooh, just you wait, buddy; one day I'm gonna look like Brock Lesner and you'll be sorry.

A week after the first one appeared, Harry was sitting in the living room and rubbing his aunt's nasty ass feet while dressed in a maid outfit when the door exploded open and some big dude with a beard swaggered in. He looked like that guy from ZZ Top and wore some kind of medieval outfit or something. Harry's uncle screamed, grabbed his wife and son, and dashed off, leaving Harry behind to be raped, murdered, and cannibalized...and probably not in that order. Oh well, winding up on Unsolved Mysteries beat the hell out of hanging around this dump. "Who are you, good sir?" Harry asked.

"My name is Hagrid," the big guy said, "and you're a wizard, Harry."

Harry's brow arched like he was The Rock. "A what?"

Hagrid explained everything. Hogwarts, magic doors, Professor Snake, Doubleday, and that bald asshole who killed his parents.

Harry was floored.

Wow.

Him...a wizard.

"Come on, Harry, you're goin' to Hogwarts."

"Yippie," Harry squeed.

Harry threw all of his worldly possessions into a suitcase and followed Hagrid to a shitty jalopy parked at the curb. Inside, it smelled like dirty feet and armpits and a pile of fast food wrappers covered the floor. Hagrid leaned over and swiped a bunch of junk off the passenger seat. "Here," he grunted, "just get this out of yer way."

Sitting, Harry pulled the door behind him. He was so excited that he thrummed with nervous energy. He asked Hagrid a million questions on their way to the train station, and Hagrid obligingly answered each one. "You're the most famous wizard in the world, Harry. Once you learn your trade, you'll be a god."

A god, huh?

Oh, the things he would do.

For one, he'd get back at those shitheads the Durstlys. Fuck them.

Five minutes later they reached the train station. A brick wall sat at the end of the parking lot. Hagrid punched the gas and the car took off like a rocket. "Hang on tight, Harry, on the other side is your destiny."

Harry couldn't wait.

Doing 80 MPH, the car slammed into the wall and crumpled in on itself, bursting into flames. Hagrid wasn't really a wizard at all, he was just some crazy homeless guy.

The Durstlys didn't even go to Harry's funeral.

THE END.