Note: I am not J.K. Rowling with a polyjuice potion,
I do not own Harry Potter either, blah, blah, blehck
CHAPTER ONE: A Nice NORMAL Night (or not)
It was a nice NORMAL evening on number four, Privet Drive, a lovely street in Little Whinging that was known for its wonderful gardens and habitual glue addictions. The whole day had been ideal, perfect, and NORMAL for the only woman on the street not named Karen, a very thin and bony woman, with a face that looked like a horse. This was probably due to the fact that she was kicked in the face by a horse as a child. Petunia Dursley rose from a peaceful three-hour slumber tormented by thoughts of fast food and babies. She was awoken, not by these horrible things, but because she realized that she had not done her usual eighth scrub-down of the kitchen before bed time, and also because her mammoth of a husband rolled over and started to suffocate and flatten her. After a quick muffled scream, she tossed her husband to the floor with surprising strength, not waking him up, and breaking a lamp in the process. Petunia threw a lurid pink bathrobe on, which had once been white before it was thrown in with the reds in the wash. She gave a shudder as she thought about that unpleasant day when the reds and whites mixed, before she stepped quietly downstairs.
As she walked down the staircase, she thought about how unpleasant it was when anything mixed, like water and alcohol, or the races. As she passed the front door, she thought she saw a small man with a purple top hat peeping through the glass, but Petunia decided that this sight must be from the glue she huffed before bed. She flicked on the lights to the kitchen, before grabbing her extremely filthy rag and a bottle of her favorite type of bleach to wipe off the counter tops. The counter tops were covered in a thick layer of chocolate, alcohol, and surprisingly, Fruit Loops. Petunia decided that her husband Vernon must have snuck downstairs earlier that night, although she couldn't, for the life of her, figure out how she hadn't heard him, giving the fact that he would usually get tired half-way down the steps, and fall to the floor below. Shaking these thoughts out of her head, she squirted the bleach into her mouth twice, before laying down and starting to make snow angels on the immaculate linoleum floors, not noticing that a single crumb was lying under the table.
As Petunia Dursley slowly induced a drug hallucination, a very old, old man appeared out of nowhere, bringing a few seconds of heavy male grunting with him, before the noise vanished. If any of the residents of Privet Drive had seen him, they would have indeed thought him a result of their drug hallucinations. The wizened old man was inexplicably dressed in a long, hot pink robe, which parted open to reveal a BDSM leather harness, and a personalized necklace that read "Albus". The old man coughed before reaching into the pocket of his robe, drawing out what looked like a cigarette lighter. He clicked the lighter, and with a pop, all the lights on Privet Drive went out, and sucked themselves into the lighter, tragically causing two cars to swerve and collide head-on.
As the old kook ignored this, he impatiently looked at his gold pocket watch, before spying a ginger cat on the side of the road. Moving near it, he whispered, "Minerva, what do you have to say about the Dursley family?" He suddenly felt a sharp blow on the back of his head. When the man turned around, he saw a fuming middle-aged woman with her hand held high. "I AM NOT A FUCKING GINGER DUMBLEDORE! DON'T YOU EVER FUCKING CALL ME A GINGER!" Minerva suddenly fanned her face with her hand, and started aggressively panting. After a few minutes, she apologized, "I'm extremely sorry Professor Dumbledore, it's just those mood swings caused by menopause. But Albus, I'm sure you know that my Animagus form is not a ginger cat, but a sexy kitty?"
Repulsed, Dumbledore quickly flashed back mentally to the sexy party he had just been too, celebrating the end of the Dark Lord, before Minerva once again interrupted him. "Dumbledore, is it tr..true that Lily and James, are...that they're...have been...you know... DIED?" Minerva screamed out when Albus gave a quick nod, not really paying attention to anything but his fantasies. Minerva sobbed, and wiped her eyes, "T..they were t...two of the hottest students I've ever taught. I'll miss them so much!" Albus nodded, and snapped back into reality for a few minutes. "Now, Minerva, their son survived this ordeal. And it's also true, thanks for asking, that Voldemort is now...gone. The boy was a target of his, and most amazingly, he survived the killing curse, and it rebounded on the little boy," said Dumbledore. Minerva blew her nose on a hankie before stuffing it up her robes somewhere that Dumbledore chose to ignore. "So, Minerva, are the Dursleys good people? They're the only people in his family left except for Petunia's cousin who really wants children, but can't have any," said Dumbledore lazily.
Minerva sighed, "They are the most awful type of Muggles to ever exist. The man, I think his name is Fern, or some other shitty flower name, works for a boring company that makes drills for other boring drill making companies. He weighs at least five hundred pounds, and he can't walk more than a few feet without having a cardiac episode. He's talked to himself at least fifty times today alone, muttering about weird people and magic. His wife's name is another horrible flower name, Petunia, but you already know that of course Dumbledore. She's probably twenty years younger than him or so, but is still extremely unattractive, unlike me. She spends her entire day cleaning and huffing Elmer's glue while watching reruns of reboot Mongolian versions of Gone With the Wind and Black Beauty. When she's not going off into frolicking horse land, she's stuffing food into the mouth of a small beachball, which to my horror turned out to be their "small" son. The beachba...I mean son is just the worst. He kicks his mother every second he's not getting sweets stuffed into his mouth, and he has two freaking bedrooms. He's a toddler, for crying out loud!" Minerva started aggressively panting again. "BESIDES THE POTTERS WERE TOO ATTRACTIVE FOR THEIR SON TO LIVE WITH HORSE LADY, A WALKING HEART ATTACK, AND A BEACHBALL!" Albus nodded slowly, pretending to deeply take everything in that she had to say, before stating, "Minerva, I understand. But fame and success can make little children wonky, plus James still owed me $5, so this is the kind of life Harry gets. Now Hagrid is bringing the boy over from the ruins of the Potter house. It is of the most vital importance that you do not under any circumstance, try to aggravate him. This includes not using words with more than two syllables in them. We don't want another pudding war incident."
Dumbledore shook heavily, not from the crisp apple of a night, but because of the pudding incident last year. Minerva slowly nodded, before gaping up as a large motorcycle dropped out of the night sky, loudly landing on the pavement two feet away from Minerva. Unfortunately, Dumbledore was two feet away from Minerva, and stretched out a broken hand for help. Choosing to ignore this, Minerva noticed the ten-foot tall, giant of a man with scraggly black hair and meth head teeth. He was tenderly holding a small bundle. "Hagrid, why such a slow trip here?", Minerva said as she spoke slowly. The giant of a man, grinned. "Wel, Minnie (Minerva shuttered as thoughts of being called that name while being bullied entered her mind), I nev'r us'd one of th'se t'ings bef're. I wan'd to keep und'r de lim'ts, so I w'nt 'bout one mile an 'our. This'll b' de babe." Hagrid passed the small bundle to Minerva's outstretched arms, who took a quick look, and promptly threw the contents of the bundle into the fiery wreckage of the motorcycle. "HAGRID THIS IS A FUCKING STONE! ARE YOU THAT FUCKING RETARDED?" She realized her mistake a second after saying it. She had said the r-word. The r-word had more than two syllables in it. Hagrid angrily swiped left with his garbage lids, er..hands Being swiped left was sadly familiar to poor Minerva McGonagall, however, she was standing to the right of Hagrid. Hagrid gave a guttural roar, still not waking up the residents of Privet Drive, and started running towards the freeway.
Minerva brushed off her robes, before quickly disappearing and reappearing, this time with a small baby with curly, black hair, and a large scar shaped like a micropenis on his head. Minerva cringed and quickly tried to make the scar disappear, vanishing half of it, so that it now looked more like a lightning bolt. "Close enough!", Minerva said cheerily to no one in particular. She vanished the burning motorbike and helped Dumbledore, whose outer robes had burnt off, to his knees, a position he was familiar with. Gulping for breath for a few minutes, he passed a letter to Minerva. "A DAMN LETTER IS GOING TO EXPLAIN THIS TO THOSE AWFUL PEOPLE?!" Minerva screamed out loud. Angrily, she kicked Dumbledore in the shin, before composing herself, and she gently strolled over to the front door of number four, Privet Drive, and set down the small, sleeping infant, and the letter. Minerva took a worried glance at the house, before roughly grabbing Dumbledore's arm and disappearing
Petunia awoke at eleven o'clock in the morning feeling very hungover. Vague memories of her dancing with a unicorn entered her mind as she stood up from the kitchen floor. She looked around and noticed that she was still the only one up. Petunia decided that she probably had to make some milk for her little son, Dudley. As she didn't believe that breastfeeding or formula were real, she usually gave him several gallons of dairy milk a day, which would make his bones grow strong and big, as well as his stomach. Petunia entered her carpeted foyer, and kicked the front door open. Petunia was confused when she heard a wailing sound from the other side. Wondering if the milk bottles suddenly became alive, she looked down and saw a small, baby boy perfectly clutching a very elaborate looking letter with a fine waxy seal, but no milk. Begrudgingly, she picked up the small baby, and realized it was her nephew. Petunia suddenly got furious and dropped the infant on the floor like a warm, hot potato, which she was suddenly craving. Lily had promised her that she wouldn't abandon that little Harvey, Henry, Hairy on the doorstep again. Petunia grumbled as she broke the seal to the letter. As she broke the seal, the residents of Privet Drive slowly awoke from their peaceful and quiet dreaming, not one dreaming for a second that the lives of the family on number four would be changed forever.