Harry Potter and the Irrelevant Pot Plant

Disclaimer: The great JK Rowling owns all things Harry Potter, not me. Dammit. Hey, wouldn't it be cool to get a time machine, go forward in time and pick up copies of all seven books, then go back in time to before they were created and plagiarize them and claim all the money for yourself? But sadly, that will not happen. So I am relegated to writing bad parodies. Feel sorry for me.

Of Psychotic Dogs and MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-ing

All was quiet on Privet Drive (except for the loud party at number six and Baby Dudley's heartfelt rendition of 'Crazy in Love') as a lone figure walked slowly up to number four. The figure's name was Albus Dumbledore (God forbid his mum would give him a normal name like 'Bill'. Actually, 'Dumbledore' takes too long to type, so from here on in, Dumbledore will be referred to as 'Mr. D'.) Mr. D was nearly at the driveway when he tripped over an abnormally large tree root. Then the cat sitting on number four's letterbox burst into maniacal laughter and fell off the letterbox. And one of the leaves fell off the pot plant. But that is irrelevant.

Mr. D picked himself up and limped regally over to the hyperactive cat and kicked it. It started crying.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" yelled Mr. D and he took out his wand and blasted the cat until it turned into Minerva McGonagall. (Again, great choice of name, Mum sarcastic smile and as McGonagall also takes too long to type, she will now be referred to as Mrs. M.)

Mrs. M looked at Mr. D and scrunched up her nose.

"Dumbledore," Mrs. M said. "There are all these parties around and I'M NOT INVITED!!"

"Who's Dumbledore?" asked Mr. D, curiously.

"YOU."

"Oh."

"ANYWAY, I'M A SOCIAL REJECT! NOBODY LIKES ME AND I HAVE NO FRIENDS!!"

"That might have something to do with the fact that you have been sitting on this letterbox all day hissing at the pedestrians."

"I have not been doing that! I sat on the driveway, too! Huh? Huh? See? See? MUAHAHA I am not completely boring!!! MUAHAHA!!"

Mr. D started backing away slowly as Mrs. M had her little MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA fit, but then a motorbike fell out of the sky with a giant on it.

"HEY!" yelled Mr. D, "You can't say giant! You have to say 'vertically gifted'!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," I said.

"Anyway (MUAHAHA)," said Mrs. M. "Now we're all here, let's discuss this situation."

"HELLO?!" said the giant. "I am in this story, too! You gonna tell them my name? Huh? Huh? HUH? HUH? HUH? HUH? HUH? HUH? HUH? HUH? HUH? HUH? HUH? HUH? HUH? HUH?"

"All you people reading this, the giant is called Voldemort," I sighed.

This made the giant and Mrs. M faint, while Mr. D looked at me and said sternly "Which page did you read to get that?"

"Uh …"

Oops. SORRY EVERYONE. "The giant is called Hermione," I said triumphantly.

"NOOOOOO!!" yelled Hermione. "ME HAGRID!! SAY IT AFTER ME 'HAG-RID'!!!!!"

"HAG-RID," chanted me, Mrs. M and Mr. D.

"YAY!!"

"MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!"

"Shut up, pussy-bum," I said.

"Sorry," said Mr. D.

"So, what's the latest You-Know-Who goss?" said Mrs. M. "Did he end up hooking up with that Narcissa Black lady?"

Everyone groaned.

"You need to catch up, Mrs. M," sighed Hagrid (SEE I GOT IT RIGHT HAG-RID!!). "Narcissa Black married Lucius Malfoy. HELLO?!"

"And Voldemort met his downfall tonight," said Mr. D. "At the Potter's house in Godric's Hollow, Voldemort came. He murdered Lily and James."

"What?!" said Hagrid and started crying.

"Hagrid, you know that, you were just there!!" yelled Mr. D.

"Oh yeah!" said Hagrid, remembering.

"MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!"

"SHUT UP!" yelled Mrs. M. "THAT'S MY LINE! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!"

"Sorry," said Mr. D.

"Now, now, Mrs. M, we all need to learn how to share," I said. But everyone ignored me. And this pissed me off, so then a giant eagle flew down from the sky and blasted them all and now Mr. D was wearing a green, frilly, bikini with snakes on it, Mrs. M was wearing that dress Catherine Zeta-Jones wore when she sang 'All That Jazz' in Chicago, and Hagrid had a frizzy perm and was wearing a strapless pink mini-dress.

"HEY, AUTHOR!! Get me out of the friggin' mini-dress!" yelled Hagrid.

"Sorry, no can do," I said. "And you can't do anything about it, 'cause I'm sitting here typing what happens to you and YOU are just a little word on my screen and I can erase you with a press of the delete key."

"NO!" yelled Hagrid. "NEVER! Mr. D! Help me!! Her finger is poised over the key!! I'M GONNA DIE!!!!!!!!!"

But Mr. D was preoccupied by singing 'I'm too sexy for my Slytherin-inspired bikini'. So Hagrid sulked. In his mini-dress. And frizzy perm.

"ANYWAY," yelled Mrs. M, who read Mr. D's mind. "I'm going to finish saying what Mr. D was saying. SO yeah, yeah, the Potters are murdered, except for their little baby boy Harry."

"Why wasn't he killed?" asked Hagrid.

"Nobody knows …" whispered Mrs. M. "You-Know-Who tried to kill him … usually nobody survives when You-Know-Who tries to kill them …"

"No shit, Sherlock," said Hagrid.

"But I hear it was something to do with a slightly psychotic dog that happened to have a wand in his mouth and an author who just had two cans of Coke in the space of about five minutes." (A/N: HAPPY NOW, STEVÈ???)

"Wait a sec!" said Mr. D. "What about the prophecy? What am I supposed to tell him now? I can just imagine it – Hi, Harry, look you're alive today because a psychotic dog blasted Voldemort into the last chapters of this parody?! IT DOESN'T SOUND RIGHT!!"

"There's a prophecy?" said Mrs. M.

"I WANT A PROPHECY!" sobbed Hagrid.

"MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!"

"SHUT UP, AUTHOR!"

"Sorry," I said, meekly (but planning revenge. OH SWEET REVENGE … muahaha).

"Uh, forget I said that," said Mr. D. "Anyway, Hagrid – have you got Harry?"

Hagrid nodded, and then pulled a dead rat out of one of the pockets of his mini-dress.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO HARRY??" yelled Mrs. M.

"I think it had something to do with a psychotic dog and a wand," said Hagrid.

Mr. D sighed, flicked his wand and turned Harry the dead rat into Harry the sleeping baby. He pulled an envelope out of his … erm … bikini … and left it and Harry on the doorstep of number four.

"So, you're just going to leave him there?" asked Hagrid incredulously.

Mr. D thought this over for a bit, then replied "Yep."

"OK," Hagrid said.

Then they all walked away and headed off to a party. And Baby Harry pooped his pants. And the pot plant developed legs and ran after Mr. D, Mrs. M and Hagrid yelling "MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! I WANT TO PAR-TAY, PEOPLE!!".

But that is irrelevant.