Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter:( I just own the hope that I will one day hold Daniel Radcliff in my arms:)

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Chapter Three – Gary's Invitation

About a week later, Gary awoke to the sound of the postman pushing letters through the thin mail slot in the front door. He left, ringing his little bell; a bell that Gary would swear he knew from somewhere else! He could hear Aunt Pussytuna trying to persuade Jugley to stop consuming the pheasants he got for his birthday, and give them time to lay some much-loved eggs.

Gary sat up on his mattress in the small closet, and then quickly tidied his hair, as he stood upright. He swung open the door and at the same time, collected one of the stray pheasant birds that in turn, went shooting across the room to end up on Uncle Vageon's head.

"Stupid Chicken!" mumbled Gary under his breath.

He walked quickly to collect the mail from the floor in front of the door. Gary looked through the letters, expecting that as per usual, there would be no mail for him, and he let out a sigh.

"Sigh." (Smart Ass)

But as he did so, he came to the last letter. It was in a really crusty ass envelope, and it had his name written on it, in fancy calligraphy style. The front of the envelope read:

Mr. Gary Gaydarr,

(Why Don't You Come Out of) The Closet – Under The Stairs

11 Princess Drive, London

Gary walked into the living room with the mail. He was so excited he had received mail, that he didn't even realize Uncle Vageon screaming.

"That Fucking pheasant SHAT in my COFFEE!"

Gary just kept walking to the kitchen table, where he placed the remainder of the mail, and began to open his letter. But Jugley quickly snatched the letter (which is usually pretty hard, because the very large rolls of fat that surround him make it difficult for his short arms to reach anyone).

"LOOK! Gary got a letter!" screamed the glob of fat as he ran towards his father.

But suddenly, he lost his balance, and fell straight onto his back, with the letter underneath.

When the crane arrived and lifted Jugley back onto his feet, Gary picked up the letter. It had been squashed to the size of a queen sized bed sheet. Unfortunately, the text had beenstretched and the paper was nowtransparent, makingthe letterunreadable. Gary immediately went to the closet under the stairs to sulk. As he had done, so many times before, Gary stared at the cutouts of men in underwear he had collected from the junk mail. But this time he did something he had never done before; he questioned why he enjoyed looking at men in underwear, when the other boys at school preferred women.

The following day like clockwork, the postman arrived, pushed the mail through the mail slot in the front door and left, ringing his little bell. He sat up on his mattress in the small closet and then quickly tidied his hair as he stood upright. Gary walked casually to the front door to retrieve the mail. However, this morning when Gary picked up the letters, he noticed there were two letters for him, among others, both exactly the same as the one the previous day. (A/N: if you forget what it looks like, then just friggin look up… you twit)

Anyway, Gary turned to begin walking towards the living room, when a gust of wind pinned him against the door.

"CHICKENS!" screamed Gary, half choking on their feathers.

Almost a hundred stray pheasants were trying to escape the gaping jaws of the Breasted Beast, flapping and squawking as they fumbled down the stairs. The wind current forced the thin figured Gary to the spot. Feathers and bird shit were flying everywhere, with Gary in the middle of it, whilst Jugley was chasing the poor buzzards around the house to the kitchen, where eventually, he caught one and ceased the chase as he began to feast.

It goes without saying. Gary was so covered, that he could have lain in the bottom of a messy chicken coop, and not be seen. And, even more traumatizing, his letters were totally shit soaked and therefore, unreadable.

Again, Gary ran to the closet under the stairs and began looking at his underwear collage.

After over a week of shit slinging and feathers flying, Gary had had enough. It seemed that he was never meant to read one of those letters. And, it appeared that Uncle Vageon and Aunt Pussytuna were pleased that the mishaps were happening, as though they too didn't want him to read the letters.

So on the 9th day, Gary had his alarm set to wake him up several minutes before the postman was due to arrive. The alarm sounded, and Gary jumped, his arms swinging uncontrollably and they inevitably hit him in the crutch. With watering eyes, Gary stumbled to the front door. He could hear the familiar bell ringing. The postman was only a few doors down. Excitement ran through him; if he could hide just one of the letters, then he could keep it until he had enough privacy to read it.

Gary thrust open the door to see the postman was now delivering the mail to number 11 Princess Drive, Gary's Neighbour Mrs. Tinkletime, the old women with a bladder problem. The bell rang again as the postman left Mrs. Tinkletime's front door. But this morning, he just rode his little tricycle straight past Gary's garden path and continued to the Cockwarmer's house, at number 15.

He grabbed the next bundle of letters out of the pink and yellow flowered basket on the front of his delivery vehicle, forced it through the slot, then turned to Gary, who's mouth was gaping in disappointment.

"HAHAHA! You dumb fuck, Gary! You thought I missed your house! HAHA!" said the huge man, as though Gary's expression amused him.

Gary's disappointment immediately changed to astonishment.

"Oh… don't you remember me Gary? I suppose, it was 9 years ago," chuckled the large man from the neighbour's front door.

The man picked up the bright pink, lace-covered vehicle, turned it around and began riding slowly towards Gary. He rode so slowly because the tricycle was very small, and the man's legs were very long and I suppose he didn't really have a lot of coordination.

Anyway, Gary just stared, astounded at the sight of the large postman. Gary had never really seen the postman; he had only ever heard the bell.

"Erm, excuse me?" said Gary quietly "but, how do you know my name and what's your name?"

"Grope-a lot Fagrid's the name!" replied the stranger, who looked even weirder on the bicycle at close range.

By this time, Gary's uncle and aunt were also at the front door. They were completely dazed by the large man talking to Gary. Fagrid stood up and forced out the kickstand on the undersized vehicle and pushed his way inside.

"Very nice house, Dickweed," commented Fagrid, "The chicken shit really matches the shit-house furniture!"

He began to roar with laughter. Uncle Vageon however, was not very impressed.

"It is PHEASANT SHIT for your information, sir… whoever you are!" retaliated Vageon.

Fagrid turned to face Vageon face to face.

"Don't fucking make me repeat the intro, you deaf bastard!"

Pussytuna huffed and led Jugley, who was gnawing half a pheasant carcass, upstairs to leave Gary and her husband to speak with the character from Chapter One. Gary showed Fagrid into the living room, where he sat on a chicken, I mean, pheasant.

"Oh, sorry 'bout that!"

"So why the fuck have you decided to invade my house?" asked Vageon, half scared, and already soiled.

"For some reason, young Gary here hasn't not yet received his invitation to 'Hardon's School of Penetration & Masturbation', the most respected school of such in London! Therefore, I has been waiting for him to come and meet me, so a I could deliver it directly to him to ensure he friggin gets to read it, without it getting flattened beyond recognition, or covered in chicken shit," Explained Fagrid.

"I've told you already, it's PHEASANT SHIT!" (A/N:…Yes, that is all Vageon could come up with). Fagrid reached into his pocket and pulled out another copy of the letter, and handed it to Gary.

Dearest Gary,

It is with much pleasure that I will finally be able to invite you to attend a mass orgy with me at Hardon's School of Penetration and Masturbation. Please note, that this is the best school of its type in London and possibly the world, so you are really friggin lucky that you have been selected to join the orgy. Your parents were both excellent students and Orgyists. But before you can attend, there are several implements if you will, that need to be purchased to ensure precision penetration, and prolonged masturbation. These items are listed below.

Items List:

Knife, Fork or Spoon (of your choice)

Bed Sheets, Clean or Dirty (however you like it)

One 'Easy Clean' Broom Stick

Pencil Sharpener (no pencils required)

One Vibrator (of your choice – colour, shape, etc.)

Gary, we look forward to your company

Kindest Regards,

Professor Fondleknob

"So Gary, whata ya think?" asked Fagrid excitedly.

"He will not be going!" snarled Uncle Vageon. "I will not pay for some pedophilic, horny old bastard, to teach him to be a man-whore."

"Actually, we prefer the term 'Orgyist'," replied Fagrid. "Tell me Gary, have there ever been times that you think about sex, when you're angry or sad?"

"Of course… I thought that was…"

"Like I said, he will not be going!" Vageon butted in.

"And I suppose a great Fuggle like yourself is gonna stop him?" dared Fagrid.

"Fuggle?" asked Gary.

"None sexual folk… Sad, deprived bunch, really!" Fagrid answered.

With that, Fagrid stood and began making his way to the front door. When he got to the arch leading to the entry from the living room, Fagrid turned back to Gary, "Well, are ye coming Gary?"

Gary immediately jumped up with excitement, swinging his arm uncontrollably, which inevitably hit him in the crutch again. With watering eyes, Gary followed Fagrid, half limping to the front door. But when he got there, he realized there was something he was forgetting.

"I'll be right back!" he said to Fagrid.

He ran quickly to the closet under the stairs, only to grab his male underwear collage.

"Okay, ready to go now!" he answered to Fagrid's questioning eyes as he ran back to meet him in the front garden.

Fagrid lifted Gary and placed him on the tricycle behind him, and smiled, "Good lad!"

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A/N: Yay! Finally! Sorry thischappie took so long!

Gary: You are a sick minded weirdo!

RoosterEgg???

Gary: Here I was thinking Vageon was testing his camera in the bathroomto see if it was steam proof…

RoosterEgg: Oh… you mean that?

Gary: YES THAT!

RoosterEgg: … well I thought I should bring that to your attention! Besides, its taken you a while to figure it out, that happened last chapter!

Gary: Thanks a lot… 'sign' I haven't showered since i got what you said!

RoosterEgg: And I just thought you had pheasant poo on your shoe or something! LOL