Howdy, ladles, jelly spoons, et al.! Harry's back! Did you miss me? Probably not. I mean, maybe chemtrail dude missed me, but that dude needs a life stat. (And I mean that in the nicest possible way, mate. Therapy works wonders. Actually, I'm not sure, but the Dursleys think it's wishy-washy namby-pamby mumbo-jumbo, so that's definitely a point in its favor.) I have been, tragically, stuck under the cupboard under the stairs again, punished for somehow letting that snake savage Dudley even though a) I did no such thing and b) it didn't even touch him.

But I'm back, benches, and I'm back with another strange going on. Is the apocalypse drawing near? Am I losing my mind? Well, first of all, I don't see any reason why these concepts have to be mutually exclusive at all. But enough musing, let's get to the deets, am I right? (Sorry if I sound totally cringe, but since I have no friends, all I know about youth slang comes from fanfic.)

It was yet another boring day at Dursley World, WHERE DREAMS COME TRUE! Oh, no, wait, that's Disney World. Dursley World is where dreams go to die. Back to it, something truly astonishing happened. Something that's never happened to me.

I got a letter in the mail.

Now, you might be thinking to yourself, so what? People get letters all the time. It's probably just some junk mail that got mislabeled. But first of all, the letter was addressed to my cupboard. None of you wonderful readers knew I was in the cupboard at the time the letter was sent out. So how did they know? Are they spying on me? Are there surveillance cameras in my cupboard? Because if so, that is totally creepy and probably illegal and definitely all kinds of messed up.

And let me tell you dudes, this is a posh letter. Not junk mail at all. In fact, I had the presence of mine to take a picture of it.

[Image description: {AN: Just pretend Harry's describing his Hogwarts letter here. Later, I'll have actual descriptions for stuff, but we know what the Hogwarts letter looks like and it's unnecessary to put it in again.}]

Unfortunately, I wasn't smart enough to open it before Dudley could bring it to Uncle Vernon's attention. And he and Aunt Petunia went nuts. They acted like it was personally damning them to hell. They were terrified. Ah, but surely you're exaggerating, Harry, you say! Well, let me tell you something, hypothetical argumentative reader: they didn't let Dudley read it either when he asked. Dudley is a spoiled brat who has never heard the word no out of his parents' mouths in his entire life. For the first and only time in my entire life, they are refusing to listen to him.

After I got kicked out, I listened a little at the door and the Dursleys think they're being spied on too! Which serves them right. Then Uncle Vernon bribed me with the second bedroom. You know, the one I'm already living in. When I pointed that out, he just stormed out of the room.

Look, people, I can only come to one logical conclusion: I was born in a secret government laboratory like in Stranger Things, given superpowers, and the government put me at the Dursleys to test to see how berserk I'd go after all those years of mistreatment. And now they want me back to use against their enemies.

To which I say, dudes, I'm up for it, as long as I can run a fish and chips shop near MI6 headquarters. Seriously, I am uber flexible. Totally cool with being a government assassin if you want. Just, you know, fish and chips shop. It's my dream; I will never give up on it.

Later!

COMMENTS

daughter_of_dentists: Harry, I know exactly what that letter is, but I can't tell you over the web. If you'd reach out to me, we can meet in person so I can tell you what's happening. Also, I'm going to ask my parents to report your relatives, because putting someone in a cupboard is not okay.

Lady, you're a little bit obsessed with that cupboard, aren't you? It's not a big deal; it's not like they beat me. Aren't there, like, starving children in Africa or whatever the cliché is? Yeah, go focus on them.

Also, I'm not daft enough to meet a random stranger I met on the web who may or may not have knowledge of a conspiracy against me. Maybe you're a nice person who wants to help, and if so, I'm kind of sorry, but I'm going to pass on that just in case you're a crazed axe murderer or a Russian spy or a crazed Russian spy who murders people with axes. Which is not all that implausible since wasn't Trotsky killed with an ice axe?

chemtrailsarereal: I DO NOT NEED THERAPY! YOU NEED THERAPY! I AM PERFECTLY NORMAL! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU FOR THAT! I'M GOING TO KILL ALL OF YOU! YOU ALL DESERVE TO DIE!

I'm blocking and reporting you. I also might pass along word to the police, so, you know, be prepared for that.

FROM THE EMAIL ACCOUNT OF SIR ANDREW FELIX EDDINGTON

Frederick,

I say, old bean, smashing news: Potter just got his Hogwarts letter. Granted, the Dursleys took it from him, but I'm sure Operative Echidna will make sure Potter gets the letter eventually.

But something very concerning has arisen: Potter seems to know we've been watching him! I cannot understand how this might be. We've been nothing but subtle in our surveillance efforts. Is it possible Potter is just toying with us?

Andy

FROM THE EMAIL ACCOUNT OF FREDERICK ANTON ISLINGTON-LENNOX

Andy,

Don't be daft. The boy's just tossing random theories out there; he's not serious. Stay the course. Potter is the key to everything. He can get us all the information Operative Echidna can't, all the tiny pieces of the puzzle necessary to commence Operation Enoch. By the time we're done, magical Britain will be no more.

Prime Minister Islington-Lennox

Dear Mum and Dad,

I'm sorry to have to trouble you on your dentistry conference on the Isle of Skye, but a potentially time sensitive issue has come up. You recall what I mentioned about Harry Potter, the boy who vanquished that dark wizard? Well, I've been following his blog and I'm very concerned he's being abused at home. I'm passing along the pertinent entries from his blog. I offered to speak to him, but he refused, quite sensibly, I suppose, since I'm a total stranger. I hope when I get to the Hogwarts Express, I'll be able to talk to him in person and sort things out.

Could you please make sure something is done about this? The last time I called child services, it turned out to be a false alarm and now I'm rather afraid I'm known as the girl who cried wolf there.

Your loving daughter,

Hermione

Sweetling,

There's nothing that can't be put aside in the name of helping our daughter, not even a life threatening surgery. Your happiness is our first priority. We wish you were here, but you'd find the Isle to be frightfully boring. Make sure you're behaving well for your babysitter. And, yes, you are still young enough to need one; we aren't budging, darling.

With regards to your friend, of course we'll pass along the message to the proper authorities. Back in the old country – BY WHICH WE MEAN WALES OF COURSE – things like this would never have been allowed. It's a sad state of affairs. It makes me wish we were back in Moscow – Cardiff. Apologies. Neither of us have had our morning vodka. Uh, tea.

Long live the king,

Your loving parents

Dear Mum and Dad,

Oh, thank you so much. And don't worry about the errors – I sometimes get so confused in the morning I mix up Hegelian dialectics and dialectical naturalism! But don't tell anyone; I'd simply be utterly humiliated.

Love,

Hermione

[The following is a transcript of a conversation between FSB agents Katarina Lesic and Eduard Renat Hamm, aliases Drs. Emmet and Danielle Granger, recorded by CIA agent Samuel Peter Yarrow.]

LESIC: So this letter we got from Hermione…you think it's serious or just another one of her crusades?

HAMM: Hermione's learned her lesson from last time. If I know her, she's gotten second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth opinions. This boy…he could be in credible danger. We will send in the report.

LESIC: Perhaps we should kill these Dursleys then, if our daughter has her heart set on this boy.

HAMM: Kat, have I taught you nothing? Obviously we will kill them if we believe they are an immediate concern, but Hermione must kill them herself for the gift to mean anything. I still remember when you killed my parents.

LESIC: We ate their still beating hearts, I know. You tell me this all the time.

HAMM: It was the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for me. And now I get to be here, with you, my beloved wife, in the field, viciously torturing enemies of the state to death for the good of Glorious Mother Russia. There's nothing I like better.

LESIC: I worry about her, you know. Going off to this school…it's still not too late to send her to Durmstrang.

HAMM: Durmstrang is not a safe place for Muggleborns like Hermione. She's a tough girl. She can handle being away from home! I mean, it's not like a troll's going to try to kill her or anything.

LESIC: You're right, dear, I'm just being silly. Now where did I put that polonium…

r/amitheasshole

u/lemondropenthusiast

I (M143) am a well respected headmaster at a private school for the thaumaturgically gifted in the Scottish Highlands. About ten years ago, I was a general in a private army known as the Order of the Phoenix, facing down against the dread forces of the Dark Lord V. Two of our members (F21 and M21) were slain by V himself, only for V to try to kill their child H (at the time M1) and be turned into a spirit. Said child thus fulfills the requirements of a prophecy of a boy with the power to vanquish V.

Now said child is going to be a student at my school and I have the most devilishly clever plan to lure V into a confrontation with him. I'm going to borrow the Philosopher's Stone from my good friends N and P F and place it into an artifact known as the Mirror of Erised. Then I'll place the mirror behind a series of obstacles that a first year can get through and then subtly plant clues for H that the Stone is in danger, thereby luring him into a confrontation is V. My only worry is that this plan makes too much sense.

But apparently my deputy headmistress and friend MM thinks this is an insane plan worthy of a "stark raving megalomaniac, seriously A, it's time for you to get your noggin checked! Are you pointing your wand at me? Are you seriously going to wipe my memory?! What were we talking about again?"

But what does she know? Reddit, harken: Am I the asshole for wanting to give a child the gift all orphan children want, the chance to confront their parents' murderer? And, honestly, the kid's going to have to die eventually, so this'd really wrap everything up in a neat little package, am I right?

COMMENTS

the_thinking_mallard (Moderator): Your post has been flagged for violation of our no shitposting rule. This is not a subreddit for creative writing. Repeated violations of this rule will result in a block.

humuhumunukunukuāpuaʻa2: YTA! What the hell, man?! You shouldn't even be a headmaster if you're going to keep a valuable artifact in your school as bait for a dark lord! Also, I'm sure this is just a story, but if you really do believe any of this, you need serious mental help.

10000thunderingtyphoons: Y. T. A. If you run a school, you have a responsibility to your students. If I were this student of yours, I would run away screaming from you.

themanbeforethemanbeforemacbeth: YTA! Setting aside the obvious moral implications, what happens if V gets away with the Stone? Immortality and infinite riches, seems like a recipe for disaster. Is this really how you want to honor your fallen colleagues' sacrifice?

greatergoodenthusiast1: NTA. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good.

Thank you, greatergoodenthusiast1! I agree completely and thank you, Reddit, for your sage advice. I will go ahead with the plan.

Welcome back, people with PHDs and people without PHDs, to the Potter Zone. And, boy, has the plot ever thickened. Seriously, it's like smog level thick IMHO. First of all, I think Uncle Vernon has gone off his rocker…but for once – and I cannot believe I am saying this – it's hard to blame him. Shit's gotten weird, folks.

First off, Vernon made Dudley get the mail the next day. You heard that right. Dudley did a chore. The end has got to be nigh. And lo and behold, there was another letter. Same type of letter, same people. I tried to sneak out of my room the next morning to get the post before any of my so-called family could get it. Vernon was sleeping outside my room in a sleeping bag and I stepped on him.

Then Vernon sealed the mail slot shut, so the mail couldn't get in. Sensible, I suppose. Until we don't get our bills and get evicted, but that's a later problem, right? Except Vernon was wrong, because the damn letters were everywhere on Friday. Vernon boarded up all the cracks around the house so nothing could get in. And then the next day, they were in the bloody eggs. How, you might ask, could they fit in there? I do not know, but I really want to find out.

I am really starting to believe something otherworldly is going on. My new theory? Aliens. I am probably an alien hybrid or just a plain alien left at the Dursleys for…I don't know. Some sort of strange extraterrestrial purpose. The point is, physics are starting to go out the window with the eggs put in through the window and the letters inside said eggs.

And now it's Sunday and the letters just flooded down the chimney. Vernon says we're going to the Isle of Skye where no one will find us there. I kind of doubt it. At least I hope I'm wrong. Because you know what? I really, really want to know what's in those letters.

COMMENTS

daughter_of_dentists: Oh, Harry, I think you're going to be very, very pleased at what's in those letters. Oh, by the way, my parents are in the Isle of Skye for a dentist convention – if you see them, give them a wave!

Yes, if I run into random dentists in the middle of nowhere, I will be sure to do that, miss. Seriously, how would I know what your parents look like?

It has been a wild ride, folks. We traveled at a very rapid pace today. Vernon's completely off his rocker – even Dudley can see it – but it didn't do him any good, because when we stopped at a hotel in Cokeworth, you know what happened? Letters. Yeah, someone wants to get in touch with me bad. Still don't know who it is, but sooner or later, they'll get tired of sending letters and send people.

Vernon eventually took us to this isolated island in the middle of absolutely nowhere, and then we left the Isle of Skye and went to an even more isolated island to stay in some hut. Except as it turned out, we weren't the only ones who'd booked it! That duplicitous toothless fiend who claimed to be the ferryman must have double booked us!

Well, the couple already staying there couldn't have been nicer about it, despite the Dursleys being total jerks the whole time. They must have been Russian, because they had this incredibly strong accent and they kept offering us some vodka. Mr. and Mrs. Greyndzher told us they were humble tourists with no espionage connections whatsoever, and, you know what, I believed them. They had honest faces. And, sure, there was some guy screaming in agony in the closet and blood pouring through the bottom of the door slowly, but hey, not my circus, not my monkeys.

Anyway, this speedboat showed up and there was a bit of a bother with both the driver and Vernon pointing guns at each other, but the Greyndzhers got everyone to stand down and they left with their friend and all was well. Oh, yeah, something strange did happen: they bid me farewell with my first name. But I'm sure I must have told them in the midst of all the shouting and I forgot. It was a stressful situation; it isn't every day I ended up in a Mexican standoff.

So here I am. On my birthday. Waiting for my life to change. Praying that I'll find out what those letters are all about. Wondering what possessed my parents to give me up to these creatures. Got to go! There's someone knocking at the door.

COMMENTS

daughter_of_dentists: Goodness me, Harry, it seems like you dodged quite a bullet there! I'm just glad my parents weren't anywhere near those dangerous Russians. I should call them and make sure they're safe.