How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? We don't own dis shit.

Okay. So.

Chapter 4. Harry's on the Floor. Idk why though.

It was a dank and stormy humid dingus hole of a day, here in Hogs warts. Harry was feeling again. Just in general. Kind of like the vibe of everything. He was vibin'. Um.

He had looked at his magic alarm clock which was part of his cool new wand from Best Buy, the coolest store 10G S5 Gaalaxy Jackson Galaxy My Cat From Hell Episode 8, and realized that he was so late. It was already 10:00.

WAit! But good thing it was the freakin' weekend, am I right? High five!

The gang had been planning this really cool trip up to Hagrid's Hut this weekend. They were all prepared and packed the hatchback and their snapbacks, and their snack packs full of greek yogurt and lab rats.

"BUT WAIT" sighed Harry, "We 'aven't got our licenses, we 'aven't!"

Alas, it turnt out that the children were in fact children and could not drive. So they dragged their little red wagons, and their long sticks full of handkercheifs full of shit at the end, and they popped their knees while walking you know like how they do in the Winnie the Pooh series? They did that. All the way to Hagrid's hut. Luckily, it was a mere twelve feet away from the nearest piss-gutter.

"Blimey!" said Ron.

So they got there and did their special knock on the dizzity door. It went dun dun dun dun dun-dun dun-dun-dun dun dun dunt dun-dun. It was a cool code. It spelled out "Junior Mints" in morse cold or something. Hebrew, maybe? Idk.

"OY MATES ME FRENDS THE BOYS AND THA GURL HAERMIOM." Hagrid fucking bellowed out pretty big and like a lunatic sometimes. Everyone pretended to be impressed. But weren't. Word.

"Yo sup Hargrid, what's good? We need some lettuce. Romaine. That'll do the trick!" Harry winked to the audience through a sigh.

"HARRY FUOCKIN GOT YE YER A WIZARD HARRY YERA WIZARRD HOLY FICKIN SHIT YER A FUCKIN WIZARD, BUTT HARRY. FUCKIN FANG. BUCKBEAK ALSO" Hagrid cried in a desperate attempt to remain hip with the wizarding youth and also not seem so depressed. He also finally put his ding dong away and invited them in for some donk tea, if you know what I mean.

Hagrid was so huge. Like a door. He had some girth to him. Like a rock. But not Dwayne "the Rock" Johnson. He is so foine. I am putty in his hands. Speaking of being putty in some other hot built tan guy's hands, Buckbeak was chillin like a civilian outside, minding his own goddamned business, which is just a huge turn on. For me, at least. Confidence is so sexy.

"Give us weed." cried Hermione in a fit of unprecedented rage and desperation. She had been feeling a lot of that, lately. Scrooge McDuck had her sprung. But we'll get back to that l8r.

"Um oh, wow, uh that was really quite um forthright, now wasn't it me dear baby boy Hermione?" slurred Hagrid, who had already smashed at least 6 to 19 four lokos. He's a giant which means that his tolerance is a bit different, including his metabolism. But he still kind of fat. Sorry not sorry. Guess we can't all get the good jeans.

So basically inside Hagrid's hut was a grow house. For We d (weed). Hagrid had all the cool things. You know, things such as: joints, spliffs, dabs, edibles-blunts, even! Also, a nice assortment of glass pieces, some shaped like mushrooms or penis tops. Like my lil peep. RIP.

Hermione was pretty used to this sort of thing. But the boys were starstruck. They were only social smokers, and had never seen such a cornucopia of icky-sticky ganj. And resin.

They went ahead and um like i dunno touched it with their hands, covering it all in a thin layer of prepubescent semen from their hands. This is a wizarding school, after all.

"IDUNNO IF U HEARD BUT ME OL FRIEND BUDDY FROM COLLEGE DEAR OL BOY ZAKKY BOY MY BEST BOY ME N THE LADS USED TO HAVE THE BEST STAG PARTIES I MEAN REAL PEOPLE PLEASERS IM MEA THERE WAS SO MCUCH BUTT CHUGGIN GOIN ON BUT ANYWYA MY ROOMMATE FROM COLEGE ZAK BAGANS IS COMING TO HOGWARTS FER SOME GHOST HUNGITN" Hagrid spewed, haphazardly coating the children in a fine veneer of mouth fluids and leftover vindaloo from lunch.

The children were dumbstruck. They were also Homestuck. They were into that weeb shit.

They whispered feverishly amongst themselves while hagrid rambled,

"Blimey!" stated Ronald, Esq.

"I bloody know!" sighed Harry, "I can't believe Hagrid made it into college!"

"Zak Bagans…?" questioned Hermoined "Isn't he that renowned hot, tanned, seoxoy, prism-glasses wearing-toting stud who has the show where he farts mostly but sometimes looks at ghosts?"

"YER BLODDY RIGHT 'E'S THE ONE, YE STICK!" mouth-breathed Hagrid, airily. It was a little onion-like. Shrek. My favorite musical. It's no Paul Blart, Mall Cop 2, though.

Just then, a big fucking honk rang out clear as day and a bell through the misty foggy groggy froggy shaggy it wasn't me air of the school. It was the school honk. Similar to a school bell in the states, but we're in England. Honking is king here. Saved by the honk.

So an assembly had been called by our favorite homeboy Dumbledoor. Diggity Dickhole. Stumbledore. Albus Dumblefuck.

The baby fuck cardboard box infants made their way to the Gr8 Hall to see what was up.

When they entered, there were some candles floatin and shit just like those candles that were pretty popular in the early 2000's that you could float on water excpet these were in the air. Cool. suck on htat, bitch.

"Albus Dumbledore." Said Dumbledore, wisely pointing to himself.

Everyone nodded in agreement out of fear. Better to be feared and respected than to be loved and

"KIDS. I'm gonna do that clapping thing that I tried last time but this time you're all gonna actually frucking repeat it back to me all cult like this time out of respect and fear." Albus Dumblefuck proceeded to clap, and the children all clapped back. And they clapped that ass. watch?v=dZ8pO3hl9OE&list=PLe0WOwN5iMXdEwjd4uNqAdm_F7X_beBQl&has_verified=1

"My children. My infants, each and everyone of you. I have something to announce. It's not about my gout this time, although it has been acting up. It's not even about my ongoing battle with typhoid. No, it's not even about the fact that canteloupe is a garbage-can fruit and a failure as a food in every way. Have you tried that shit? I mean like, really tried it? With an open palette? It's really bad. I mean, cow-slapping Christ, children, it's really just objectively a bad fruit."

The children all clapped and gave him a standing O. "You're the Voice" came on over the magic speakers.

Dumbdoore continued, "No, no, what I have to announce to you today, is that that inconcievably sensual muscle man, Zak Bagans, the love of my life and my personal fitness guru, is coming to Hogwarts today to being an ongoing investigation of our ghosts. Such as: Nearly Headless Nick, Moaning Turdle."

More clapping and hilarity ensued.

Harry's scar on his forehead and not his shin started tingling in the most peculiar way. That was just a scooter thing, don't worry about it. His fucking head scar tingled under his headscarf, which Harry had recently been experimenting with. Since he was going through a pretty big transitional period in his life, Harry had been wrestling with his identity and was trying to find himself through accessorizing and slam poetry on tuesday nights at 7:30pm at the big dumb gay bar in Hogsmeade *snap snap snap snap*.

Ok so now that we're over that whole headscarf thing, let's continue.

Harry at this point knew to associate that classic tingldy wingledy doo with fuckin Dobby's arrival ususally. But sometimes it just happened like in class or when he woke up. Morning wand.

Harry turned his head to the left, and much to his big fucking surprise, Dobby was silently invading his personal space and staring into Harry's soul through his ear. He was also breathing into Harry's mouth. It was like gasoline, but sexy. Harry had to stifle a hacking smoker's cough. Through a sigh, of course.

"Potter's got some moves." But Dobby didn't say that, he only thought it. Out loud, he said, "Been suckin on a shit pill this mornin? Who dumped in your Cheer-os? Oh wait, it was me bc I make all the food in this fucking pig-sty of a college preporatory school. Uni." Dobby was lobbing verbal slam-dunks one after the other. Harry didn't know which way was up. But then he look looked up.

"Oh that's the one that's up." Harry sighed, attending to his heart palpitations

"Dobby wanted to invite Harry Potter over to his abode, for some flix and chill. You in?" Dobby alerted the media.

Harry was blindsided and alight with joy at the prospect of Dobby taking him tonight. Maybe he would even wife him. But that was never gonna happen. Harry isn't the marrying type. What with the dumbass haircut and whatnot.

Blushing profusely and bleeding out, Harry managed to sigh a reply, "I guess I'd like that."

Have you seen The Exorcist? Dobby did something like that. But it was a deleted scene so fuck me, right? Basically, he pissed his breeches and then scurried backwards up the wall all the while mocking Christ. It was gleeful somehow.

"I'll pick ya up at 8, slutnugget." spat Dobby, Tenderly, like a sock. (pls do not copy and steal)

Harry cleansed himself with some palo santo, and then went straight to confessional like the sweet little catholic boy that he was. But he was also a wizard? The pope gave him a nice little snack of a flour tortilla with cream cheese in it and some cinnamon, like dad used to make when we got home from school. But Harry was an orphan, lest ye forget. Madam Zeroni. Holes.

Thx for reading. Our friend G-dog helped us write this one, and let me tell you, he's a god damn genius. Hell.

We don't own Harry Potter or Hairy Pooter, get off it.

"Believe in yourself! Have faith in your abilities! Without a humble but reasonable confidence in your own powers you cannot be successful or happy." -Norman Vincent Peale