A Harry Potter Parody

Turnip Juice, a Detailed Description of Breakfast, a Simple Reversal Spell, and a Napoleon Dynamite Reference: a Harry Potter Parody


  Once upon a time, Harry Potter had a bad dream.  And then he woke up.
  Ron Weasley was standing over his bed.  “Dude, Dumbledore wants to see you in his office,” he said.
  “I’m sleeping,” Harry said.
  “No, you’re not.”
  “Yeah I am, dude.  Go in my place.”
  “No, I did that for you last week.”  Ron looked down at him, casting a shadow over Harry’s face.  Only Harry’s glasses glinted in the flickering candlelight.
  “You woke me up from a terrible dream,” Harry said.
  “What was it about?”
  “There was this ugly guy named Voldemort and he was, like, killing babies.  Oh, and me.  He was trying to kill me, too.  And he was exterminating Jews across Europe and causing a potato famine in Ireland.  And he sunk the Titanic.  And he caused World War I.  And the Korean War.  And he was giving birth to Miley Cyrus.  He was a monster.”
  “That sucks, man.”
  “Yeah, it did.  But then you woke me up, so I guess that’s good.”
  “Yeah.”
  Silence descended over the two adolescent males.
  “You should go see Dumbledore, Harry.”
  “Okay.”  Harry rolled out of bed and pulled on his tan suede Ugg boots.  “See you later.”
  He strolled down the dark corridors and contemplated life.  When he reached the statue that marked Dumbledore’s office, he said, “Turnip juice.”  The statue moved out of the way, revealing a small staircase.  Harry ascended.
  The office was dark, absent of its usual candles and lamps and turnip juice.  Harry wondered if Ron had been lying to him about Dumbledore requesting a visit.  “Headmahsta?” Harry piped.
  “Good evening, Harry.”  Dumbledore peeked out from behind a bookcase, waving some type of power tool.  “Excuse me for not hearing you enter.  I was just watering my plants.  Please, have a seat.”
  Harry sat down in a plush recliner in front of Dumbledore’s desk.  It was quite comfortable.  Harry thought he might fall asleep again.
  “So, Mr. Potter, what brings you here so late at night?”  Dumbledore took a seat behind the desk and folded his hands across the top.
  “You asked to see me, Professor.”
  “Why, yes, I did.  I was just testing you.”  Dumbledore looked around his office nervously.
  Harry stared at him.  “What?”
  “Harry, there’s something I have to tell you.  For the past two years, everyone has been lying to you.  Well, not really ‘lying,’ because it was just an accident.  They didn’t know.  Nobody did.  Until yesterday.”
  “Okay, I don’t know what you’re talking about right now,” Harry said.
  “You’re not the real Harry Potter!” Dumbledore blurted.  “Apparently it’s a common name.  It’s easy to get confused.  You can’t blame me for that!”
  “So I’m not a wizard?  But I can do magic.”  Harry took out his wand and performed a complicated spell.
  “Well we got lucky, then.  And you’re going to have to stay at Hogwarts anyway ‘cause I have no idea who your real parents are.”
  “My parents are alive?!” Harry yelled.
  “Well, yeah!  I told you, you’re not the same Harry Potter that people have been telling you that you are.  Your parents aren’t dead.  Nobody tried to kill you as a baby.  And I’m sorry, but you’re not famous.”  Dumbledore didn’t look sorry.
  “Oh,” Harry said.
  “Luckily we managed to find the real Harry Potter before this sham could go on for too long.  He’ll be arriving at Hogwarts in a few hours with Hagrid.  Normally I would tell you to make the real Harry Potter feel comfortable here, but I actually wanted to tell you to stay away from him.  Avoid confusion, you know.  In fact, you’ll be moving into Ravenclaw for the duration of your schooling, and the real Harry Potter will be taking your place in Gryffindor.”
  “What?  Ravenclaw is so boring.”  Then Harry brightened.  “But hey, Cho Chang lives there!”
  “Hmm, yeah, about that,” Dumbledore said.  “We’re moving her to Gryffindor to be closer to the real Harry Potter.  He really deserves it.  I mean, he’s gone a whole two years longer than he should have without being informed that he’s a celebrity!”
  “Poor guy,” Harry replied dryly.
  “Couldn’t have said it better myself, my boy!”  Dumbledore chuckled.  “Well, thank you so much for coming out in the middle of the night and being so understanding about the whole ordeal.  You know, if it were me, I don’t think I could have been as good as you’ve been about someone completely taking my place in life.”
  “Ha ha,” Harry said.  He got out of his recliner and headed for the door.
  “Uh, one more thing,” Dumbledore called.
  “Yeah?”
  “Once the new Harry Potter gets here, we’re going to have to change your name.  Just for the sake of us not getting confused all over again.  How do you feel about ‘Neville Longbottom’?”
  Harry blinked at Dumbledore.
  “Great!” Dumbledore exclaimed.  “Off to Ravenclaw now, Neville.”  He winked.
  Harry sighed.  “Good night, Professor.”

  As the statue swung shut behind him, Harry stopped and looked off down the hallway toward Gryffindor.  He remembered good times that he and Ron and Hermione had had there.  Now the new Harry Potter was going to get them.  Harry hung his head.  At least he could still be Harry Potter, The (first) Boy Who Lived, for one more night. 

  When Neville woke up the next morning, he forgot where he was.  Where’s Ron? he thought.  Oh, yeah.  He’s in Gryffindor.
  Without motivation, Neville got up and sloppily made his bed.  Meaning that he didn’t really make his bed at all.  Then he sloppily took a shower and shaved sloppily.  Meaning that he washed his face with a dirty washcloth and left Ravenclaw with a five o’clock shadow.  It was eight in the morning.
  He plodded down to the Great Hall to rustle up some grub.  When he got there, Slytherin was chatting secretively amongst themselves as usual, Hufflepuff was non-existent because they were out somewhere being losers, and Gryffindor was crowded around one particular spot at their table.  Neville walked by the Gryffindor table, trying to get a glimpse of Hogwarts’ newest student.
  “And then I said, ‘Pick on someone your own texture, you filthy hobo!’ ” a loud voice said from the center of the crowd.  Everyone burst out laughing.
  Neville didn’t see what was so funny.  He saw Ron and Hermione standing at the edge of the circle, so he went over to them.  “Hey, guys.”
  “Hey, Harry!” Ron said.  “I’m so gla–”
  Hermione nudged him and whispered something in his ear.
  “Oh, yeah.  I meant to say, hey, Neville.  Yeah.”  Ron scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.  “So have you met the new guy?”
  “Ron, he doesn’t want to meet him!” Hermione exclaimed.  “Right, Neville?  You don’t want to meet the new student.  Right?”
  Suddenly, a tan young man with long, chocolate brown hair; crystal blue eyes; and a blindingly pearly smile burst through the Gryffindor crowd.  “Ron, Hermione,” he said.  His voice sounded like a babbling stream on a warm spring day.  “Who’s your friend?”
  “Oh, he’s not really our friend,” Hermione said quickly.
  “Neville, this is Harry Potter.”  Ron put his arm around the tan young man’s shoulder.  “He’s new at Hogwarts.  Get this – he survived a murder when he was not even a year old!”
  Hermione smiled at Harry Potter flirtatiously.  “That is so attractive.”
  Harry flexed his bountiful muscles.  “Yep, I’m pretty much a genius.”
  “And he’s fluent in Parseltongue, the language of snakes!” Ron said.  “That rocks.”
  “He’s probably going to be a natural at Quidditch, too,” Hermione said.
  “I’d play every game for you, baby.”  Harry pointed at Hermione and made a clicking sound with his pearl-like teeth.
  Hermione giggled.
  “Alright, okay, that’s enough,” Neville said.  “Nice meeting you, Harry.”
  “Anytime, bro.”  Harry shook Neville’s hand.  “See you around, Nora.”
  Neville shook his head and made his way back to the Ravenclaw table.  As he passed the Slytherin table, he saw Draco Malfoy eyeing Harry Potter and his gaggle of new friends.

  Neville spent the rest of the day sitting through lectures in all his classes.
  “So in conclusion, E = MC squared,” Harry finished his speech in Herbology.
  The entire class clapped, and so did Professor Sprout.  “Wonderful, Harry, simply wonderful!” she exclaimed.  “Five hundred points for Gryffindor!”
  “That didn’t have anything to do with plants,” Neville whispered to Ron, who was sitting next to him.
  Ron’s eyes were brimming with tears.  “Who cares?” he replied, continuing to clap.
  Hermione, who had rushed to grab the seat next to Harry at the beginning of class, sighed blissfully as she stared up at him.  “He really is a genius.”

  “So in conclusion, all you have to do is tie a key to the string of a kite, and then fly the kite in a lightning storm.  And voila, you have electricity,” Harry finished his speech in Care of Magical Creatures.
  The class applauded, and Hagrid tried to control his emotions.  “Harry Potter, you receive an A plus one thousand!” he cried.  “And you don’t have to do today’s assignment!  In fact, no one does!  Well, except for Norma Longbottom.  You don’t mind, do you?”
  Neville stared straight ahead.  “No.”
  Hagrid clapped Neville on the back.  “Atta boy.  Class minus Norma, dismissed!”
  The class cheered and flooded out of the room as Neville began to dissect a wereworm.

  “So in conclusion, an apple drops on your head, and you’ve got gravity,” Harry finished his speech in Potions.
  The class gave him a standing ovation, and even Professor Snape didn’t look as apathetic as usual.  “Normally I would take one hundred points from Gryffindor,” Snape said.  “But today, I will only subtract fifty.  That was thoroughly enjoyable, Mr. Potter.”
  Neville glanced over at Malfoy, who was frowning at Snape.
  Harry bowed and blew kisses to all the females in class and some of the males.  “Thanks, Professor S.  Just doing my part to make this school a better place.”
  Snape nodded.  “Good for you.  You know, there are elections for second year class president in a few days.  You should think about running.”
  Malfoy, who had sat quiet during every class that day, yelped, “What?!  But you told me that I should run!”
  “Mr. Malfoy, a professor is allowed to favor more than one student, you know."
  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you have to!” Malfoy whined.
  “Shut up!  Just shut up!” Snape shouted.
  Suddenly, the bell rang, signaling the end of class.  Malfoy stood and stomped out of the room.  Neville rushed to follow him.
  “Hey, Draco, wait up!” he called.
  Malfoy whirled around.  “What?”
  “Let’s walk and talk, shall we?”  Neville linked his arm through Malfoy’s.
  Malfoy glanced down at their linked arms and raised his eyebrows.  “O-kay.”
  They reached the Great Hall and sat down at the end of the Slytherin table.  Food magically appeared on their plates, and Neville scarfed down his corn bread and collard greens with vigor.  Malfoy tore off a microscopic piece of his dinner roll and nibbled on it.
  “So what’s this all about?” Malfoy asked.
  “Two words,” Neville said as he chewed a massive hunk of corn bread.  “Harry Potter.”
  “Oh my god.  I hate that kid.”
  “Right!  He’s so perfect.”
  “So knowledgeable about early technology,” Malfoy agreed.
  “I was thinking of doing something about him.”
  “Oh, I don’t know, man.  He’s barely been here a day.  Maybe he’s not so bad.”
  “Dude,” Neville said.  “He’s got great hair.  All the girls are in love with him.  Some of the guys are even in love with him.  He understands Einstein’s Theory of Relativity.  There’s something weird going on there.”
  “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Malfoy admitted.  “So what did you have in mind?”
  Neville grinned.  “Sabotage.”

  Nobody was surprised when Harry Potter decided to run for class president the next day.
  “Elections are only two days away,” Harry announced to the entire school at breakfast.  “Please consider me as the only rightful representative of us second years!”
  “He’s only been here for one day,” Malfoy muttered as he poked at his watery oatmeal.  He and Neville were sitting at their now-usual spot at the end of the Slytherin table.
  “I know.  He thinks he’s all that and a bag of stupid-flavored jelly beans.”  Neville looked at his overstuffed plate.  Pancakes piled high with buckets of maple syrup and warm butter oozing down the sides, fluffy scrambled eggs with pockets of melted cheese scattered throughout, thick crispy bacon, fresh-squeezed orange juice loaded with pulp.
  “I’ve been going here for two years.  I think I know my fellow students just a teensy bit better than he does.”  Malfoy sipped his room-temperature water.  “What’s your plan?”
  “Like I said last night, we sabotage his campaign for class president.  It shouldn’t be too hard.  We just have to make yours better.”
  Malfoy’s head snapped up.  “What?  How?”
  “We’ve got magic.”  Neville grinned.  He may have been the wrong Harry Potter, but at least he was still a wizard.  “We’ll make some cool posters and buttons and everyone will love us because it’ll be so awesome.”
  “Dude, I never would have thought of that.”  Malfoy high-fived Neville.  “You’re a genius.”
  Neville laughed, inhaled the rest of his meal, and stood up.  “We should skip class.”
  “That may be an even better plan.”  Malfoy threw his bowl of oatmeal on the ground.  Then they cut class for the rest of the day.

  “Vote for Draco,” Neville said, handing a colorful lanyard to a passing student.  The girl took it, confused, and moved on.
  “I don’t think this is working, Nev,” Malfoy said as he handed out his own pile of lanyards.  “These aren’t very magical.”
  “You just wait.  They’re on timers.  In ten minutes, all the lanyards we gave out will turn into floating holograms of your face yelling, ‘VOTE DRACO MALFOY!’ ”
  “Sweet.”
  Ten minutes later, the hallway erupted with noise as hundreds of floating Malfoy heads screamed at students.
  “That was awesome, dude.”  Malfoy nodded with approval.
  Just as Neville was about to respond, Harry Potter came marching down the corridor.  Students parted to make way for him.  “What was that all about?” he screeched at Malfoy.
  “Don’t forget that I’m running, too,” Malfoy said.
  “How could I?!”  Anger caused Harry’s face to turn an unattractive shade of bright red.  “Well, if that’s how you want to play, bring it!  Everyone knows I’m more popular anyway.  And everyone knows that class president elections are just popularity contests.”
  “Right, and you’ve been a Hogwarts student all of, what, one day?”
  “Yep.  And I’ve gotten forty love letters, thirty-two boxes of chocolates, twenty-five bouquets of flowers, sixteen Build-A-Bears, and nine new cars.  Face it, Malfoy.  Hogwarts loves me.”  Harry turned and strode off in the opposite direction.
  Malfoy’s hands were clenched into fists.  “Neville, I think we need to come up with something a little better than talking lanyards.”
  “I think I have an idea,” Neville said.  “But we’re going to have to wait until election day for this one.”

  “My fellow Hogwartians,” Harry began his speech in the Great Hall.
  It was election day for second year class president, and Harry Potter was up at the podium.  The candidates weren’t required to give opening speeches, but, of course, Harry had insisted.  Meanwhile, Malfoy and Neville were hiding backstage.
  “Are you sure this is going to work?” Malfoy asked.
  “It should.  It’s a simple reversal spell,” Neville said.  He pulled his wand out of his back pocket.
  “Reversal of what, though?”
  Neville looked Malfoy in the eye.  “Time.  We’re going to go back four days and stop that Potions class from ever happening.  The one where Snape gave Harry the idea to run for class president.”
  “What?”  Malfoy took a step back.  “I don’t know about that, Nev.”
  “I know what I’m doing.  I’ve been practicing,” Neville lied.
  Malfoy still looked skeptical.
  Neville sighed impatiently and grabbed Malfoy’s hand.  “Timeus Reverseus!” Neville yelled.

  Once upon a time, Harry Potter had a bad dream.  And then he woke up.
  Ron Weasley was standing over his bed.  “Dude, are you okay?” he asked.
  “Oh my god,” Harry said.  He sat straight up and looked around.  He was back in his room at Gryffindor.  Ron was his roommate again.  He was Harry Potter again.  “It was just a dream.”
  “What was a dream?  It wasn’t that one about some dude named Voldemort killing babies again, was it?”
  “No,” Harry said slowly.  “I’m just going to go back to sleep now.”  So he did.

  Later that morning at breakfast, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all wolfed down four-course meals.
  “So have you guys seen the new Ravenclaw kid?” Hermione asked between bites.
  “No,” Harry and Ron mumbled into their food.
  As if on cue, a tan young man with long, chocolate brown hair; crystal blue eyes; and a blindingly pearly smile walked up to their table.  “Hey guys.  Just thought I’d introduce myself.  This is my first day at Hogwarts.”
  Feeling a little sick, Harry asked, “What’s your name?”
  The kid smiled wider.  “Neville Longbottom.”

THE END


(Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or settings! The rest is a work of fanfiction.)