potterstinks in nocturne_alley: No subject.

Seeing as it's Potter's birthday today, or, I suppose, was Potter's birthday, as the day is almost over, I've decided to finally expose the truth behind Potter. I'm sure everyone has been dying to know, anyway, so without further ado, I give you the mystery of Harry Potter.

Of course, everyone's rather familiar with the fact that Harry Potter outlived the Killing Curse as a child, leaving him with a deformity that has earned itself a place on the official list of handicaps, or so I've heard, anyway. Since I've been investigating over the holidays, I've decided to answer the questions that everyone surely asks themselves about Potter: why did he outlive the Killing Curse? Why did You-Know-Who go after an infant in the first place? Does Potter's scar really act as a hole through which information leaks out of his brain quickly after he's learnt it? I've decided to tell the true story so these questions will no longer burn in the minds of the general populace.

THE FORMATIVE YEARS.

In 1981, when Potter was a year old and small with an abnormally large head, which is of course just a fact of nature, he had just got into the habit of knitting his own nappies from wool and whittling his own furniture out of trees, when all of a sudden he, being Potter of course, realised that he was overcome with an urge to tackle the forces of darkness before nap time.

'My word,' said small Potter, who had by this time learnt to speak in sentences, monologues, sonnets and iambic pentameter, 'it's as if I'm inexplicably drawn to some sort of force. A force of evil. Oh, the scent of blood and darkness is upon us! Surely no good can come of this. Where have I put my blanket?'

Now, You-Know-Who had of course been steadily casting the Imperius curse on unsuspecting victims and overtaking small clothing stores by this point, and making rather a large name for himself. Once he'd heard about Potter's whittling abilities, he realised he was facing some competition that was really quite serious in the furniture market.

'Drat,' said You-Know-Who. These quotes have come from various sources. 'Small Potter has thwarted me. Damnation! Rage! Fetch me my cloak.'

And with that, on a cold Hallowe'en night, the Dark Lord set off to meet Harry Potter.

Unfortunately, Potter had spent too much time thinking up synonyms for evil to put into his press release, and he'd had to go to bed. Since a young martyr such as Potter only needs one hour of sleep to form the appropriate sorrowful bags under his eyes, it seems likely that he spent the majority of his nap lying awake and saying things to himself like, 'Alas! If only I had a cool scar upon my forehead to make me look a bit more rough. This baby face is doing little for my image.'

Over in Wiltshire, I myself was a much more handsome child. Of course, this has nothing to do with Potter, but it's worth mentioning.

Now, the Boy Who Lived was quite busy in these days. He was likely coming up with a cure for cancer or working on lifting ancient curses in his spare time. You know what he's like. A complete and utter miscreant. Of course, he was easily distracted, so when a piece of lint landed on his pillow, he instantly became fascinated and forgot entirely about his upcoming battle with the forces of Darkness.

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named struck swiftly in the night while Potter was suitably distracted by shiny objects and just as Potter lifted a scrap of metal to look at it, You-Know-Who struck with the Killing Curse. The metal, having about the same intelligence and personality as Potter, was struck and killed tragically. The Killing Curse ricocheted off of the metal in a bizarre twist of fate, hitting Potter in the forehead, where it cleanly killed a line of brain cells in a convenient cut shaped like a lightning bolt. Of course, that's not all that happened. Potter, stunned and dismayed by the turn of events, cried out, 'Stop! I cannot have this scar for nothing.' He then proceeded to turn You-Know-Who into a pebble and cast him out the window, where the pebble exploded due to Potter's super baby strength.

THE TEENAGE YEARS.

It was later discovered that Potter is a Parselmouth, which is not, contrarily to popular belief, owing to the fact that he's the Heir of Slytherin, but because he decided to pick up a second language, and naturally nothing like Italian or Hungarian alone would be suitable for Potter. From what I understand, he learnt it in a seedy back street in Knockturn Alley.

Before going to Hogwarts, Potter met me at Madam Malkin's in Diagon Alley. Despite the fact that I had been at the shop much longer than Potter had, somehow, he was pushed into priority status and given his robes long before I had. Of course, I knew he was Potter immediately, particularly when he turned to me before leaving and slashed a lightning bolt insignia into the air with his wand.

Potter's been a rather theatrical teenager. Once I saw him posing for photos and promising to autograph them later. He spent quite a lot of time with Gilderoy Lockhart while he was here, and I heard he was asking Lockhart for tips on how to answer fan mail. I've had Potions with Potter for nearly seven years now, and Care of Magical Creatures for nearly four, so naturally I learnt quite a bit about Potter in that time.

One day when Potter was rescuing a Kneazle from a tree, it occurred to him that he needed a change of pace. So he stuck a double in his place at Hogwarts and took off to the forests of Qatar, which may or may not have forests, as I've chosen this country at random and I'm too lazy to actually find out, and sought out the meaning of life. Rather sadly, on the way he encountered a tribe of zombies living off of what may or may not have been a bonfire, depending on Qatar's climate, which I again cannot be bothered to find out.

'You are Harry Potter,' said one of the zombies, or so said the Zombie King through the zombie. 'Let us consume your flesh, as our digestive systems work despite the fact that our skin has rotted.'

'This is a quandary!' Potter said as he fled into the hypothetical forest. On the way, he encountered a lion who was being terrorised by a mouse, so he stopped to put that right before realising that he was a Gryffindor and must go back to face his zombie death. 'All right, zombies, I am now going to release some metaphorical hellfire on you. Prepare to have your collective arses blasted to smithereens.'

'But wait. We have a proposition for you.'

Potter naturally found this interesting, since no one ever dared bargain with the wand of Harry Potter, so he stopped to consider.

'We will spare your life if you throw this handful of mud on Draco Malfoy.'

And so, Potter, being ruthless as Potter can be, returned to Hogwarts and threw mud at my head one Hogsmeade weekend. One would think that he could have sacrificed his life to avoid doing this, but it appeared by this point that Potter had got to like living. This, of course, can be the only reason Potter would have thrown mud at my head, since he's always been so polite otherwise and I've given him no reason to do such a thing. Fortunately I've figured the whole story out by now, but of course, at the time I'd had no idea.

'Potter, that was unnecessary,' said I, the protagonist.

'Yes, yes it was,' said Potter, the antagonist. 'But I was compelled to do so anyway, due to the fact that you were taking up Hogsmeade air while I wished to be here. You understand how it is.'

'I dislike your tone,' I said very calmly. 'I do not wish to quarrel, but I feel you are being unfair.'

'Like it or not, I am Harry Potter.' Once again Potter slashed a lightning bolt into the air, of course, just to make sure I was keeping up.

Of course, this wasn't the last time Potter was to make deals with zombies, but that's a different story, I suppose.

Later he participated in the TriWizard Tournament, where he faced down a dragon. Naturally, this was all rather boring for Potter, who was used to spending his afternoons with things far more exciting than dragons and merpeople.

So, he decided to go to the Yule Ball, where he became rather cranky and decided to take his mood out on the rest of us by dancing. Several students were injured.

Things did not look good for Potter at this point, particularly when, in fifth year, he faced a crushing blow after Gryffindor lost to Slytherin in Quidditch. He decided to seek revenge upon me one afternoon which has been erased from his memory. I will now give the true account of this encounter.

'Draco Malfoy, you have beaten me for the last time,' said Potter. 'You cannot possibly understand what it is like to have this scar on your forehead. Do you think I asked for this? Do you not think I deserve, at the very least, to win at Quidditch after such a hard life?'

'I cannot help my talent,' I said in sympathy.

Potter agreed there, but insisted that it was not fair that he should lose simply because the other Seeker was so good. And so, he put a curse on me to make certain I would get lost in Muggle London one year from then, where he would beat me to a bloody pulp with something called golf clubs.

Since I'd managed to put a Memory Charm on Potter to make him forget this, I assumed I wouldn't meet my death at the hands of Potter.

In the interim, Potter fought a Manticore, three Jarveys, an Erkling and a Tebo. It was clearly a slow summer. He decided to head to a small town called Change Gravity, which was being held hostage by a witch called Falligula Nevruphos. He single-handedy destroyed her and the town later turned itself into a museum of Harry Potter memorabilia. From what I understand, it regularly makes donations to the Ministry of Magic. In any case, shortly after this, Potter invented the wheel.

We've all had our memories modified to make us believe it existed for most of time, but I'm here now to inform everyone that all praise for the wheel should, of course, be directed at Potter.

Also in that summer, he astonished the town of Great Hangleton by slicing a loaf of bread with a knife.

There you are, Potter. Now you don't have to answer any more of those nagging questions thanks to my amazing generosity. Happy stupid birthday.

crabbe @ 2003-08-01 01:16 am UTC

good one malfoy.

blushcrush @ 2003-08-01 02:15 am UTC

Malfoy, how sweet, you should write a book!

potterstinks @ 2003-08-01 01:40 pm UTC

I'm relatively certain I'll write my memoirs eventually. Perhaps if I'm feeling generous I'll sign it for you.