Laughter is good for your health. Hopefully it makes you laugh.
Not for the Twilight Lovers.
Written in a hurry
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J.K Rowling: This is all your fault, you know.
Stephenie Meyer: *whines* Why is it my fault? You’re the one who wrote Harry Potter!
Rowling: Before Twilight existed, you moron.
*The two women bicker pointlessly on whose fault it is that Harry ended up in Forks and Edward ended up in Hogwarts. We all know that Meyer doesn’t stand a chance.*
In what should have been Harry’s third year at Hogwarts…*POOF!*
E: *looks around, dazed* Woah…the Volturi sure jazzed up their house.
*Hermoine taps him on his shoulder*
Hermoine: Hi there, I’m Hermoine Granger, smart-aleck extraordinaire!
*Flashes a smile showing her teeth*
E: You look like a beaver.
Hermoine: *sputters, fumes and whips out her wand, pointing it at Edward* I’ll show you beaver! Giganto Bucktoofus!
E: *Whips out his pocket mirror which he uses to flatter his vanity* Oh emm gee! I look like a walrus! Not a beaver!
H: *scoffs* That’ll teach you to mess with a genius.
E: What kind of genius confuses a beaver for a walrus? My Bella is a genius too! She takes AP Biology and did a mitosis stages experiment with whitefish blastula! BLASTula, you know!
H: *snorts delicately and removes the curse. For now.* Big deal. She’s a muggle.
E: Muggle? OH! You mean Muggle-Wumps, from Roald Dahl’s The Twits right? My girl isn’t a monkey!
H: No, but you’re the twit.
E: *frowns and prepares to give her a long lecture on his boring decades of repeating school over and over again. Oh, and how hot he is.*
Professor McGonagall: Edward, would you come here please? I shall take you to Professor Dumbledore’s office. You need to get sorted and begin your third-year classes as soon as possible.
E: *follows after her* Uhh... okay. But who’s Prof Dumblydoor?
H: Dumbledore, you idiot. Dumbledore!
E: Fine. No need to get your knickers in a twist.
*Hermoine glowers at him*
McG: Miss Granger, you come along as well. I have to rush off for my Transparent lessons. I’ll need you to show our new student to his house. Whichever it may be.
E: Woah! I get my own pad? Wicked!
H: Honestly, is there a brain in that head of yours? Oh, and Professor, don’t you mean Transfiguration lessons?
McG: No, Mondays are my Transparent lessons. Ghosts need to learn how to blend in with their surroundings, you know. Nearly Headless Nick is much better than the other ghosts. At least he doesn’t use his head as a bowling ball like the others do.
H: He doesn’t have the choice, ma’am.
*After McG recites the password, Snotsicle, the gargoyles make way and the trio enter the office.*
*Dumbledore stands there, wearing a bright flashy pink robe*
Dumbledore: Oh hello children! I was just about to leave. I have an 'appointment' with Gellert. Do I look okay?
McG: Ah yes, Grindelwald. Tell him I said ‘go to hell’ for me, will you? We’re here to sort our new third year student into his new house.
*leans down to whisper into Hermoine’s ear*
Albus is an almost-out-of-the-closet gay.
H: Oooh, gossip.
*Edward sits on a stool and McG places the tattered Sorting Hat on his head*
E: This hat totally cramps my style.
H: Deal with it, bozo.
Sorting Hat: Interesting. Very interesting. Where should I put you… Hufflepuff? Gri-
E: Hufflepuff? Is that some kind of pastry or fungus? Eww…I don’t want to live in a mushroom.
H: Do not interrupt the Sorting Hat!
Sorting Hat: Ah yes. A dare devil. Loves to put his girlfriends in peril. Very well, better be…GRYFFINDOR!
H: Of all the bloody luck.
McG: Ah, Gryffindor. *Sentimentally wipes non-existent tear from her eye* I am head of the Gryffindor house.
E: *hops around eagerly* Oooh! What kind of house did I get??
H: Oh it’s a three-storey mansion with solid gold furniture and an infinity pool plus Jacuzzi.
E: *eye widen into huge orbs* Really???
H: *Rolls eyes* Why me? Why did he have to be placed in the same house as me?
E: Eww!!! I have to share a house with her? I might get cooties! It’s contagious.
H: *glares* You’re lucky I don’t ask Fred & George to put you into the broom cupboard like they did with Marcus Flint.
*After parting ways with McG, Hermoine heads for first period Defense Of The Dark Arts Class, while Edward stalks her.*
H: So who are you anyway?
E: *draws himself up proudly* I, am Edward Cullen. Resident Hot Bod.
H: You mean, Resident Hot Air.
*At this point, fan witches mysteriously appear and flock Edward*
Fan girl #963852: *hyperventilates* Oh gawd, he’s hotter than Lockheart! Edward! Smile for us!
*Edward smiles ‘dazzlingly’*
Fan girl #1867396032: Eww! There’s a garden growing on your teeth!
Edward: Oh sorry, that was some leftover spinach from lunch.
*Hermoine takes this opportunity to escape while he’s distracted*
~~~~~~~~~~
Defense Of The Dark Arts Lesson…
Professor Remus Lupin: Has anyone seen Harry?
Ronald Weasley: Nope. That last time I saw him, he said he was going to get himself almost-killed by Voldemort.
Lupin: *le gasp* Y-you said The Dark Lord’s name!
H: Hey… only Death Eaters call You-Know-Who the ‘Dark Lord’.
*Lupin’s eyes dart around suspiciously*
*In the background, Ron sings Voldemort’s in a terrible falsetto*
E: Why are you looking at us like that for? You’re the one who called him the Duck Lord. And what’s a Death Eater? Ooh! Do they go around saying: Rawr, I eat Death for breakfast?
H: The Dark Lord, you loser! What’s wrong with your hearing?! I think its your ear that’s growing the garden. Not your teeth.
Lupin: *clears throat nervously* Well, since our usual test dummy is missing in action, we’ll need a new volunteer.
*The rest of the Gryfiindors sabotage the newbie and point at him.*
Lupin: Come up here, boy. Prepare for hell!
*cackles evilly, turning off the lights and using a torch to light up his face*
E: *shrugs* Eh, I’m going to hell anyways. Might as well get it over with.
*Suddenly, his nose whiffs a pungent smell*
Who’s wearing Eau De Mutt?
Lupin: *narrows eyes* Leech.
E: *protests* I’m vegetarian!
Lupin: Oooh! The house elves came up with this delicious recipe for tofu ice cream, you know-
E: Not that kind of vegetarian. I drink animal blood. Not human blood. Though I must say, AB+ blood sure is tasty…
L: What kind of vegetarian is that, you filthy bloodsucker.
E: *finally realizes that Lupin is a lycanthrope* Oh great. Who let the dogs out?
*Ron fights the urge to sing that song*
H: Professor! I thought there was no such thing as vampires!
Lupin: Not in this parallel universe. He’s an alien.
Ron: You mean like Roswell?
*As a punishment for his insolence, the rest of the lesson is spent letting students blast Edward apart, only to watch his scattered parts crawl back together again.*
~~~~~~~~~~
After Herbology, on the way to Third period Potions…
E: *rubs ears* Oww… those baby Mandrakes really can’t sing… Just like Rosalie.
Emo-Gryffindor-Dude: That’s because they’re not singing. It’s the tortured screams of their black heart, signifying the hopelessness, empty vacuum of life, where we make sparkles with sticks of wood, but die anyway…
E: That doesn’t make any sense, dude.
EGD: What’s the point of making sense anyway? We’re all going to die anyway, and rot in the soil, our souls begging for mercy, the cries drowned by the devil's laughter as we are flung to the deepest pits of fiery hell… *floats off eerily*
H: Edwart! Over here!
*Edward’s poor hearing does not catch the insult, or his ego is just too big to notice*
*Hermoine thrusts a red robe in his arms.*
H: This is your Gryffindor robe. Wear it.
E: *sulks* But it doesn’t match my eyes! I’m vegetarian! Don’t you have those chic green ones that-
H: *cuts him off sharply, glowering at him* Do not mention wanting to be a low-down Slytherin. Our house rivals them.
E: *shrugs* Whatever. I forgot that my eyes are gold anyway. Hey! Do you think that those Huffle-
H: We are not Hufflepuff either. Wear it before I turn your hair blue.
E: Oooh, blue! Good idea! Do you think it’ll match my eyes?
*They finally settle down in the Dungeon, where Hermoine can stay far, far away from him.*
Malfoy: Who is the new guy? *snaps fingers and is suddenly surrounded by the Mafia*
H: What is the Mafia doing here?
Malfoy: Oh err, *snaps fingers again. The Mafia disperses and Crabbe & Goyle appear*
H: That’s more like it. The Gorilla Twins.
*Crabbe and Goyle crack their knuckles threateningly*
Professor Severus Snape: *glides in* Settle down, you pathetic, uneducated children. We are, sadly, acquainted and there is no need to bore me with your pitiful lives. Let’s get straight on with the lesson.
E: *raises his hand* Mr Severed Snake-
H: *screams in frustration, flinging hands wildly* It’s pronounced Severus Snape, stupid! *proceeds to utter a string of unprintable obscenities*
Malfoy: Hey, you’re badder than I gave you credit for, Mud-Blood. Wanna go out on Saturday? We can grab a Firewhisky together at Hogsmeade.
H: *Eyes him condescendingly* Fine. And there’s no such word as ‘badder’.
E: Why are you talking about bladders?
H: <Error: Text too vulgar to be displayed>
Malfoy: Impressive.
Snape: Enough bickering. Would you wrap up your interruption, Mr-
E: I’m Edward, a transfer student from a parallel universe. Or at least that’s what Professor Loopy said. I just wanted to tell you, that you put too much powder on your face, Mister Snap sir. It makes you all pale and sickly. You gotta have my good looks to be able to carry it off. Oh, and you put way too much gel in your hair. Its like, all like, greasy.
Snape: *advances menacingly*…That, is my natural skin colour and hair.
<Error: Text is too violent, bloody, icky and gory to be displayed>
Ron: Poor sap. At least Harry met Voldemort.
@@@@@@@@@@
This is the scene where Bella and Edward are supposed to escape from James.
*POOF!*
Harry: Volde- Huh?!?
Bella: Ohmygodohmygod. Where is my Edward-honeybun-cutie-pie-loveydovey-sweetheart? James is after me!!! He says I smell like lasagna!
Harry: *drool* Mmmm….lasagna…*more salivation*
Bella: You fool! This is the unbelievable, yet bestseller Twilight book, not The Simpsons! And I’m supposed to smell like strawberry…
Harry: Excuse me, why are we running?
Bella: Because that freaky vamp dude is gonna snack on me! I’m too useless to die!
Harry: Uh-huh. So I should care…why?
Bella: I’m the useless damsel in distress and you’re supposed to be my knight in shining armour! Don’t you know that’s how romance novels work???
Harry: *still running* ARGH. R-r-r-r-romance?! It burns!!! I’m allergic to romance! I’m a boy, for goodness sake! Get me out of here! Accio Firebolt!
*Nothing happens. No broomstick to the rescue*
Where in the world am I?
Bella: *pants* Forks!
Harry: Spoon?
Bella: Now’s not the time to play Marco Polo! I’m getting tired of running! You’re supposed to carry me because I’m the pathetic girl whose life depends on some hot guy becoming her slave!
Harry: You’re not the boss of me!
Bella: Ugh! You’re like…like a child!
Harry: I am a child, dolt.
Bella: No wonder! My boyfriend is almost a hundred.
Harry: Woah. I see that you’re into older men.
Jacob: Bells baby! Come here! Cross over to the reservoir so that I can sweep you into my arms and kiss you so passionately against your own will, that readers start gagging, and declare my undying devotion until Renesmee appears, then dump you for her.
Bella: You idiot! Can’t you see that I’m running?
Jacob: *gapes* Are you eloping with some child?! I didn’t know you’re into younger men! I’m younger than you too! Take me with you!
Bella: Jake, you stupid, stupid, blind dodo. There is a crazy vampire trying to eat me! Call Sam and the pack to risk their lives for me because I am so awesome! I’m an indispensable character unlike them!
Harry: Uhh, we can stop running now?
Bella: Why? I don’t want to get eaten! I’m too precious!
Harry: I zapped the dude into oblivion, like…ten minutes ago.
Bella: Gosh! Are you some kind of wizard? Like J.K Rowling’s Harry Potter?
Harry: I am Harry Potter!
Bella: B-but! You’re not supposed to be here! You don’t exist in real life?
Harry: I-I’m not? My life is a big lie? Oh noooo...
*rips out hair*
Bella: Superstrength! Cool! …Oh, and you’re bald.
Harry: That’s okay. I can fix it. *whips out wand* Hairo Repairo!
*A thick, bushy beard sprouts*
Oh God! I look like I have Hermoine’s head on my chin!
Bella: I’d strongly recommend a Gillette Mach 1000. It has one more blade than the Mach 999! Amazing, ain’t it?
Harry: *ignores her* Barberatzo Shaverato!
Bella: *groans*What kind of lame spell was that?
Harry: The kind that a writer comes up with because she’s not as creative as Rowling. *The beard disappears and his head hair grows back again*
Bella: Ooooh! Sparkly! Do it again!
Harry: What’s sparkly?
Bella: I saw shiny-shiny coming out of your twig!
Harry: That is my wand. And sparks come out whenever I cast a spell. No big deal.
Bella: Do it again! *claps hands*
Harry: Fine! *flick his wand lazily at himself*
*sparkles descend on him*
Bella: Oh. My. Gawd. You’re shinier than Edward! You’re like a…like whatever is more glittery than a diamond!
Harry:…
Bella: *grabs Harry’s hands* Oh Harry! Will you marry me?
Harry: Yucky! No way! Why would I do that?!
Bella: Because you’re more sparkly than my scintillating now-ex-boyfriend Edward and I’m so shallow that I only care about shiny sparkles. If you marry me, I promise I’ll call you sweet names like my Harry deary peachcakes sweetstuff honeybunny heart heart love love loveydovey fuzzywuzzy-
Harry: *covers his ears* Argh! Shut up! Your senseless girly chatter is making my ears bleed! *Bella continues to babble*
Alright, alright! I’ll marry you if you shut up!
~~~~~~~~~~
The Quibbler
Unholy Matrimony – Xenophillius Lovegood
It has come to this my attention that our famous ‘The Boy Who Lived’, was almost wed to a Muggle, Isabella Swan.
What would shock us the most is that Miss Swan, is the fictious character of an amateur novel entitled Twilight. How our beloved Harry Potter landed in this parallel universe, we do not know. But I have reason to believe that this is the doing of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, which Potter must have encountered. My further studies into these fascinating creatures show that they are able to teleport matter to random locations. This is a breakthrough in my research, proving my hypothesis that it is able to teleport complex living organisms. How marvelous!
But back to the matter of Harry’s wedding, it seems that our bride has two left feet. For as she stumbled ungracefully down the aisle, the bride accidentally tripped over absolutely nothing, and tumbled onto a carpet full of sharp knives.
We do not have evidence or clues as to who may have placed the cutlery there. However, my sources claim that it was the work of some radical teenage girls from the “Potter’s Princesses” Fan group, who were hovering nearby, planning Miss Swan’s unfortunate demise.
One good thing has surfaced from this though. Potter fanatics may rejoice, for our boy is once again, a very eligible bachelor.
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The Daily Prophet
J.K Rowling Triumphs! – Rita Skeeter
Sources have cited that the epic battle between our esteemed Creator, Joanne Kathleen Rowling and Stephenie, a nobody whose beginner’s luck catapulted her to fame, is over, with the odds in Rowling’s favour.
While Meyer slapped blindly at the air like a powerless Squib, Rowling threw some skillful punches, breaking a number of Meyer’s nails, who became hysterical.
Meyer then proceeded to wail: “Why are there no tabloid newspaper reporters and paparazzi?! I need attention! Pay attention to me!!!
As photographers swarmed to the scene, like bees to honey, our clever Creator whipped out a trusty pen, and while Meyer posed for pictures, and flung it at her, rendering her unconscious.
The pen indeed, is mightier than the sword.
While this matter is resolved, another remains. This reporter wonders, just where is our dear Harry Potter?
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