Chapter Three: The Letters From No One

The letterbox at number four Privet Drive is about to get absolutely lit.

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The letterbox at number four Privet Drive is about to get absolutely lit.

As we all now know, funny business follows little old Harry Potter around. To be fair, the boy’s oblivious to the fact that he was literally dropped off at his aunt and unc’s by a half giant riding a humungous motorbike, and that might be something to do with all this weird shit that’s going on around him. If I didn’t know any better I’d say he was number 5 that was experimented on at Hawkins lab, but that would be too much of a worldly cross-over and I don’t think I’d like to see Harry go up against a god forsaken demogorgon.

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Chapter Two: The Vanishing Glass

What more is there to learn from this world of drills, long cloaks and flying motorcycles?

SO we all know now that there was a boy. And that he lived. And that APWBD loves lemon drops -— although he is perhaps a little misguided in his child protection actions. What more is there to learn from this world of drills, long cloaks and flying motorcycles? Thankfully, I am here to tell this little known tale.

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Chapter One: The Boy Who Lived

Mr and Mrs Dursley are anything but perfectly fucking normal, thank you very much.

So let’s kick this off with the cold, hard facts: Mr and Mrs Dursley are anything but perfectly fucking normal, thank you very much. They’re a pair of abusive morons, to be frank.

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HI!!!

Hello one and all: Muggles, squibs, mythical creatures and my mum,

I am fucking back. Yes, you heard it here first, if this site still even works: my blog is being resurrected from the grave. And it’s no coincidence that I’m doing this on the very day that Lily & James Potter spent their last ever day on this earth…

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an urgent plea: get me to hogwarts

So I’ve waited all of five days to post about Harry Potter, and I think I’ve done quite well. As a few of you may know (hi mum), I’m a bit of a HP fan. I am, in fact, the proud owner of three wands, a cloak (Slytherin – haters gonna hate), and a small collection of tattoos – tokens of my appreciation for the boy who lived… Continue reading “an urgent plea: get me to hogwarts”