Inspired by the Mondo Media series 'Dr Tran', this parody fic explores an alternative way in which Harry could learn of his magical powers. To understand it I suggest going to YT and looking up watch?v=FO0kRE5OTZI


Eleven year old Harry Potter sat by the breakfast table munching an apple furtively; it was not often he was allowed to sit at the table or have such a filling meal, but there were many tasks on his list of chores to be completed before the Dursleys returned from their day out and even Aunt Petunia conceded he would need his strength to mow the lawn. Average height, slight of build there was nothing exceptional about this boy, and he was certain of this.

"He is a man of action." Had he heard something? Harry ceased chewing the apple and glanced around him. The Dursleys would be out all day, and there was nobody else inside the house. Dismissing the disturbance as nothing more than his imagination, Harry lifted the apple and prepared to bite into the gleaming red skin. "He is a man of honour." Harry blinked owlishly. This voice sounded nothing like anyone he knew- it was deep and smooth, with a faint lilt. Uncle Vernon would be furious if he had let a stranger into the house, and so he had no option but to investigate.

"Who is that?" His unbroken voice sounded slight even to his own ears.

"He is a man of duty." There was nobody visible and the radio was switched off. Harry raised an eyebrow and tentatively addressed the mysterious voice.

"Are you talking to me?"

"Here comes.... the Boy Who Lived!" The boy who what? Harry still couldn't see anyone.

"Where is that coming from?"

"This Summer everyone's favourite wizard returns." Who was this wizard? Harry hoped the voice was talking about Gandalf. Harry focussed on the problem of the intruder in his home, ignoring his thoughts about the 'Lord of the Rings' trilogy.


"And his name is Harry Potter!" Perhaps Dudley was playing a cruel practical joke. Only, Dudley didn't sound so adult and there was no way he would let his parents bring him home before they had taken him paintballing. Odd things tended to happen around him, but there was nothing quite on a par with this. Maybe he was going mad like Uncle Vernon said he would.

"Er... I'm not a wizard."

"He's a real wizard."

"I am not a wizard- I'm only eleven years old." They had to be old, didn't they? Harry couldn't recall hearing about a young wizard. Merlin and Gandalf were ancient.

"Not only is he a real wizard, he's a dashing auror with an N.E.W.T in kicking your ass!" This was probably Piers' abysmal attempt at humour.

"Please go away. I have to do chores."

"He's a true wizarding world legend."

"What?! I've never been to Wizarding World." Fun world he had heard of, but never Wizarding World. Harry's forehead creased in a frown. Perhaps it was a new children's activity place- either way there was no need for him to know.

"From the Wizarding World!" So whatever he said was going to be ignored. Harry was beyond caring; it was time to evict the uninvited guest.

"Uncle Vernon is coming home. Please let me finish breakfast."

"When the Wizarding World needs saving, the Boy Who Lived delivers!"

"No I don't." Harry doubted he was strong enough to lift a fire hydrant should this infernal 'wizarding world' go on fire. An eleven year old boy was not to be relied on in a crisis.

"I promise." He stretched out his thin little arms in exasperation, Dudley's cast off t-shirt sagging. The tatty state of the old top only fuelled his growing anger.

"How did you find Privet Drive? Please stop talking." He needed quiet to think.

"You've made the Boy Who Lived the legend he is today by mindlessly attending over thirty thousand of his hit films; 'Operation: Boy Who Lived', '3...2...1... Harry Potter.', 'Oh Shit, it's the Boy Who Lived."

"You go home now!" This voice belonged to an individual possessing a unique and overactive imagination.

"It isn't good for the Boy Who Lived to get so angry. He should know better; after all, he doesn't want to perform accidental magic." What? In theory magic would require concentration, and he was too stressed to process sensible thoughts.

"You are telling lies!" Whenever Uncle Vernon said this to Harry it made him feel small and insignificant, always intensifying his urge to leave. Maybe it would work on this voice.

"See him defending freedom!"

"Now it's more than ten lies." Angry blotches appeared on his cheeks. Why wouldn't the voice leave?

"Witness him battling evil forces!"

"Argh! I counted that one."

"Watch him kill his mother with a broken lawn chair." Horror sat leaden in the pit of his stomach.

"I- I loved my mother."

"It's a tough job, but Harry Potter bites the bullet and he does it!"


"And then he's off to eat hickory smoked horse buttholes."

"Hickory what? Smoked what?"

"From a cup." The voice made this sound strangely suggestive.

"No I won't." Harry clenched his fists emphatically.

"Yes he will." This voice was belittling him more than Aunt Petunia.

"I hate you."

"Now you can own every one of Harry Potter's films in the new Boy Who lived thirty two thousand DVD box set. Classic titles include "Harry Potter Meets his Match", "Harry Potter has a Chat with a Muggle Child", "Harry Potter visits Voldemort", "Harry Potter doles out the Harshness", "'Q' is for Harry Potter" and 'Harry Potter 3-D"." Momentarily words failed Harry Potter. He stretched out his arms and shrugged, mouth gaping.

"W-What are you doing?"

"Harry Potter doesn't take your shit." Harry raised an eyebrow sceptically- the voice was still talking, so evidently he did. "One step over that line and he'll fuck you up."

"Oooooh." That was a worse word to use than 'magic'.

"Nobody fucks you up like Harry Potter!"

"You said a bad word." Whispering in case his relatives returned, Harry now felt concern on behalf of this voice. Should he be able to locate the source, Uncle Vernon would undoubtedly lock it in a cupboard for weeks. "Oh."

"Nobody." Unrepentant, the voice continued. What it said next made any goodwill Harry felt towards its owner dissipate.

"You leave." Harry was through with this.

"Listen to how much you, the consumer, love Harry Potter!" The television flickered on, showing a cinema surrounded by blue neon lighting and with a sign sporting his name! A picture of him sitting wide eyed and fearful was beside it. Volume increased and Harry could hear it over the blood pounding in his ears however much he wished otherwise.

"Oh no!" A female voice was produced by the television and was shown to belong to one of a trio of women.

"It was definitely the best Harry Potter film ever."

"The Boy Who Lived is the man." The ladies were speaking as though such films existed!

"I was very Harry with it." The scene changed to show a man stood behind the caption 'actual Asian male'.

"I love Harry Potter." Began the robotic voice. "I am an actual Asian male."

"People everywhere agree." As the dreaded voiceover returned, a crowd of females appeared on the screen.

"POTTERIFIC!" Petrified, Harry leapt from his seat and crouched behind the table. He peered across the surface, dreading what would be shown next on the television.

"Boy Who Lived? Man, he's the brother in charge!" Three black men high fived, pleased by their proclamation. A small boy who vaguely resembled Dudley began to imitate gangster speech.

"Yo, Harry Potter is hell upon heck-a-doodle for s-" A fist met his face and the child disappeared from view. The voice returned.

"That's right; Harry Potter is a full grown adult. And a wizard."

"Why do those people know my name? Who are they?"

"Women are crazy for the Boy Who Lived."

"Girls are grotty!" He frowned, recalling the so called fairer sex. More like fairly icky sex.

"But Harry Potter sets 'em straight with a good, hot dicking!" His jaw dropped. Surely the voice didn't mean.... "Harry Potter's giving away the hot dickings." Attempting to follow Aunt Petunia's calming exercises Harry inhaled deeply, began counting to ten and exhaled. "In fact, Harry Potter will be down at your local record store this Tuesday from four 'til nine just giving out hot dickings!" A nervous tic began just underneath his right eye and Harry's breathing became ragged. What was this voice thinking?!? "Just passing 'em out! HOT!"

"-" a scream tore from his throat.



"Come and get 'em."

"You made me mad, and you made me angry!"

"American dickings!"

"Hickory smoke is so crazy. What's wrong with you!?!"


"You're making my teeth hurt so bad."

"Wizard hat!"

"I..." Harry glanced upwards feeling a slight pressure on his head and screamed as he caught sight of the pointed hat.

"Take one for the team."

"You are so bad, there are no windows in your house!"

"Oh Merlin! Look at that fat cock." Harry felt faint. From nowhere a rooster appeared and walked across the floor- another thing to get rid of before the Dursleys returned. "Sorry little wizard; that was fucked up."

"I'm not a wizard."

"This Summer, fill up some time with the Wizarding World's number one commodity!"

"I'm not a... macogity." A barcode leapt onto his t-shirt.

"He's different!"

"Ooooooh. You come from a sand whale family deep in the ocean. You are evil."

"He's entertaining."

"You- you leave."

"He's for sale."

"You... fairy in the dark."

"Be distracted."

"All my chairs are gone!"

"Be transplanted."

"Why won't you leave me alone?" By imitating Dudley, Harry hoped to make the voice do his bidding as easily as the Dursleys did their son's.

"Here comes the action! Here comes the honour!"

"I can eat breakfast anymore." Harry would be too relieved about the voice leaving to feel distressed at the waste of an apple.

"Here comes the duty."

"What's happening?"

"Here comes the Boy Who Lived... starring-"

"I'M NOT-"

"Harry Potter!"


"Well, Albus? Is Harry eager to begin at Hogwarts?" Looking into the earnest eyes of his deputy, a shade of green only slightly darker than Harry's, the headmaster almost felt guilty. Mentioning Hogwarts had been a part of the plan, but toying with Harry had simply been too much fun. There was no way he could tell Minerva what had happened though, because unlike Harry she wouldn't take his shit.

"Oh yes. Harry seemed very accepting of being a wizard." He smiled, pulling a stick of sherbet from his pocket. Casting the invisibility charm had perhaps been cruel, but the expression on that child's face had been priceless.


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