By this point, I would assume that most people who have common sense would know that I don't own Harry Potter.
However, in my life, I have come to learn a very important lesson: most people do not have common sense.
So for the beginning of EVERY SINGLE STORY I have to write, I have to explain, in long, boring sentences, that guess what?
I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER.
"No way, nony0mous! Tell me more!"
Fine. This is my story.
Well, MY story. I mean, the story about ME. Not the story I wrote that you can skip right down to.
Okay. Let's start at the beginning. The VERY beginning.
One day I was born.
Then, a number of long years later, I decided to write a story. It was a story about Harry Potter. It was perfect in every way, except...
It turns out that, apparently, I'm technically not allowed to write stories about Harry Potter unless I owned Harry Potter. If I didn't, then the I would be arrested, taken to jail, and then hung on the gallows and humiliated in front of all of [Subject Hometown Here]. Then, to be sure that I'm dead, they would shoot me a few times, tear out all my vital organs, and eat them for dinner.
As I said before, bummer.
But then I had an amazing plan! I would write a disclaimer explaining how I didn't own Harry Potter!
It was a genius plan. But as I soon found out, people already had this plan, and I wasn't allowed to sue them over it. So I sued the government over this flaw, but that is another story.
Anyway, the other people had boring disclaimers, blah, blah, blah, so I made my own interesting disclaimers.
"I think the movie is getting more publicity than the book. For all I care, it could just be about Harry eating a cookie, and it would get the same amount of attention. Wait... I should really write a story about that."
- nony0mous, in a conversation about Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2
"Ah, yes, Harry Potter. Our new – celebrity."
- Severus Snape
It was a cold day. So cold, in fact, that Harry Potter decided to warm it up by baking a fresh batch of cookies. He took out the the recipe for cookies that was given to him by Fred and George. It went like this:
Fred and George's/George and Fred's Foolproof Fail-Safe Impossible-to-Mess-Up Cookie Recipe
Step One: Ask a house elf to make you some cookies.
Step Two: Enjoy cookies.
It was so easy, even a Squib could do it. But as Harry soon found out, there is no such thing as a free batch of cookies.
First, Harry asked Dobby to make him some cookies.
But when he tried to enjoy the cookies, it all went wrong.
He had gone back up to the Gryffindor common room. He sat down in front of the fire... and took a bite of the cookie.
It was warm. It was gooey. It was everything a cookie should be. Dobby had finally done something good for him that didn't end with him almost dying.
And then a first year came into the common room.
He looked around, saw Harry, and screamed, "EVERYONE! Harry just ate a cookie!"
The common room suddenly flooded with paparazzi, fangirls, fanboys, and reporters. I didn't matter that you couldn't Apparate into Hogwarts, that most people didn't know the password to the Gryffindor dormitories. They were just there like... like... like the way people suddenly surround you if you mumble something about gum.
"Harry!" yelled one newswoman. "How do you feel about this cookie?"
"Can you sign my book?" asked one hopeful fangirl.
"Can you sign my back?" asked another fanatic.
"HARRY! Can you please sign my gallbladder?" exclaimed a third person.
Harry, overwhelmed, gagged on a piece of the cookie, which he spit out.
A first year picked up the piece in awe. "Look! I got a part of his cookie that's covered with his saliva!"
The crowd jumped on him, blood pouring out as they punched and kicked and clawed their way to the saliva-covered crumb.
Another reporter came up. "Harry, we want to know, why did you decide to eat this cookie?"
"Well... I was hungry?"
"Wow, Harry! You always have an answer to anything! So tell me, what do you plan to do later today?"
"Get away from you, hopefully!"
"And there you have it, Harry Potter's official report on his cookie! Find out more about Harry's classes, Harry's friends, Harry's secret stuffed animal collection-"
"Hey! Who told you about that?"
"-and more during our radio show, Monday mornings at 10:30 on 1020 WM! Now, Harry, if I can just take a picture..."
Meanwhile, a boy walked by.
"Hey, I hope you didn't need that mattress, 'cause I'm taking it with me..."
"NO!" screamed Harry. "Out! All of you! I never want to see you again! Goodbye! Here, take a Chocolate Cauldron on the way out! Don't come back!"
After the last person walked out and the portrait slammed shut, Harry sighed and went upstairs.
7minutes, 19 seconds, and 11 milliseconds later...
"GET OUT OF MY SHOWER! NO MORE REPORTERS! NO MORE FANS! OUT! OUT! OUT!"
And that was my 8th food-themed story.
Now, I already know it was great, but you know what else would be great? If you reviewed telling me how great this great example of greatness is really great.
Got it? Yes? Great.
Now just click that review button, write a few nice words, and you're all set. In fact, I don't even care whether you're signed in. Just write an a-nony0mous review for all I care.
(But if you can sign in, that would be even greater.)
Thanks. You won't regret it. I think.