So this is a little something I wrote up after reading a long batch of "Dear Twilight, go die, you suck" kind of letters. I actually got quite a few laughs out of it. And, I know that there will be people who are offended by reading this - so, save yourself the trouble and just don't if you can't take a little fun poking. Everyone else, have fun. There is no Dark Lord Voldemort, there is only:
"It begins, I suppose, with – with a thing called – but it's incredible yeh don't know its name, everyone in our world knows—"
"Well – I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."
"Gulpin' Gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this author who went ... bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. Her name was..."
"Could you write it down?" Harry suggested.
"Nah – can't spell it. Name isn't spelt the proper way. All right – Stephenie Meyer." Hagrid shuddered. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this – this author, about six years ago now, wrote a book called – called—"
"What Hagrid?" Harry asked, eyes wide in fear.
"Twilight," Hagrid whispered before shuddering once more. "It was dark times, Harry, dark times..."