Memoirs of a Not-So-Heroic Harry

Memoirs of a Not-So-Heroic Harry

Harry was fed up. "I'm fed up!" he yelled at an unsuspecting J.K. Rowling.

"What seems to be the problem this time, Harry?" she questioned, exasperated. She had had enough of him, always barging in on her and yelling about her work. He had, after all, signed over the rights to his life story. Hermione and Ron never gave her crap.

Harry held up a copy of the latest book about him. "What is this?" he whispered menacingly.

She sat down quietly at her desk and pulled out some papers. "It seems to be the copy of my latest book on you..."

"Correct. And I do that thing that means I read from your book--"

"Quote?" she interrupted.

"Yeah, whatever, that. I quote you, 'Harry was thankful that Professor Sprout had ushered them into greenhouse three at that point, forcing Ernie to abandon his recital." Page 707... Since when does Ernie play piano, hmm?"

"Look at the context, Harry, he was 'reciting' a speak about study times for OWLs."

Harry looked at her disbelievingly. "Well, how about this. It's the sentence right after that one. 'Meanwhile Draco Malfoy had found a different way to induce panic.' Who talks like that? Stupid people, I say!"

"Actually, the Prime Minster does, and Cornelius Fudge, and--"

"Just stop! I want you to rewrite this book! It makes no sense, and I, for one, do not want the masses reading it!" he bellowed.

"Harry, how can you complain about my big vocabulary if yours is rather large... 'Masses,' who uses that?"

"Silence! You're fired!"

"You can't fire me. I own your life, as this contract clearly says!" J.K. lifted up a piece of parchment with Harry's signature clearly printed on the bottom. Harry grabbed for the paper and tore it to shreds. "Tearing a contract does not invalidate it..."

"Where'd you learn that? Hmm? Lawyering school?"

"Law school?"

"Yeah, that!"

"Harry, I never went to Law school. Anyone can figure that out but watching the Brady Bunch pop-up video..."

"I don't get it!"

"What's to get?"

"Your language! You are still fired!" He stomped out the door. but as he reached the end of the hall, he shouted back, "Oh, and I want my life back!"

***

Harry, now thoroughly perturbed, sat down in a chair on a lazy Sunday afternoon. He took out his quill and paused to think before writing the title: My Memories. Hmm, how to begin, he thought. Well, everyone knows what happened in my fifth year. Perhaps I should just start there. When I turned sixteen...

My Memories

I am sixteen. (J.K. Rowling wrote about me so far.) Now, I am goignto talk about how I really met my godfather. I was thirteen. I was very mad. So I ran down an alley. I saw a dog. It was big. It was black. It was pretty. I thought it might be a grim, so I told Hermione. She said, "Oh no! That sounds dangerous!"

***

Harry held out his finished chapter. As he examined his work, Hermione looked over his shoulder. She sat with Ron in the Gryffindor Common Room, and they were playing chess. She shook her head and sighed and she saw what the paper said. "Let me see it," she said shortly.

"No!" cried Harry.

Hermione ignored him. "Somehow I think you shouldn't have fired J.K. Rowling, Harry."

"But she messed up my story!" He added in an undertone, "She made me out to be a heroic goody-good..."

"Well, that's because you are."

"Liar! Anyway, I'll just write it and that's it. It's not like the Muggle World needed to know about us, anyway. Why would she publish it there?"

"It was a brillant selling tactic," commented Ron as he moved his pawn to crush Hermione's knight.

"Harry, I'll be your editor. I'll go over it tonight while you write another chapter," said Hermione.

"But nothing new has happened to me..."

"Come up with something! Being engaging, absorbing, interesting--"

"English, please!" yelled Harry. "I can't have you editing it, if you write like, like that..."

"Well, your readers can't think your life is boring, now can you?"

"Fine, I'm going to bed. Here it is, and be sure not to ruin my genius. I worked very hard on it!" As he left, Hermione wondered how he had passed his classes, then she realized, it was because she did his homework...

***

The next morning, Harry greeted his two friends in the front hall.

"Well?" asked Harry.

"Well, what?" said Ron.

"'Mione, did you finish editing?"

"Yes," she said slowly, taking it out of her bag. Harry seized it from her and read:

Memories of a Hero

I thought, of late, that I might share my memories and troubles in hopes that one may read this and understand my difficult situation. I recently aged into my sixteenth year as the boy-who-lived, yet I am no longer a boy. I am becoming a man. One day, granted the lord bless me, I will be as admirable a man as Sirius Black, my godfather.

I remember our first meeting. I was a mere thirteen and I was going through a very stressful time. I remember it clearly. I trudged down an alley in complete darkness, when a sense of dread came over me. I stopped, dead in my tracks, and peered around. I knew something...or someone...was nearby.

Then, my heart stopped. I thought I saw something in the cryptic shadows...

***

"Hey!" said Harry. "That's not what I wrote!"

"Well, I just fixed it up a bit. Listen, read through it and then tell me what you think..."

"Okay," he said dismally. "The end better be good."

***

I approached the alley slowly and let out a yelp. There was a colossal, menacing, black dog.

***

"And that's all I've written," said Hermione happily, as Harry looked back up at her.

"Since when," he whispered, "do I yelp?!" He finished on a loud note that made her jump.

"Look," she said. "Everyone breathes, everyone yelps."

"Hey, give me Harry's original and I'll try!" exclaimed Ron suddenly.

"I didn't know you liked to write, Ron," commented Hermione.

"Well, not much, but I can when I called upon to do so. I mean, it gets me out of homework." He grinned sheepishly.

"Fine, give it a try."

***

It was later that night, when Harry had finished his Potions essay on the Properties of Crushed Dragon Wings, that he approached about his work.

"Here it is, Harry. I'm rather proud of it," said Ron happily as he passed it to Harry, who began to read.

The Memoirs of Harry Potter

Ode to a Crunchy, Crunchy Wafer

By Ronald Weasley

Oh, crunchy, crunchy wafer

You are like the crisp air
Crisp, Light, Ricey

Oh, how you satisfy my tummy

My crispy, crunchy, glorious wafer

The End

Harry was speechless. "What did you do?" he said darkly.

"What can I say? I'm not an author, and I was eating a wafer at the time...A crispy, crunchy wafer...Did you read all the stanzas? There are twen-titty b-billion. Just kidding, there are only sixteen!"

"I could only manage one without throwing up..."

Hermione snatched the paper out of his hands, and a moment after reading it, she screeched, "Ron! This is genius!"

"What do you mean?!" yelled Harry.

"I'm so proud of you Ron! I had no idea you could write so well! I mean, I'm always doing your homework for you!"

"But you're always doing my homework too!" contested Harry. "How can you praise him a little poem, when I wrote all of my memoirs!"

"First of all, you only did the first chapter, and secondly... Well, frankly, they suck! And Ron, here, obviously knows his food! Harry, I wouldn't even publish your memoirs in a children's magazine, or give it to pre-schoolers. It'd be no challenge for them at all. Hell, I wouldn't give it to the lowest-level readers in the world!"

"Animals?" asked Ron timidly.

"No! The people who read The Quibbler!" she screamed.

Ron quickly hid a copy of the magazine that was lying around, so Hermione couldn't see the title.

"That hurts me deep, Hermione! It hurts here! Right here!" said Harry gesturing towards his heart.

There was a long pause before Hermione spoke. "I'm so sorry, Harry, I didn't know you felt that way about me!" Hermione cried.

"But I don't-" Harry began, realizing what Hermione had meant. He most definitely didn't like her like that.

"It's ok, Harry! Don't hide your true feelings! But I must say I do not love you! I-I like Ron!"

Ron looked up contently. "Really?"

"After realizing that he could write good literature, well that he was literate period, I like him...a lot."

"But I don't like you like that! It hurt, because you are my friend and you are insulting me!" shrieked Harry, infuriated.

"Oh," said Hermione eyeing Ron nervously. "Anyway, um, you see...Your writing is bad..."

"What the hell?! I liked my memoirs! I'll just go and see J.K. Rowling, she'll back me up!"

"Right, Harry, you think that..." remarked Hermione.

"I will!" he bellowed running out. As he reached the door to leave he could see Hermione and Ron staring at each other awkwardly...

***

"Well, Rowling, that's the story and that is my memoir...and Hermione's and Ron's. They got a little carried away..."

"Harry," said J.K. lazily, her elbow on her desk and chin in hand. "I don't think I can help you. You fired me..."

"Well, can I rehire you?"

"Depends on the payment."

"Twice as much as before!" yelled Harry, pointing his finger in the air. "A hundred dollars a page!"

"I'll go for three times as much as before, and absolutely, positively, definitely, no less..."

"How about two times as much?" he asked.

"Sold! To the scrawny, untidy, ugly, little boy!"

"Hey!"

"Hey, what?"

"Anyway," he said glaring at her angrily, "I have some conditions..."

J.K. rested her hand on her chin again. "What, now?"

"I want to read all the chapters and revise them before you publish the..."

"I can't let you do that."

"Why the bloody hell not?"

"Because," she said annoyed, "your writing is...PA-THET-IC! I mean I wouldn't let my little girl read it, it's so bad!"

"Fine!" yelled Harry. "Can you at least let me read them and make suggestions?!"

"No, that's Hermione's job. Harry, you can have no part in your life story..."

"AT LEAST STICK TO THE FREAKING STORY!!" he yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Gotcha!" she said, staring blankly at the wall.

"Also, could you add some Good Ship stuff?"

"Huh? What's that?"

"Don't you read fan fiction?"

"No..."

"Well, Hermione and Ron have to get together!"

"Why?"

"No reason!" he said sneakily as J.K. eyed him questioningly. "Ok! It's my favorite ship! Can we do a bit of Fire and Ice too! It makes for drama. That's Draco and Ginny, just so you know."

"I thought you said I could only stick to the real story?"

"Hmm, HMM!" mumbled Harry quite loudly. "I'll be back in a week! Bye, Rowling!" He ran off.

"Bye, Harry Potter, the Not-So-Heroic..."