JK Rowling and the Freaked Out Wizards

The Diabolical Fan Fic Author Of Insanity Presents You:

JK ROWLING AND THE FREAKED OUT WIZARDS

CHAPTER ONE: A WELL KNOWN STRANGER

Not so long ago, in a galaxy not so far away...

In a beautiful mansion, somewhere in the United Kingdom, a woman sat at her desk... her name was Joanne Kathleen Rowling, the famous author of the famous Harry Potter books. She was busily working on her fifth book, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix... or was she?

Let's take a peek inside.

Joanne came from the kitchen, eating a bag of chips.

"Hm... I fwink I shouwd stawt wowkin' on my bwook," she said, and she swallowed the remaining potato chips in her mouth and sat down. She took a pen and a piece of paper, and started thinking.

"Let's see then ... every book needs a good beginning...," she thought, and, when she came to a conclusion, she wrote down: "And they lived happily ever after..."

She stopped writing and admired her work. But then, she remembered that that sentence wasn't appropriate for a beginning, but for an ending. She crumpled the piece of paper and took a new one. "Ah, I know a good sentence to begin with ... Harry Potter was a highly unusable boy ... oh, I mean 'unusual', of course ..." Suddenly, she got very angry.

"RAAAAARGH!!! WHO AM I KIDDING?! I'LL NEVER FINISH THIS STUPID BOOK!! I DON'T EVEN HAVE ENOUGH INSPIRATION TO START ON IT!! DAMN YOU, FOUL WRITER'S BLOCK!! GROAAAAAAAARGH!!!"

She smashed and broke everything she could reach, including little things like vases, clocks, tables and fridges. She ripped her curtains apart in a state of rage and stormed around, frequently knocking things over. But she could not have known that her life would change completely when she knocked over a candle standing on her desk.

The first thing to be consumed by flames was the little piece of paper Joanne had written the beginning sentence of Book 5 on. Joanne stopped rampaging and kept standing still, staring at her desk. Suddenly, she fell onto her knees. "NO!" she yelled dramatically. "MY CREATION! IT'S ALL GONE!" However, she didn't have enough time to yell dramatically when the flames spread rapidly and consumed her desk. "Uh-oh," she said, and then, she quickly ran away.

The flames were spreading even more rapidly ... Joanne could quickly grab her jacket while she was running through the hallway ... she ran down the stairs, while her surroundings went up in flames ... This is all my fault, she thought, but she didn't have time to think too much ... now, it was up to her instinct ...

When she had reached the ground floor, she burst through the front door and ran like mad. After two or three minutes of running, she stopped, fell onto the ground and looked around her. Her beautiful mansion was now one big sea of flames ... it was gone ...

Well, no reviewer could FLAME me like this, she thought in an attempt to cheer herself up a bit, but it only upset here more.

Hours later, she was wandering through the streets of a small city ... she had no idea how she had gotten there, as she was very confused and still in shock of the fact that her once so majestic home was now burned to the ground ... she was walking over the pavement, when she suddenly collapsed.

A tall, hooded stranger came hurrying towards her and helped her onto her feet. "What's wrong, my poor thing?" said a voice coming from under the hood, a soft, high voice sounding caring and creepy at the same time ... difficult to imagine, eh? But anyhow, the stranger took Joanne to his home, a small house in a large, dark street, settled her in front of his fireplace and gave her a cup of chocolate milk.

The hooded stranger sat down in a chair opposite Joanne, and stared at her. At least, he gave the impression that he was staring at her, because Joanne couldn't see his eyes.

"I know who you are ...," said the stranger in his caring, but at the same time creepy sounding voice.

"Y-you do?" said Joanne.

"Duh! Of course I do, you silly woman! You can't appear almost weekly on television, in newspapers and on the internet without being known by everybody! I mean, almost everybody knows you, JK Rowling!"

"And - and who are you, if I may ask?" asked Joanne.

The stranger smiled. Or at least, he gave the impression that he smiled. Er, no, he didn't give the impression that he smiled, I just guessed he smiled. But anyhow, he remained silent for a moment, and after a couple of seconds, he did his hood off. Joanne screamed in terror. The stranger breathed loudly.

"I," the man said, "am Lord Voldemort!" A terrible face stared at Joanne. Red eyes with catlike slits for pupils, small openings for nostrils, paler than a white, fluffy bunny ... I mean, whiter than a skull. That sounds scarier, you know.

"V-voldemort!" whispered Joanne.

"You can call me Voldy, if you like," said Voldemort quickly.

"W-what are you doing here? I d-didn't know you even existed! I mean, you're a character from my novels!"

"So?" said Voldemort, looking slightly hurt. "Just because I'm a character from your novels doesn't mean I don't exist!"

"Of course not," said Joanne quickly. Voldy sighed.

"Yes, I am a character from your novels. And so are Harry Potter and his little friends. But we all exist."

"You mean - Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger - they exist in real life?"

"I told you, yes," said Voldy impatiently. "Everything you wrote about exists. Well - sort of."

"What d'you mean, sort of?" asked Joanne, looking puzzled.

"Well, we do all exist, like I told you - but we are slightly different from what you wrote. I, for instance, am not the Dark Lord you wrote about. Ooooh, no. There's a far more evil Lord out there ..."

"Another Dark Lord?" repeated Joanne, looking even more puzzled. "Who might that be?"

Voldy remained silent for a while. Then he said: "The real Dark Lord is ... Harry Potter."

Joanne was astonished. "So, Harry Potter isn't the big, selfless, saintly hero who saves everyone's skins just out of pure goodness?"

"No, absolutely not," said Voldy. "On the contrary. Let me tell you something about him; fourteen years ago, when Young Harry was just one year old, I went to visit my closest friends - James and Lily Potter. Oh, Harry was just so adorable back then - so different from what he is now. I took the little lad and hugged him and cuddled him and said 'coochy-coo' and did other cute things like that - but he didn't seem to appreciate it and he bit my finger. I've still got a scar." Voldy showed Joanne a long, white finger, with a bite mark on it. "It connects me with Harry. When he's feeling very angry, my finger suddenly gets very itchy. But that's not all - when I jumped up, Harry still in my arms, and began jumping around in pain, James Potter thought I wanted to scare the little bugger - and he cursed me. I was reduced to NOTHING! I had to live of others, like a BLOODY PARASITE!"

He trembled with rage, and for one moment he looked like the Voldemort Joanne pictured when she wrote about him. But he quickly got hold of himself and put on a lipless, but sweet smile.

"But I tried to make the best of it. I went to work at circuses and became known as 'Voldini, the Incredible Living Wisp of Smoke'. Meanwhile, James and Lily died in a car-accident. The Dursley family, Harry's only living relatives, volunteered to take care of him. But they made a huge mistake. Potter terrorised the poor fellows ... he treated them like slaves! And there was nothing they could do, because if they didn't obey, Potter would get an outburst of anger and would make things explode. When he was eleven, Potter got a letter from Hogwarts. First, he didn't want to go, because he then couldn't terrorise the Dursleys anymore. But then, Hagrid, the evil gamekeeper of Hogwarts - what else would you expect from a half-giant? - made a deal with Potter, and he agreed to go to Hogwarts. Since his first day at school, he has been plotting diabolical schemes to take over Hogwarts and make it his Evil Empire of Doom!"

Joanne was astonished. Harry sure sounded like an evil brat. "And there's more, Joanne," continued Voldy. "Years ago, a prophecy was made by the Great Seer Minerva McGonagall, and in that prophecy, there was stated that only a famous children's book writer who owned a 'palace of fire' would be able to defeat the Evil Lord Potter. Well, I'm not so sure about the 'palace of fire'-bit, but ..."

"Yup, that's me, Voldy," said Joanne a bit grimly. She didn't want to think about her once so beautiful mansion ...

"Okay then, welcome at the gang!" said Voldy, and he shook hands with Joanne.

"Gang?" repeated Joanne vaguely.

"Yes, my resistance movement against the Malevolent Lord Potter," said Voldy enthusiastically. "It's called the 'Order of the Ostrich'. Nifty, eh? I've already got two members!"

"Let me guess," said Joanne. "You and - me?"

"No, me and my pet ostrich Waldo," said Voldy, and he showed Joanne a puppet resembling a vague sort of bird. "But with you, that makes three! And I've already got an assignment for you, Joanne!"

Suddenly, Voldy stopped smiling and put on a serious expression.

"Ms. Rowling, your mission is to go to Privet Drive, no. 4, spy on the Lord of Darkness and report anything unusual to your superior - that means, me. Here you have your transportation unit." He gave Joanne a thick broom with shiny twigs. "It's the Snaky Broom 200X - complete with the usual equipment, such as lasers, machine guns and a handy ejector seat - for emergencies. Unfortunately, they are defect most of the time - so I wouldn't count on them. Now, Agent Rowling, you may leave for your mission and ... good luck."

"Aye aye, Sir," said Joanne, saluting Voldy, and she flew away on her Snaky Broom 200X, completely ignoring the fact that she had never flown on a broom before and had no idea where Privet Drive no. 4 was. A tear trickled down Voldy's cheek. "May the Force be with you, Joanne," he said overly emotional. "I've been watching 'Star Wars' too much ..." and with that, he went to the fridge to get some pizza.

TO BE CONTINUED ...