Harry Potter (first draft)
The little known first draft of the book Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone was discovered in February of 2007 by the Queen of England, who now works as a housemaid for JK Rowling, in a cupboard under the stairs. Although Rowling denies ownership of the manuscript, her editors admitted that the document was genuine, suggesting that she might have been suffering from PMS at the time, and that they took great liberties to edit the story before publication. In fact, one of the writers remarked that the three-headed dog "Fluffy" was inspired by an editorial meeting he had with Ms. Rowling after her initial submission. Despite the author's protestations, the publishers insisted that heavy editing was necessary if the book was to be successfully marketed to children, and that at least one of the useless, sexist characters they excised from the book bordered on plagerism. They could not be contacted for further comment, as they are now in the witness protection program. Uncyclopedia, taking full advantage of their absence and consequent inability to enforce copyright law, have reprinted the entire first chapter here.
Henry Cooper and the Magic Rock [edit]
There once was a boy who lived in a cupboard under the stairs. He was a scrawny little geek with round glasses and one of those haircuts that gets the shit kicked out of you at school.
He had a scar on his forehead shaped like a lightning bolt. How he got it is a mystery, but if I had to guess, I would have to say it probably had something to do with the aforementioned haircut situation, (see paragraph 1).
His evil step-parents couldn’t stand the little nerd, and they treated him like absolute crap too. If he wasn’t such a little wuss-bag he probably would have slit their throats while they slept, and watched the blood run freely while prancing up and down the living room to a marching tune, laughing hysterically and planning how to get rid of the bodies by dismembering the corpses, and using a wood-chipper to grind all the evidence into a manageable size before dumping the remains on a beach in Normandy. Then he’d have to make up a story for the police ... but I digress ...
Fact is, ‘cause he was such a little wuss he wouldn’t say boo to a goose. Which is bloody sad if you ask me ... I know you didn’t, but I mean if you did.
So anyway, one day he gets this invitation from this school for wizardry. His step-father went totally spare. But he was a silly old git that went spaz about just about everything anyway, so who’d notice the difference? Well, normally you wouldn’t but on this occasion Harry ... I mean .. Henry, did. He seemed to be acting more spaz than usual, which is definitely saying something, cause this guy was a flipping freak of nature let me tell you.
Anyway, so Harry - shit I mean Henry – goes down to the train station to catch a train. But the guy there, (who looked like the fat controller from Thomas the Tank Engine), calls him a smart arse for asking for platform 9¾. Well that’s what the goddamned letter said – how the hell was he supposed to know? The British rail system could be labelled with irrational surds with prime roots for all he knew – shit what was that guys problem?! He momentarily wished that the “fat controller” worked at McDonald's so he could order a Fillet ‘o Fish, and when the guy said, “Sorry about the wait”, he could reply, “And so you should be fatso!” … Anyway I got off the track again didn’t I? ...
So eventually this red-headed kid called Ron, and his family, helped him find his way through this wall to where the train was. Man, Ron must’ve had a million brothers, I guess his parents never heard of birth control - or any kind of control for that matter.
Anyway, Ron and Harry are on the train talking about chocolate frogs and stuff when this guy called Neville comes in looking for his toad. Neville was one of those dorky kids who is forever fucking up, and you could tell from the second you met the guy. Following him closely was a girl called Hermione. She was a seriously smart arse bookworm – you know the type. She wasn’t there for two seconds before she started bossing Neville around, and mouthing off about how bloody clever she was. Henry didn’t care, she was a charmer compared to anyone in his family. Ron thought she was pretty hot although he insulted her from then on, so that no one would know, and he wouldn’t give away an important fact that would act as a plot device until the fifth book.
Anyway they’re all talking - well mostly Hermione was talking - when the king of all fuck-wits Malfoy comes walking through the door. If you couldn’t tell he was a fuck-wit straight away by the superior smug attitude that exuded from every pore, then his gay-arse hair was a dead giveaway.
Henry knew he did not like this kid, even before he opened his slimy trap. It’s a pity Henry wasn’t the hair-trigger psycho killer I mentioned earlier, if he was, he would’ve lunged at him, pushing him through the glass window and watched as his body fell onto the train tracks to be crushed and broken beneath the unforgiving wheels of the train, spraying blood several feet in the air in all directions, leaving Malfoy with a spine broken in seven places, and paralysed from the waist down, crawling pitifully along on his hands with the unrelenting hot sun beating down upon him, being attacked by vultures intent on ripping his eyes mercilessly from their bloody sockets, leaving him blinded to die in excruciating agony for hours on end begging for the merciful release of death ... how did I get on to that then ... where was I?
Yes … well … anyway, if he had actually killed Malfoy on sight, we would’ve all been spared his next cockhead remark.
| “ | Hanging around with mud-bloods, Potter? | ” |
I can tell you that Hermione flushed pink, and Ron lunged at Malfoy ready to rip out his larynx. What I can’t tell you however, is why Henry stopped him. If it had have been me I would’ve let him charge Malfoy from the front while I laid a snap kick into the back of his knee, and then king-hit him from behind. But that’s just me.
Anyway, they get to the school and there's this great bloody hairy dude called Hagrid. The term, “Freak of nature”, wouldn’t make a dent in this guy. He was friggin’ huge. Just think of the hugest, ugliest, hairiest, Bobby-Coltrane-look-a-like you’ve ever seen and then multiply that by twenty, and you’ll probably have some idea of what he looked like as a baby.
Anyway, he was the one showing all the new students where to go. As it turns out he wasn’t so bad.
They entered what’s called the Great Hall. It was bloody amazin’. There were candles floatin’ around the ceiling and the ceiling itself looked like the sky – pretty cool huh? And there was lots of other cool stuff that would keep an entire special effects team up to the wee hours of the morning trying to work out how to computer generate some of this shit.
At the head of the main table there was an old dude called Dumbledore. The guy looked old and kind of wise, but a little bit goofy too. I mean seriously, dude, what the hell is with that beard? I mean Jesus Christ how do you eat soup with that goddamned thing?! The thought of it is just grossing me out.
Anyway, he basically looked kind of a bad-ass enough wizard guy that could ... say ... I don't know ... take on a super evil dark wizard in a one-on-one duel, yet still be bloody stupid enough to miss obvious facts that are right in front of him. You know - like Lois Lane is an ace reporter, but can't tell that Clark Kent is Superman because he wears a pair of glasses? ...
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