H.P. Lovecraft
As Hermione went to study arcane arts from the Tome of Unspeakable Horrors, Harry heard the wicked parsaltongue voice in his head. Now the Eldricht Horror has a name. “Voldemort,” he whispered. The simple word had a maddening effect slowly picking away at his sanity. Now the Eldricht Horror has a name but it is too late for it to be of use, speaking it aloud reduced Harry to a blathering burned out husk of a human, the asylum being his ultimate destination.
Bill Bryson - On the Train to Hogwarts
As I’ve said before, I really love London - it’s just the best capital city in the world. After all, how many other cities have railway stations with hidden platforms?
I was certainly glad to make it onto the train after running headlong into the wrong wall 4 or 5 times - but that’s what you get for having your itinerary faxed to a machine which was almost out of paper…
TTFN
JP
Ginny tugged her braid fiercely and smoothed her skirts. That wool-headed Harry Al’Potter was talking to Cho again, and tripping over his words in that endearingly infuriating way. Light! Men are such a bother sometimes. Still, Cho is quite a nice girl, and she could learn to — no! It would be hard enough convincing her first-sister Hermione to share him. These muggle-borns had such strange taboos.
“Blood and Ashes! Boy-who-Lived or not, he’s still a man, don’t let him get to you like that!” Fleur Sedai’s words snapped Ginny out of her revery like a switch to the bottom. With a sniff, she spun on her heals and left the Hogwarts throneroom.
Harry’s scar-that-would-not-heal throbbed as he saw Ginny leave. “Now what have I done?” he thought with a sigh, “I wish Neville were here instead of searching Scotland for The Auror. He always knows how to handle women.” … the voice of Voldemort in his head screamed at Neville’s name. “NO! can’t have him too close! We must kill him soon, he cannot be trusted!”
– Harry Al’Potter, The Griffin Reborn by Robert Jordan
(I’ll just be on this express train to hell with Monstre and Sampiro if you need me.)
The Eyes Of Fluffy
by Stephen King
Was Harry scared? Yes indeedy, friends and neighbors, he was scared. Not scared like a on a rollercoaster, not scared like your Dad found out you were smoking pot. He was terrified. He was scared for his life. Voldemort was here, and he was pissed, and he was sticking out of the back of
so that’s what was under the turban
Quirrell’s head!
“Give me the fucking stone,” hissed Quirrell and Voldemort simultaneously, almost singing in unison, like some crazed vaudeville act from hell. Quirrell’s voice gibbered and his body danced about as he tried to get both sets of eyes trained on Harry…
Stoned Sorcerer
by Terry Pratchett
There was no doubt that whoever had shut the door wanted it to stay shut. Dozens of nails secured it to the door frame. Planks had been nailed right across. And finally it had, up until this morning, been hidden by a bookcase that had been put in front of it.
“Don’t forget the sign, Ron,” said Harry. “The sign which says ‘Do not, under any circumstances, open this door’?”
“Of course I’ve read it,” Ron snapped. “Why do you think I want it opened?”
“I’m not sure about this,” Harry replied. “Common sense says that we should not open this door.”
“Please,” Ron whistled, in the exasperated manner of teenagers everywhere. “We’re wizards at Hogswarts. We’re surrounded every day by mystical happenings and magical wonders, all beyond the comprehension of common folks. We not supposed to use common sense.”
Faced with such unassailable logic, Harry replied with the ancient mantra of the reluctantly defeated: “All right, but if we get in trouble, it’s your fault.”
Rjung,
(I particularly liked the ‘up until this morning’ clause)
Rjung - surely you want to add some footnotes for that authentic Pratchett feeling…and an orangutang. I’m surprised you resisted this…
<er… SPOILER for goblet of fire>
From far away above his head Harry heard a high, cold voice say ‘Kill the spare’.
A swishing noise and a second voice, which screeched the words into the night: ‘Avada Kedavra!’
A blast of green light blazed through Harry’s eyelids, and he heard something thud to the ground beside him.
“WELL, YOU CAN’T JUST LIE THERE ON THE FLOOR ALL DAY.”
Cedric was lying spread-eagled on the floor, feeling somewhat awkward. “Oh, it’s you,” he said, to the cloaked figure looming over him.
“YOU COULD TRY NOT TO SOUND SO APPREHENSIVE. IT’S NOT MY FAULT. IN FACT IT WAS HIS,” Death waved his sythe dismissively in the direction of Lord Voldemort. Voldemort who, like all wizards, was able to see Death, glared back at the seven foot skeleton.
“NO ONE ELSE YOU’RE THINKING OF KILLING WHILE I’M HERE?”
“Actually,” the dark lord hissed malevolently, turning his eyes towards Harry.
“OH. HOW AWKWARD. WELL, ER…GOOD LUCK.” To Cedric’s embarrassment Death seemed to be attempting to pull his bare skull into a resemblence of a smile. “I’LL BE OFF FOR A CURRY.”
THE HISTORY OF HARRY POTTER
By William Shakespeare
Enter Chorus*
O, for a wand of genius, that would allow
The brightest writings of an author!
Bookstores under siege, a series not complete
Young readers then would fill the swelling lines!
Then should the wizard Harry, “boy who lived”,
Assume the role of student, and, at his side,
By friendship bound, should Ronald, Hermione, and Neville,
Stand as fellows. But pardon, readers all,
The base, unworthy keyboard, that has dar’d,
In this unworthy forum, to bring forth
So great an object. Shall a message board hold
The lofty towers of Hogwarts? or may we fit,
Within Cafe Society, , the very brooms,
Which rush thorugh chilly air at Qudditch practice?
O, pardon! since the Hat may now be
Sorting, into houses, first year students:
And let us, readers of this serial tale,
On your joy of parody now work.
Imagine, now, within this noble thread
Are now confin’d two rival forces,
The Wizarding world, now rent by fear
The Dark Lord yet may sunder.
The details fill yourself, from many students;
Choose those you deem most worthy,
Fill out their lives:
Think, when we talk of Potions, that you see Snape,
Scowling, his dark-miened face, glowering at Harry:
For 'tis your dollars keeps this tale alive
Carrys it onward, passing o’er the times,
Turning the accomplishment of seven years
Into hard-bounds. (Copyrights apply!)
Allow me, Baker, this post to make;
My num’rous japes and jabs shall show,
My sense of humor, it is rather slow.
HARRY, DRACO, RON, NEVILLE - first-year wizards
HERMIONE - a first-year witch
SNAPE - an older wizard, a teacher
a DEMENTOR - a demonic interrogator
Hogwarts. A school. HARRY and DRACO are by the doorway of the potions classroom where SNAPE teaches. The door is broken off its hinges; a burglary has taken place. DRACO is seated, popping Every-Flavour Beans like they were candy. HARRY paces and reads from a small dusty book. SNAPE and the DEMENTOR are next door, interrogating RON.
HARRY: Nineteen twenny-nine cauldron, from America, engraved: a buffalo. How much?
DRACO: Shit, you got me.
HARRY: Three sickles if it’s steel. Five if it’s nickel. Twenny-eight cauldron, from America, engraved: a buffalo. But: upside down. How much?
DRACO: I told you, I don’t–
HARRY: Three hundred galleons, seven hundred if it’s nickel.
DRACO: Three? Seven?
HARRY: If it’s nickel.
DRACO: No shit?
HARRY: No shit. Seven… shit. (HARRY sees HERMIONE coming down the hallway toward the classroom)
DRACO: What?
HARRY: Damn, damn, damn, damn, DAMN. It’s Granger. Are you still in this thing?
DRACO: I told you, this thing, I’m in. Granger?
HARRY: When I rub my scar, you throw me the cue “Dumbledore.”
DRACO: “Dumbledore?”
HARRY: Dumbledore. Good. Like this (rubs scar).
HERMIONE enters the classroom, trembling.
HARRY: (to DRACO) …and besides, the German wizards have been sending owls all week, trying to get a piece of this. It’s a no-lose deal. (notices HERMIONE) Hermione, how are you doing? This is my friend, Steven Spielberg. Steven is a-- he’s very big with the Muggles-- Steven, can I…?
DRACO: Yes, certainly.
HARRY: He’s a director. He wants to make a movie here, about Hogwarts.
HERMIONE: Mr. Spiel–
HARRY: That’s going to mean a lot of income here. Lots. Galleons.
DRACO: Really, Mr. Potter, we shouldn’t–
HARRY: You’re right, besides, I need to get you on that Muggle plane.
HERMIONE: Harry, I was reading Hogwarts, a History.
HARRY stops. Recovers. Keeps talking to DRACO.
HARRY: That’s great. It’s amazing what you find in books. Did you know that a nineteen twenny-nine–
DRACO: eight–
HARRY: twenny-eight cauldron, from America, made of nickel. A buffalo–
HERMIONE: I can’t talk about potions. Professor McGonagal told me I can’t go through with our deal.
HARRY: Can’t? What’s can’t? Can’t is a lie, can’t is weakness. Aren’t you a witch?
HERMIONE: I can’t do this.
HARRY: Do what?
HERMIONE: The deal. The sale. I can’t.
HARRY: You can. We have moments of weakness in this life, moments where someone says what we may and may not do and we believe those boundaries and live - in - them. And that is wrong, wrong, and I’m going to make it right, make this better for you, I’m going to let you take apart these boundaries. (begins to rub scar) Let’s go get some butterbeer, we’ll–
DRACO: Dumbledore…?
HARRY: Oh, piss. Hermione, I’d love to help you sort this out, but we’ve got to meet Professor Dumbledore, and we need to get his approval on a side deal before Mr. Spielberg leaves, and
HERMIONE: But today’s the last day. I need your signature here in blood, she–
HARRY: That witch knows you have a week. Three days is never binding. I have to get Steven to Dumbledore, it’s really… they’ve got a… they’re close, like brothers, is how he got the movie deal. So if I make nice, it’s better for you, too.
HERMIONE: But we’re not leaving the deal. I can’t buy the key, the vaults, any of it. Professor McGonagal says the price, there’s my soul–
HARRY: Women are always worried about soul. You ever eaten fried chicken from a no-shit southern diner? Listened to Barry White? That’s soul. Mr. Spielberg thinks Barry is going to do the soundtrack for the movie, thinks maybe you could have a part, thinks–
HERMIONE: She said I couldn’t negotiate. I need it revoked. Harry, I need you to–
DRACO: Harry, Dumbledore is waiting…?
HARRY: Look, Hermione, I love you to death, you know that, right? We’re friends now, I’m all yours. But not until I close this thing. You understand, it’s a high-profit venture. Whoever has the key to the vaults is going to make out very well on this, you know? Don’t worry, I don’t even have a cauldron yet, I haven’t drawn the pentacles, and I’ve got your parchment up there under lock and key.
(RON enters from next door, still shaken from his interrogation)
RON: I shouldn’t hafta! What is this shit, they call him a dementor, couldn’t suck a soul through a straw if you mixed it in his malt. Goddamn half-assed demon, when I should be out turning princes to frogs. I should not be forced. Forced to work with this, this travesty! It’s crap, I say.
(the DEMENTOR enters and points at DRACO. DRACO blanches and tries to hide behind HARRY. SNAPE, behind the DEMENTOR, cranes his neck to look for DRACO.)
HERMIONE: She said you’d cast it as soon as you could. That’s what she said. Did you?
SNAPE: Draco! Quit screwing around. Get in here.
RON (to HERMIONE): Don’t worry, Hermione, I know Harry, he’s a good wizard. He and I personally sacrificed Fang yesterday and cleaned the pentacle up before Divination. The ca–the thing is as good as new, we washed it out, you’ll have it back by Tuesday. You’ll have your money, and Mister Voldemort called me to assure me he took delivery. The payment. That’s how it is.
SNAPE: Ron, tell that witch to get lost. I’m trying to find out who stole my cauldron, I don’t need some newt-brain sticking her broom in this. Get out.
HERMIONE: It’s-- what? You, Harry, you did? But you said. You just. Oh Christ, I have to go. I have to go now.
(HERMIONE runs off in tears. the DEMENTOR leans over DRACO and drags him away. DRACO looks to HARRY, then scowls at RON, then disappears into the office with a scream. SNAPE ducks back into the office.)
HARRY: (wheeling on RON) You ass. You total ass. You just cost me five thousand galleons. Voldemort is going to hear about this, and I’m going to have your job, your ass, your head on a plate. Come up here from London, with your big-city. Your big luggage. Your big family, your “I’m from dirt,” your Quidditch. Shit. You need to learn when to talk, and when to shut up. Who ever told you that you were a wizard?
RON: I should–? I should learn not to talk? You. Your cauldron, and I should learn to shut up?
HARRY: No, that’s right, you. You should learn. This cauldron? It’s not a “spare”, it’s not “junk”. It’s worth seven hundred galleons! How are you going to–?
(SNAPE pokes his head out the door, aggravated by the shouting)
SNAPE: Quiet down!
RON: It’s what?
HARRY: You heard me. Whoever told you you knew how to walk among men, among wizards. You fairy. You troll. You herbalist.
RON: What does that mean? What the f*ck should I–
HARRY: You know what it means.
RON: Fck that. Fck that and f*ck you.
SNAPE: I’ve had enough! I’m trying to run an investigation, get us back our cauldron. You stand out here with your war stories, you. Will you go to lunch? Will you? Go to lunch. Will you go? Will you go to lunch?
HARRY storms out. RON stands, stunned. DRACO staggers back in, pale, trembling.
DRACO: (to RON) Half-assed dementors. They’re looking for a half-assed wizard. I told them you were here, you might still have some answers for them. Big mouthed–
RON: What did I do, that you rain this shit on me?
SNAPE: Ron, are you hiding something?
RON: I don’t know what he’s talking about.
DRACO: You know what you did. Anyone wants me, I’m going to lunch. With Harry Potter.
SNAPE: Ron, come in here. We need to talk.
I might actually read this one 
snort!
One for you Romantic geeks (there are some, right?)
Harry Potter by William Wordsworth
I wandered lonely as a cloud
Through Hogwarts’ fields, until I saw
The bane of my life, standing proud -
Voldemort, giver of the scar.
All alone I fought the fiend
All by myself I faced his wrath
A man apart I must have seemed
Had any seen my magic-craft.
Now that he has been dispatched
A peace upon my spirit falls
Here where Hagrid’s dragon hatched
I wait for destiny’s next call.
From the diary of Dorothy Wordsworth, May 15, 18–
Today brother William and I encountered upon our morning walk a fearsome wizard standing in the middle of neighbor Brown’s meadow, hexing his cows. Immediately I pulled my wand from within my basket, and William called, “No, Dorothy Hermione, I shall take on the villain myself!” But I rushed forward, intent on preserving William’s life from the evil being in our path. As I cursed the wizard into the next century I heard William cry, “But I am Harry!” He has not used that name since childhood, when he stole that rowboat and told our Aunt that “Harry took it.” In any case, together we managed to dispatch the fiend.
We also saw some lovely daffodils.
Oh the Places You’ll Go, Mr. Potter
by Dr. iampunha Seuss
Oh the places you’ll go, Mr. Potter, today!
Grab your broomstick without further delay!
For we’ve spells to go cast and Hermione’s ready
to bewitch dear old Ron - he’s gotten quite heady
about being a prefect, when without reservation
since first-year at Hogwarts that’s been your designation.
Now tell me, dear Harry, and tell me right now:
Is it Vachinatio Immobili to paralyze a cow?
And what’s this I hear of a Cruciatus used
to immobilize the Death Eaters; Dumbledore’s mused
that he might soon need
a student from Gryffindor to command in his stead
while he and Minerva (That’s McGonagall to you!)
take off for a while. They both think you’ll do.
Mr. Potter, do you know how lucky you are?
Not many boys your age have such a fine scar
to remember their dearly departed each day.
Why when your mother beheld He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named
and held on so tight, not a soul knew how famed
your forehead would be, nor the name nor the cause
you now fight for … but me! For I did not pause
when the news of the fight came in my Daily Prophet
and the spies all said “He should be dead!” “Oh, come off it!”
I told them, and without reserve
told off each and the lot and I haven’t, won’t swerve
from the thought I have had
that you, Mr. Potter
you, Mr. Potter
Mr. Potter, great things from the bad
that have happened to you,
great things, Mr. Potter,
great things indeed
will come from your wand and your mouth; take the lead
Mr. Potter, the power is yours;
not another your age; evil abhors
what you did and will do. Great things, Mr. Potter,
great things I foresee, great things I foretell:
you will shine in your moment; yes, you shall do well!
Harry Potter and the Catch-22
By Joseph Heller
Hermoine had the biggest bank of wizarding knowledge in her brain in all of Hogwarts. Ask her for the name of the wizard who fought in the Hippogrif War of the 16th century and she’ll name his entire immediete family along with every spell he used. She’ll even cast them herself if asked. In short, Hermoine was one of those people with lots of intelligence and no brains, and everyone knew it except those who soon found out.
“Look, why is it so hard to accept? Voldemort is trying to kill me.”
“He who must not be named, Harry,” Hermoine corrected.
Harry always hated when Hermoine corrected him, which was at least 7 times a day. He had still not gotten used to the fact that everyone feared the name of the enemy more than the actual person. This Voldemort was trying to kill him, and Harry felt he deserved to be able to say his name. Of course, Hermoine disagreed. She was crazy.
“All I’m saying is that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is trying to kill me.”
“He’s not trying to kill you.”
“What about the Basilisk?”
“Harry, the Basilisk incident was after all half-blood wizards. He’s trying to kill everybody.”
“And what difference does that make?”
Hermoine thought she was right, but Harry had direct evidence of a Basilisk trying to kill him. Harry knew all her booksmarts couldn’t argue that, but she would try anyway. Her strict adherance to the rules especially became a hinderance whenever Harry would try to sneak off during the night.
“Harry, you can’t wander around school grounds at night,” Hermoine would always begin, “You’ll be expelled for sure! It’s against the rules!”
“But Hermoine, you heard that prophesy. Either You-Know-Who kills me, or I kill him. I’m not about to sit around and wait for death.”
“Dumbledore isn’t going to let you get away with all this forever, you know.”
Harry thought for a minute.
“But Dumbledore was the one who said I had to defeat You-Know-Who. You know better than I do how important it is that prophesies be fullfilled.”
“But that doesn’t mean you can sneak out at night.”
“Why not?”
“Catch-22.”
“Catch-22?” Harry was stunned. “What the hell has Catch-22 got to do with it?”
“Catch-22” Hermoine explained, “says that you’ve always got to do what your headmaster tells you to.”
“But the prophesy says I can go kill him.”
“But it doesn’t say you have to go out tonight. And rules are rules, Harry. That’s the catch. Even if a school rule were violating a historically significant prophesy, you’d still have to follow it, or you’d be expelled.”
Harry sighed, defeated. Everyone at this school was crazy.
Oh, I’m too drunk to write one now, but we have to keep this one going.
Please?
The Adventures of Ron Finn
by iampunha Twain
You don’t know about me without you have read a book by the name of Harry Sawyer and the Sorceror’s Stone, but that ain’t no matter. that book was cast by iampunha Twain, and he told the truth, mainly. There was things which he cast that looked smaller than they were, but mainly he told the truth. That is nothing. I never seen anybody but cast a spell one time or another, without it was Professor McGonnagal, or the Minster of Magic, or maybe Fred and George Finn. Professor McGonnagal – Tom’s housemistress, she is – and Fred and George Finn, and Minister of Magic is all told about in that book, which is mostly a true book, with some spells cast, as I said before.
Now the way that the book winds up is this: Harry and me got out of first year alive, and us Finns got sent back home for the summer, but we had to let Harry alone in his room under the stairs, and it made us sad. We wrote six letters apiece, but he never responded to a one of them. It was an awful sight of letters when he finally saw them all. Well, Dobby the House Elf took them and hid them all from Harry so he didn’t know nothing about any letters, but then finally Harry got told and all about 'em and Dobby got punished. So we came to rescue Harry in a flying car but Dad didn’t say his ok to it, and when we got back to the house with Harry, it was rough living with Mum, considering how we’d stolen a magic car Dad wasn’t allowed to have and all. So when it was time to go back to school we were ready. We Weasleys got into our old rags and Harry blushed because his were worth more than all ours, but it ain’t no matter, Harry says it’s not the robes but the spells that make a wizard. So we were ready to go out with our spell casting and give He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named a run for his money when Hermione and Hagrid showed up and tell us that if we behave they’ll tell us a secret about a 12-foot-tall cave troll. So we shaped up and fast after that because who doesn’t want to see a giant cave troll?