March 15, 2006

• Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Bone

  Japan Day 2 is coming up next post, but here is something to keep you all busy in the meantime

  Purely in the interests of science, I have replaced the word “wand”
  with “wang” in the Harry Potter Books. Let’s see the results…

   ”Why aren’t you supposed to do magic?” asked Harry.
  Hagrid:  “Oh, well — I was at Hogwarts meself but I — er –
  got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me
  wang in half an’ everything

  A magic wang… this was what Harry had been really looking forward to.

   ”Yes, yes. I thought I’d be seeing you soon. Harry
  Potter.” It wasn’t a question. “You have your mother’s eyes. It seems
  only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wang. Ten and
  a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wang for charm
  work.”
   ”Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wang. Eleven inches. “

  Harry took the wang. He felt a sudden warmth in his
  fingers. He raised the wang above his head, brought it swishing down
  through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the
  end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls

   ”Oh, move over,” Hermione snarled. She grabbed Harry’s wang, tapped the lock, and whispered, ‘Alohomora!”

  The troll couldn’t feel Harry hanging there, but even a
  troll will notice if you stick a long bit of wood up its nose, and
  Harry’s wang had still been in his hand when he’d jumped – it had gone
  straight up one of the troll’s nostrils.

  He bent down and pulled his wang out of the troll’s nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue.

  He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wang, and
  you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his
  wang at the dementors. Shot silver stuff at them.

   ”Yes,” Harry said, gripping his wang very tightly, and
  moving into the middle of the deserted classroom. He tried to keep his
  mind on flying, but something else kept intruding…. Any second now,
  he might hear his mother again… but he shouldn’t think that, or he
  would hear her again, and he didn’t want to… or did he?

  Something silver-white, something enormous, erupted from the end of his wang

  Then, with a sigh, he raised his wang and prodded the silvery substance with its tip.
   
  
  ‘Get – off – me!’ Harry gasped. For a few seconds
  they struggled, Harry pulling at his uncles sausage-like fingers with
  his left hand, his right maintaining a firm grip on his raised wang.

  Conclusion: J.K. Rowling is a Dirty Dirty woman

  -J

  • 1:22 am
  • 3 Comments