Ed’s Note: Presenting the second chapter of Trystain’s ongoing Harry Potter fanfic: Harry & Hagar: Partners in Prank. Trystain is more prolific than gifted, and does not seem to be getting any better with further installments, but nevertheless we believe there is some sort of limited entertainment value that can be gleaned from this. Also, Trystain is letting us post these without paying him, so hey, free content! Enjoy!(?)
snake knock on harry door so harry says go away hagar i am sleeping, and the snake says potter wake up you promised me you would help me turn a prank on dumbledorf and thats why I’m here and harry goes oh yeah lol Read more
Ed’s Note: Presenting the first chapter of our very own Trystain’s ongoing Harry Potter fanfic: Harry & Hagar: Partners in Prank. Trystain is more prolific than gifted, as will be painfully clear, but nevertheless we believe there is some sort of limited entertainment value that can be gathered from this. Also, Trystain is letting us post these without paying him, so hey, free content! Enjoy!(?)
Hagar knocks on harry door. open up the door arry, says hagar who is screaming this. harry pretend he cant hear and covers his head with his pillow then hagar says arry if you dont open up right now i will tell harmoniny that you like her! (lol) harry wakes up and lets hagar in. hagar is harrys best friend at Hogsmarts, which is the best of the wizards schools in all of the nation of europe,. hagar is the janitor at the school and has a bunch of diff animals in his shed such as: hiffgriffs, shagglebums, grumbleskins, cats, dogs and dragons. also rats and those flying lion birds. Read more
I thought I heard a bird just now. Like the warble of one of their songs – the bird version of a rolling “R.” But maybe it was just my imagination. After all, I might possibly be greatly inebriated right now. It’s very easy to overtox on Snarktongue Venom.
Jolchek, the Sunflower Warrior, was surreptitiously trying but failing to hide a dangerous spate of frostcrotch, which was quickly turning his loins into as barren a wasteland as the one he had found himself surrounded by. The persistent, nagging numb caused by the pale, white fingers of cold guaranteed he would feel no pain there. He was grabbing his unmentionables often and obscenely, needing to be confident they hadn’t fallen off, lost in the countless feet of fallen snow. It was a ritual, and the fact of their remaining existence was a totem he returned to keep himself sane.
“Jolchek,” Lyllia said, stopping and turning her head to face the warrior.
Jolchek did not have the energy to speak. Seeing his face, Lyllia let the conversation drop where it never began and continued on.