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Mr. and Mrs. Turdsley, of number four Pricket Drive were proud to say that they were perfectly retarded, thank you very much. They were the last people you would expect to be involved in anything smart or intelligent, because they just didn't hold with such knowledge.

Mr. Turdsley was a nasty, fat man with a scratchy mustache and no neck. He owned a company that made drills called Gruntings. Mrs. Turdsley was a twig with a giraffe neck and permanently frozen frown on her face. The Turdsleys had a son (I hate to imagine how that happened) named Cuddley and in their opinion, there was no boy less cuddly.

The Turdsleys also had a little secret. They didn’t think that they could bare it if anyone found out about the Bladders. The Bladders were, you know, one of the other kind. Mrs. Bladder was Mrs. Turdsley’s sister. They just couldn’t bare to mix with their kind.

When Mr. and Mrs. Turdsley woke up on another gloomy, gray Turdsday nothing even remotely suggested that anything intelligent would be occurring in the whole of the town. Mr. Turdsley got up and headed for work, as usual and Mrs. Turdsley struggled to stuff the 60-pound Cuddley into his electric ch- I mean, high chair.

Mr. Turdsley was just headed down the road when at a corner on the sidewalk he swore that he saw a cat reading a map. He turned his head in surprise. A tabby cat sat their flipping it’s tail back and forth. He smacked himself for ever thinking that on Pricket Drive there was one of those people who could actually read a map. One of those smart people. Those wizard people.

That wasn’t the end of his troubles though, as he turned in to the parking lot at Gruntings, he noticed a group of dorks in purple cloaks! PURPLE CLOAKS! This angered Turdsley as he believed that no one should ever dress funny and there should be a dress code for the whole world! Luckily, he didn’t see the owls fly by as he sat grunting in his office at Gruntings.

Then, the worst thing happened as he was walking over to the bakery to buy himself a couple dozen crumpets or so. He was snarling at another group of strange people in juppie-colored robes when he heard the most terrifying thing yet. Mr. Turdsley almost thought he was imagining it when he heard these words coming out if their mouths,

"The Potters, yeah, that's right-"

"-yeah, their son, Harry-"

At that, Mr. Turdsley nearly had a heart attack. No, he was just crazy, they weren't talking about his nephew Harry. There had to be plenty of other Harry Bladders in England. It was just a coinky-dink. Besides, that might not even have been the name of the boy. Or so he thought.....

On the way out the door at 5:00 that evening, Mr. Turdsley slammed into a little fellow wearing a poop-colored robe. He helped the little man up who kissed him and cried out.

"Rejoice!! For Voldevomit is gone!! You Smuggles should be celebrating this joyous day! Oh my gosh! I can't believe I said his name! I can't believe I said his name!! Oh! I'm going straight to hell! Please almighty lord forgive me!!" Then he ran away sobbing and kicking himself for saying Voldevomit.

"Who in the world is Voldevomit?!" Said Mr. Turdsley, bewildered. At that, a scary looking old woman in yet another cloak popped out of a dark alley and slapped Mr. Turdlsey across the face.

"How dare you say his name!!" She looked positively furious. Mr. Turdsley just stared in shock at everything that had just happened. He quickly raced home, going through exactly six red stoplights, so he could get home to warn Mrs. Turdsley about what was going on and not to take Cuddley out for a walk.

He raced up to the doorstep, kicking that annoying little tabby cat that he had seen reading the map earlier out of his way. He swore he heard an, "Ouch!" Entering the house he ran up to his wife and shook her demanding she give him an answer about where her putrid sister had been.

"What the heck are you screaming about??!! What's going on? I don't know where my sister is!!"

"Are you sure you haven't heard from her in a while?" Mr. Turdsley was obviously desperate for an answer.

"Why would I want to talk to that witch!!" Mrs. Turdsley made a hideous face, oh wait a minute, she always has a hideous face.

"Witch....Witch...Witch!" Cudley cried out from his pig- I mean, playpen. Mrs. Turdsley screeched a horrible screech.

"No! NO! Don't say that word! Don't EVER say that word!!" She shook him as hard as she could until he barfed all over his mother.

"He better not start saying that word! And especially not in public! Oh the horror...." She sat down in a chair, looking exhausted. "What were you saying?" She asked her husband.

"Strange things were happening today. Very strange, indeed. I heard things about th-the, " He lowered his voice to a whisper. "The Bladders...."

"Oh that's terrible! You know what this means?......We'll just have to board up the mail chute!"

"What?" Mr. Turdsley was puzzled.

"Oops, that doesn't happen yet, sorry."

A man appeared on Pricket Drive that night. The cat was still there, seemingly to be waiting for the man. He was old, very, very old and he had a long length of hair coming from his chin and his armpits. This man was Albass Dumbledork. Not pronounced Alb-uss butt Alb-ass as in ask, asphalt, and assho- well, you get the idea. Albass was wearing a long flowing black cloak and black boots. His purple eyes glittered and sparkled underneath his crescent-moon spectacles.

He reached his long, bony hand into the pocket of his cloak and grabbed a silver shaped object that looked a lot like a lighter. It was a lighter. He pulled a cigarette out also and lit it. He smoked a few puffs and then stomped it on the ground.

Dumbledork strode up to Number four Pricket Drive and sat down next to the tabby cat on a brick wall.

"Fancy seeing you here Professor McGonagoggle." He said, for some odd reason, to the cat....Hmm......

"Hello Professor Dumbledork. Now, were you talking to me or that cat there?" A an old saggy-skinned, wrinkly-faced lady strolled up the walk to the Turdsley house and sat next to Dumbledork.

"Oh, I-I-" Albass turned red in the face realizing his mistake. "I thought you were the cat. Silly me!"

"I see..." Professor McGonagoggle said, rolling her eyes.

"So, what have you been doing all day? Celebrating I bet? Gambling? Maybe having a little drink or two?? This is definitely a day for celebration! For Voldevomit is gone!" Dumbledork looked quite happy himself. Who knew what he had been up to?

"I do not celebrate. I do not even crack a smile. EVER. Got that? Besides, the whole of wizarding world is being especially foolish today! And we're supposed to be the smart ones!! All the smuggles must be suspicious!"

"You are right. But that's not gonna stop me from having a drink or two! Why it never stops me from having a drink or two! You really should try the stuff. It's a wonderful delicacy."

"At the amount and portions you drink, it's no longer a delicacy!" McGonagoggle looked very displeased.

"Well, lets get off the subject of alcoholic beverages. Hagrid should be here soon and we wouldn't want to get him started again!" He chuckled at that and he was sure he could see almost a smile on McGonagoggle. He could see it in her nose.

"So...So I heard that Lily and James Bladder are-are-are....dead."

"What you've heard is true, I'm sorry to say. Voldevomit lit them up." Dumbledork responded sadly.

"Um...What do you mean, lit them up?"

"Why, he poured on gasoline and threw a match on them. Harry, their son, watched them burn alive. Poor, poor boy. Then when Voldevomit went to fire up the boy, it didn't work."

"How not?"

"Who knows! But then...Just for the heck of it, he pulled out a pocket knife and carved a lightning bolt shaped scar into Harry's forehead. For the effect I guess."

"And how do you know all this, Albass?" She looked completely devastated.

"Why I was there, of course!! I was spying on them from the closet door. Heehee, they never even knew I was there!" Dumbledork chuckled slightly to himself. Professor McGonagoggle turned and slapped him hard across the cheek.

"And you didn't help them!!!!????" She stormed off, outraged!

"My, my dear old me, that did hurt." He rubbed his red cheek. In the distance, a roaring sound was heard. It got louder and louder until a motorcycle came soaring down from the skies. It landed and stopped in front of the Turdsley house. Hagrid had arrived.

A big, burly man climbed off the motorcycle. He was enormously tall and enormously wide. Black, bushy hair covered nearly his entire face. In his humongous arms was a little bundle of blue blanket. It was Harry Bladder.

"Ah, Hagrid, I'm glad to see you've arrived. No problems were there?" Dumbledork asked Hagrid.

"Plenty, but that doesn't matter. At least young Harry here is safe." He opened the bundle of blankets and peered in at the little baby inside.

"He's cute," said Dumbledork.

"Isn't he?" They stared at him. Harry stared back. He burped loudly in their faces.

"Alrighty then, " Hagrid said looking disappointed at Harry's first greeting to him. "I guess it's best to get this over with." Dumbledork tucked a note into the blanket explaining to the Turdsleys why Harry was lying on the front step the next morning. Then, Hagrid tossed him on to the step, three feet away. "Well, I'm glad tha's over with." Hagrid grumbled in his deep, growling voice. Him and Dumbledork walked off and Hagird hopped onto his motorcycle, nearly crushing it with his weight.

"Well, I bes' be off. See ya' at Hogwarts Dumbledork!"