Harris bin Potter and The Stoned Philosopher

Author's note:

Last we saw Harris bin Potter, he was undergoing the sorting ceremony at Hog-Tak-Halal-What School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The sorting songkok had put him in Fandi Ahmad house, where he was joined by his newfound friends Ron and Herr-Aku-Punya-Lutut.

Some of my friends have been asking, “Why are we waiting so long for chapter 3?” My PR answer for that will be, “I’ve been focusing on work – haven’t really had the time to write racist parodies of Harry Potter.” But my honest answer is, “I’ve been too busy getting laid. You guys should try it sometime.”

Well, it’s been almost a year since my last visit to the Harris bin Potter universe, so let’s not wait some more…

Chapter 3: The Mirror of Tatnap, Part 1

After the last student had been sorted (Beach Boys Zsa Zsa was put in Sheikh Haikel), Professor McGongcha called for the students to settle down and take their seats.

The buzz only died when an old, wizened wizard rose and took to the lectern. This wizard was so old, you could make Yo Mama-style jokes about him:

“Yo check it, this wizard so old, when God said ‘Let There Be Light’, he told God to stop it with all that racket.”

“This wizard so old, the first fashion trend he followed was loincloth.”

“This wizard so old, he delivered yo mama.”

The students watched in rapt attention as the wizard laid out his speech notes on the lectern before him.

“OOH!” he said, his majestic voice booming across The Great Hall. “You touch my TRA-LA-LA.”

“MMM!” the wizard said again. “My DING-DING-DONG.”

Nebulous chatter broke out as the students expressed their confusion.

“Oh my apologies, these are the lyrics to my favourite song. I must have mistaken them for my notes.” He fished in his wizard robes, and extracted another piece of paper.

“Ah! Here we go. Welcome, young ones,” he said, “to a new school year at Hog-Tak-Halal-What School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

The Great Hall broke into cheers and applause, the students expressing their joy at returning to the world of magic, mystery, friendship, and not having to touch the old wizard’s ‘ding-ding-dong’.

“To the first years, I am Pakcik Dollah, your Headmaster,” he continued. “To the others, I hope you had a good holiday. I leave the first-years in your capable hands – as older brothers and sisters, friends, and role models.”

Harris looked across the Fandi Ahmad table at the older students. There was the exuberant Ahmad Onyofaise-Beegdiss Grays, who was part of the school’s Dikir Barat troupe The Hisap Bodohs. They were famous for their renditions of Satay Aku Lagi Besar Dari Kau Punya, Eh Itu Seluar Dalam Kau Sial and Siapa Bapak Kau? Then there was the Head Prefect, Samad Deetolmee, a tall, burly boy with a surly disposition. It was easy to be friends with him, provided you spoke his language – a mix of guttural grunts, unintelligible bellows and irritated murmurs.

The Fandi Ahmad table, Harris noted, was also the only one to boast twin twins. The first pair of twins were Ron’s elder brothers, Alfredo and Jorge (named after an Italian-Mexican gay couple who were friends with Ron’s father) and the other were the Caucasian girls, iPadma and iPodma. Caucasians were a rare sight in Hog-Tak-Halal-What, possibly because of its dire lack of McDonald’s but probably because those damn white people would rather send their kids to Hogwarts, a wizarding school in England that stole its name from Hog-Tak-Halal-What.

When Harris turned to Pakcik Dollah again, the old wizard had a look of extreme seriousness on his face. “Before we begin our feast, I would like to remind all students that entering the Forbidden Forest is discouraged, unless accompanied by a teacher. The twenty-fourth room on the seventh floor corridor, however, is ABSOLUTELY off-limits, unless you wish to die a most gruesome, horrible death.”

Harris and Ron turned to one another immediately. “We HAVE to go to the twenty-fourth room on the seventh floor corridor,” they chorused, sitcom cliché-style.

Herr-Aku-Punya-Lutut looked admonishingly at them, but before she could tell them off, Pakcik Dollah spoke again. “While we eat, our very own Dikir Barat troupe, The Hisap Bodohs, will entertain us with a dikir barat entitled Ikan Kekek Mak Iloi Iloi, Ikan Jaws – KI MAK! TOLONG!”

“Now’s the perfect time!” Ron said. "Let's go check it out!"

“Guys!” Herr-Aku-Punya-Lutut hissed as Harris and Ron got off their seats. “You are not breaking the rules!”

When her two friends ignored her and pressed on, she got off her seat and chased after them. Harris and Ron were almost at the door when they were stopped by Samad Deetolmee, the unintelligible Head Prefect. “Whgrrrr argghhhh you hngging?” (Translation: “Where are you going?”)

Harris and Ron took awhile to understand Samad. That was not enough, so they took awhile more. Finally, Harris said, “Sorry?”

“Whgrrr argghhh you hngging?”

“No, me not Hngging. Me Harris,” Harris said.

“WHGRRR ARGGHHH YOU HNGGING?”

“Uhhh, yeah, uhhh we hangin’ good! Hey hey!” Ron tried.

“WWHHHGGGGRRR ARGGHHH YOU HHNNNGGING!!??”

By then, Herr-Aku-Punya-Lutut had caught up with them. She pushed her two friends aside, faced Samad, and said, “WARGGHHHWHIZZ MUSTAFA CENTRE AFSHHGHGGHHRRR!!”

Samad smiled – it was a creepy, unnatural smile, like that of a baby troll’s. He then allowed them to leave and returned to his seat.

“Wow Herr-Aku-Punya-Lutut that was awesome! I thought he’d never allow us to leave. What did you tell him?” Ron asked his friend, impressed.

“I just told him we’re going to the toilet,” she replied, as the trio left the Great Hall, heading for the twenty-fourth room on the seventh floor corridor.