Hello! We (the co-authors) hope you enjoy this rather odd parody of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. All characters (well, underneath their replacement names) belong to JK Rowling, an immensely talented lady to whom we owe much literary enjoyment and development.

This story was our first attempt at parody writing, so reviews would be great :)

Chapter One: The Keeper of the Trees

Rubbing his eyes blearily, Harry Potter climbed out of his bed, adorned with a spider-patterned doona which matched the ones swinging happily from the ceiling. He stared at them grumpily, and said, "Darn wriggly things. Wish I had those little Mortein capsules…" He then cheerfully hummed the Mortein tune to himself…until he looked out of his window.

"HOLEY KAMOLEY FLYING MOTORBIKE!!"

For, at that second, a large Harley-Davidson had crashed into his toilet cubicle.

A large, hairy man wearing a bright pink bandana and large sunglasses clambered off the vehicle, and said a very distinct syllable to Harry. "Yo."

There was a loud banging upon the toilet door, and as it flew open, Harry's Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Cousin Dudley piled inside. (Don't ask how an angst-ridden teenager, a hippy giant, two adults and a more-than-slightly-overweight kid can fit into a toilet cubicle. It was a big cubicle, ok?)

Aunt Petunia clutched Uncle Vernon's arm as he began to turn a shade of beetroot; that is, if the beetroot had been genetically modified to be a lovely shade of blue.

"I'M NOT HAVING ONE IN THE HOUSE!" he roared.
"A what?" asked Harry.
"A tree-hugger!" Uncle Vernon's nostrils flared.

The mysterious large figure grunted. "Trees belong ter Mother Nature, man. I ain't taking them nowhere. But this lil' runt" - here he gave Harry a kick, "needs ter go ter wizard school." He turned to Harry. "I'm Hiphag."

"Right," said Harry, extending the 'I' for about ten seconds.

"Now," said Hiphag, "Let's go get yer school stuff. Only no fur. An' nothin' that's been tested on animals."

Hiphag dragged Harry out onto his enormous motorbike. Not altogether unexpectedly, the bike was painted green. With a 'Save the Peruvian Goat Pox Paramecium' bumper sticker.

Harry peered at the petrol monitor. It was nearly empty. "I think you'll have to stop for gas," he pointed out, carefully attempting to extract himself from Hiphag's giant-clam-like grip.

Hiphag swung his enormous girth onto the bike. "Not gas. It's like, Ethanol, baby. Mother nature's bosom buddy."
Harry swallowed weakly. "Groovy," he muttered.

They shot off into the grey England sky, only to land a few blocks later.

"Welcome to Diaphragm alley," the humongous environmentalist grunted.

Harry oohed and aahed.

After inspecting a book list Hiphag had handed him – (ALLITERATION!) – Harry headed straight for the 'Ye Olde Bits-of-Tea Towel Wand Shoppe'. He glanced over the front counter at the shop owner. "Hullo," said the shop keeper, who clearly had problems with his vowels. "You must be…by Merlin's bum-fluff, Mr. Harry Potter!" He shook Harry's hand heartily. Harry looked towards Hiphag for an explanation…