Harry Styles Do Be A Potter

Chapter 1: I Got A Fire For My Heart, I'm Not Scared of the Dark.

"What's that in my mailbox?" Harry Styles asked, his British accent quivering in curiosity. He rifled through the mailbox, seeing a letter addressed to him. "But I'm only Harry Styles, just a poor boy who loves to sing, how could I be accepted into Hogwarts...what is Hogwarts anyway??"

    He went inside, hiding the letter smartly under his shirt against his rock hard abs.

    "What are you doing 'Arry." Dudley said stupidly as he came from the kitchen with his glass of (not diet) coke as he tripped over one of his many presents from Christmas, spilling his coke all over Harry's white shirt.

    He was wearing green and purple polka-dot pants by the way.

    "Ew Harry, you need to do laundry, take off your shirt," Dudley said "and do it now."

    "Ok." Harry said, taking off his shirt, revealing his rock hard abs and the letter he tried so desperately to keep for himself.

    "Hey what's that under your shirt, bloody hell, is that a letter? Mum! Harry's been getting letters!"

    Petunia Dursely marched down the stairs resolutely, "Harry Styles, just a poor boy who loves to sing, have you been stealing letters from us??" Petunia went and snatched the letter away from his rippling muscles just like one would snatch a weave.

    "Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? What the--" realization flooded her face (which was convenient because she was about to say a swear word), she knew exactly what this was "--HOW DARE YOU GET LETTERS YOU STUPID SMALL UNTALENTED BOY! YOU CAN'T EVEN READ! IT'S NOT ADDRESSED TO YOU, IT SAYS RIGHT HERE 'TO VERNON DURSLEY', YOU DUMB CHILD!"

    "Hahaha, Harry Styles more like Harry Stupid!" mocked Dudley.

    Speaking of which, Vernon Dursley finally looked up from the newspaper he was reading while sitting on his lounge chair in the midst of all this commotion, "what was that babe?" he profusely itched his nose obnoxiously.

    "Flip fracking Harry here thought he got a letter! But he didn't. Kids are so dumb these days--all except our little Dudley Bunny." Petunia pinched her son's checks, leaving a mark.

    "Uh-huh." Vernon said, uninterested...but then he looked at who the letter was from, and screamed, "WHAT THE--!!" but he ran out of oxygen from his poor tiny lungs before he could finish his sentence.

    "Harry! That is it! No more anything! You are grounded!"

    "But," Harry started unwisely, "I know it's for me, it even says 'in the cupboard under the stairs'! Who else would that be for?"

    Vernon Dursley turned as red as a person with blood on their face would look like, and grumbled, "no it does not, AND YOU'RE STILL GROUNDED!" As Dudley stuck his tongue out behind his dad's head, towards Harry.

    "But I don't have anything? How could you ground me?"

    But apparently that was the last straw because Vernon Dursley grabbed his nephew, Harry Styles by the arm and shoved him into the child's makeshift bedroom -- the cupboard under the stairs.

    Harry was left to sit and stew in sadness and darkness and potatoes and broth (metaphorically speaking--no pun intended or anything...get it...sit and stew;) as his aunt and uncle discussed, not so quietly, what to do with him.

    "He's getting letters from that place," spat Vernon, "we should kick him to the curb while we still have the chance!"

    Petunia sighed, "he only got a letter, we don't have to accept it! Besides, he is my dead sister's son. We can't completely abandon him."