Harry Potter had a dream. His scar was burning like his bum did after taking an overdose of Polyjuice Potion. He saw Lord Osamort relaxing in his lair in Mushydabad, in the hilly terrains of North West Pakistan. He saw Osamort (Osama to those close to him) watching a Presidential debate on U-Tube. An evil laugh filled the cave, as Osama leered at Hillary holding forth on Iraq. The Duck Lord looked aside and picked up his iPhone: “Hey, Afzal, how much have we spent on the US elections yet? What, only 5 million dollars? That won’t even cover the cost of the Washington madams! I tell you, we need to win this election! Get hold of some more! Ask those Dubai bastards to fish out some more from Bollywood or somewhere, or else!”
With a single touch of his finger, the iPhone seamlessly opened up the iTunes application, calling out the muezzin’s call to the faithful to pray. Osama prayed. Every dime of the $699 had been worth it, he thought!
Harry woke up, sweating, his head feeling like a football dropped on Afghanistan from an American helicopter.
“The infidels shall play, I mean pay!” Harry heard the voice of You-Know-Where speaking. He had been warned that using the O word would trigger security alerts in the virtual world, with the American spies hunting down a lot of Obama supporters in their dyslexic search for Osama supporters.
Harry now knew that his nemesis was planning some horrible calamity to befall the US (like another Al Gore movie) as his revenge for the millions of anti-Islamic activities of the West. Like the fight against global warming… how dare they try to prevent the Holy Poppy from being burnt? He would soon make them poppers, he had promised.
Many years of hiding after 9/11 had bored O. He decided to make the most of what remained of his life, Inshallah! There was only one person who could come between him and absolute control over the world: that disgusting boy called Harry Potter.
Using his iPhone, Osama touched the screen, and went into Google Earth to track down Potter. He saw Potter and his friends practising spells on Chinese mannequins.
“Hell, I hope the lead doesn’t kill them before I do”, he growled.
He shouted out, “Ayman! Where the sanctified fornication are you? This damn soap case does not come with an IM facility! Get me something that can hang well, like a Nokia N-series!”
Ayman hastened to his master with a cell phone. “Calling all Health Eaters!” he typed.
“Yes, sir?” came in Hillary’s instant response.
O: Whr s Potr?
H: We are trying to find him, sir, I think he may be in the White House now. The last we saw him was going by boat to Cuba with Michael Moore, where he put in a Babbling Curse on the man.
Hillary didn’t have an iPhone, and so it was taking like fifty minutes to type one message. So she cut it short like O already had.
O: Y he do tht?
H: To mk muvee luk gud and fit tha fat.
H: Typo, fit d fact.
H: Typo 2. Fit d figures with facts. Or frig the ..
Far away, Harry was watching this happen. He simply could not block these painful visions, because he was as bad at blocking others’ thoughts (Occlumency) as the Indian Leftists were good at it. He knew now what Osama’s evil plan was. He would hunt Harry down first, and then destroy and take over the United States. The UK would become an official US colony, which wouldn’t really change anything, but Hogwarts would be renamed as Hogwash.
Because he knew Disapparating would be a sure way of getting caught by local Dementors called HuJis, Harry took a low-fare flight from London to Albania, and sure enough, the pilot mistakenly landed the plane in Karachi, Pakistan, because the plane’s GPS system failed.
In Karachi, Harry logged on to http://www.osamaishere.net.co.pak, asked for directions to the Duck Lord’s cave, and in two hours, was just outside it. Osama knew Harry was coming, as the latter had stupidly put in a notice on his blog that he was going on leave.
“Harry, prepare to die!” said the Duck Lord.
“Crucio”, cried Harry.
(The Cruciatus curse causes instant and agonizing pain on the sufferer, leading to insanity. It is one of the Three Unforgivable Curses.)
Immediately, Osama was transformed to a patient in a corporate hospital without insurance coverage. A big burly Indian nurse called Mayawati refused him admission.
“All beds are reserved for those who are scheduled to come in now. However, please don’t lose your Reliance on us! As this is an emergency, I can do a free rectal exam on you right now.”
However, You-Know-Where had his faithful hordes.
Hillary reappeared and cast a spell that freed Osama.
“Nagini! Get him!!” You-Know-Where hissed in Parseltongue.
Immediately, Paris Hilton appeared and tried to crash her car into Harry. Harry survived the attack and let loose a Bushilliarmus curse from his magical wand that crushed buildings, hospitals, schools, factories, school buses, and caused death and devastation to all. Except to the Duck Lord.
Finally, as Osama let loose the dreaded Avada Kedavra spell, Harry converted to Socialism and hit back with a Riddikulus Act. Osama became weak and semi-comatose, like a minority Government, and then Harry hit him with a lethal spell of his own: “Obesify!”
As his body bloated up crazily and then exploded, Osama’s eyes lit up for a fraction of a second as a part of his fragmenting soul got trapped in a hammer and sickle lying nearby. As the light died from his eyes, he laughed manically. He had died, but his Horcrux was still living to fight another day. The future, he knew, was his alone! Quack, quack!