Topic: humor: literary parodies and homages, pastiches, style parodies.
Parodies of the fantasy novel series _Harry Potter_ in the style of various famous authors:
By Ernest Hemingway:
"It was a cold day on Privet Drive. A child cried. Harry felt nothing.| He was dryer than dust. He had been silent too long. He had not felt love. He had scarcely felt hate. Yet the Dementor's Kiss killed nothing. Death didn't leave him less dead than he had been a second before. It wasn't about living or dying really. It wasn't about death. It was about the Dark Lord, his creator, his engenderer. He was not resurected. He was created again. He was whole again in the courtyard of Malfoy Manor."
By Jane Austen:
"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a broken Harry is in want of a book. This he knows to his cost; pressing that wretched nose against the window of a bookstore in Diagon Alley the last thing before he goes into hiding for several years, where upon, he goes straight to Azkaban."
By Arthur Conan Doyle:
''Harry pushed at the swinging doors of the bookshop hard, and nearly knocked himself unconscious. He staggered in with his ungainly package, his cheeks scarlet with cold and the shame of having chosen the wrong month to go Christmas shopping. The proprietor of the store, however, didn't cast even a cursory glance at him, being far more interested in an enormous hunk of wood lying in the middle of the floor, which certainly looked like a gallows. Yes, the proprietor said to a reedy old man wearing a bowler hat and a forlorn expression that made Harry want to kick him, I can rent you such a gallows for a small fee."
By Czar Nicholas II of Russia:
The terror has befallen on our land. Curses, dark curses and all of this was instigated by my court. My treacherous court! They have cast are curse spells upon my land. Everywhere it is cold, all land belongs to Voldemort's Death Eaters. All citizens live in a fear of the Dark Lord. Alas! There is no hope for me. What shall I do? Flee? Nay, that would be cowardly. Fight? Yes!
By George Orwell:
"It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen."
By Ingmar Bergman:
"Tears filled Harry's eyes. Sweat stood on his forehead, showing the pure torment, the agony he suffered. He hugged his knees to his chest, sobbing softly, eyes half shut."
By Anna Akhmatova:
"The dawn came with a jolt of terror."
By Bram Stoker:
""Tis a fearful sight to see the cold, girlish venom run through his veins, one by one. The scar coruscates; a ghastly emerald lightning in the dark of night. But I'll attend him and I watch him
From the very moment the dawn is gray
To the rays of sunset fading away."
By P. G. Wodehouse:
"'There was nothing out of the way, sir,' said Harry in a hurt voice.
'"Indeed,' said the headmaster, turning his lorgnette precisely three-quarters of a millimeter to port. 'For example, your tie was not undone, you were not laughing, and your fingers were most certainly closed upon your wand.'
'"They were?" said Harry, bewildered.
"It's always the same,' said Dumbledore."
By Vladimir Neigus:
"Vasya Pupkin's lips were blueup and his head felt dizzy from working nonstop. He wanted to take a square squeaky shoe and shoot it at the ceiling fan in his bedroom which went round and round and round and round. He imagined that because he was so drunk it would always hit the exact same spot and the fan would go out of control, die and fall on the table."
By William Shakespeare:
The boy awoke with a start and sprang to his feet."
By Oscar Wilde:
"The boy was gone, and other people had arrived: or rather nobody else had arrived, and the boy was there:
"What are you doing here, Harry?" said Hermione.
The Boy Who Lived, who was reading a book about broomsticks and may not have been listening quite attentively, said:
"I was talking to Peeves while he cleaned out the bins."
"About the troll?" Hermione demanded.
"Yes, about the troll."
By W. B. Yeats:
"Harry waked out of his simple thought
The glimmer was over the wished-for thing...
Then was many a dark and wrinkled elf
Come from the underground rout,
With brags and boasts, and fine big words,
To bargain with Harry Potter."
Added by other anonymous editors: @astromark
By John Ashbery:
"Tousled, he scrambled down
the branches of the bed,
his cold-creamed face all out
of proportion with his small
brown eyes...And why
so demented in the face?
Because he was
saving the world, in seven years,
By Henry James:
"As a laggard, in all ways, but the face, which as the great shade approached him, horrified, choked him,--and before he had time to reflect, he fastened his hand upon his throat to hush it,--there was a voice behind him..."
By H. P. Lovecraft:
"It is a common saying in the South, when one wishes to describe a strapping fellow, that he has a face like Harry Potter and a neck like a young giraffe. Now, it being autumn, the dusk was of a rich violet blackness, with scarlet illuminations..."
By Nzingha Prescod:
"...thick grey clouds overlap the faint lavender. A black sky vanishes into purple shards against the sweeping night time blanketed with infinite stars. A brightness emanates from the entire universe that unexpectedly takes flight and hovers, hovered over the castle. Harry is there to greet ...
"Facing away from all the tumult on the grounds of Hogwarts, Harry Potter learned to fly..."
By Yasunari Kawabata:
"Harry Potter stood on a silent trolley, far from the center of the world, looking out on the world far from the center of the universe. The snow was falling all night long. It fell upon tiny dogs and birds, fine wintery flakes gently drifting down."
By Hilda Doolittle:
"Harry waked out of his simple thought. As the waiter drew the curtain of her bed, she appeared in the handle. She was his K-19 and she started to drop the snakes of their home in the grass there. He saw his wife walking there with oak settle. He decided to not go to the game also...
By Walt Whitman:
"And when the time of the test drew near, Harry entered the forbidden Forest the Killers with a Snitch..."
By E. E. Cummings:
"Halloween and mad are the children
Who gather in the darkness
Halloween and late are those who go out and dance
And call to all, the smiling are enchanted
By the beauty of what they see."
By Anthony Burgess:
"Ha-a-a-a-rry was not a tol-a-a-r of the phar-a-a-na-a-a-gical sports."
By Virginia Woolf:
"Horseman, Where She Go? I Do Not Know. Whither Ride?"