Man, condemning the obvious satanic subtext in Harry Potter is so early 2000s. Today’s hysterical parents know that in order to beat High Witch Rowling you’ve got to subvert her obvious occultism—and as a result, the Internet can now delight in Hogwarts School of Prayer and Miracles, a Chick tract adaptation by Christian “Mommie blogger” Grace Ann that has “all the adventure and good morals of the Harry Potter books without all that bad stuff that is bogging it down.” The fanfic also has idolatrous Weasleys, a Southern Dumbledore, and thinly-veiled comparisons between Voldemort and Obama, so yes. It makes some compelling points.
Here’s an excerpt from Chapter 1:
Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Harry Potter who lived under the stairs in a house on Privet Drive with his aunt and uncle. He was a good, obedient boy who did all his chores; but he felt that there was something missing in his life. Something big and special; but he could not quite name it. He stayed up every night; and wished for this special something; but then one day, there was a knock at his door-and everything changed.
“Answer the door, Harry!” his Aunt Petunia, a career woman, barked from her armchair where she sat with her feet up. She had short, curly blonde hair and never wore any makeup. Uncle Vernon nodded sheepishly from the kitchen; and put a tray of moist, chocolatey brownies in the oven.
Shouldn’t you be doing that? Harry thought; but he was a very obedient young boy, so he answered the door right away. He turned the brass, metal doorknob; and pulled open the heavy, wooden door.
On the porch was standing a huge, muscular man with a big, manly beard; and he was dressed in a plaid, red shirt, blue jeans, and sturdy, leather boots. His chest was covered in a thick, unruly carpet of coarse, brown hair. He wore a necklace that looked to Harry like a lowercase T. Just looking at Harry feel happy, peaceful somehow; but he couldn’t say why!
“Good morning, kiddo,” the man greeted amiably; and smiled at Harry. He had the peaceful, friendly sort of face you just knew you could trust. “My name is Hagrid. Could I speak to your mommy and daddy?”
“I don’t have a mommy or daddy,” Harry replied sadly; and looked at his raggedy, old shoes that were blue. Perhaps that was why he felt so lonely, he thought, not for the first time. Maybe that was what he was missing-a mommy and daddy. But no, that was not quite right.
“I am so sorry to hear that!” Hagrid uttered empathetically.
“You can speak with my auntie and uncle,” Harry retorted politely; and blinked his big, blue, childlike eyes.
“What do you want?” Aunt Petunia peered out the door with her narrow, suspicious eyes; and she was wearing a baggy, unflattering pantsuit.
“Hello, neighbor! I was wondering if you have been saved,” Hagrid exclaimed brightly; and tipped his wide-brimmed, straw cowboy hat.
Aunt Petunia laughed a gravelly laugh; and leaned forward on her sturdy, practical boots. “Saved? Don’t tell me you are you one of those Christians?”
[…] “Yes, I am,” Hagrid replied kindly. “Are you?”
Aunt Petunia laughed again; and stuck her pointy, sharp nose up in the air. “We are too smart for that. Haven’t you read Dawkins? God is dead! Dawkins proved that. Would you like us to educate you on the Dawkins?”
“What is a Christian?” Harry queried innocently; and scuffed his shoe on the shaggy, yellow carpet which had not been vacuumed in quite some time.
“Christians are people who want to be good,” Hagrid explained wisely; and crouched down so he was on eye level with Harry. “We want to go to heaven after we die. Do you know what heaven is, Harry?”
Harry shook his head; and his big eyes were wide and curious.
“Heaven is a beautiful place where we can be with God.”
Aunt Petunia smacked her hands over Harry’s young ears; and her voice was sickly sweet when she said, “Thank you very much for your concern, sir, but he does not need your religion, he has science and socialism and birthdays. Haven’t you heard of Evolution? I have a very good textbook on Evolution that I could give you on it if you would like to learn things.”
Hagrid laughed wisely. “Evolution is a fairytale. You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“Yes, I do!” Aunt Petunia screeched.
“Well then prove it!”
Aunt Petunia could only stare at him; and her big mouth hung open dumbly. Here she thought she was so educated; and always demanded that Christians prove what they believed in; but she couldn’t even prove her own religion. It was then that Harry knew who the smart one here was!
If Hogwarts School of Prayer and Miracles was just one chapter, I’d probably assume it was a hoax–communist Aunt Petunia shouting “God is dead!” feels a bit too insane to be sincere. But the fanfiction now has seven chapters (and counting!), each of them more offensive and hilariously preposterous than the last. Here’s the description from Chapter 4 of Harry’s first meeting with Hermione, daughter of Reverend Dumbledore and Minerva Dumbledore (no trolls are present):
This was the most beautiful young woman he had ever come across. So different from all the girls in public school; who were focused on trying to be like the career women they saw on The Sex and the City. This little one was the picture of innocence and godliness. A woman taking pride in her appearance is honoring the Lord; because after all, it is the Lord who gave her a pretty face and nice hair. Taking care of that is important! Harry got the feeling that Hermione was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside.
The Reverend’s daughter also has a firm grasp on current events:
“My father says that dark times are coming,” Hermione spoke worriedly. “There is a man named Voldemort who wants to destroy all that we stand for. He is pushing an agenda in congress which will stop us from practicing our faith freely.”
Ensuing chapters also reveal Slytherin Ron’s worship of idols, Harry’s refusal to pray to the Virgin Mary, and this iconic sorting-hat moment:
and then he [Harry] jumped up onto the table; and he got down on his knees; and he raised his hands to the ceiling of the Great Hall; and he bellowed, “Dear Lord, I have made my decision! I am a GRYFFINDOR HAT!”
Snape, apparently, is a Gryffindor as well. Pray we find out why in Chapter 8.
In all seriousness, while it might seem spiteful to hate-read a project that Grace Ann allegedly wrote with the best of intentions, I’m not ashamed of snarking at innocent Hermione, wifed-up McGonagall, and Harry the Bigot. Offending me on a personal level isn’t excused just because the author is allegedly trying to save my soul; besides, J.K. Rowling already did that. It’s in a Ouija board box on her mantelpiece next to some eye of newt and a chalice of virgin’s blood. PRAISE OBAMA!
Regardless, Grace Ann should just be thankful I didn’t include her text condemning those fornicating Hufflepuffs. I know where our readers’ loyalties lie. Puff pride forever!
(via Jezebel)
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