I used to love Harry Potter. That was, until I realised the homoerotic subtext that it implies. You see, I am but a humble homophobe, an ordinary, gay-hating citizen of the United States. But that all changed the day I realised the truth about Harry Potter. After an in-depth scrutiny of the texts of that foul book, I realised that it was nothing more than a tool used by homosexuals to recruit unknowing children to their life of depravity and evilness. You are currently reading the only documented case of this evil agenda. There may be more, but they have remained hidden, and have yet to come out. I will remain anonymous as I write this, but more must know. The word must be spread. Read on, and enlighten yourself with the truth.
I was thrilled when I received the news. Utterly joyful at such a fantastic revelation. I was to visit the author of one of my most beloved book series, the best-selling Harry Potter novels. J.K. Rowling was one of my heroes within literature, and I utterly adored her and her works. I recall that I could barely sit down, jumping around the room, screaming at the top of my lungs. Most 13 year-olds are quite excitable, but sadly the terrible events that occurred on that day impaired by ability to feel much happiness, much excitement. I regret the joy at opening the letter, and the thrill I felt as I read aloud the invitation to see J.K. Rowling herself. There was no way I could have known, though. Not until it was too late.
The evening we arrived at the Rowling manner was dark and stormy, and I should have seen it as an omen regarding the foul epiphany that I was about to receive. Yet I was entitled to no such luck. I stepped, quivering with excitement and fear, through the main doors as I was greeted by the lady herself. J.K. Rowling. She stood before, an air of sophistication about her. She spoke in her soothing British accent, discussing her books, her writing, her characters. How we talked! I had so much to ask her, so many questions. I received so many answers, though at the time I was ignorant to her lies. To this day, I still don't understand how I could have been so blind.
After many hours of wandering the halls of her home, as she spoke to me about her books and her writing, we were told to meet her within the living room for a spot of tea. She left me alone for a moment, and so I quietly stumbled down the hallway, giddy with excitement and drunk on the exuberance that is a by-product of sharing mere moments of your youth with a childhood hero. I was lost in paradise. It was because of this fevered euphoria that I accidentally knocked a book off of a side table, which opened a concealed doorway in the brickwork. I gingerly crawled through, as it was far too small for me to stand, and I soon found myself in a small room almost completely empty aside from a small armchair and a desk. Upon the desk was a book, covered in aeons worth of dust. Falling onto the armchair, I brushed the thick carpet of dust from the book, and stared down at the thick tome. My heart genuinely skipped a beat as I read the title aloud. The truth about Harry Potter, a confession by J.K. Rowling.
My eyes scanned the page, eager to lap down and consume every word that the foul tome documented. It was midway through the book that I came to a sudden realisation, and a solitary tear rolled down my cheek. The tea had taken place hours ago, and yet I knew I was safe here. The hatchway had resealed itself, so I knew I had all the time in the world. All the time to cry, to scream, to regret the reading of every wretched word within the journal that lay before me. It is hard for me to recall the words hidden within those pages. I do not wish to remember them, yet it is essential for future generations to avoid the demonic manifestation of evil that is the Harry Potter novels.
I, J.K. Rowling, am the sole author of the Harry Potter series. Aside from the minuscule amounts of aid from a few editors, the words concealed within those covers are my own words, and as such it is with no regret that I should reveal my plan, should ever the need for a confession to arise. In years to come, as my plan comes to an end, the last survivors of humanity will wish to know what it was that made me so great, that made me so powerful. What it was about me that led to the fall of the human race. I can now reveal that I am, in fact, a lesbian.
The plot that appears to encompass the Harry Potter novels is but the tip of the iceberg, a cover-up for the truth. Hidden between the lines, amidst the magic and fantasy, is a tale of homoeroticism, of same-sex intercourse and of gay love. One who has read the novels may recall the many wand fights that the wizards engage in, the tales of 'friendships' amongst male wizards, such as Harry's love for Ron, Dumbledore, or the escaped convict Sirius Black. The name Sirius Black is a homosexual euphemism itself. It translates to “large black penis”. It was a risk to plant such a massive clue to my true intentions within the very words of the novel, but it was a risk I succeeded in taking because, as of yet, the true meaning of the name has gone unreported. I myself once partly gave away the truth by stating that Dumbledore was a homosexual. While it angered many, sales of my books continued, and so my plan went ahead without interruption.
However, the bulk of my plan remains within the true events of the story, events that shall be revealed with the release of my eighth book. I will come clean, and describe the following in little detail – all shall be revealed shortly. There is no need for an in-depth description. Simply put, the final novel shall reveal that Harry's tales of fights with Voldemort was all a lie, a tale conjured up to distract his wizard friend from the truth. In fact, Harry and Voldemort were but homosexual lovers, engaging in all manner of intercourse behind the watchful eye of the Hogwarts teachers. I revealed this with the multitude of wand fights that the two engage in, and the supposed hatred that was, in fact, quite the opposite. Harry, disowned by his parents for his homosexuality, claimed that they were murdered, and that he hated Voldemort while in fact he shared a passionate love for him. Dumbledore, who was madly in love with Harry, grew jealous of their relationship and threatened to out them both. Harry and Voldemort murdered Dumbledore to hide the truth, and blamed it on Snape, who in turn was also killed before he could tell anyone. This subtle yet effective story is all part of my plan. Millions have read the Harry Potter novels, and millions will have their minds changed and warped by my villainous literature.
What is the plan, I hear you cry? The truth is that the concealed events of the book will warp the minds of youth, of children, so that they themselves become homosexuals. It is only a matter of time. Following the release of my eighth and final novel, the whole world shall turn homosexual, and my sinister plan will be completed. It has already taken affect, and even though minor setbacks such as the release of 'Fifty Shades of Grey' have promoted heterosexuality, it won't be long before all shall succumb to the lustful appeal of homosexuality. All who read my books will slowly turn gay. It is only a matter of time.
It is done. The events are documented. I flipped through the pages of the book, looking for the true ending, for the small block of text that revealed that this entire journal was merely a cruel joke, a barbaric stunt pulled off for laughs. But, alas, it was not to be. The words I write down are true, whether you believe them or not, and for the sake of your heterosexuality I hope the world heeds my warning. Hide from these novels. Burn them. Destroy them anyway you can. While your heterosexuality remains intact you will be safe, but as soon as you catch the gay you are doomed. There is nought that can be done. Human kind may be approaching the day of reckoning, but you may be able to save yourself and your loved ones. Please, listen to me. Remember this omen, and save your heterosexuality.