A/N: In memory of Jeffrey the balloon. Warning: characters are OOC in the extreme.

Harry was walking to Potions Class in the dungeon when out of nowhere, a distraught looking Dumbledore stepped in front of his path. The professor's silver hair was messy, and his glasses askew. Perched on top of his head was a dark brown party hat with navy blue stars spiraling their way up the hat.

"Harry, my dear chap, I'm afraid I have something of a rather important nature to ask you."

"Erm... okay," said Harry uncertainly.

When Dumbledore spoke, it was in a tone that was quite different from his usual serenity. He sounded very eager. Almost urgently eager. "What do you think of the hat?!"

"Umm…it's erm…fabulous!" Okay, so Dumbledore was acting a little strange. Harry decided he might as well just go along with it.

"But doesn't it send out a message? Doesn't it make you think: 'DUMBLEDORE FOR PRESIDENT!?'

"Are you running for president?"

"Don't be thick, Potter boy, this isn't America. But back to the hat, any ideas for improvement?"

Harry's face lit up. He loved giving people fashion advice. "Ooohh! You could get it, like, hot pink with green and blue butterflies around it. DUDE, like MAGICAL butterflies!"

"Magical, you say? And that would make people know of my unquestioned power?!"

"Totally! It would also help if you dyed your hair green! And, no…maybe…sweet shades?"

"Shades? Hmm…okay," Dumbledore agreed, and then cast his eyes upward, clearly to glimpse the edges of the treasure that sat atop his head. He smiled in contentment. "I think I shall name it Jeffrey. Now run along to your little class."

Harry nodded, and only paused to offer a quick, "Goodbye, Professor. Goodbye, Jeffrey," before doing as Dumbledore said. But as fast as he ran, he was still late.

Snape stared at him, his eyes like an endless pit of darkness.

"Potter," he said, and then pointed out the obvious. "You're late for class."

Out of the corner of his eye Harry glimpsed Malfoy smiling gleefully, clearly waiting for what was about to happen.

"One hundred points from Gryffindor."

Harry had expected some points to be taken, but still his mouth opened in shock at the amount. This was ridiculously unfair, even for Snape.

"Bu-bu-but…you can't!" Harry howled.

"Shut up, Wesley. You will also serve detention with Mr. Filch later this evening."

Harry wanted to protest, wanted to tell Snape what an unfair git he was, wanted to ask why in the world Snape had just referred to him as 'Wesley', but Snape cut him off before he could even begin.

"It would be wise, Potter, to be silent. Take a seat."

Harry sat down, cursing Dumbledore and Jeffrey under his breath.

A/N: Review, blah blah blah, if you want to make me happy or something like that. Thanks for reading, mates.