Clockwork Hogwarts

There I was like all cured; free to do whatever I wanted, and contemplating what that might be for a happy and reformed malchick. It was quite extraordinary how much better I was feeling now they'd stopped me being all bolnoy when I dared even think about all the lovely ultra-violence I could be doing if I like wanted to.

After I escaped from those dedoochkas who kept me in a room and made me like listen to Ludwig van repeatedly, I'd ended up in hospital where a great amount of commotion was caused about how all those millicents directed by the governors from the government had like treated me in the barry place. It was very like brutal you see, and should never have like been allowed. Choice is important they said, and my mental restrictions were removed.

The thing is, though, age has dulled me. The idea of doing the whole in out in out with a pretty little ptitsa no longer seemed all like horrorshow. Nor did downing a baboochka in the street and kicking her senseless with my flip horrorshow boots, which were the height of the fashion. It's the kind of thing for molodoy oranges to enjoy, and enjoy they will I'm sure. Tearing about causing mayhem much worse than me and my like droogs could ever conjure up.

Or at least that's what I like thought until last week. I was peeting firegolds in a pub and being all merry like a few months after leaving the hospital, when a strange moodge who looked more like a cheena with this long blond voloss strode towards me, carrying a stick with this like big snake gulliver at the end, and sat down at my table. He looked like he'd never slept for year, with these like big sunken glazzballs. Reminded me of how I felt and probably looked when those governors from the government tried their Ludovico Technique on me, in the filmdrome in the barry place to stop my grahzny oozhassny ways.

Without introducing himself to this malchick, he just asked all like nadmenny if I wanted another drink. Nuking to hide the poogly feeling inside from all the beatings I'd been given in recent times, I said yes but first you must tell me who you are and what you want. Then, for a split second those stirrings came back, and I imagined sticking my fingers into his glazzies and gouging them out like what I would have done back when I was like out with my droogs and ultra-violence was my thing. This moodge looked right at me, did a little nuke himself, flicked his luscious glory and said good, you still really want it.

He'd like done some magic and read my thoughts.

Alex, he continued pushing that terrible snake staff into my litso, there's plenty of time for all this violence and in out in out and whatever it is you enjoy; plenty of time to get back into the swing of things, that is, once you get to Hogwarts.

Hog what? I said. Are you like calling me a pig? This dedoochka-cheena whatever it was did guf like, only for a second, until that deathly stare returned and it seemed like darkness was eating him from the inside out. I fell silent and noticed the rest of the rabble in the pub did too. Several seconds passed until this malchick managed to ask what his like name was. Again, that voloss flick, and he replied my name, Alex, is

Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy. He offered no rooker for me to shake. Then he explained the game afoot, which this old droog was to play a major part.

It went like this in his like bugatty orange goloss: "Alex, this is very serious. Me and my associates at the Ministry of Magic…"

…to which I like sniggered and started choking on my delicious firegold, coughing my like guts out until I looked at his listo and those sunken glazzies and soon stopped and paid attention…

"…me and my associates at the Ministry of Magic need your help. There is an issue in the wizard world, something we call mudbloods. These are wizards and witches who come from non-magical families, but who are being admitted to our prestigious school of Hogwarts in greater ever numbers. This, if I may say, is lowering the standard of magic. These students must be threatened, undermined, and ultimately scared off and we believe you, Alex, can make a great contribution to this cause. There is a troublesome group of students led by a very dangerous boy called Harry Potter, along with his friend's Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. I would like you to keep a particularly close eye on those three and when you can, do some of that lovely ultra-violence or, heaven forbid in out in out, to help put any mudbloods in their rightful places."

Am I like going to be a wizard? I asked. Again, he just guffed in my listo. "Goodness, no Alex, he said. Well, maybe one day, if you do well in your task. But for now, you will work in the school kitchens, and keep a low profile, get what I mean?"

So here I am making eggiwegs for the bratty little wizards and dreaming up ways to do ultra-violence on some of these like grahzny mudbloods. I suspect I will get my chance very soon.