The Golden One
2013 Earth, United States of America, Texas, San Marcos, Gary Job Corps Center.
"I will face my fears, I will let them pass through me, when the fear is gone, only I will remain." I told the cocky, young New York "rapper and lyricist" .
"Man, thats deep. Did you write that?" he asked.
I looked at the black kid in front of me. Sitting in the classroom chair, snap-back hat on sideways, completely honest.
"Yes" I lied. Trying to fight back snickers.
Gary Job Corps, where no one has ever heard of Frank Herbert.
I have been a student there for the last 6 months. It took half of that time to give up trying to educate my fellow students about the evils of fractional reserve banking and how the powers that control the world, emanate, not from what the news says, but, the bankers.
Now though, I used a little bit of my free-time talking 18 year old girls out of their panties and the rest trying to deny the existence of my life through weed.
I was successful at both.
- -
"RIIIIIIIIIING"
Class out!
Hell-ya!
I streamed out the door with my fellow bits of human waste.
I put my earbuds in as soon as I was out the door. The sweet sounds of Freddy Mercury singing about prostitutes with laser-beams could have instantly changed my mood on any other day.
Today though, was a true bitch.
I woke up in my dorm, to one of my roommates trying to break my locker, full of cigarettes, cash, and snacks open with a shaved key.
So I have busted up knuckles now...
I get a breakup text from my 17 year old girlfriends' friend's phone telling me that she is breaking up with me because I won't take her virginity until next week when she turns 18.
I need to stop dating teens. At 23 though, its just too much fun. Except when it backfires. The disrespect though had me steaming. Broken up with via text? That just hurt my feelings... Almost.
I walked to the cafeteria, with my head down and my ears blasting with music.
One foot on the street and the feeling of flying.
Why am I lying next to my foot?
Where did my legs go?
Blackness.
-
"Young Master needs to wake up"
"mmh. Humble mumble shin... Dipshit" I muttered. Who was trying to wake me before my alarm? I haven't sold drugs to anyone from my room. Like hell I'd sell to anyone that tried to wake me up to buy some green.
"What the fuck do you want?" I demanded in my squeaky childish morning voice from under the covers.
Squeaky childish morning voice? I hadn't had one of those in a few years.
What the fuck was in my sac yesterday?
Why didn't I remember going to bed?
Must have been some good shit.
I looked at the bulging watery eyes above me and blinked.
They blinked back.
"Aaaaagh" I screamed into my pillow.
"Young Master must wake up and get dressed or miss his first day of school" prodded the Yoda knock-off.
"I'm awake already" I groaned from under the covers that I had once again pulled over my head. On the ceiling of this massive room was a mirror and from the mirror I knew what I looked like. It was a very familiar face. A face I had seen look embarrassed and humiliated many times and laughed at it's misery.
A spoiled little blond shit who gets everything he wants and fabulous rewards for doing nothing.
I hated people like that.
Now I was one...
I am in a fucking Harry Potter Character's Body!
As I started to get dressed in the 'clothes' laid out on top of a very expensive and antique drawers, I spotted myself in an overly decorated mirror again. A soft face with high cheek bones soft with baby-fat. Expensive silk pajamas, silk slippers, silk sheets on an enormous four poster bed. The expression on the face in the mirror looked like someone just told that face that he was going to be tortured for a thousand years and that it's puppy just got ran-over.
I looked at the face again and saw its frown slowly turn into a familiar smirk as if the face had just watched Woodrow Wilson get eaten by an orc.
Going through my head were thoughts that only someone who from my world must be considered insane. Considering my monthly acid trip was scheduled last week, I was pretty sure that I wasn't imagining this.
I looked in the mirror one last time.
"At least I'm not half-black anymore" I said in a very American accent.
"Yes, Father" I repeated.
Staring into the eyebrows of my "father" as I practiced my posh accent to give my affirmation in the breaks in my 'father's' droning about pureblood responsibility and upholding the Malfoy name.
"Here is your permission slip for Hogsmeade village visits and and your allowance for this quarter, good-bye." he finished abruptly and turned on the spot and vanished with a 'crack'. I hadn't even got the chance to give another fake accent "Yes, Father" before he shoved a weightless bulging bag into my hand and disappeared.
Crabbe and Goyle had already taken my trunk and taken it to an empty compartment as soon as I had arrived at the platform. They did it without me telling them to first.
They were looking to be good servants so far.
"Some asshole seventh year hit me with a hex to give me an American accent" I lied to my 'servants' as I threw the compartment door open with a bang. "Whas' an American?" Goyle asked Crabbe with a confused look on his face. "Someone from the colonies" I answered before Crabbe could show off both of his braincells.
"Righ" nodded Goyle.
"Souns funny" grunted Crabbe.
Better to end the conversation here.
"Nippy" I called into the air. Summoning the house-elf that had awoken me an hour ago. Her thin pillow-case gave away why the thin little green and brown skinned creature was called Nippy. A pillowcase for clothes in a climate like Britain's would make any female nippy.
"Did you find the items?" I asked the house-elf.
"Nippy has found 6 clear muggle bags of green herbs with seeds and a light skunk scent and 12 clear muggle bags without seeds and a strong skunk scent as well as 5 large strange glass tubes and 28 fake muggle stone and metal contraptions called lighters. Nippy also found 6 small bags of white powder and one large one as well as 1 bag of light blue crystals. Nippy has placed them in the second compartment of your trunk with the 'revolva' and shells." she squeaked out very quickly with worried watery eyes.
"Good job Nippy, go give yourself a reward." Istated. After sending her through various random flats in the poorer sections of London in search of a lighter, bong, and how to find a druggies stash. With instructions on what exactly to take and look for, I had expected her to have a harder time finding the stuff.
Crabbe and Goyle stared at me like I had grown a fifth head, with mouths agape. Goyle, because thats just how he rolls. Crabbe, because I just showed extremely out of character behavior to a house-elf. They were ignored.
I guess finding a few criminals in any large city isn't that hard. Especially for teleporting midget magical cleaning ninjas.
"May Nippy inquire what a reward is Young Master?" she asked cringing.
What kind of freaks are these wizards to abuse such wonderful weed finding angels?
"The opposite of a punishment" I explained in a gentle tone.
"Nippy will shut her ears in the cool-box doors instead of the oven ones right away sir." She gasped out quickly and popped away with a bow.
I joined Crabbe and Goyle with staring stupidly at the spot where she had vanished.
Crazy little masochists would fit right in with a drunken BDSM party.
The train started pulling out of the station.
After flipping the second latch on my four compartment trunk, I peeked in with grin. Being a Texan, I immediately loaded the 38. snub nose from one of the many boxes of bullets and pocketed it on the inside of my silk robe. I took out a sack of hydroponic green and a three foot bong, along with a lighter and shut the trunk before sitting down next directly across from Crabbe.
I loaded a bowl and looked at the two of them. A serious expression on my face as my well practiced-yet-new fingers broke up a particularly fat nug and loaded it. As I looked from one stupid boy to the other, and the knowledge that I was stuck in this compartment with them for the next 8 hours, I realized what question needed to be asked.
"Have either of you ever heard of hot-boxing?"
2 Hours later
"Anything off the -cough- sweet trolley dears?" asked a sweet lady with a cart full of candy as she opened the compartment door. A large billow of smoke blew into her face as the door opened.
"Five of everything please" I said. Paying her did not put a dent in my 'allowance'.
I had never been so hungry. Considering that Crabbe and Goyle were passed out on the bench with just a giggle escaping them once in awhile, I estimate that they would awaken out of their daze in another couple of hours, hungry enough to eat a dragon.
The first high is always the highest.
With a chocolate frog wriggling in my mouth as it melted and a school-book paper joint in one hand, I cracked open my herbology textbook and started reading with a pleasant buzz ringing in my head.
Obviously, the sweet lady didn't recognize the smell.
3 Hours Later
I stared at my hand as I tried to channel my 'ki' again. Being 13, brought me back to thinking about what I did when I was 13. Which led me to thinking of DragonBall Z, which I was a fanatic of the last time I was 13 a decade ago. Which led me to doing meditation to try and make a ki blast blow up the wall, always unsuccessfully.
This resulted in my sitting on the floor indian style with a bong between my heels, with my mind going to places only long-time stoners and acid fryers can ever reach.
'Breathe in'
'Breathe out'
'Feel the energy'
'Focus on forming the energy into a ball in between my hands'
'Blast that fuckin wall!'
"Bang"
Followed by the sound of shattering glass had me popping my eyes open and looking at where the compartment's window used to be.
I looked to my side where Crabbe was staring at me with a grin and squinted eyes. "Tha' was amazin', Draco!" He gushed.
I felt the difference when I started meditating and hadn't really considered it important when I'd actually felt an energy pool in me. You often feel a pool of energy inside of you when high. What was not normal is the effect of my saiyan meditation technique is having any effects at all.
I looked at my hand.
I looked to where the window used to be.
Back to my hand.
Maybe the mind altering effects of weed had some effects on magic...
I cracked a grin as I looked at Crabbe.
"Behold, the power of the great ganja." I said with a lavish gesture to the shattered train wall.
Maybe magic could be fun, even if it does ruin a good hot-box.
My 'servants' giggled.
One Hour Later
I pointed a finger at the almost repaired wall.
Only the glass was missing.
"Regenerate glass" I grunted at the wall. Releasing my 'ki' from my 'pool' and into my finger as I spoke.
As only a stoner can, I watched in amazement as what looked like water bubbled out of the corners of the window and reverse-melted into a flat sheet of glass in the open window.
After the Weasley prefect had finished bitching at me for practicing magic on the train and taken ten points off the snake house, I had gotten into my white powder and demolished an 8-ball in an astounding half an hour, which gave quite the confidence boost.
Confidant enough that with another bowl, I stared pointing my finger and making stuff happen.
I sat back into the bench for the last hour of the 'trip' and relaxed.
"Margarita."
'Not bad for the first nine hours in this world'
BREAKFAST THE NEXT DAY
"You get enough to eat?" asked a female's voice in a disgusted tone.
I suppose Draco would have known who the green and silver trimmed vision of teenage jail-bait beauty was, or cared.
I didn't.
"Plenty, like you obviously have as well. Your cottage cheese thighs and saggy arm skin don't help hide your weight problem, nor does your overly large forehead and flat chest help your ugliness and immaturity problem." I said scathingly. I lied of course. She was absolutely gorgeous, and snooty, and as a Slytherin, rich.
As she was so pretty and rich, she had probably had very few cutting insults, much less ones aimed specifically to make teen girls cry. So she did what any teen girl would do after being publicly tongue lashed by an expert.
She jumped up from the table, in tears, slaps me across the face, and, runs from the great hall while bawling her eyes out.
I poked the bleeding cut in my mouth with my tongue.
'heal' I thought.
Chuckles sounded in an almost silent hall as I felt my cheek repair. I couldn't hold them back. The hilarity of the situation overcame me.
"I told her I'm not the father, she just had to wait until I showed her the test results to believe me" I said to the staring room over my shoulder. A loud laughing issued from most males and quite a few females in the great hall.
I have a wicked and sadistic sense of humor when high and uninhibited. She should have known better than to taunt me.
Oh, shit! I realized that I had just ruined this girl's reputation for a momentary funny.
I do not take shit easily on uppers.
Fear me on uppers!
I can't normally afford them regularly in the amounts I was inhaling them at right now regularly. In fact, only twice in my life have I had the opportunity to have a nice long coke binge in the amounts approaching overdose like this.
I feel a panic attack coming on.
Only one thing can reverse an approaching coke overdose with any real good benefits.
A TOKE WAS NEEDED!
I took a custom glass bowl that doubled as a mini-bong out of my extended-spaced pocket and lit in up. It looked like Gandalf's pipe from lord of the rings, made out of red and purple twisted glass. I took a nice long hit and held it in for a good minute before looking over my shoulder to exhale.
Right into Snape's red angry up face.
Dumbledore:
Trouble.
Thats what he was.
What he was born to be.
Trouble.
His father gave him trouble.
His grand-father gave him trouble.
His great-grand-father was a 5th year bully as a child that had attempted to torment him in his first year.
No, Albus Dumbledore did not find the Malfoys a pleasant line of nice people.
This one though was much different than the others.
He had an incredible stash of muggle sweets secreted away, all about his person. Albus's spectacles were enchanted in a similarly to his dear friend Mad-eye's seer's eye. It allowed him to survey most situations with a perspective that a wizard like himself perfectly.
He saw people in the nude with whatever was in their pockets or hidden on their body, clinging to their skin. Some sights in public were very pleasant, such as as to a muggle's football game.
Ahh! The Youth!
If any Slytherin developed a fondness of any muggle item, he or she was worth keeping the student around the other Slytherins at almost all costs. In the goal to show the young wayward students of the serpent's house any positive outlook upon muggles, sweets were a tremendous step forward for him.
For it to be this little Malfoy hell-raiser, one of the most influential of pure-bloods in the country, that was influencing his peers in such a sublime way was beautiful. A dream come true for him as soon as he walked in to his office.
An opportunity to change an entire generation of hateful witches and wizards was not an opportunity too good for him to pass up.
In came Donkey(a personal nickname) with a bright red face and a wonderfully crafted glass smoke-piece.
It looked a lot like a smoke-piece an ancestor of the Dumbledore family had left, along with his staff in their family's vault in the Russia's oldest Gringott's est.1230bc.
He must possess it!
It was gorgeous and sparkling.
The glass had masterfully crafted twists ands colours that were too unique to ignore.
Absolutely magical.
To school business first.
Draco:
I followed 'Professor' Snape into up the stairs into the headmaster's office. He was very insistent that I called him 'Professor' over other, better names like Ole Sport and Friskies. The 20 points and Saturday evening detention kind of insistent.
"For starters" he adds on as I mime and mock him behind his back as he leads us up the stairs to the headmaster's door.
"Oh, I can't wait to spend time with you" I reply in my best attempt at a female southern bell's accent.
As the red at the back of his neck, in my view, turned a brighter shade of pink, I estimate that his face was a good shade of purple.
What comes from his mouth sounds like "humfish mishell" as raps harder than necessary on the door.
"Come in" comes from the room.
Snape shoves me into the office with a shaking hand and slams the door behind him.
"Headmaster, he-" stared Snape, before the Headmaster interrupted him with a "One moment Severus. Would you like a lemon-drop? Or you mister Malfoy?"
"No, this-" started Snape once more, interrupted by me this time with a "Yes sir. Would you like a warhead? They are a delicious muggle candy, similar to lemon-drops."
"YOU BE SI-" Snape started again, only at me this time only to be silenced by a flick of the Headmaster's wand.
"That's no way to speak to students Severus no-matter what mischief they have gotten into. We have talked about this. We will talk of it again, after I am done speaking to young mister Malfoy here." Stated Dumbledore in a powerful voice, but, a small smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes.
"Of course I'll have a 'War-Neck'!" He continued, turning his attention to me.
I almost felt like a snake about to be milked for his venom, and I don't know why.
I also wonder why a squirrel jumped through the window and stole a plate of spaghetti sitting on Dumbledore's desk before running back to the window and back flipping out like a ninja.
'Where did the Italian food come from?' I thought to myself as I popped a lemon-drop into my mouth with one hand and passed a lemon warhead along to the Headmaster.
'Ignore the squirrel, like you always do.'