It was late into that fateful night, the siege of Hogwarts. Harry had just escaped from the deadly fires of the Room of Requirement with Ron and Hermione, saving Malfoy in the process. He took a look at himself – he was covered in grime, the filth practically embalming him like a sacrifice to Voldemort. "That's it," he said. "I'm taking a bath."

"But Harry!" exclaimed Hermione. "Is this really the time?"

"Oh yes." He said. "If I'm going to die fighting Voldemort, I'd rather be bloody well clean enough to do it."

And with that he ensconced himself in the lavatory, levitating a golden cast-iron bathtub sturdy enough for the job. He gathered various members of the Order and a team of the students most proficient in his defense, and ordered them to guard him with their lives. After all, if the Death Eaters came knocking, he wanted to be prepared. Come hell or high water (and indeed, the bathtub was filling rather nicely as his defenders stoically poured buckets of the steaming bathwater into the tub) he was going to wash the soot from his face, even if it killed him and every other wizard and Muggle in the land.

Much later, long down the line of Harry's honour guard, which stretched well beyond the lavatory and through into the hallway beyond, Seamus passed a bucket to the student beside him. Harry had been demanding more hot water for several hours, and the guard were hard-pressed to manage it. Saying something about the purity of manual labour, Harry had forbade any magic to be used in the preparation of his bath. Earlier he had requested bath salts and a rubber ducky, which was met with various groans from his guard. He was a demanding sort when bathing, Harry was.

The line got longer and longer as Harry ordered more to his defense. After all, the hot water had to be handed down from a cauldron in the dungeons, since the Death Eaters, upon hearing of Harry's bath, had attacked the hot water pipes. As more and more wizards were called back from battle into Bath Duty, as Harry called it, the defense of Hogwarts was being severely compromised. But whenever possible, bands from the guard would seek out the Death Eaters and engage them to prevent them from reaching the more vulnerable formation of the line.

Back in the lavatory, Harry laid supine in the water, which was becoming more tepid and uncomfortable by the moment. In his distress, a sudden bubbling noise was heard. The guards turned and realized what had occurred. Neville, chief among the guard, relayed the pressing information up the line: "Harry's had a floater, pass it on!"

LETTERS FROM THE EDGE

Hello Neville, how are you? Things are getting tough out here, what with the Death Eaters harrying our ranks. I heard a few weeks ago that Harry had an accident. Out here at the edge of the line (we're by the cauldron in the dungeons) we don't hear much from the lavatory guard. We'd all like to know when Harry plans to get out of the bath and battle Voldemort. We've all heard the tales of the Chosen One, but some of us are starting to have doubts. For the man who won the Tri-Wizard Tournament, all this is a new low. Any word from the corridor? I heard Seamus was getting antsy.

Sincerely,

Justin Finch-Fletchley

Not long after the letter was sent, Death Eaters attacked. The battle was fierce, and there were losses on both sides. But the guards prevailed – barely. Yet as an unknown Death Eater died, he shot a spell at the ceiling, and the walls began to crumble.

"Harry, get out!" yelled Neville. "The walls are caving in!"

"Just a mo!" said Harry. "I haven't washed my feet yet!"

Neville left in disgust, but the others made a valiant show of defending Harry, deflecting the falling stone as best they could. Harry amused himself with his rubber ducky, oblivious to the danger, humming a merry little tune.

After the dust settled and the debris was cleared, many of the men began to become angered, and some left in a huff. But those who remained began to convince Harry in earnest to end his epic bath. "Hold on!" he responded jovially. He held up a plastic boat for all to see. "This is Voldemort's galleon! Dumbledore's ship is about to sink it!" This was met with disgruntled groans aplenty, but the line was reformed and more hot water was sent.

Meanwhile Voldemort, who had assured Snape that Harry would come to him eventually, was now becoming impatient. It had been many months, and scattered reports claimed that the Boy Who Lived had suffered some form of breakdown and was playing about in bathwater. Fed up with the wait, he started for the Hogwarts lavatory.

Neville, in desperation, had returned. "Harry, Voldemort's coming!"

Harry appeared visibly shaken, and started to come to his senses. "Well that settles it! I have to fight him once and for all!"

He stepped gingerly out of the by-now muddy bathwater, and looked ready for anything. The men cheered and sang his praises, and began to march him out of the room.

But Harry was already stepping back in the lukewarm waters. "Yes! I have to sink Voldemort's galleon!"

Neville threw up his hands and, with the others of that valiant guard, fled for his life. The world was doomed forever. All was NOT well.