Harry woke up with a big headache, not sure where he was. He looked around and saw his bed, another bed nearby with a snoring Ron on top, the deep red rug of the boy's dormitory. It was all blurry; he felt around with his hand on his bedside table for his glasses and put them on. Things didn't improve much, there was a red glaze over everything he saw. He took off his glasses and examined them. Someone had written over the lenses with red lipstick.
"The boy," said one of the lenses, and spelled out clearly in the other one "who licked."
Harry threw the glasses on the bed and grasped his throbbing head. It felt as if a hundred cornish pixies holding tiny metal hammers were working away inside his skull. He stood up and walked over to Ron's bed. Looking around he saw that Neville lay in his own bed, a floppy rainbow-colored clown wig on his head. Ron didn't look much better. He wore nothing but his underwear, and someone had Incendio-ed off his eyebrows. Harry looked out the window and saw the sun already high in the sky. He figured the other boys must be out enjoying the Sunday afternoon because they were the only students in the dormitory.
"Umm.. Ron?" Usually, Harry would not wake up his friend but he was getting a little weirded out by everything. He remembered going to The Three Broomsticks with a few of the members of Dumbledore's Army and drinking butterbeer to celebrate yet another successful practice day without any Umbridge interruption. He remembered the twins, Fred and George, getting more and more drinks for everyone. He remembered coming back late with everyone laughing and carrying a secret stash of some dark green bottles they had bought at the Hog's Head.
He also remembered slipping quietly in the night into the Room of Requirement, with everyone whispering and giggling and a slim arm around his waist. The room had suddenly turned itself into the perfect hang-out place. There were every-flavor-bean bags, a record player blasting out the Weird Sisters, a low table with colorful cup and bottles with fizzy liquids, and a number of party hats and props. Suspended in the air hung many glass spheres, each one holding a small flame of a different color, which flickered and danced throwing purple and orange and red lights around the room. Harry remembered going in as his heart pumped fast, a girl laughing in his ear, blurry dancing, and then later, darkness.
Harry shook Ron's shoulder. Ron sat upright in a second, as if he had received a shock. "Take your hands off my Gobstones!" he yelled out.
"I would never dare," Harry answered, confused.
"What are you two doing?" Harry heard Neville groan. "I'm trying to sleep."
"Can any of you tell me what happened last night?" Harry looked from one of his friends to the other as he wiped his glasses on his shirt. "We obviously got carried away," he said.
"The party!" Neville said, waking up as suddenly as Ron. His hand went up to his head, feeling the wig. He pulled a lock of it down towards his face and squinted his eyes at the piece of neon green hair. Neville looked at it with a blank face before bursting into laughter. "Harry, you were so drunk you started dancing on top of the table singing about how sexy Professor McGonagall's eyes are. You're lucky Cho wasn't there."
"I did WHAT?!" Harry said.
"Oh yeah, I remember that! But you're not lucky Colin Creevey was there. I think he took pictures." Ron laughed as loudly as Neville. "No wonder you're getting on well in Transfiguration."
"Laugh all you want, Ron. Something I do recall is you taking your brothers' dare and stripping down to your underwear. You threw all your clothes at Hermione! All she did was get very red, say 'Ron Weasley,' and walk away."
Ron's laughter stopped at once. He looked a bit pale.
"But then I must have passed out." Harry added. "I can't recall anything else. Can either of you?"
"Yesterday during our usual trip to Hogsmeade, the three of us, Hermione, the twins, Ginny, Luna, Colin, Romilda and Lavender said we would have a small celebration since our DA meetings have been going so well. We went to the Three Broomsticks." Neville said. "We were having a round of drinks when Fred suggested we do a pub crawl. Hermione protested saying there were only two pubs in Hogsmeade, but Fred dismissed her."
"Yeah," said Ron. " 'Let us not go gentle into the good night,' he said to Hermione. 'We must rage, rage against the dying of the light.' " Harry snickered. "She grumbled, but she still joined. We drank as many butterbeers in The Three Broomsticks as they would serve us and when they threw us out, we walked to The Hog's Head."
"Yes, as far as then, my memory's not so bad." Harry said, sitting next to Ron.
"I must have been a bit drunk by then," Neville admitted. "I remember stumbling somewhere, but nothing specific. I must have had loads of butterbeer. My gran would kill me if she found out."
"Neville," Harry said. "I had to lean you on my shoulder and help you limp all the way to the The Hog's Head."
"Thanks, mate," Neville said.
"Neville," Harry added. "I had to help you use the bathroom. You couldn't manage to pull down your trousers."
"Thanks, Harry," Neville said, his head falling to his chest.
"Neville," Harry continued. "While I tried to help you, you slapped my hands and called me a dirty, muggle-born, wandless banshee."
"Okay, Harry," Neville said, sounding annoyed. "I said I was grateful."
"But Neville," Harry said again. "You only drank a single glass of pumpkin juice."
"I'm a light drinker!" Neville retorted. "And it was quite a large glass. Anyway, how did I get this wig on my head."
"Oh, that," Ron said, suddenly hiding his wand under the pillow. "That's not a wig."