All Is... Well... Weird

Summary: In which Harry pets Horklumps, Australia has been conquered by a certain Dark Lady, and Albus Severus Potter, nee Dumbledore, is on the verge of going insane. (Crack!fic)
Date written: January 8, 2009 (crossposted from LiveJournal)
Genre: Humor/Parody
Word Count: ~4,969
Author's Note: I repeat my original comment on this fic: "This is... really a parody of the "ZOMG EVERYONE BREAKS UP BEFORE EPILOGUE" and Next-Gen genres. ...I blame the Tales [of Beedle the Bard]."

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter series and all related characters, settings, and plots.

"Harry! How could you?" Ginny gasped, stumbling back and clutching her chest. "That's - that's -"

"I - look, I'm repressed and under stress, all right? I do some crazy things!" Harry snapped as he quickly got to his feet and tried to hide the creatures from view. "It doesn't mean anything!"

"No - look, I could forgive you, if not for-"

"If not for WHAT?" Harry bellowed.

Her face contorted into an expression of utter disgust. "The googly eyes, for Merlin's sake, Harry! Those are sickening!"

Harry turned around and looked down at the Horklumps, which, oblivious to the argument, were bobbing up and down merrily, the googly eyes he had carefully pasted onto them whirling every which way. "I dunno," he said, kneeling down and petting them. "I think they're cute." Great sorrow welled up in him as he stared into the googly eyes of brightest blue; he had never recovered from the war, in some ways. "I miss Dumbledore - so does everyone, don't they? - and-"

"And I'm getting a divorce," Ginny said from somewhere behind him.

He let out a deep sigh as she slammed the door on her way out. "Guess it's just you and me, sirs," he said to the herd of Horklumps. He leaned closer to one of them, his nose nearly touching the cap of the pink, bristly creature. "Tell Harry you love him. That's a good Dumbledore."

Ron sat down. This was not going to be easy. "Hermione, I worry about our relationship."

"Oh, how can you say that?" Hermione squealed, bursting into tears. "I-I've d-d-done e-e-e-everything I could to be your i-i-ideal-"

"You do realize Lavender got on my nerves? I like strong -"

"S-strong drinks? I can't help that, Ron - no, if only I was nicer, you'd stop listening to your horrible friends at work, and you'd be the sweet boy I -"

"Strong women!" Ron snapped, unable to take the squealing and stuttering any more. It had been an interesting change for a while, but he was beginning to fear it was permanent. "I liked arguing with you! I liked you being crazy and stubborn! I'm barmy, I know, but -"

Tears poured down her cheeks. "Please stop being this way, Ron - come back to me - is this about Harry's divorce? I told him not to stress you - I know how sensitive you are about -"

"Oi, I only went into that violent fit of vomiting when I thought the googly eyes were supposed to represent me," Ron said, shrugging. "Once he told me they were supposed to be Dumbledore's, I was able to think about it straight. Still think he should have listened to me about Saint Mungo's before storming out."

"Ron, that's horr-"

Suddenly, the door was blown off its hinges. Or, more accurately, a good part of the wall was blown away, part of which included the door. Ron stared as, through the crater, stepped... another Hermione?

"This... isn't right," he managed after a moment.
"And how did you guess that, Ronald Weasley?" the other Hermione said in ringing tones, her livid gaze nearly burning through him. She raised her wand, which still smoked at the tip, and pointed it at them.

"This isn't f-f-f-funny, you!" Hermione shrieked, jumping to her feet and flapping her arms. "Confri-"

Without a word, the other Hermione swung her wand, smacking Hermione across the room with an enormous, invisible hand. Ron jumped to his feet and shouted "Her-"

"You know, she's a golem," the other Hermione said, sounding as if she'd like to slap him across the room as well.

Ron paused. "What?"

"I'm the real Hermione, don't you get it?" the other Hermione said. She walked over to him and gave him an absolutely infuriated look. "Don't tell me you thought she was me? Well, I mean, since I was gone, I suppose, but - didn't it occur to you that I don't act like that?"

"Um." Ron looked from one Hermione to the other, then back again. Hermione - or the golem? - was still bawling her eyes out in the corner. "I figured that since you Memory Charmed your parents-"

"Since I WHAT?" Her shriek shook the house. "And, pray tell, Ronald, when did I do that?"

He blinked. "You didn't? You - I mean, she - said that you wiped out their memories of you and the Wizarding World and sent them off to Australia-"

"I sent them off to Australia? I did?" She burst into hysterical laughter, pausing only to wave her wand in the direction of her double, which made the still-weeping girl crumple to the floor and not move, though she continued to hyperventilate. Body-Bind, then.

"All right, so what did happen?"

The Hermione in front of him sighed, looking aggravated. "I created that golem so that they wouldn't know I was gone - and they'd be happier with her, anyway, they always wanted a meek, sensitive girl to pamper -"

"Oh," Ron said, feeling as if a lot of things suddenly made sense.

"-I think I might have overdone it, though -"

"You did," Ron said.

She glared at him. "No one asked your opinion, Ron. Anyway," she said, drawing herself up to her full height - and nearly bumping into Ron's chin in the process -, "I also equipped her with extensive knowledge of defensive spells, so that, even if the Death Eaters didgo after my parents, they'd be safe."

"So what-"

"She grabbed me from behind when I was about to leave, took my wand, and ran off!" Hermione shouted, growing flustered. "She said she thought she was more qualified to take care of things with you and Harry than I was, which is absolutely absurd! I tried to reason with her, but -"

"Did too good a job with making a double of yourself?" Ron filled in.

She looked as if she was seriously contemplating holding him under the Cruciatus Curse. "And then," she said through her teeth, "my parents came in after she broke the window and jumped out, and asked what was going on, and I was so shocked that I told them what the situation was, and they panicked and moved house to Australia!" She stopped to breathe for a moment, hyperventilating as loudly as her double. "And, to add insult to injury, Crookshanks ran off in hot pursuit, so I didn't even have my cat!"

Ron stared at her, attempting to comprehend this train of events. It was difficult to grasp that your girlfriend had actually been a golem for the last few years, even if it explained the personality change. "So you've been in Australia all this time?"

"Yes, my parents kept me under near-total house arrest until they heard from the local Muggleborn-parent network that He-Who-Could-Not-Be-Named had fallen, and I couldn't do anything to get back and help you and Harry because I didn't have a wand," Hermione said, her expression dismayed at the memories.

"Wow." Something struck him. "But then, what have you been doing since then? It's been years since he fell!"

"Oh, well, my parents still didn't want me going outside the country in case of rogue Death Eaters running around, so I ended up staying there for a bit longer, and since they let me get a new wand at that point, I was able to make a difference, and..." She paused. "Don't they know about the Australian political situation here?"

Ron thought for a moment. "Yeah, I think I heard something... A new Dark Lady or something? Her- I mean, she - the golem - kept making scenes when Australia came up. Dunno why. Why're you asking?"

"She would," Hermione muttered under her breath. Then, she brightened, smiled at him, and cleared her throat. Ron's ancient Hermione-instincts, coming out of hibernation, cringed and told him to prepare for terrifying news. "Well, I wouldn't call the current witch in power in Australia a Dark Lady, exactly. She just does what's necessary."

"I heard what she did to that bloke who was abusing a House Elf," Ron said, feeling a bit sick at the memory. He paused. "You'd like her, I think."

"Why, Ron, that's because I am her," Hermione said in her unnaturally cheerful voice. There was a long silence.

At last, Ron asked, "So, you got a sense of humor in Australia?"

"No, I am ruling Australia!"

"Come on, be -"

"I am serious, Ronald Bilius Weasley!" Hermione roared. Thunder boomed overhead, lightning flashed, rain poured, and Ron realized Hermione had taken out part of the ceiling along with the wall. "I came back when I finally got the country under control enough so that I could leave for a week, and I'm checking up on you, Harry, and the rest! You could show a little appreciation and -"

"A-all right," he said, rapidly becoming soaked, "I believe you're a Dark Lady now."

"I'm not Dark," Hermione insisted.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever you say. By the way, if you..." He flushed. "Um, anyway, Mum won't take too well to you being a Dark Lady."

Hermione gave him an imperious look. "Why?"

"There can only be one Dark Lady in the Weasley family at a time, you see..."

"Rolf?"

The naturalist sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. "Yes, Hannah?" He glanced over his shoulder and saw his girlfriend pale and disheveled, and sat straight up. "What's going on?"

"We need to leave," she said, touching his shoulder. "Apparently, two Dark Ladies are fighting for dominance, and they chose the central street of Hogsmeade for their showdown."

"Are they taking over Britain?" he asked, jumping to his feet.

"Probably, but for now, they're just babbling some nonsense about the title of Weasley Matriarch." Hannah shook her head. "Why must the Wizarding World always be at war for some reason or another?"

Nineteen Years After The Battle of Hogwarts

"I can't be in Slytherin! I can't!" Albus shook the Sorting Hat. "I'm a Gryffindor! You can't do this to me!" The entire Great Hall stared at the sight; it was not every day that they saw Harry Potter's younger son (born of a night of drunken passion when his parents met up again, as was his younger sister) apparently having a nervous breakdown in public. "You can't!" He let out a loud whine and thumped the Hat against the Sorting stool.

"Al's a Slytherin, I knew it, I knew it!" James whooped from the Gryffindor table. He whispered to Mike MacMillian, a friend of his, "Bet he's going to be one of those - you know. A poofter. He's got that way about him."

"You're supposed to offer me a choice!" Albus screamed. His voice dropped. "You did last time, remember? Please? For old times' sake?"

"I am neutral, Mr. Potter," the Hat announced smugly. "Sorting cannot be changed. No exceptions. Besides, you'll like Slytherin! You're one of the most out-and-out Slytherins that's ever sat beneath me, my boy -" It dropped its voice as well. "-both times. And I learned from the last Headmaster that Sorting you into Gryffindor gave you... how to say this... delusions of virtue. 'Perhaps we Sort too soon', eh?"

Albus paled. "You must understand, I meant it entirely as a compliment -"

"And that's the trouble, you see," the Hat said. "Slytherin can't just all be about the purebloods and half-bloods who insist on going there when no one else will, you know."

"Why ever not?" Albus asked.

The Hat crinkled in a way that might have been it raising an eyebrow. "Exactly what I mean."

And so, the two argued quietly for several minutes, boring the students already at their tables and worrying the students yet to be Sorted; the day, however, still preserved itself in history, for, when the professors attempted to drag Harry Potter's younger son away from the Sorting Hat, he grew panicked, and in (presumably - no one ever quite understood his reasoning, including, possibly, himself) a final attempt to persuade the Sorting Hat of its error, he tried to Transfigure it into a feather boa, with an unfortunate amount of success. And so it was that 2016 was the first, and only, year in which several students gingerly put on the Sorting Boa.

"Hello," Albus Potter, who was permanently assigned detention every weekend for the Sorting Boa Incident, said glumly to Scorpius Malfoy, who was near-constantly in detention as well, though by reason of near-constantly earning it.

"I don't think I've complimented you on your Transfiguration skills yet," Scorpius said cheerfully. Albus buried his face in his hands. "Most marvelous. I would never have thought of a boa, myself. Well, perhaps, seeing as how you were Sorted into Slytherin, a boa constrictor, but a feather boa?"

"It wasn't quite a feather boa, in case you couldn't see," Albus mumbled. "Mostly a hat, despite the rumors."

"Purple, too. Creative."

Albus made an irritated noise into his hands. Lifting his head, he said, "Ahem. This is all very nice, but the trophies won't polish themselves."

"You must be doing quite a good job on these," Scorpius said, sounding even more chipper; Albus vaguely wondered if the Squib workers were putting something in the Gryffindors' pumpkin juices. "Look, we're doing Albus Dumbledore's today! You know, I always liked Dumbledore-"

Three days later in the Hospital Wing, James Potter said to Scorpius, "Sorry about that. I knew Al had problems, but I didn't know he was that high-strung-"

"Oh, it's fine," Scorpius said, grinning and stretching, then wincing when his still-mending arm twinged. "If all detentions were that lively, I would deliberately get them!"

In a nearby bed, Albus let out a demented cackle.

"So, Al," Lily, freshly Sorted into Ravenclaw, said to Albus, "I've heard-"

"I had two unfortunate episodes in my first year, my dear sister," Albus said, weary from giving nearly the same speech to every person he met. "My reputation has been exaggerated greatly - if one asks the other students what I have actually done since then, one would find they have no misdeeds to report. I was shocked at my Sorting into Slytherin, and bullied intensely because of my parentage. It is almost to be expected that I would lose my temper and lash out at someone, and you know as well as I do that we were raised to dislike the Malfoy family."

"Yeah - well - you can't really blame them for thinking you're barm-"

Albus spread his hands. "It was only twice in my very first year! I have been an exemplary student ever since!"

"Trying to beat out the first Albus, eh?" Scorpius called out as he passed them in the hallway. "Sorry to tell you, but you'll never make it. Dumbledore never had an equal -" He stopped, grinning, and straightened his robes. Raking his fingers through his hair, he added, "Except for the Dark Lord Grindelwald - say, they say he was a bit mad himself - are you trying to model yourself after hi-"

Why he was hauled into the Hospital Wing, Albus would never know. He was in perfect health - just a bit strained by the taunt, that was all. But now, apparently, curling up on the floor, giggling faintly to oneself, and rocking sufficed to worry Madame Pomfrey.

The Hogwarts staff truly had too much time on their hands these days.

"That's Albus Severus Potter - he's fragile, so don't let him near any animals that might spook him," Scorpius whispered to the new Care of Magical Creatures professor, Luna Lovegood-Longbottom, as he pointed to the boy in question. As Lovegood-Longbottom nodded seriously, Albus congratulated himself on his self-restraint in not going berserk and assaulting Malfoy for his terrible slander. Three times. He hadn't even hurt anyone the third time. Why did people feel the need to exaggerate so?

And indeed, the lesson went quite well, despite what bizarre rumors would spread later. He just had a minoroutburst afterwards, and for a reason he could hardly have prepared himself for, so of course he wasn't to blame, was he?

The professor took the time to talk to a few interested students after class, and Albus, being a good boy, had prepared questions to ask her questions about the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, of which species she had finally discovered live specimens last year, earning her fame, profuse apologies from formerly skeptical friends, and her current position as a Hogwarts professor (the previous professor, Rubeus Hagrid, stepping down when she became interested, much to the rejoicing of an unfortunately high percentage of the student body). All had been well as she had finished with the student before him and came over to talk to him. All had even been decent as she carefully examined him with her large, silvery-blue eyes, though her scrutiny had unnerved him.

Then, her lips had stretched into a dreamy smile. "Oh, Alby! It is good to see you again!"

The resulting stay in Saint Mungo's did nothing to help the relationship between Albus and his new professor.

On the other hand, he did feel an unexpected burst of empathy for the girl she had been when he got out and promptly heard James's overdramatic imitations of the behavior that had landed him in Saint Mungo's in the first place. "'I'm in hell, I'm in hell!'" James shrieked, putting a hand to his forehead and mock-swooning, then running around in circles, flapping his arms. "'Oh, God, why me, did I do such wrong? I'm in heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelll! HELL!'"

And Albus knew exactly how it felt to fantasize about the extremely violent murder of one's unsympathetic older brother.

Only one event of importance to Albus's continued serenity occurred in the next year.

"Aw, Merlin," Hugo said unexpectedly from behind Albus. "You?"

Albus turned around slowly, raising an eyebrow. "Is there something wrong, cousin?"

"Don't 'cousin' me, you berk," Hugo snapped. "I -"

Albus became faintly aware that his hands were now loosely curled around "Hugo's" neck, and was vaguely thankful no one else was around. "You will say nothing," he said, smiling; he wondered if it was a dreamy smile. "I would like a nice, peaceful stay at Hogwarts." He flexed his hands, then remembered a moment later that they were pressing against his dear cousin's neck. "In fact, I have a smashing idea. Each of us will simply pretend the other does not exist. Isn't it wonderful? Yes, I think we shall institute it right away. Things might get unpleasant otherwise, you know." Humming to himself, he let go of "Hugo's" neck, and walked away with a spring in his step.

"I'm not insane," he said a few seconds later. "Whatever gives you that idea?"

"I didn't say anything," "Hugo" said, snorting. Albus wondered if he was making various gestures to indicate he thought Albus was completely out of his mind, but didn't care enough to turn around and look.

"I know. I was just responding before you asked the question. It seems everyone has the idea I'm slightly funny in the head, for some reason... Hmm-de-hmm..."

James, at his graduation, spoke of the need to tolerate all and rejoice in their strengths, regardless of their strange behavior, citing his dear, slightly unstable, yet brilliant brother Albus as a prime example. Albus smiled and applauded, half-lost in a fantasy of Transfiguring James into a baboon and then donating him to an impoverished zoo with a history of animal mistreatment.

Despite his permanent detention and reputation for instability, Albus did manage to earn a few trophies, even if he never did manage Prefect or Head Boy status - due solely to aforesaid reputation, he was sure. It was true that his Care of Magical Creatures grades exceeded expectations only slightly, but he felt he could not be blamed for that, given... the identity of the professor, kindly as she attempted to be towards him. Some idiots still thought it funny to start in on their "I'm in hell!" routines behind his back, despite numerous points taken from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Ah well; it just made it that much easier for Slytherin to win the House Cup every year.

He and Slytherin House - much as he still disliked it - would have been even more successful, he was sure, if not for Scorpius Malfoy.

Now, Albus was all for having intellectual equals, he really was. The world would be quite boring otherwise. However, he was not for having intellectual equals competing with him. It rather took away the fun of being the smartest person in all of Hogwarts. His only comfort was that Malfoy was too busy trying to get himself expelled to present a serious threat House-points-wise, despite academic brilliance. Thus, aside from his first and third years, Slytherin House had won the House Cup. (Due to Malfoy being Malfoy, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, respectively, had won the House Cup in Albus's first and third years.) However, Malfoy had stolen several trophies from him, which Albus had resented beyond all words. It was not right that someone should take trophies from Albus, regardless of his last name at the time or sanity. It was not right.

It didn't help that, despite their policy of mutual ignorance, Hugo nearly fell over laughing whenever he saw Albus's indignant look at taking second place to Malfoy in any competition. Albus, always taking the higher moral ground, ignored him, unlike Malfoy, whose response to people smirking when he took second place involved hexes and occasionally Darker spells (which certainly never helped Gryffindor House's point total). Now, whenever Malfoy hexed Hugo for smirking, Albus always came to his aid, but did Hugo appreciate it? No, he sneered that Albus wouldn't manage to be Prefect just based on oh-so-generous-and-random acts of kindness, given that everyone knew his bad side. Did Albus ever tell Hugo exactly what he thought of him? No. He didn't. Albus mourned the lack of reward for the good in the world and the wealth of rewards for the bad. (The Sorting Hat, in particular, caused much amusement amongst the students by mentioning the Sorting Boa Incident in its song at the start of Albus's fifth year. Albus had maintained a pleasant smile on his face all through the song, laughed when other students poked him about it, and resolved, when he became Headmaster of Hogwarts once again - as he inevitably must -, to discard the ancient tradition of Sorting, as the Hat itself had sometimes suggested, and do away with that bloody Hat.)

And so, Albus and Malfoy maintained a healthy, merry rivalry - or, at least, merry on Malfoy's side, whereas Albus pretended to be merry while plotting various agonizing torments for the blond boy in a nice, secret little corner of his mind - until midway through Albus's sixth year.

"Albus!" Malfoy called cheerfully down the Great Hall one day, and a wide smile spread across Albus's face as he resolved not to do anything that might send him to Saint Mungo's again. "Is that really you?"

Malfoy in Saint Mungo's. The image was a pleasant one. Albus hummed slightly to himself before responding. "Naturally, Scorpius. Who else would I be?"

"No, no," Malfoy said, catching up to Albus - and flaunting his Gryffindor affiliation as usual with an absurdly bright red-and-gold scarf, which, Albus was sure, was meant to taunt him and remind him that a Potter might have failed to get into Gryffindor, but a Malfoy had not. He would remain serene. He would. "Are you Albus?"

Perhaps a private Malfoy room being installed in Saint Mungo's was more likely than Albus had thought. He was unsure whether to feel proper horror at the thought or give into his intense feelings of schadenfreude. "I am not someone else under Polyjuice, if that is what you are asking," he said. Malfoy was always boisterous, and people were beginning to watch them. Delightful. Let someone else acquire a reputation for insanity for once.

"No, I don't mean that, I mean -" Malfoy sighed deeply and rolled his eyes. Albus distantly evaluated his performance, and concluded that Malfoy would never have a career in acting. He was too melodramatic in day-to-day life as it was. "It has occurred to me recently, watching you revert to your normal self, that you may be more than one Albus."

Albus suppressed an urge to laugh. "I am afraid I don't catch your meaning, Scorpius."

"It would be a tad easier to say if you had a different name the second time around," Malfoy snapped. "How'd you manage it, anyway? It's ludicrous."

"I have a middle name."

"That isn't what I meant, and you know it!"

Oh, well. At least they were in the middle of the Great Hall, and so someone could disable Malfoy if he decided to repay Albus for his half-mad attack all the way back in their first year. Not that Albus would need the help, of course, but it was always good to be sure. "I'm afraid I don't know. Are you feeling all right, Scorpius? You look a tad... flushed."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "Stop playing your games, Albus!" Malfoy glared up at the ceiling of the Great Hall, muttering nonsense under his breath, then suddenly grinned from ear to ear. "So, Albus," he said, a feral look on his face as he looked back down, "someone with brilliance to equal your own... powerful... handsome..." Pointy... "Cheerful... energetic... fun-loving..." By a certain definition of 'fun', which happened not to agree with Hogwarts' rules and occasionally, for that matter, the Ministry's laws... "Still blond, even..." He jabbed Albus in the ribs with his elbow. "Does none of this sound familiar?"

Is that what you say to your mirror every day? It was, of course, incredibly impolite to ask that, correct as it undoubtedly was. And Malfoy's expression was reminding him of something... As was the pat on his rear end, which had better have been just a case of misaiming... no, he was leering now, damn him... "I am afraid that you have the... wrong..." He peered at Malfoy; Malfoy's claim that he was "handsome" was, no doubt, dementia-induced, but his expressions were familiar... He could not quite place where he had seen them before, though... "...Person..." ...Incessantly attempting to get expelled from school... that seemed familiar, somehow... but he could not remember... "I remember you in the past, Scorpius, commenting to the effect that I was a bit mad, like G-"

Albus's shriek of "YOU?" a second later would have shaken the rafters, had the Great Hall had any. Scorpius's grin grew wider, which Albus wouldn't have thought was possible, and he patted Albus on the back. "Why, I worried for you there, Albus! I feared that, even if you were yourself, you had tragically lost your memory in the process of -"

"But - what - this doesn't make sense -" Albus babbled, jabbing at "Scorpius" with one finger. "-Why -" He lowered his voice. "-Why is there an afterlife family reunion in a second life-"

"Oh, who knows? Perhaps, after all the dramatic waiting around, this is life beyond death - life. Again. With memories preserved, if one is good enough." "Scorpius" shrugged cheerfully. "I believe some cultures believe in similar things - wheel of reincarnation and karma? I never paid much attention to that. But, as far as things go, you must have ultimately been very good. After all, you were Sorted into Slytherin, where you always should have gone -" Albus reminded himself that demented cackles were childish things - "- you have me-" True - though he couldn't for the life of him decide whether that was wonderful or horrible - and he had his siblings around, one of them his professor - "-and we have new lives ahead of us, and the world just waiting to be made ours." If the Lady Granger had nothing to say about it. "Peacefully, of course. And with a minimum of force. I did learn from my experiences." Which was marvelous if it was true, but considering his behavior at Hogwarts - would he do his best to be thrown out of Beauxbatons in his next life? -, Albus doubted his friend had truly reformed. The blond boy slung an arm around Albus's shoulders and smiled at him. "If higher thought is a bit too difficult for you after this revelation, we can engage in less intellectual activities." He smirked. "I'll be gentle-"

"Excuse me? You will be gentle?" His attempts to repress a demented grin failed; ah, well. He had tried his best. "Quite worrying. I fear you have tragically lost your memory, Gellert." Albus gripped the blond boy's arm tightly, his grin stretching ever further; his cheek muscles ached, but he ignored them. "However, I shall be gentle in restoring it. Multiple times, if necessary. An unfortunate side effect may be your complete inability to sit down for a week, but that is a small price to pay for your memory, I think we shall agree?"

"Nonsense - I am certain my superior strength and, ahem, likely superior -"

"Ah, but I am far more skilled at wandwork -"

It was almost like old times.

"Oh, hell... both of... oh, hell... I need a drink. I need a drink, damnit! Why did they have to clean up the Hog's Head? It was a great bar! Might as well have called it the Hog's Broomsticks, for all that it looks like it... Now I can't get a drink anywhere in Hogsmeade until I'm of age, and that's three more years, and THEY'RE around now-"

Now it was like old times.