"So, I start out weak, I can't even wear armor, and I can only cast three spells a day? What the hell, Hermione?"

"Harry, I did say that you might actually want to be a sorcerer, didn't I? In any case, it gets better for you later on, especially if you consider specializing."

"I don't get this, Hermione. Why can't I just -"

A stack of books sailed through the air and landed heavily on Harry's lap, making speech impossible for him as shouts of "Just get on with it!" and "Re-read the books!" filled the room. Still grumbling, George, Angelina, Ron and Ginny stood up and left the room; this was obviously going to take a while, and none but Hermione wanted to go through the character sheets again. As she passed, Ginny gave him a clout alongside the ear.

Hermione sighed and braced herself for the coming conversation. She spoke slowly and clearly, "Harry, we need a magic user. We have the heavies, fighters, thief and healer, and we need a magic user. We're staring out at the first level, so we're all going to be much more weak than we would like to be. I'll let you choose between a wizard and a sorcerer if you still want to play -"

Harry jumped up and began gesticulating wildly, as though the movements would instill in Hermione some sense. It was unfortunate that it came out as a whine, "I do want to play! I just don't see why wizards are so limited!"

Hermione pretended that she didn't hear his outburst, "- but that's it. I expect that everyone else is tired of your obstinance, Harry, especially considering that they had never been exposed to this game before and yet grasped - and embraced - it before you. Now, take a look at the manual again, decide on which first-level character you want to start out with -"

Harry began gesturing wildly again as he shouted, "Oh! Maybe I can be a paladin!"

Hermione slumped and covered her eyes with one hand. "Harry," she said with a resigned sigh, "No. You cannot be a paladin. First of all, you said that you were tired of manipulative, oppressive regimes and didn't want to 'bend to anyone's law,' and second, we need a magic user."

"Maybe I can be a magic paladin!"

"No, Harry. No." Hermione removed her hand from her face and looked at his now-downcast face. "Harry, the puppy-dog eyes don't work on me, remember?" She sighed again and stood. "Look, I'm going to go join them," she gestured vaguely at the kitchen, where whispers and the occasional exasperated "bloody bastard does this every bloody game we play!" could be heard, "and grab a beer. Make a decision in twenty minutes or I'll come back in here and unholster my wand and you won't like me when I unholster my wand. Right. I'm off."

She walked into the kitchen, stubbornly ignoring Harry's muttered comments on "Lawful Evil? How does that work, exactly? I killed Voldemort ... well, he killed himself, really, but ... I couldn't see him obeying laws. Giving them, sure, but ... Oh, wait. Death Eaters were Lawful Evil. Okay. So... hey, I like the sound of Chaotic."

When Hermione entered the kitchen, she met the silent gazes of her exasperated friends. A beer was passed into her hands, a hand patted her back gently, a brimming shot of whiskey was thrust into her unoccupied hand. She took in their concerned, glassy-eyed faces and steeled her resolve; this must end, she thought. Her less-than-sober friends noticed the change in her and grinned as one as she downed her shot of whiskey. She unholstered her wand, gestured to her friends and turned toward the door to the other room. This would be much more fun than the adventure she'd planned. That, after all, could wait.