Barry's New Wand

The lineup to the headmaster's office stretched fifteen students from the gargoyle statue, down the hall, and around the corner, when Barry arrived the next morning. Buggin' Out, who was fifth in line, was complaining to his fellow cue colleagues.

"This is some serious bullshit. We pay tuition." He remembered his scholarship. "Well… most of us pay tuition and yet… they expect us to wait? We the people demand customer service. Unacceptable." Buggin' Out noticed Barry poking his head from around the corner to see if the line was moving. "We're not going anywhere, little man!"

Barry turned around in defeat—Charms was starting in fifteen minutes so he didn't have time to wait in line.

"Hello… yes, good morning… how do you do?" Harry Potter brushed past Barry, greeting the other young wizards in the line. He walked right up to the gargoyle and rubbed his chin. "Hmm… now, what was that password again?"

"Excuse me?" Buggin' Out snapped his fingers. "I don't know who you think you are, but you ain't cutting this line."

Without looking away from the gargoyle, Harry replied, "The professor and I have very important business to discuss."

"And our business isn't important?" Barry looked up and down the line for support. "Can you believe this shit? Are ya'll just going to stand there and let him go in first?"

The students grumbled and shrugged their loose agreement. Ron Weasley, who had also been standing in line for the past fifteen minutes, came to Harry's defense.

"If Harry needs to see the Headmaster, it's probably a lot more important than anything we—"

"Ah, shut the hell up, Racist Ron," Buggin' Out spat back, not letting him finish his sentence.

"Now I remember," Harry took a step back in preparation. "Cockroach Cluster!" The gargoyle sprang to life and stepped aside. "The professor really ought to change his passwords more frequently."

"Ah hell naw," Buggin' Out ran back to the front of the line, and slipped in behind Harry just as the gargoyle slammed shut.

"I tried to tell him that you were busy, professor," Harry explained as Buggin' Out burst into Dumbledore's office—immediately becoming engrossed in the many different trinkets and strange machineries the aging wizard had collected over the years.

Buggin' Out walked right up to Dumbledore's desk (who had his nose deep in some school papers). "It's just not right that we have to wait outside but your boy gets to waltz in here whenever he wants."

"Well, I am the chosen one," said Harry.

Continuing to flip through his papers, Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "He's right, he is the chosen one."

Buggin' Out slammed his fist down on the desk. "Chosen one my ass. He has to get his biblical butt in line the next time..." He suddenly started to notice the various paintings that were hanging in the office—and the old wizards who were watching and listening in on their conversation.

"Let me ask you something, Professor D," Buggin' Out started. "How come you don't have any brothas on the wall?"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said: how come you ain't got any brothas on the wall? I see Armando Dippet, Heliotrope Wilkins, Vindictus Viridian… all white wizards. The closest thing you've got to a negro up there is Phineas Nigellus Black and that's only because of the name! What you got against wizards of another colour?"

Dumbledore straightened his half moon spectacles and sniggered to himself. "Surely, you can't be serious."

"Hell yes, I'm serious. You're gonna group us all together, make us drink out of styrofoam cups and now you're gonna tell us that we aren't allowed to look up and see some of our own ancestry up there?"

"First of all, I don't know where you've been getting styrofoam cups… Minerva certainly wouldn't allow them on school property. And second, the issue is young man, that there simply aren't that many famous black wizards."

"Like shit there aren't!" Buggin' Out whipped out his iPhone and began googling images.

"How did you get that in here?" Dumbledore looked surprised. "Technology isn't supposed to work at Hogwarts."

"Yeah, your cracker jack typewriters probably don't work here, but I'm a twenty-first century nigga. Here we go." Buggin' Out handed Dumbledore the phone. "Chris Webber, Gus Johnson, Earl Monroe, Elvin Hayes? No black wizards my ass. And that's just off the top of my head. I'd understand if you didn't want to count Michael Jordan but he at least deserves an honourable mention."

Dumbledore looked confused as he swiped through the images. "These are basketball players."

"NBA legends muthafucka. Next time I come up in here there better be some African American wizards up in them portraits."

Before Dumbledore could offer a response, Buggin' Out spun around and walked out the door.

Once the door had closed shut behind him, Harry rushed over. "Professor, I had the dream again."

Dumbledore leaned forward in his chair. "You saw through his eyes?"

Harry nodded. "I know how Voldemort is going to invade Hogwarts."

Barry entered the Great Hall and spied Mr. Jackson, who was sitting by himself near the head table, poking at his breakfast with the wrong end of his spoon. He headed over to join him.

"Goddamn, porridge again? Are those house elves ever going to get better?" Mr. Jackson took a slurp of the chunky liquid (that seemed to be swirling on its own accord) and coughed. "Goddamn." Barry swung his legs over the bench and sat down. "How are you doing, little man?"

Barry silently reached for the nearest bowl (which was instantly populated by the same swirling plop) and began poking it himself.

"Listen, kid." Mr. Jackson put his spoon down; it sank into the mixture and was never to be seen again. "I don't know what frightened you in that dimensional class and you don't have to tell me—we've all seen enough fucked up shit. But you ought to know that your mother told me she's really proud of you. You're the first person in her family to not only get a scholarship, but to travel around the world! How about that!"

Barry continued to prod at his meal.

"You're also the first person in her family to become a wizard."

Barry's eyes lit up and Mr. Jackson grinned to himself.

"And I bet you're excited to get your first wand today. I'm pretty curious to see what I'll get to."

Barry began to chow down on his dish. "You'll get something good," Barry replied. "The right wand always chooses the right wizard."

"I'll bet, son…" Mr. Jackson trailed off as Ice Cube joined the table. "Excuse me." Mr. Jackson folded up his newspaper and left.

"Is that nigga still giving me the silent treatment? He needs to chill the fuck out."

Through a mouthful of porridge, Barry replied, "He says you ruined breakfast for him."

Cube grabbed Jackson's abandoned dish and started scarfing it down. "I didn't do nothin' that shouldn't have been done a hundred years ago." He suddenly push his dish down to watch the group of Gryffindors that was coming towards them. Fred and George Weasley appeared to have crafted together some sort of technicolour spider-tronic tray holder which was dancing down the hall as it carried Mr. Rogers' breakfast. The students were having a hoot as it danced towards the table.

As it passed the space where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were having their breakfast, George Weasley decided to poke fun at his younger brother. "I hope we painted this the right colour for you, Ronnie." He motioned towards the spider's rainbow-highlighted legs.

Ron nearly choked on his milk. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"

"Not much. Just try to be more tolerant of others, eh?"

Ron stood up. "Ok, I want to know who's been spreading this rumour that I'm—"

Hermione tugged on his sleeve. "Oh, sit down. They're just teasing."

Mr. Rogers picked up the tray off the contraption and took his seat. "Alright, well done boys. We made it."

"See you in potions, Fred," said Fred Weasley.

"No, I'll see you in potions, Fred," said Mr. Rogers. They shared a hearty laugh together.

Buggin' Out joined the House Negus table, taking notice of Ice Cube giving Mr. Rogers the stink eye from the other side of the room. "Man, what you got against Mr. Rogers anyways?"

Without breaking his gaze, Cube replied, "Don't you think it's weird that, we ain't hear nothin' about this Rogers guy and all of a sudden... he just appears?"

"He introduced himself to us on our first day though."

"Shut the fuck up. I only met that nigga after Longbottom fell through the dimension door…"

"Longbottom again? You're tripping man." Buggin' Out shook his head. "Mr. Rogers is goddamn delightful."

Ice Cube pushed the dish away and hurriedly left the table—he needed answers. Perhaps Koreander was the man to give them.

"Normally students are required to purchase their first wand at Ollivanders before the semester begins." Professor Filius Flitwick had spread out five wands on a long table at the front of the class. "But I've been told to make an exception for our… last minute additions."

Barry sat wide-eyed at the front of the class. It took everything he could muster to prevent himself from leaping out of the chair, grabbing the wand and yelling some latin sounding incantation he had made up on the spot. Still, he managed to resist the urge.

"Each wand is unique," the Charms professor began, "So much so that they can feel like an extension of one's own arm. To use a wand that does not belong to oneself can result in dire consequences." Without waiting for Flitwick's go ahead, Ice Cube and Buggin' Out had already helped themselves to the wands and struck a fighting stance.

"Lumos bitches!" Ice Cube cried out.

"Boys no!" Flitwick looked horrified. "Never use a wand that hasn't agreed to be used." He snatched the wands out of their hands. "Ouch!"

Cube crossed his arms. "Aw, c'mon we were just playin'."

Flitwick sighed and handed them both back the same wands. "Your wands just stung me… that's as good an indication as any that chosen taken a new owner."

"Goddamn right, good boy wandy. Electrocutin' any cracka that tries to lay a hand on ya."

"I wouldn't start the celebration too early," Flitwick warned while pulling his own wand out of his trousers. "Because even though the wand technically belongs to you, it did not react at all when you yelled out lumos..." A bright light exploded at the tip of Flitwick's wand, glowing brighter for a few seconds, before dissipating back to dullness. "... which is something Professor Dumbledore had previously warned us about…"

Buggin' Out jumped in the air. "Hah! I guess Cube's shootin' blanks. Watch and see how it's done." He bent his knees and pointed the wand at Cube. "Avada Kedavra!"

Flitwick screamed out as the entire class threw themselves on the ground.

"Weird," Buggin' Out tapped the end of the seemingly lifeless wand. "I thought something was supposed to happen."

Lying on the ground with the rest of the students was Mr. Jackson, who nervously stood up, and scanned the room to make sure everything was as it should be. "Are you too niggas out of your mind?"

Buggin' Out lowered his wand. "I was just—"

"Get your ass to Dumbledore's office right now!" snapped Mr. Jackson.

Flitwick recovered himself and quickly stepped in. "Hey, I'm the professor here. I'll be the one to give the orders."

"Do I look like I give a damn?" Mr. Jackson's forehead veins were bulging. "I have half a mind to send you to his office too!"

"You can't send me to—"

"Get your ass to his office!"

"I don't believe it," Draco Malfoy cut in.

Flitwick held up his arm. "Stay out of this Draco unless you want to fail Charms yet again."

Draco continued anyways, "They're all a bunch of Muggles!"

Flitwick opened his mouth to reply but took a step back and turned away instead. "Stay out of this Draco…" he said wearily.

Mr. Jackson put his hand on Flitwick's shoulder. "Hey man, do you know something we don't because we—"

"Muggles! Muggles! Muggles!" Draco danced around the room.

"Hey." A dreamy voice drifted over from the back: "But are you absolutely positive they're Muggles? And how would you know for sure?" Luna Lovegood, who was the only person who chose not to duck down and brace for impact after Buggin' Out's attempted magic trick, sat up straight in her seat.

Professor Flitwick adjusted his glasses and squinted toward the back of the class. "Luna? You aren't in this class. Where did you—"

"They look like Muggles and smell like Muggles, but they're here right now which is not a very Muggle sounding thing if I do say so."

Draco lifted his nose at Luna. "Hmph. Muggle or not, I guess there are worse thing you could be. Isn't that right… you filthy mudblood."

The class cried out in support of Luna, jeering and threatening the older Slytherin who smirked at his successful instigation.

"DRACO MALFOY! 100 points from Slytherin!" Flitwick boomed. "We do not accept discrimination of any sort here at Hogwarts. Go to the headmaster's office IMMEDIATELY!"

Cube nodded and began clapping enthusiastically. "That's what I'm talking about."

Draco craned his neck at Cube and said, "Shut up, nigger."

"OH FUCK NO!"

"JESUS CHRIST, THIS BOY'S GONNA GET IT."

"YOU WANT TO SAY THAT AGAIN?"

Mr. Jackson poked Flitwick hard in the shoulder. "Hey!"

Flitwick shrugged it off. "What now?"

"Are you not going to do anything?"

"About what?"

"About what Draco just said?!"

"What difference does it make, he's already going to Dumbledore's office."

Cube threw his arms up in the air. "That is some serious bullshit."

Barry who, despite all the commotion and confrontations that were rapidly unfolding, could no longer control his impatience to try out the wand before him, stepped forward and reached out. What he failed to realize was that before class had started, Hogwart's favourite Slytherin, Draco Malfoy, had swapped one of the wands with his own. Apart from the regular reactions that wands made when held by someone other than their owner, Draco had placed an additional curse to ensure that the unlucky receiver was presented with a nasty surprise. His original intention was to get back at Cube for the embarrassment he had been forced to endure on the Hogwart's Express. But now, that punishment had been passed onto poor Barry, who slowly lifted the wand and uttered the words, "Accio…"

He wasn't able to finish the sentence before everything went white.