A million apologies for this taking so so so so long. But here it is! Hope you enjoy.

8:00 PM

In a forest. Again.

I'm way too attractive to be roughing it for this long.

8:02 PM

"Nice, Hermione," I said sarcastically as I whipped my dick out to take a piss. "Do you just have no imagination whatsoever, or do you think it's funny to apparate as far from civilization as possible?"

"What are you talking ab—what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, Hermione?"

"Being disgusting," she responded acidly, "no one wants to see that, Harry."

"I want to see it," Luna disagreed, raising her hand.

"Thank you, Luna."

And so I finished pissing.

8:10 PM

Ron is fucking ecstatic about this forest thing, especially since he's got his new camera! He keeps gasping at random intervals and snapping pictures of leaves and rocks like he's just discovered the cure for homosexuality.

8:11 PM

Now he's lying on his belly and taking a picture of a tree trunk.

I walked over and stood next to him, arms crossed in concentration. "So, what's so special about it?"

He looked up at me, horrified. "You don't see it?"

"The trunk? Yeah, I see it."

"So what's your question?"

"Why are you taking a picture of it?"

"It's Art."

"It's a tree."

"It's Art."

"So it's an artsy tree? It could be cut down and made into a lot of paintbrushes."

"You just weren't cut out for this kind of abstract though, Harry. You're not an artist, and you never will be. You can't see the world in the way I can. There's so much suffering all around us."

His voice broke at the end of his statement, and he rubbed his eyes with his sleeve.

What?

8:14 PM

Bored.

8:17 PM

Wow, why the fuck are we so worried about global warming and the destruction of rain forests and all that shit? Nature is the worst. Good riddance, I say.

Also, I'd kill for a convenience store right about now.

8:17 PM and 7 seconds

Or a Dunkin' Donuts.

8:18 PM

Or any other establishment run by Indian men.

8:30 PM

Ginny is constructing a tent the old fashioned way while Hermione is mumbling shit under her breath and waving her wand around. Every time Ginny leans over to nail one of the stakes in the ground, a calm seems to penetrate the campground, tranquility like I've never known, like I'm actually sitting in one of those rocking chairs in Heaven and God is just smiling out at me from Ginny's ass.

8:31 PM

A teenage-God though, struggling to grow his very first beard and only succeeding in scratchy, uneven stubble.

8:32 PM

"Gin, I know we've been on the run from Death Eaters, stranded in disgusting forests without running water or basic human needs like towel racks and complimentary wine coolers, and I know you probably didn't bring any shaving cream because you're an idiot, but none of these things are an excuse for a hairy pubic area."

She stood up and spun around. "If you've got a problem with my pubic hair, then why don't you stop looking?"

"I tried, but it's kind of like watching someone with a skin condition scratch a bug bite."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," I sighed intellectually, trying to form words that a woman might comprehend, "like, they're scratching, and their skin is flaking everywhere, and you have to watch because you don't want any of it to touch you."

She threw her tools down and started walking toward me, opening and closing her knees like the scariest dance I'd ever seen.

Holy fuck holy fuck it was probably so prickly. She probably has leftover crumbs from lunch stuck in there like men with mustaches often do.

8:35 PM

What if she actually eats with her vagina?

Vagina dentata.

8:35 and 3 seconds PM

So the myth might actually be true!

8:35 and 21 seconds PM

Do vaginas have taste buds? Do they prefer their penises deep-fried or sauteed with I Can't Believe It's Not Butter!

8:35 and 29 seconds PM

I Can't Believe It's Not Human Blood, rather.

?

Being progressive and philosophical is really tiring. Especially when there is a hairy vagina chasing you.

8:36 PM

So anyway, she's flip-flappin her thighs in my direction when I scramble away and Ron ambles over, taking pictures.

Uncomfortable.

"Hey, Ginny, fuck Harry and his hair-phobia—I think it's awesome when women can stand by what nature gave them. Except armpit hair. Girls with armpit hair are repulsive."

I went in for the high five! But Ron went in for the pound!

We stood there for a second, frozen by our confusion, as Luna walked by and offered, "You're playing rock, paper, scissors wrong."

8:45 PM

Ron keeps following Ernie around and asking when he's just going to fucking pose for him already.

"It doesn't have to be naked, but you're cheating yourself if it's not."

Dean, who's been sleeping since we arrived, sat up. "Ron, cool it with the nudity. It's getting pretty gay."

It was quiet for a second, and Ron sighed, "I'll always be misunderstood."

9:15 PM

He wasn't misunderstood for too long, though, since he rolled a joint, took a hit, and passed it along to the rest of us.

"Don't get me wrong, guys, I love the city—the go-go-go lifestyle-that's totally me. But this is totally me, too. Nature. Organic things—like dirt. And that rock covered in moss over there. It's like they're my roommates and nature is the landlord."

I burped in response. Malfoy giggled.

He kept right on going, "Yeah, yeah, exactly Harry, that's how I feel, too. Dirt would be the roommate who has so much potential. You just need to plant the seed of inspiration—oh wow, yeah, planting—and dirt only needs a little push in the right direction. And the rock with moss? Ah, yeah he's like the crazy one who overreacts and asks you to shave his back. It's like a sitcom—I think BBC would love it-we should pitch that!"

9:17 PM

"I have so much potential," Ron informed me.

9:30 PM

Once we ran out of weed, everyone yawned and shrugged and made to crawl in the shoddily-made tent. But Ron yelled, "Wait!"

"What?" Malfoy drawled, his trademark sneer returning slowly, but surely.

"I can't do this anymore, you guys. Harry, you're stifling my creativity. I feel like I'm drowning in your negativity and capitalism."

"Ron," Hermione said, slowly, her voice tinged with worry.

"No, Hermione, I can't just sit here any longer while Harry talks about Horcruxes and destroying them. I'm so tired of all the obliteration, the pain, the homeless. I want to make something beautiful. Like a TV show. I'm a writer-okay?—I've always wanted to be one, and this is my chance. So I'm going."

"Ron, no!" Hermione wailed, but he was already walking out of the campsite, past our protective enchantments, and he slowly faded from sight. "But RON!"

She slumped down to her knees and cried into her hands. I patted her head awkwardly as we all sat there, stunned.

9:31 PM

"Isn't there a writer's strike?"

Hermione started sobbing again.

12:00 AM

Chillin with the Horcrux.

Watching for Death Eaters.

And Ron, I guess, if he manages to stumble his selfish way back.

12:01 AM

But I don't really care if he comes back. Anyone who wants to work in the TV business over hanging out with me is an asshole.

12:03 AM

My life is a goddamn sitcom, Ron. YOU CAN'T WRITE THIS GOLD.

12:03 and 4 seconds AM

I may not have a huge audience, but I've got faithful fans. Like the ones that tattoo my face on their vulvas. That's loyalty, Ron.

That's friendship.

12:06 AM

Although if Ron had 1) a tattoo of my face and/or 2) a vulva, I don't think I'd want that kind of friendship.

12:07 AM

The former is because I wouldn't be able to talk to him for very long without being distracted by how attractive I am, even in ink form.

The latter is because it's impossible to be friends with women. Unless they're ugly.

12:07 and 39 seconds AM

That's why Hermione and I are so close.

12:15 AM

Almost fell asleep until I saw something white and shimmery. I pushed myself to an erect position (lol) and said, "HEY, WHO'S THERE?"

People always do this, but no one ever gets a response. Ever. I think it's mostly because ghosts and serial killers are really rude.

12:16 AM

Is it so much to ask for a, "Oh, hey, I'm just a guy with a knife. Go back to your business." ?

12:17 AM

Can still see that shimmery thing. It's really big (lol, no, it's not my cock), and it looks familiar (also not my cock).

12:18 AM

Followin it, duh. Surprisingly fast for such a fat thing.

So I was tearing through the forest after it, and suddenly, the figure stopped in a clearing and allowed me to catch up. I narrowed my eyes and realized what it was: a patronus.

Of Neville Longbottom.

12:19 AM

"Neville! What's good, man?"

But Patronus-Neville didn't answer because he never understood basic social cues. He looked disdainfully at the iced-over lake we stopped next to and then disappeared.

"Yeah, get out of here! Hahaha."

And then I realized I had no idea how to get back to the tent. With nothing left to do but take my shoes off and try to glide on the ice in my socks, I did exactly that.

12:23 AM

Did a double axle. Where are all the womenfolk when I do something sensitive and sexy?

12:24 AM

Landed a little too hard on the ice and it cracked. Woops.

12:24 and 1 second AM

WOW IT'S COLD

HOW IS IT THIS COLD? IS IT EVEN COLD ENOUGH OUT FOR SOMETHING TO FREEZE OVER?

12:24 and 3 seconds AM

Hahaha the Horcrux likes to dive down to the bottom. Tricky motherfucker.

12:24 and 7 seconds AM

Hahaha ow, I think I'm sort of drowning.

Some Time

Waiting in line for something. It's really bright, and most of the people in line are old, so obviously it's going to take forever. Each one will probably have to use coupons or tell a story about their childhood to some whipper-snapper that really doesn't give a fuck.

Some Time Later

I actually have no concept of time, but I don't feel like I was waiting all that long. So anyway I get to the front of the line, and I'm waiting to go past some golden gates. The only thing I can think of is that I'm entering one of those swanky neighborhoods in Southern California, and I'm really excited to brag about this to Ron.

But the dude at the gate is barely paying attention. "Name?"

"Harry Potter."

He checks it on his clipboard. "Are you sure you're in the right place?"

"Los Angeles, right?"

"Uh, no," he clears his throat. "You're dead."

"That can't be right."

"I'm not normally wrong."

I groan. "What, so I drowned?"

"Yeah, well that's what happens when you wear necklaces and go swimming."

"I was just trying to be fashion conscious."

"Everyone has good intentions. Well, actually, you don't most of the time, which is why you're not allowed in. You can take the down escalator."

I turn around, wave goodbye to him, and board the escalator, of course climbing on right after an overweight woman and her giant suitcase. They refuse to budge and I sigh loudly, tapping my foot.

"Might as well save your energy," the lady says, "it's a long ride down."

"Well, how am I supposed to pass the time?" I ask dramatically, already bored.

"We could talk, I guess."

12:26 AM

"OH GOD NO!"

I jolted awake and coughed up water, blinked a few times, and saw a familiar red-haired boy sitting above me, drenched, and holding the Sword of Gryffindor.

"Ron? You're back! You saved my life!"

Ron and I slapped high fives!