WHAT HAVE THEY DONE WITH THE RAIN?
There's a Place for All of Us
On Wednesday the ninth of April, at approximately two forty-two pm, something very odd happened. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were walking across Hogwarts grounds when Hermione gave an ear-splitting yell of tortured agony.
"What?" said Harry,
"I don't know," said Hermione.
"Then why did you give an ear-splitting yell of tortured agony?" asked Ron.
"Meh," said Hermione, shrugging,
"God I love you, Hermione," said Ron heatedly.
"Really? I thought you were gay," said Hermione curiously,
"No, no, I just like to give that impression!"
"Why the hell would you do that?" said Harry absently, gazing at the antics of a passing butterfly.
"Just one of my more appealing quirks," said Ron, raising his eyebrows suggestively.
"Er, yeah," said Hermione, rolling her eyes in an impatient and degrading way, "I'm in love with Dean anyhow, so you can just keep on quirking." Ron looked hurt and Harry wasn't listening, so all in all, the day wasn't all that productive a day. That night, the trio had strangely dissatisfying feelings in the pits of its stomachs.
The next morning it was potions class and there was a new student called The-At-Buggerit. Professor Snape went into cardiac-arrest over his name, and the class was cut rather cut short. Luckily, it was the wizarding world, and Dumbledore was able to cure Snape in the twinkle of an eye (literally. It was quite scary). But still, the Trio, The-At-Buggerit and all the other Gryffindors and Slytherins had the rest of the lesson to themselves. Harry seemed back on track today, and Ron and Hermione had patched things up again. The-At-Buggerit seemed bent on ruining that though…..
"Hi, I'm The-At-Buggerit!" said The-At-Buggerit,
"We know, you caused Snape to go into Cardiac Arrest, remember?" said the Trio
"Oh yeah," said The-At-Buggerit, tossing his mane of long golden hair behind his head. The tiny little bones braided into it clinked as he moved.
"What's with the moustache?" asked Ron,
"Yeah, and the helmet with the two spikes coming out the side," said Harry vaguely,
"I don't know. I was born like that, I guess." Said The-At-Buggerit smiling in a way that reminded them disturbingly of Dumbledore.
"Are you related to Dumbledore in any way?" asked Hermione fearfully.
"Yup!" said The-At-Buggerit benignly, "I'm his illegitimate son!"
"Dumbledore has an illegitimate son?" cried Ron,
"Well obviously," said Hermione, with the air of one hoping for a fight. Ron didn't rise, because Ron was too occupied with The-At-Buggerit.
"Who was your mother?" said Ron, revelling in the scandal.
"Ron, don't be rude!" said Hermione waspishly,
"Why are you so waspish?" asked Harry,
"Because, I have a wasp stuck inside my ear lobe, fool!"
"Oh, right," said Harry, "So, what house are you in, The-At-Buggerit?" he asked,
"I don't know yet," said The-At-Buggerit, "I wasn't sorted because as soon as Dumbledore set eyes on me all his suppressed memories of younger days came flooding and there were several flashbacks that could be likened to a scene from a corny daytime soap," He said with a smile, "I haven't seen him for about fourteen years, you know." Harry, Ron and Hermione backed a way slowly and left The-At-Buggerit to talk to Malfoy. Malfoy wasn't all that happy about it.
"'The-At-Buggerit', honestly, what kind of name is that?"
"Well, it originated when my father, Dumbledore you know, came into-"
"I don't give a flying crap about your… whoa, hang on a second – did you say Dumbledore was your father?" Malfoy's eyes narrowed in malicious glee as he contemplated the outrage.
"Yes, yes, but anyway, as I was saying-"
"This is going to be brilliant!" and without taking in a further syllable of The-At-
Buggerit's, Malfoy strode off rubbing his hands together and cackling evilly.
Back in the Gryfindor common room, Harry was playing chess with Ron and Parvati Patil was trying to crack on to him, which was very strange because she had despised him with all her heart and soul ever since the Yule Ball in their fourth year. But, whatever her motive, Harry was completely oblivious to her advances.
"Oh, Harry, you look so handsome tonight!" said Parvati pathetically.
"Hey Ron, you can't move your king three spaces!" said Harry indignantly (which wasn't very indignantly because Harry just didn't seem to be able to be forceful any more)
"Just checking," said Ron quirkily, "Seeing if you were on your toes, you know,"
"Do you miss Sirius, Harry? I know I would! I'd be looking for comfort-"
"Ron! You can't move-"
"Just watch me. Don't you know about the castling rule?" asked Ron in shock.
"Harry. You show him, Harry, don't let him walk all over you. Now me, I wouldn't walk all over you, I'd-"
"Argh, I give up. I just can't seem to concentrate lately, you know. Something to do
with-"
"Your green eyes, Harry, there're so startling. And your unruly, lice infested, seductive jet-black hair, I mean, it just takes my breath away-"
"Maybe you should get some rest, mate, you know, big quiddich game tomorrow!"
"Yeah, I think I will. Night all!" said Harry, without even noticing Parvati Patil's hand caressing the sleeve of his robe. With that he stomped off to bed and accidentally slammed the door behind him, giving people the completely inaccurate impression that he was in fact in the midst of a towering rage.
"Verse you in chess?" asked Ron of Parvati. Parvati simply gave him a withering stare of utmost revulsion and flounced off to the girls dormitories. Ron gave a bewildered shrug and followed Harry up to their dormitory.
The next day, Snape was better, Hermione was still waspish, Neville had a frog in his pants, and it was Saturday, the day of the big quiddich match. Gryffindor versus Slytherin. The-At-Buggerit was presented with a problem. He had two sets on new friends:
Malfoy and his evil, skulking gang of Slytherins, and Harry, Ron and Hermione, the do-gooding, chess-playing Trio from Gryffindor. The question was: Which team to go for in the quiddich cup? This was just one of the questions that The-At-Buggerit faced in the course of his bewildering everyday life. The-At-Buggerit was still contemplating his predicament when Harry and Ron and Hermione arrived in the Great Hall.
"Hey, The-At-Buggerit, why are you sitting at the Gryffindor table? I thought you hadn't been sorted yet!" said Ron irritably.
"Yeah," said Harry vaguely,
"Well," said The-At-Buggerit, "There doesn't seem to be anywhere else to sit," he smiled happily, "I could always go and sit with my other friend, Malfoy there, but he looked a little cross when I went over, so I've decided to leave him alone for a bit,"
"Right," said Harry, trying to bring himself to eat a piece of toast,
"Harry, it's a big game, you have to eat," said Ron, shovelling in vast amounts of chocolate-covered sultana-bran.
"Yeah I know. I just feel a bit queasy. Maybe it's the thought of all those people in the stadium, or maybe its that apple-pie I had last night, but I feel like vomiting big time, actually,"
"Did you hear me Harry? I said you had to eat," said Ron dismissively, "And I'm the new captain and what I say goes,"
"I still can't believe they made you captain and not me," said Harry disinterestedly,
"I just have better people skills than you. Now, eat!" Ron piled Harry's spoon with sultana bran and proceeded to force it down Harry's throat.
"Ok, ok, I can feed myself already!" cried Harry, gulping it down at top-speed.
"That's slave labour, that is," said Hermione.
Stay Tuned…….