Disclaimer: Don't do anything that happens in this fic . . . ever.

Harry Potter and The Summer of Drunken Debauchery

Harry was sitting in his room staring dully at he wall when a strange owl swooped in and delivered a letter. Harry's throat developed a large lump when he read the front and realised that it was from his newly expired godfather.

Dear Harry,

If you are reading this then I am dead, probably in the Department of Mysteries. At a guess I was killed some time between three and five in the afternoon by my cousin Bellatrix (You know, Draco's aunt, one of the people that tortured your friend's parents into insanity?) As I was saying, I'd guess that I wasn't paying attention and she hit me with some sort of spell, I don't think she'd have used a lethal spell which is strange because she doesn't normally show restraint but I digress. After being hit by this spell, I'll bet I fell down a staircase or into some sort of veil that kills people and now I'm dead. Harry, I just want to tell you that it's not your fault. I had a feeling that you'd be blaming yourself for my death, which may have happened because the Voldemort tricked you somewhere and I had to come to the rescue, if that's what happened then it's not your fault and you need to quit moping. Now if you're anything like James then you're entertaining thoughts of escape, and I want to be serious and not Sirius for a minute. You can't escape, I know how easy it would be to wait till Dung took his shift at noon today (in fifteen minutes from the time you're reading this part) I know that all you have to do is wait till he gets drunk and passes out, (five minutes after his shift starts) which you'll confirm by listening for snores. I know that you realise that you can remove the underage detection charms on your wand by waving it three times, ending with a flick, and saying the incantation 'Whatever, I do magic when I want, screw you hippie.' And that you could then remove the tracking charms that were placed on virtually everything you own by saying, Badus Latainus Spellus endus. I know that you're too smart to do this and that instead you'd choose to transfer them to something else such as your bed using the incantation, 'transfurus orus somethingus.' I realise that you would then walk down the street to the third house on the left, the yellow one with red flowers in the front where you would lift up a brick in the garden (the one with a five scratched into it) to find a small key that happens to be a portkey to a secret location. And I'm sure that you don't expect to find an unplotable location where you'll join me, realising that I faked my own death and then sent this letter. I know all this because you're too bright to try to leave the cess pool of a prison that Dumbledore has exiled you to.

Your 'Very dead, don't think otherwise' Godfather

Sirius (Faked my Death) Black.

Harry blinked, once, twice, three times. Then he got to packing, he had a portkey to not get and a godfather to not get reunited with.

Sneaking out of his house and past the sleeping 'guard,' Harry retrieved the portkey and allowed it to take him to meet his godfather.

"Sirius?" Harry asked hopefully.

"FOOLISH BOY," a deep voice bellowed. "It is I Voldemort, time to die."

"Voldemort's voice is a bit more high pitched then that," Harry critiqued. "Try removing your testicles before speaking next time."

"So you're saying that Voldemort is evil because he's got no bollocks at all?"

"Maybe." Harry shrugged.

"Snape has got only one ball."

"The other one's in Albert Hall," Harry added the next line.

"Dumbledore's got balls but very small."

"And Voldemort's got no balls at all."

"Got I missed you Harry," Sirius said. "Shame you didn't get a chance to grow up with the others."

"Yeah, I wish I could have met my parents."

"Parents?" Sirius asked in shock. "I'm talking about the Marauders. You'd have been a great prankster."

"Let me recap some of the major events in my life," Harry said slowly. "I burned a Professor to death with my hands in my first year. Discovered a secret chamber that you never found in my second, and killed a giant snake. Saved your life in my third. Won the . . ."

"But think how much better you'd be if you grew up around the rest of us," Sirius interrupted.

"Whatever, what do we do about the Order?"

"To hell with them."

"We gotta tell them something," Harry protested.

"Write 'em a letter," Sirius suggested. "To throw them off our tail."

"Got a pen?"

"Here you go."

"Dear Order." Harry wrote. "I have come to accept that Sirius did not fake his own death and is in fact dead. Because of this, I have chosen to go train or something because I know that I must face Voldemort. Or possibly because I want revenge. Any way, I'll be in some remote location, possibly the Chamber of Secrets. Anyway, to reiterate: Sirius dead, I've accepted it, in the Chamber or something, don't bother looking for me."

"Brilliant," Sirius cheered. "They'll never suspect a thing."

"You really think they're that dumb?"

"Yes Harry, yes I do."

"Good enough for me, where are we going?"

"To the happiest place on earth Harry," Sirius said enthusiastically. "Mexico."

"Got a portkey?"

"You know it," Sirius agreed.

IIIIIIIIII

"Harry's missing?" Dumbledore asked slowly.

"I was only asleep for a minute," Dung muttered.

"Guess that explains the letter I just got," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "Not to worry, I have information leading me to believe that Harry has accepted Sirius's death and is currently training in some remote location . . . possibly the Chamber of Secrets."

"By jove Headmaster, you've done it again."

"I have, haven't I?

IIIIIIIIII

"So now that we're in Mexico," Harry began. "What do we do now."

"Find a bar and get drunk," Sirius replied. "And maybe find a girl or two."

"Oh . . . what about that one?"

"The Cartel," Sirius read the sign. "Let's drink here, looks like a nice place to have a cold one."

"Sure," Harry agreed. "I really like those fake machine guns all the waiters have."

"Really adds to the atmosphere," Sirius agreed.

"What can I get for you gentlemen?" One of the 'waiters' asked.

"Tequila," Sirius said quickly. "To start with anyway."

"I thought we were going to have a beer," Harry spoke up.

"That's right," Sirius said with a nod. "And a beer for each of us."

"Right away sir."

"Classy place," Sirius said in a tone of wonder. "Look, everyone else is in a suit."

"I really like the fact that everyone is keeping the volume down," Harry said. "It's really considerate."

"Your drinks sirs."

"Thanks mac," Sirius said. "Now Harry, the thing about drinking tequila is . . . what's wrong?"

"There's a worm in my tequila," Harry said.

"Congratulations Harry," Sirius cheered. "You usually have to drink a whole bottle before you get one of those. Drink up."

"But the worm."

"Is to be eaten for good luck," Sirius sighed. "Chase it with the beer."

"I don't . . . "

"On three," Sirius growled. "One-"

"-Two."

"Three," Sirius said and tossed back his drink. "That's it Harry, get that worm down. Now the beer . . . chug chug chug."

"God," Harry gasped. "I did it."

"Waiter," Sirius called out. "More drinks."

"What would you like sir?"

"Whatever you have that will peel paint," Sirius replied. "My godson is drinking for the first time."

"I understand," the man said. "Would sir care for some ever clear?"

"Sir would," Sirius agreed. "Bring it on."

"What's ever clear?" Harry asked innocently.

"A bottle full of fun," Sirius replied. "And it'll kill you if you drink more then a sip or two."

"Kill me?" Harry choked. "You expect me to drink that?"

"Unless you're a girl," Sirius agreed.

"But it'll kill me."

"Maybe we should change your name to Harriet," Sirius mused. "Get you a dress."

"Do you want me dead?"

"Better dead then a wuss," Sirius agreed. "Unless . . ."

"Unless what?"

"Ever heard of fire breathing?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah why?"

"Try it," Sirius said. "It's easy, just get a mouth full of ever clear and blow it into the candle."

"There has to be more to it then that."

"If you don't blow hard enough the flame travels back into your mouth and blows up your head," Sirius said. "It's a Marauder tradition to do it before starting a summer of drunken revelry, even Peter learned how to do it."

"I don't know . . ."

"You don't want to be less cool then Peter do you?"

"I'll do it," Harry agreed. Harry took a deep breath and a mouth full of alcohol and spat it through the wall of candles. To his surprise, a large sheet of flame shot out of his mouth . . . and onto the neighboring table. Setting it and the people sitting around it on fire. Men screamed and the 'waiters' around each table began firing at each other until finally, Sirius and Harry were the only living things in the burning bar.

"Good going Harry," Sirius groaned. "Now we're going to have to find somewhere else to drink."

"Did that ever happen when you breathed fire?" Harry asked in shock.

"You kidding? I never did something as stupid as try to breathe fire."

"But you said . . ."

"I say a lot of things," Sirius interrupted. "Now let's get out of here before the cops arrive.

"Too late," Harry said weakly.

IIIIIIIIII

"It seems that I was mistaken when I believed Harry to be in the Chamber of Secrets," Dumbledore said slowly. "And it seems that we were all mistaken when we believed that Sirius was killed in the Department of Mysteries."

"What?" Remus asked hopefully. "Sirius is alive?"

"So it seems," Dumbledore agreed. "I just received a picture of what appears to be Sirius's genitalia and on the back of it is a small note."

"What's it say?" Remus demanded.

"Dear suckers, screw you all. Me and Harry are having fun . . . oh, and tell Snape that I dipped my balls in his fire whiskey."

"What?" Snape screamed.

"And tell Snape that I dipped my balls in his fire whiskey," Dumbledore repeated.

"Pttthh," Snape spat out his drink. "Damn you Black."

"Sirius is alive," Remus said hopefully.

"Unfortunately," Snape said as he gargled.

"Oh and I urinated in that water," Remus said absently. "As sort of a last tribute to Sirius, he'd have wanted me to befoul your water."

"Damn you too," Snape screeched.

IIIIIIIIII

"The Frito Bandito?" Sirius asked dryly.

"It was the only thing I could think of," Harry tried to defend himself. "And who are you to talk Mister Fister?"

"I don't do well under pressure," Sirius whined. "You know that."

"At least we didn't give our real names," Harry sighed. "All we have to do now is bribe or escape our way out and we'll be home free."

"About that . . ."

"What is it?"

"I sort of . . . used it to get us these new tattoos."

"What . . . I've got a tattoo," Harry said in shock as he stared down at his arm.

"Cool huh?"

"Awesome," Harry cheered. "I look bad ass."

"We look bad ass," Sirius corrected. "Wait here, I'm going to try to score some smokes."

"Sure Sirius," Harry agreed. Harry watched as his godfather walked over to speak with their cell mates . . . and his sensitive ears picked up some crucial bits of the conversation.

"No luck," Sirius said as he walked back. "None of them speak any English . . . barbarians. Don't they know enough to learn English so that they can communicate with me if I should grace their pathetic country with my presence?"

"Oh . . ."

"Bastards."

"Sirius?"

"Yeah Harry?"

"Is it considered acceptable for godfathers to sell their godsons for cigarettes in the wizarding world?"

"No, in fact it's expressly forbidden by the godfather godson . . . uh . . . thingy."

"Oh . . . then why did you go over to that group of men and offer to sell me for cigarettes?"

"We're not in the wizarding world right now Harry," Sirius protested. "We're in a Mexican jail cell . . . the rules are different here."

"Then you're not my godfather anymore."

"What?" Sirius asked in shock. "Why not?"

"You tried to sell me for cigarettes."

"So?"

"That's not the sort of thing I can forgive," Harry replied. "How would you feel if I tried to sell you for cigarettes?"

"But you don't smoke."

"Suppose I did."

"I'm sure I'd be fine with it," Sirius said. "Why?"

"Cause that guy's been eyeing you," Harry explained. "And I thought it might be fun to take up smoking."

"What if I promised not to sell you for cigarettes?" Sirius suggested.

"Or anything else?"

"Or anything else," Sirius agreed. "Deal?"

"Deal."

"So how are we going to get out of here?"

"Well . . . I do have that emergency Portkey."

"Why haven't we used it already?"

"Didn't want to stop enjoying Mexico," Sirius replied. "All we've done is burn down a bar and kill several people accidentally. There's still lots of fun things to do in Mexico."

"Like what?"

"Drink."

"Let's move on," Harry said. "We can drink somewhere else."

"But I wanna drink here."

"Only thing to drink here is the water."

"Good thinking Harry, we can get beer in the next country. Now grab onto my shirt and away we go."

The Portkey whisked them out of the cell to the amazement of their fellow inmates.

"Where are we now Sirius?"

"The happiest place on earth Harry," Sirius replied. "Bangkok."

"Bangkok?"

"Yep, taxi."

"Were to?"

"Anywhere we can get drunk," Sirius replied.

"You like Russian ladies?"

"Why yes, yes we do."

"Here." The cab driver handed Sirius a full color brochure.

IIIIIIIIII

"Harry?" Hermione gasped. She and her family were vacationing in Mexico and a wanted poster had drawn her eye as she walked down the streed. "Wanted for . . . multiple counts of murder? Dangerous assassin? Frito Bandito?"

"What's wrong hon?" Her mother asked. "That looks like your friend Harry."

"It couldn't be," Hermione said slowly. "It . . . just couldn't."

"I'm sure it's not, he's probably safe in England right now."

"Yeah."

"And there's no way he's dumb enough to use an alias like 'Frito Bandito.'"

"Oh god, I've got to find him."

"Hon . . . hon."

IIIIIIIIII

"Why aren't you cheering Harry?" Sirius demanded. "There are women taking off their clothes on the stage. And since this is a third world country, we can . . . you know . . . with them later."

"Something seems off about them," Harry said. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but there's definitely something wrong with them."

"What are you a poofter?" Sirius demanded. "No godson of mine won't get aroused by the sight of a beautiful woman taking off her clothes."

"Uh . . . she . . . he . . .whatever, just took off her panties." Harry said sickly.

"Yeah baby," Sirius cheered as he turned around. "I . . . that's not supposed to be there."

"It's not a woman, it's a man." Harry said sickly. "What kind of bar did you take me to?"

"I didn't know," Sirius protested.

"And you wanted to sleep with it," Harry continued.

"I said I didn't know."

"Sure you didn't . . . poof."

"What?"

"Something you wanted to tell me Sirius?" Harry asked. "Like about why you and Remus spend so much time around each other?"

"Shut up and finish your drink," Sirius growled.

"I'll still accept you if you're gay," Harry said. "Won't go to anymore bars with you but I'll still accept you as my godfather."

"Shut up Harry."

"I guess that's why you were going to sell me to those guys in prison, you wanted to watch."

"I said shut up Harry."

"And it explains why you and Snape are always arguing though," Harry mused. "Unresolved sexual tension."

"God damn it Harry, if you don't shut up then I'll have to hurt you severely."

"My drink is finished," Harry said. "Shall we go or do you want to stay and catch up with me later?"

AN: Wrote a bit more of Harry Potter and the Summer of Drunken Debauchery. Not sure how much more of this I'll write. Yes the first part was posted as an Omake in Odd Ideas.

Omake:

"Sirius," Harry whispered to his godfather.

"What do you need Harry?"

"I've got a problem."

"What is it?"

"It . . . it burns when I pee."

"Those two girls you disappeared with the other night?"

"I think so."

"Harry," Sirius said with tears flowing down his face. "I'm so proud of you."

"What'll I do?"

"We'll get you something to clear that up later," Sirius said with a wave of dismissal. "Right now we have to celebrate."

"Celebrate what?"

"Your first STD," Sirius replied. "I got my first when I was about your age . . . from Fudge's sister . . . good times."