Categories > Books > Harry Potter > A Wicked Tale Of Witches, Wands, Booze, and, Swagger
666
Chapter 4
666
I was a little hung-over as the other first years and I made our way into the Slytherin dorms for our first night in Hogwarts. The prefects led us down into the school's basement level. They called it a dungeon...
I shuddered.
I considered a dungeon a place for kinky sex acts and not a place where children slept. I would refer to it mentally as the basement to keep the thoughts of school kids and kinky sex acts far away from each-other.
An attractive looking young black haired witch reading a book was the portrait used to guard the Slytherin common room. “Password?” She asked without looking up from her book.
“Purity” The prefect announced.
Professor Snape was waiting for us in the common room. He wore an ever present scowl as he looked us over. The rest of the house were lounging in plush armchairs or talking in little groups. As we entered, the talking lowered to whispering.
Snape began to speak. “You are all here to learn how to-” I tuned him out as He began a lecture on 'proper behavior' and 'meeting expectations'. I let my eyes wander around the room instead.
I'll be damned if I let a hallucination lecture me on rules any more than 'Father' already had.
Soon enough we were led by the male prefect, Marcus Flint, to the first year's room. “You lot sleep in here.” He pointed at the door. Wakeup is at 6:30, Breakfast is at 7. Get used to going to meals together. If the upper years of different houses catch you alone...” He trailed off. “Now go to bed. Classes start tomorrow.”
We began to file into the room. I accidentally bumped into the boy in front of me. He had light brown hair and a pinched face and a snobbish expression.
“Watch where you are going, Malfoy” The boy scowled. “Daddy isn't here to protect you anymore.”
I snorted. My head was beginning to pound.
Damn whiskey headaches.
“What's your name friend?” I threw an arm over the scowling delusion's shoulders.
“What is wrong with you Malfoy?” The boy pushed my arm off his shoulders. “I'm Theodore Nott.” He pointed a finger into my face “You should know that, seeing as you've seen me at your father's Christmas parties every year since we were old enough to walk.”
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You talk different than Malfoy.” He whispered quietly. “You walk differently as well.” His eyes narrowed.
“Who are you?” He demanded.
I snorted again. I moved over to my trunk that was resting at the foot of a curtained four post bed. I opened the lid and removed my half empty bottle of hooch. My head was really starting to kill me.
“I'm Draco Malfoy of course.” I took a swig straight from the bottle. “Who else would I be?” I held out the bottle to Crabbe and Goyle who had followed me into the room.
“You saw the sorting hat on my head didn't you?” I added to the Nott boy over my shoulder.
Crabbe and Goyle shook their heads. “It'll help with the hangover headache.” I prodded them “Just a few sips.” I goaded them to get drunk with me again.
Again they shook their heads.
“I think we've had enough,” Crabbe said.
“How about you Zabini?” I called out to the boy on the far side of the room.
He walked over and took the bottle from me. He looked at the label for a moment. He sniffed the contents.
“Kentucky Bourbon.” He said before taking a tentative sip. “I prefer vodka, myself.” He spoke after tasting the cheap whiskey and grimacing.
I shrugged. “I like cognac, myself.” I admitted to my new found friend. “But I'm not picky.”
“Do you partake, Nott?” Blaise asked as he extended the bottle to the suspicious Theodore Nott.
“Don't be scared Nott.” I goaded the boy, “unlike women, the whiskey doesn't bite.”
He fell to peer pressure and took the bottle. He sniffed it and grimaced. He took a swig of the hooch and started coughing, immediately. “What is Kentucky, anyway?” He asked after he finished coughing.
“A place in America with blue grass and shitty music.” I answered. “They make a lot of cheap whiskey too.” I added at the end. “Not like that expensive and over-rated scotch shit the fucking Scots like to sell.”
We bonded over a bottle of liquor that night. I made my first two real friends in the Slytherin dorms. I told a few stories about whats between girl's legs to scare the boys and they told me about their home life.
Nott lived with an overbearing father and two older sisters. They were an ancient and wealthy family and had a library full dark arts books. His sisters were twins and soon to marry. His mother had died in a dark arts hexing accident years before.
I considered the words dark arts hilarious. What were they? Goth poetry? I longed to find out.
Blaise Zabini was an only child of an overly affectionate mother. He had three previous fathers who had all died under mysterious circumstances. His fathers were all very rich wizards who left their wealth to Blaise's mom.
I figured she had to be quite the looker to attract three rich husbands as a single mom. I looked forward to meeting her.
I passed out sometime after midnight, long after Nott and Zabini.
My last memory of the night was of of Dobby wiping sweat from my forehead and cleaning puke off my sheets.
666
The morning greeted me like a hammer over the head. A loud bang reverberated in the dorm room. I jerked awake and opened my eyes to see flint standing in the doorway of the room with smoke curling from the tip of his wand.
“Rise and shine.” He yelled cheerfully. “Go clean yourselves up and be ready to go to breakfast in a half an hour.” His words rang in my ears like someone was using my head as an anvil.
I groaned in agony.
A pop sound next to me alerted me to Dobby standing on the bed next to me. “Dobby brought the hangy cure potion for kind master.” He squeaked.
I just groaned again.
He uncorked the little vial and brought it to my lips. It tasted like flies and piss mixed together and left to ferment for a week. I gagged, but swallowed anyway.
I was glad I did as my headache went away almost instantly.
I blinked up at the ceiling as my head cleared of the fog. I heard the other boys groaning in pain around the room.
“Can you get some of that for my other dorm-mates too?” I asked the house-elf.
“Right away, kind master.” The illiterate little bug-eyed angel pronounced.
Bless that creepy little bugger.
666
Francis Jigger was rich. He owned the local apothecary in Diagon Alley and loved his job.
He bought potions ingredients cheap and sold them at a premium. For some clients, he even sold completed potions. He made a killing in profits.
Today though, he was utterly confused.
Sometime during the night, someone had taken 1000 doses of hangover cure right off his shelves.
The problem was...
His anti-theft wards weren't tripped.
There was no way to fool them. The goblins had assured him that there was no way for a wizard or witch to steal from his store. And yet he had not sold 1000 doses of hangover cure to anyone that he could remember.
He was stumped
How did this happen?
Damn lying Goblins.
He flooed Gringott's
666
All the first year boys and girls walked behind Marcus Flint as he led the way to the great hall. It was a short walk from the basement to the first floor.
“Thanks for that potion this morning.” Nott whispered.
Blaise nodded. “Don't know what I'd have done without it.” He agreed.
Crabbe and Goyle Grunted in agreement.
Flint stopped walking. “What potion?” He asked.
Apparently, he had heard us.
Theo and Blaise looked at me nervously. Crabbe and Goyle stared at their feet.
“Oh, just some zit clearing solution.” I spoke for the group. “They all were developing them from the greasy food here at school. We all had need of it.”
The girls looked at us jealously.
“You shouldn't share medications, it's unsafe.” He added. “It's one of Professor Snape's rules.” He turned back around to lead us to breakfast. “You need to get your own zit curing solutions from now on.”
Phew...
If any of the other boys had spoken, that could have ended badly.
I fell back to the rear of the group and reached into my robes. I took out a small silver flask and took a small sip.
Bless that elf.
666
Breakfast was as greasy and tasteless as you could expect a british breakfast to be. Beans, tomatoes, boiled potatoes, sausages(I hated sausage), toast, fried eggs and bacon. I made myself a bacon and egg sandwich and ate most of it.
Professor Snape came and passed us all our class schedules. I had a double potions period today, after breakfast, followed by charms and history of magic after lunch.
Crabbe and Goyle took a long time to eat, so we first years had to hurry back to the dorms together to go and retrieve our potions kits and book as well as our charms and history textbooks before potions class.
I was really starting to enjoy my delusions.
Learning magic was a lot more fun than listening to my wife's nagging or working. I missed the easy access to drugs I was used to enjoying, but hey...
I could still get drunk.
Chapter 4
666
I was a little hung-over as the other first years and I made our way into the Slytherin dorms for our first night in Hogwarts. The prefects led us down into the school's basement level. They called it a dungeon...
I shuddered.
I considered a dungeon a place for kinky sex acts and not a place where children slept. I would refer to it mentally as the basement to keep the thoughts of school kids and kinky sex acts far away from each-other.
An attractive looking young black haired witch reading a book was the portrait used to guard the Slytherin common room. “Password?” She asked without looking up from her book.
“Purity” The prefect announced.
Professor Snape was waiting for us in the common room. He wore an ever present scowl as he looked us over. The rest of the house were lounging in plush armchairs or talking in little groups. As we entered, the talking lowered to whispering.
Snape began to speak. “You are all here to learn how to-” I tuned him out as He began a lecture on 'proper behavior' and 'meeting expectations'. I let my eyes wander around the room instead.
I'll be damned if I let a hallucination lecture me on rules any more than 'Father' already had.
Soon enough we were led by the male prefect, Marcus Flint, to the first year's room. “You lot sleep in here.” He pointed at the door. Wakeup is at 6:30, Breakfast is at 7. Get used to going to meals together. If the upper years of different houses catch you alone...” He trailed off. “Now go to bed. Classes start tomorrow.”
We began to file into the room. I accidentally bumped into the boy in front of me. He had light brown hair and a pinched face and a snobbish expression.
“Watch where you are going, Malfoy” The boy scowled. “Daddy isn't here to protect you anymore.”
I snorted. My head was beginning to pound.
Damn whiskey headaches.
“What's your name friend?” I threw an arm over the scowling delusion's shoulders.
“What is wrong with you Malfoy?” The boy pushed my arm off his shoulders. “I'm Theodore Nott.” He pointed a finger into my face “You should know that, seeing as you've seen me at your father's Christmas parties every year since we were old enough to walk.”
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You talk different than Malfoy.” He whispered quietly. “You walk differently as well.” His eyes narrowed.
“Who are you?” He demanded.
I snorted again. I moved over to my trunk that was resting at the foot of a curtained four post bed. I opened the lid and removed my half empty bottle of hooch. My head was really starting to kill me.
“I'm Draco Malfoy of course.” I took a swig straight from the bottle. “Who else would I be?” I held out the bottle to Crabbe and Goyle who had followed me into the room.
“You saw the sorting hat on my head didn't you?” I added to the Nott boy over my shoulder.
Crabbe and Goyle shook their heads. “It'll help with the hangover headache.” I prodded them “Just a few sips.” I goaded them to get drunk with me again.
Again they shook their heads.
“I think we've had enough,” Crabbe said.
“How about you Zabini?” I called out to the boy on the far side of the room.
He walked over and took the bottle from me. He looked at the label for a moment. He sniffed the contents.
“Kentucky Bourbon.” He said before taking a tentative sip. “I prefer vodka, myself.” He spoke after tasting the cheap whiskey and grimacing.
I shrugged. “I like cognac, myself.” I admitted to my new found friend. “But I'm not picky.”
“Do you partake, Nott?” Blaise asked as he extended the bottle to the suspicious Theodore Nott.
“Don't be scared Nott.” I goaded the boy, “unlike women, the whiskey doesn't bite.”
He fell to peer pressure and took the bottle. He sniffed it and grimaced. He took a swig of the hooch and started coughing, immediately. “What is Kentucky, anyway?” He asked after he finished coughing.
“A place in America with blue grass and shitty music.” I answered. “They make a lot of cheap whiskey too.” I added at the end. “Not like that expensive and over-rated scotch shit the fucking Scots like to sell.”
We bonded over a bottle of liquor that night. I made my first two real friends in the Slytherin dorms. I told a few stories about whats between girl's legs to scare the boys and they told me about their home life.
Nott lived with an overbearing father and two older sisters. They were an ancient and wealthy family and had a library full dark arts books. His sisters were twins and soon to marry. His mother had died in a dark arts hexing accident years before.
I considered the words dark arts hilarious. What were they? Goth poetry? I longed to find out.
Blaise Zabini was an only child of an overly affectionate mother. He had three previous fathers who had all died under mysterious circumstances. His fathers were all very rich wizards who left their wealth to Blaise's mom.
I figured she had to be quite the looker to attract three rich husbands as a single mom. I looked forward to meeting her.
I passed out sometime after midnight, long after Nott and Zabini.
My last memory of the night was of of Dobby wiping sweat from my forehead and cleaning puke off my sheets.
666
The morning greeted me like a hammer over the head. A loud bang reverberated in the dorm room. I jerked awake and opened my eyes to see flint standing in the doorway of the room with smoke curling from the tip of his wand.
“Rise and shine.” He yelled cheerfully. “Go clean yourselves up and be ready to go to breakfast in a half an hour.” His words rang in my ears like someone was using my head as an anvil.
I groaned in agony.
A pop sound next to me alerted me to Dobby standing on the bed next to me. “Dobby brought the hangy cure potion for kind master.” He squeaked.
I just groaned again.
He uncorked the little vial and brought it to my lips. It tasted like flies and piss mixed together and left to ferment for a week. I gagged, but swallowed anyway.
I was glad I did as my headache went away almost instantly.
I blinked up at the ceiling as my head cleared of the fog. I heard the other boys groaning in pain around the room.
“Can you get some of that for my other dorm-mates too?” I asked the house-elf.
“Right away, kind master.” The illiterate little bug-eyed angel pronounced.
Bless that creepy little bugger.
666
Francis Jigger was rich. He owned the local apothecary in Diagon Alley and loved his job.
He bought potions ingredients cheap and sold them at a premium. For some clients, he even sold completed potions. He made a killing in profits.
Today though, he was utterly confused.
Sometime during the night, someone had taken 1000 doses of hangover cure right off his shelves.
The problem was...
His anti-theft wards weren't tripped.
There was no way to fool them. The goblins had assured him that there was no way for a wizard or witch to steal from his store. And yet he had not sold 1000 doses of hangover cure to anyone that he could remember.
He was stumped
How did this happen?
Damn lying Goblins.
He flooed Gringott's
666
All the first year boys and girls walked behind Marcus Flint as he led the way to the great hall. It was a short walk from the basement to the first floor.
“Thanks for that potion this morning.” Nott whispered.
Blaise nodded. “Don't know what I'd have done without it.” He agreed.
Crabbe and Goyle Grunted in agreement.
Flint stopped walking. “What potion?” He asked.
Apparently, he had heard us.
Theo and Blaise looked at me nervously. Crabbe and Goyle stared at their feet.
“Oh, just some zit clearing solution.” I spoke for the group. “They all were developing them from the greasy food here at school. We all had need of it.”
The girls looked at us jealously.
“You shouldn't share medications, it's unsafe.” He added. “It's one of Professor Snape's rules.” He turned back around to lead us to breakfast. “You need to get your own zit curing solutions from now on.”
Phew...
If any of the other boys had spoken, that could have ended badly.
I fell back to the rear of the group and reached into my robes. I took out a small silver flask and took a small sip.
Bless that elf.
666
Breakfast was as greasy and tasteless as you could expect a british breakfast to be. Beans, tomatoes, boiled potatoes, sausages(I hated sausage), toast, fried eggs and bacon. I made myself a bacon and egg sandwich and ate most of it.
Professor Snape came and passed us all our class schedules. I had a double potions period today, after breakfast, followed by charms and history of magic after lunch.
Crabbe and Goyle took a long time to eat, so we first years had to hurry back to the dorms together to go and retrieve our potions kits and book as well as our charms and history textbooks before potions class.
I was really starting to enjoy my delusions.
Learning magic was a lot more fun than listening to my wife's nagging or working. I missed the easy access to drugs I was used to enjoying, but hey...
I could still get drunk.
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