"What?" said Hermione blankly.
"I said, I think we ought to talk about all this sexual tension between us," Harry replied while calmly rolling his second joint of the evening. Today was his first day back at Hogwarts comprehensive for the supernaturally challenged after the long summer holidays. Due to recent government cutbacks, Dumbledore had been forced to pawn all of the elaborate furniture in the Gryffindor common room for heating money, so they both sat on the floor. The small, powder-blue room smelled of rising damp and cigarette smoke.
"What the fuck do you mean sexual tension, what are you talking about man?"
"You know I'm just playin' girl," said Harry scratching himself with his wand. "Anywayz, we like, better go to class, McGonnagall says that if we miss any more of her classes we'll be suspended."
They walked along the corridor, trying to avoid the blotches of fresh chewing-gum stuck to the floor. The red blotches of cheap modern art along the corridor rearranged themselves to spell out the words "Do you like scary movies?"
"Trying out for Quiddich this year Harry?"
"Nah, they cancelled the tryouts coz of all those people who died playin' last year."
They walked into the classroom and took their usual places next to Ron, who was carving a skull and crossbones into the wooden desk with his compass. Fortunately, Professor McGonnagall was late due to a recent wave of tube strikes.
"OK children," she said, "Today we are going to learn how to make money out of thin air and deposit it all in a high-interest account in Switzerland."
"If I see another wand I swear I am going to turn myself into a lizard and live under a rock for the rest of my life," announced Professor Flitwick as he slumped down on the staffroom floor (the furniture having been pawned to pay for this year's textbooks). "You know, I never wanted to teach magic. I wanted to play keyboards."
"Well, the outlook's pretty grim folks," said Dumbledore, "a botched privatisation job on the Hogwarts Express means we have to send all the kids here by coach next year, the divination exams were printed with four unanswerable questions and Hagrid went on another bender and threw up in the furnace."
"It gets worse, I'm afraid," said Professor Lupin brandishing a copy of that day's Daily Prophet. The headline read: "SHAME! Dumbledore sexed-up case against Voldemort in internet downloaded dossier!"
"I knew that would come back to haunt me," Dumbledore said, pulling tufts out of his beard.
"Let's sue them, it's all the rage these days."
Harry took a deep, long drink of a Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bacardi Breezer, smuggled into school in an empty butterbeer bottle.
"I am so bored," groaned Ron. "Harry, let's use your invisibility cloak to sneak into the girls' changing rooms again."
"Nah."
"Well, why don't we get your Firebolt broomstick and use it to break into muggles' houses through the chimney?"
"Nah."
"D'you ever think about the future, Harry?"
"Now, why would I go and do something like that?"
"Well, you know, we have no GCSEs, no IT skills, we'll be lucky to get janitorial work," Ron mumbled over the illegal copy of 50 Cent, which was playing on the cheap Gryffindor common room minidisc player.
"I always assumed that I'd be doing party tricks for kids or something, like a paid clown or shit."
"Where's Neville? I haven't seen him for, like three weeks," said Ron, hastily changing the subject to something less depressing.
"I heard he was killed in a broomstick drag-race. That's, like, the third person this week."
"Don't be thick, mate, that's a ruddy stupid idea, he's probably just gone home for a bit."
"Thick? Mate? Ruddy? Why the fuck are you talking like some character in a children's book, Ron?" Harry asked opening a balsamic vinegar-flavoured bottle of Bacardi Breezer.
"I dunno, it was as if someone else was, like, putting words in my mouth," Ron said, laughing.
"What the fuck've you been smokin' boy coz I want some," chortled Harry.
"Let's go for a walk. Hermione, you comin'?"
It was one o'clock in the morning and the corridors of Hogwarts were empty save for Harry, Ron and Hermione. If it wasn't for the distant noise of traffic coming from the M1, the school would have been silent.
"So what d'you guys think about this Voldemort stuff?" asked Hermione.
"Fuck that, right. If I see The Dark Lord, I'd just smack 'im one. It's that easy," Harry said, kissing his knuckles.
"You're pathetic, you know that?" said Hermione, laughing. "I hear the ministry of magic is falling to pieces over it all," she continued.
"Now why would we care about the ministry of magic?" said Ron and Harry in unison. But this didn't stop Hermione.
"Personally, I think that the ministry should be disbanded and some kind of magical king should be put in place instead." Hermione had just spent all summer actively campaigning for a group called the Federal Union for the Creation of a Kingdom (or FUCK).
"You know what?" said Harry, walking.
"What?" said Ron, who was also walking.
"I don't give a shit," said Harry, continuing to walk. The three of them walked in silence. Eventually Harry spoke: "I think it's weird how, like, the last four years of life have been pretty similar... I mean, it starts with me getting pissed off with the Dursleys and doing some sort of magic which I then get in trouble for, then I end up at school, after a couple of hours where it looks like I might not make it, and get involved in some sort of trouble that reveals itself fully in the last couple of days of the term. It's almost as if I'm living in a repetitive series of books or some shit."
"Don't be an idiot mate, that's a ruddy lousy idea," said Ron, walking.
Time passed and summer slowly turned into winter. It wasn't long before the Hogwarts multi-storey car park and the asbestos-lined mobile prefab huts behind the Quiddich pitch were covered in a thin layer of snow. Ron's father, Mr Weasly, was arrested for benefit fraud and Ginny was put into foster care. The Death Eaters, working directly for the Dark Lord Voldemort merged with the Countryside Alliance and marched through the streets of London, and the second-richest woman in the UK (whoever she is) sued Walmart for selling a copy of her new book four minutes before it was due to be published.
Harry felt like he'd just missed a step going downstairs. He had just taken a very long toke on an extra-strength magical joint. Just then his mobile then went off.
"Whassssuuupppp!" He screeched into the handset.
"Oh fuck off, Harry," said Ron from the other side of the room, "that whaassup thing is, like, soooo book two."
"That was Dumbledore," said Harry, sticking his middle finger up at his Nokia 8210, "he wants to see me."
Dumbledore had been moved to a new office. It was a small, unimposing room at the end of an uncarpeted corridor furnished only by an Ikea desk and chair set, and a faded Rothko print brought for £5.95 at Tate Modern.
"It's halfway through the year, Harry, and I know that you are aching for this year's end of term showdown with - who is it this year? The Grand Inquisitor? But there are more important things at stake."
"Like what?" said Harry through a mouthful of chewing gum.
"Like your OWL exams Harry. By April, when all of the madness usually unfolds, you'll be revising 14 hours a day. You'll have to if you wish to get more than a D."
Harry sat back in his chair and thought. The silence that followed felt like it lasted for days, but couldn't have really lasted more than 20 seconds.
"Don't you think it's a bit weird, all of this?" Harry said at last.
"All of what?"
"Well, the whole works. I mean wizards? Witches?... Are we really supposed to believe that I can alter reality with a wooden stick?" Harry said, taking out his wand. "Or that 90% of the population of the planet is completely unaware of this fact. I mean, why aren't we like, using our magic to feed starving people, sort out the NHS and create a better world?"
This time it was Dumbeldore's turn to sit back in his chair and think, creating a second long silence. This one was even longer than the first, and nearly a minute passed before Dumbledore finally said: "Good point."
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