Harry was of course inconsolable once the Mew Mew abandoned him for another man. America was, he decided, a no go place with all its false promises, too hot rocky, sandy middle of nowheres and buffy hammer's thieves with even less fashion sense than Dumbledore.

He had shared his deep misery over failing to provide for his lovely zingy thick tool with his loyal sidekicks.

"Too right, mate, too right," Ron bit a chip with savage frown. Harry didn't wonder where the chips came from. One does not ask a Weasley where they find their food. "That guy has nothing on you, you are one funky punky hunk, what that frazzled meaty bastard has that you do not?"

"Immortality? Godhood? Twenty thousand volt running through his body?" Chipped in Hermione like Harry knew she would. She was once again exercising her witchy womanly powers of logic- old enemy of all wizards alive and, even more so, all its dead victims. "Harry, you need to let that hammer go, it's not healthy to cling to it for so long."

"It sparked my joy, Hermione!"

"It singed your brain, muttonhead." Harry narrowed his eyes. The insult. The travesty. Theā€¦He looked at the school they were standing next, and frowned at a strange people running back and forth with black bulky sticks.

"It will come back, you will see. And then, once again I will be united with it and you will be wrong." Hermione gasped and Harry could taste her fear. "That's right. And we will tell everyone."


"He sounds serious, cupcake, I wouldn't provoke him." Ron was already making a list, making sure to add the dude from cafeteria that always leaves his tray full and then walks off somewhere mysteriously every time and comes back only with a drink. Bless him, such a good man.

Something in the air made a ping and then pang and the long honoured tradition of Harry finding trouble was once again observed by his friend and conscience. He started running toward the pingy-pangy wooshy sound, Ron right behind him, stopping every few paces to take a bite of his snack. Mama raised no idiot, after all.

If self-preservation was taught Harry would fail. Thankfully for the plot its lack can only get you killed, so there was no need to study which is why he went woah at the whole blippy sciency stuff that headed his way. It was, as far as he reasoned, a giant ugly black dildo mowing through the somewhat important parts of Greenwich College and then standing still like a toothpick in a piece of cheddar. Harry nodded at it. It wasn't nicer in the category of household stuff than a zingy hammer, even more so when it was so disappointingly less pocket sized and ugly as sin and Delores Umbridge - may her soul find peace in hell - but it will fill The Void.

He will need larger garden.

Then the dildo binged, zagged, sizzled and purred flashing ominous red light as it spit out an offspring of Lucius Malfoy and potato patch hatched Uruk-Hai. It was the moment, that Harry realized that the whole thing emanated a very serious case of nope.

Harry didn't really wanted to judge and throw accusations around. It was in a bad tone to start any conversation, but he had to ask.

"Boy, you stink worse than remains of thousand years old basilisk that was left under magical castle for too many years in a row. How you deal with it?" Hermione nodded at his side with understanding of this particular plight. Or maybe she just tried not to choke as her eyes watered.

"Wow. Nice one Harry. Hey, that pretty awesome creepy circle in the sky, your work? "Ron pointed at said circle as to not to confuse the poor pale alien with unfortunate hygiene problem." Aesthetic, man."

"You and your useless planet will perish in the inferno of my rage." Harry had his answer. Rage was very good emotion to cover all the less fortunate circumstances one was born with. He watched as Ron bravely chugged a can of coke, before he squashed it in his hands like a pro and threw it at the decidedly not nice alien. It missed. Well, Ron was a Keeper and he never claimed the mastery of throwing things other than temper tantrums and naked fists.

Something made whooshing sound and then a spot of red and silver and black met the finish line embedding itself into ground. How exactly Harry noticed anything but the blur of motion in his out-of-proscription glasses was a secret of the universe that was done sharing since few stones went around making people think they know anything about anything. But noticed he did.

"Mew Mew!" The hammer zinged in recognition, pulling itself from the ground, still dragging its useless hunk of fun-stealing owner. Finally it untangled itself, flying straight into Harry's hand, right as it should be. Harry smiled as his joy was sparked again, and swung around to share his victory over stupid hammer -dropping gods and whoomped something along the way. He watched it fly for a moment till it got eaten by a ravenous angry void appearing briefly in the sky. A small red stone glittered and fell right after. "Hey did you see that?"

He turned around. Strange smelly guy was gone. Shrugging to himself and thinking that for such an ugly piece of stinky guy he had surprisingly little rage inside if he was gone so quickly. He bend down to pick the stone. It whispered. Harry, having a vast knowledge and experience with things that whispered when they didn't have working mouths decided, that there was only one thing one should do. He put it in his pocket. Mew Mew seemed to approve.

A woman that was vaguely familiar in a way that this girl in Hermione's dormitory that remained nameless for all years of his education was, took to running fast toward them. Or maybe toward Thor, who was far less cooler than he ever were before, lying on the ground face down and groaning weakly. Not that he had anything going for him before, really.

Harry decided that it was time to turn away and walk really fast in case somebody would try to spoil his day and take his hard earned toys. He looked speculatively at the large dildo of doom and sighed forlornly before an idea was sparked. He was getting his mojo back! He petted the hammer as it hummed to him, scratching it lightly under the handle as they skedaddled heroically away, dragging sputtering Hermione behind.

"Hey, Ron? Will your mum let me keep it in your garden for a while?" Hermione sat down, finally succumbing to her mid-life crisis that was coming since she was eleven. Harry made a mental note to make sure she doesn't marry anyone in illicit neo-pagan ceremony in some fiord-covered part of Norway and to water her snakeplant while she figures out herself.

"Sure. Very art deco."

"Hey, Hermione?" Harry waited till her glassy eyes turned clearer before mildly commenting." You were wrong." They heard a thump. With a measure of strength shared between their bounds of brotherhood they averted their eyes from the witch. Ron chewed thoughtfully.

And, being a good friend that Ron was, he stretched his hand. "Chip?"

Harry took one. It tasted like vinegar, burned palm oil and victory.