Notice: Harry and all other characters you might recognize are the property of JKR and whoever else might have the rights to them. Alas, I am not one of the "whoever else." Anybody else's copyrights I have stepped on inadvertently, I apologize. I don't own them either.

A/N: Someone told me to try writing while I was on some pain meds. I couldn't write what they were wanting, because Trixie won't BE at that meeting in Consequences yet, but this is the result. Let me know what you think. I liked it when I was out of my mind, anyhow. Special thanks to K'Treva-Kitty-Mura and meikouhaikitsune for convincing me that this was good enough to put up.

Harry Potter and the Final... Drunken Binge?

August 1, 1997 3:27 PM

As the late afternoon light stabbed into the seventeen year old Harry Potter's closed eyelids, a groan was heard from the unmoving lump of flesh. This was different than the snores, fiery belches and other bodily noises that had been coming from the small wizard since he had appeared in the room some nine hours ago. Dobby was only glad that he had charmed the sheets and pillowcases of the bed to be fireproof. Evidently the Great and Powerful Harry Potter Sir had consumed massive quantities of Ogden's last night.

Slowly his hands came up to cover his eyes. They quickly grabbed his head and another groan issued forth from the hungover young man. He rolled over, and quickly discovered that he was at the edge of the bed. Unfortunately for him, this information made it through his alcohol deadened synapses just a bit AFTER it could have been useful in keeping him from landing face first on the floor. Unfortunately, his face was not the only thing to hit the hardwood floor. As his stomach hit the floor, this forced large quantities of highly volatile gas to erupt from his mouth, scorching the floor - not to mention the throat, mouth and nasal cavities of the self induced torture victim. The scream that started to erupt from his throat was quickly stifled as Harry realized that it would only make his headache even worse.

Harry, showing more sense than most in his predicament, realized that he could not get to his feet at this time. Instead, he carefully crawled into the bathroom to lean his head against the cool porcelain of the water closet as he looked down into the still waters.

They were not still for long, as Harry's stomach warred with the wine, brandy, fire whiskey, scotch, and... well, whatever it was, it was green. Going down, that is. The mixture seemed to be a bit of purple coming up, with yellow and red streaks. Not a good combination to be watching first thing in the... er, afternoon. Not really a good combination to be watching any time, he supposed. Especially when it was coming from his body.

With a snap of his fingers that made Harry clutch once again at his aching head, Dobby quickly placed a fire suppression ward on the loo. This was always a good idea when dealing with partially digested fire whiskey. It kept one's eyebrows and hair from getting singed. With another snap that made Harry groan Dobby was gone once again. Harry returned to filling the wondrous bowl before his face. He now did it with his eyes closed. He didn't want to see the colors any more.

As the contents of his stomach finally were emptied, and the dry heaves were at last lifted from his body, Harry reflected that he would never have to fear a Cruciatus curse again. Nothing felt worse than what he was feeling now. Not even when the Dark Lord had possessed him at the Ministry. He would have welcomed a possession right now, just to have someone else endure the pain he was in.

As he opened his eyes, he saw three potions and a gallon of orange juice carefully placed beside him. Once he managed to focus on the bottles, he found that they were all labeled as "Dr. Phil Goot's Hangover Remedy - Guaranteed to Work or You Get your Binge Back!"

Harry struggled with the corks on the bottles, but finally managed to get them open and quaffed them down. He then began sipping the orange juice. His brain felt like it was starting to deflate from beach ball size. Now it was just down to being a basketball crammed into his head. He didn't scream when Dobby popped back in and began running a bath. He looked thankfully at the house elf when the silencing charm went up over the tub. "Thank you for everything, Dobby." He whispered/screamed to the elf. He was even more thankful when the elf didn't try to touch him or start in on his "Great and Powerful Harry Potter" spiel. While he thought he was now going to live, unfortunately; he didn't think that he could have survived one of those incidents.

After the tub was full, Harry carefully undressed and slipped into the warm water. Dobby once again appeared, and snapped his fingers. There was now a tray across Harry's lap, with small amounts of food on it. Porridge, small pieces of fruit, buttered toast, and his pitcher of orange juice and a chilled glass. OJ was not Harry's favorite, but felt that it was helping with his dehydration and still unsettled intestinal tract better than Pumpkin Juice would have. The food was thankfully bland, and neither fried nor meat products. Just the thing to get Harry back into some sort of shape other than "sodden lump."

As the warm tub was leaching the alcohol out of his pores, Ron Weasley stepped into the bathroom. He carefully closed the door and whispered "You know you're a dead man walking after what you did last night, don't you mate? And where did you disappear to when you left here? And what happened to your scar?"

Harry got a confused look on his face. He brought his hand up to his right temple. His scar was GONE! Slowly, realization dawned as he began to remember the beginning events of the night before.

July 31, 1997 6:30 PM #12 Grimmauld Place, London

"HAPPY -" Said George.

"BIRTHDAY -" Said Fred.

"HARRY!" The twins said in unison.

"We thought long -"

"and hard about -"

"the perfect gift for you -"

"reaching your age of majority, Harry."

"We finally -"

"came up with it."

"The Shot Glass of Godric Gryffindor!" Fred and George shouted.

"It's charmed -"

"to be a direct link -"

"to his liquor cabinet, "

"where ever that is. "

"As long as there is alcohol in it, "

"it can never be spilled, "

"and never be broken!" They said in unison once again as they reverently presented the fabled grail to Harry.

A conversation with the twins was much like watching a tennis match at Wimbledon.

An idea occurred to Harry, and he was even more appreciative of the gift from the twins than they would have realized. "Thank you so much, guys. You have no idea what this means to me." Harry shook both of their hands with tears in his eyes.

"Nothing but the best -" started Fred.

"For our partner, mate!" Finished George.

"Use it in good health, Harry." Said Fred.

The birthday party broke up around 9:00 that night. The adults all had to work the next morning, and Ginny was still upset with Harry about dumping her. Who would have thought that Harry Potter would be able to throw off the effects of Amortentia in two short weeks. It should have stayed in his system at least a full month before needing to be renewed. Now she no longer had a chance to dose him because Dobby was working for him, and wouldn't let anyone spike "the Great and Powerful Harry Potter Sir's" drink with ANYTHING.

After everyone left except Ron and Hermione, Harry had Hermione cast the spell she had come across to see if the shot glass was the last of the Horcruxes they needed to find before going after Nagini and Voldemort. It was.

Earlier in the summer, they had figured out the Locket was the one that had been here. Harry had to buy it back from Aberforth, but it was quickly taken care of with a ritual Hermione had found from a book Bill had lent her about the tricks, traps and nastiness found in Ancient Egyptian Tombs. It seems that mummies were the Pharaoh's horcruxes that were triggered when "a bad thing happened" and some unlucky person tripped one of the wards in a pyramid.

Using the knowledge gained from this tome, it was a short trip to Tom Riddle's old orphanage to acquire and destroy Helga's cup. They tried it on the shot glass. Nothing happened. Apparently unbreakable really meant unbreakable in regards to this glass.

Harry realized that there was only one thing to do. Begin drinking.

Twelve year old scotch is nice. Thousand year old scotch is so smooth you don't notice it until it has hit your stomach. The alcohol is not measured in proof. It's measured in octane.

Twenty year old brandy is good. Hundred year old brandy is excellent. Thousand year old brandy can be used to launch a Saturn V rocket to the moon.

Bourbon after a thousand years seems to skip the stomach entirely and directly converts the blood into alcohol.

One gulp of thousand year old fire whiskey puts a Chinese Fireball to shame for heat of breath.

Ron was buzzed after his first drink. Hermione was passed out after her third. Ron lasted six rounds before sliding under the table. Harry staggered to the floo and called Remus and Tonks to help him kill off the supply of liquor.

Around 10:00 PM, Harry no longer noticed his connection with the Dark Lord. Harry wasn't sure what exactly that meant, but decided it was worth drinking to. Remus and Tonks managed to last until 10:30 PM. Harry pulled out all the stops and got hold of the recently released Mundungus Fletcher. 'Dung lasted until 1:00 AM. Harry continued alone. Finally, at 3:00 in the morning, the task was completed. Harry looked down at the now empty glass. With a cry of "SKAAL!" he smashed the soul of Tom Riddle into the fireplace. The scream that erupted from the fireplace was sweet music to his ears.

Harry staggered up the stairs, and, missing his own room, went into Sirius'. As he plopped down onto the bed, his head hit the pillow with a THUNK. Knowing that this was not the normal sound of his head hitting a pillow, Harry drunkenly reached behind his head to find a leather journal that had belonged to Sirius when he was in school.

Harry began to read through it. As the pranks and practical joke spells began to work their way into his inebriated brain, Harry started giggling. The giggles turned to laughs, and finally into full scale howls of joy. Harry got up from the bed, went into the bathroom to relieve himself, and then went down to the parlor.

In the manner of all drunks, Harry shout-whispered "Dobby! Come with me. Oh, and bring a camera and LOTS of film! We need to go make Dad and Sirius proud!" Harry pulled out his wand and began to wave it around. Sparks shot everywhere, but nothing else seemed to happen. Harry began to giggle. This soon turned into a full belly laugh. After he ran out of breath, he took a deep breath.

Hermione was just opening her eyes at this disturbance to see Harry Potter grab the Floo powder muttering that if he can't come out of the floo with dignity he might as well have some fun at it. He grabbed a heaping handful of the powder. With a shout of "The Oompa Loompa Love Shack!" and returning to his giggling, dove head first in a flash of green flame. That was the last that he could remember.



There was a SNAP and Dobby was looking at his boss. "Yes, Master Harry Potter, Sir?"

"Dobby, I remember getting drunk, and I remember going to bed, and then I remember telling you to come with me and hopping in the Floo Network. Did that really happen?" Harry asked.

Dobby looked worried, and then stared at the tile floor. "Yes, Master Harry Potter, Sir."

"Okay. What happened after that? I'm trying, but I don't remember anything. Can you tell me?"

Dobby looked like he was about to cry. "Yes, Master Harry Potter, Sir. Dobby knows." Dobby was shuffling his feet aimlessly as the two young wizards looked at him.

Harry was getting worried. What did he DO last night? "Dobby, please tell me what happened next."

"Are you SURE you want to know, Master Harry Potter, Sir?" Dobby asked. Tears were starting to well up in his eyes.

Harry sighed. This did NOT sound good. "Yes, Dobby. I need to know just how bad it is. Tell me everything. If necessary, I'll turn myself in and do my time in Azkaban."

"Oh, No! Dobby will not allow that to happen. Dobby has PICTURES!"

Harry had been trying to make a bad joke with the Azkaban comment. Evidently, whatever it was that he did might just warrant it. And Dobby apparently had the proof that could probably get him kissed by a Dementor if the DMLE ever got their hands on them. Harry groaned and looked at Ron. He looked back at the house elf and said "Go ahead, Dobby. Tell me just how buggered up it got after I left here last night."

As the horrific details of the prior night came out, Harry and Ron both swore never to drink anything stronger than pumpkin juice again.


------------------------------- DOBBY'S TALE -------------------------------

Dobby started his tale. "Dobby does not know how Master Harry Potter knew the floo address of the most secret and most disgusting room of the Ministry of Magic, but apparently when Master Harry Potter Sir called out 'The Oompa Loompa Love Shack,' That is where you went.

"Dobby, and all house elves, for that matter, does not travel by floo. We just know where our master is, and we go there. When I got there, Master Harry Potter, sir, you were shouting 'Petrificus Totalis' and waving your wand all around. Somehow, you managed to hit all four of the people in the room before they even knew that you were there. Of course, it helped that they were all on the bed together, none of them had their wands or even any clothes on, and two of them did not have the use of their mouths. Master Harry Potter, Sir, then you told me to take pictures. Dobby did not want to take them, but he did. Dobby wanted to throw up from what he saw, but instead he took the pictures. It was horrible, Master Harry Potter, sir! Just Horrible! Now, though, Dobby understands that he needed to take these pictures to keep you out of Azkaban. No Harm will come to Master Harry Potter, Sir!

"Then Master Harry Potter Sir told me to follow you again, changed your robes into a funny costume, threw in bunches of floo powder into the fire and called out 'The Pinball Wizard's Pinball Arcade' while giggling. This time for some reason the flames turned black, then red, and then green and Master Harry Potter Sir took a running slide feet first into the fire was gone again. It took a long time for Dobby to find Master Harry Potter Sir again. Dobby is sorry about that.

"When Dobby got to where Master Harry Potter Sir was, he was very surprised to see Dobby's bad old Master there, as well as a very fat man, and a tall funny looking man thing dry heaving into a waste basket while laying on the bed. There was also a big snake there. Dobby was very scared of the snake. He knew he could take care of his bad old Master if he tried to hurt his Master Harry Potter Sir. The Great and Powerful Master Harry Potter Sir had already frozen Dobby's old master, the fat man, and the funny looking man.

"Master Harry Potter Sir called to Dobby to make sure I was taking pictures. Then, Master Harry Potter, Sir, you faced the snake and belched. Flames shot from Master Harry Potter Sir's mouth and roasted the snake. There was a funny scream from nothing, and then Dobby got very frightened of Master Harry Potter Sir for the first time ever! Dobby still took pictures, though. Dobby knows that a good house elf obeys, even if he is very frightened. What you did was wonderful. Terrible, but wonderful. You then muttered to yourself. It sounded to Dobby like you said 'Harry Potter! You've just offed the evilest bad dude of all time! What are you going to do now?' Then, you took more Floo powder, threw it in, and shouted 'DIAGONALLY!' and dove head first into the fire.

"Dobby caught up to Master Harry Potter Sir in Borgin and Burke's in Knockturn Alley. You blew the door off the hinges as you walked out of the place. Then, you started waving your wand around and telling me to keep snapping pictures! You wanted lots and lots of pictures of what would happen next. Dobby has never seen anyone do what you did to Knockturn and Diagon Alleys. Dobby didn't even know it was possible. Of course, Dobby has to wonder WHY Master Harry Potter Sir did what he did there. When you were done in Diagon Alley, you went into the Leaky Cauldron, threw more floo powder in the fire and called out 'LUUUCCYYYYY! I'm HOOOOOOOOMMMMMEEEE!' and once again went headfirst into the flames.

"Dobby isn't sure how you did it, but you came back to here. Dobby knows that isn't the floo address for any of Master Harry Potter Sir's homes. It certainly isn't the floo address for here. Anyway, you got here, some how. Then you laid down on the rug in front of the fireplace. When Dobby got here, you were passed out. Dobby took you up to bed, and tucked you in. Dobby then found some hangover potion because he knew that you would need it today."


"Um, Dobby? Do you have any of those pictures you took last night?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yes, Master Harry Potter, Sir! But Master Harry Potter Sir does not want to look at them. They are too terrible for words!" Dobby replied.

Harry groaned. By the sounds of it, if he was lucky, he'd be able to skip the trial and just get the Dementor's Kiss and get it over with. Still, he had to see what he had done. "Dobby, get me the pictures. I may not want to see them, but I think I'm going to need to see them. Get me some clothes, and then meet me in my room with them. Ron, you'd better come with me. I may need you to kill me where I sit. Just be quick and painless, mate."

Dobby brought Harry his clothes, and then met the two young wizards in Harry's room. The stack was more than a foot high. Harry sat on the bed, while Ron sat in the chair.

"These are in reverse order, Master Harry Potter Sir. That will save the horror for as long as possible." Dobby said. The house elf then slowly handed the pictures to Harry one by one. Harry looked at what he had caused, shuddered, and then handed them off to Ron. Ron then stacked them on the desk.

Apparently, in his drunken orgy of prankdom at the end of the night, Harry Potter covered the main drags of Magical London in Saran Wrap. Every last building from Gringott's to Madam Malkin's. In each picture, Harry was doing a very funny looking little victory dance, and wearing an ancient American New York Yankees baseball uniform. The number on the jersey was 3, and had the name RUTH marked out and POTTER printed above it. Harry groaned.

About the only GOOD thing to have come from this was that apparently, sometime during this drunken orgy of plastic application, Harry had stumbled across Draco Malfoy and Snivellus Snape. He seemed to have won whatever fight had gone on, as one of the pictures of Gringott's showed that Diagon Alley now had a new water fountain.

The picture showed Draco Malfoy, kneeling in front of Snape, whose pants were around his ankles and hands were on the back of the last of the Malfoy line's head. There was a baseball bat lodged in the ex-Potions Professor's rectum. Harry could just make out the fact that it was signed. He sincerely hoped it didn't say "George Herman Ruth," but a sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach told him that his hopes were in vain.

There was a water hose running from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes up Draco's pants leg. The water was exiting from Snape's open mouth and ears. A plaque at the fountain's base read "DON'T FUCK WITH CLAN POTTER." Harry really didn't want to see where the end of the water hose was installed.

"Dobby tried to vanish the wrapping, Master Harry Potter Sir, but for some reason it would not work with my magic. Dobby does not think that it will come off with ordinary wizard's magic either. Dobby does not know how they will get it off."

The next set of pictures were of the inside of Riddle Manor just outside Little Hangleton. Moldy Shorts looked to be in a bad way. Apparently, he couldn't even manage to keep up with Harry's drinking through their link. What a pansy!

After Harry had torched Nagini, he transfigured a bleeding from the thigh (Harry must have caught him with the cleats in the slide)Lucius Malfoy into a skunk and forced Peter Pettigrew into his animagus form. Harry then somehow used his magic to shove Peter headfirst down the Dark Lord's throat, cutting off his air supply.

That was not as shocking as what Harry did with the transfigured Malfoy. He somehow coated the skunk in petroleum jelly and forced the large, smelly creature up the Dark Lord's arse, suffocating the transfigured Lucius in what would have to be the most horrible manner possible.

Harry then sent the spell to return Pettigrew to his human form. The Dark Lord Voldemort exploded. Unidentifiable bits of pseudo human were everywhere in the room. If the barely conscious Pettigrew's reaction to the death of the dark lord was any indication, all those with the Dark Mark died rather gruesomely. Or perhaps the silver hand had something to do with it. Harry wasn't sure.

The last set of pictures were by far the worst. Evidently, in the Ministry of Magic, there is a secret room. In that room, there is a King sized bed. Last night, when Harry arrived, there were four people on that bed, involved in a very disgusting menage au' quarte.

The pictures showed what really happened at the Ministry after hours. Minister of Magic Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of Aurors Gawain Robards, Percy Weasley, and Undersecretary Delores Umbridge (clad in a red wig, high heels, and thigh high stockings with a garterbelt. Nothing else.) were caught, frozen in the act, as it were. 'Well, at least now we know how the bint kept her job, and just exactly what the UNDERsecretary position entailed.' Harry thought.

In each picture, Harry Potter was laughing and wrapping each of the participants in Saran Wrap after covering them in petroleum jelly; sealing them in exactly the position they were in when he arrived by way of the floo.

Ron realized to his horror that his brother Percival had a severe Oedipal complex. Well, he always had been a "momma's boy."

Dobby had to quickly conjure waste baskets for the boys, as their stomachs could not handle the sight.

"Oh, Merlin, mate! You're right! I'm a dead man! I can't possibly show my face in England ever again!" Harry cried.

"You don't know the half of it, mate. You're dead whether you show your face or try to hole up here." Ron replied.

"What do you mean, Ron? How could this possibly be worse?"

"Simple. The first use of those two spells was here, in the bathroom, on the loo and the girl's lid. You covered the loo with Saran wrap, and then covered the girl's lid with petroleum jelly."

Harry groaned.

"Hermione was the first one to find out. Erm..." Ron winced, and then continued. "The hard way. You're dead when she figures out it was you and not the twins."

After a moment, Ron tried to cheer his best friend up. "Well, maybe you'll earn points for what you did to Snape, mate."

"Yeah! Maybe I can work this out to where I'll live. Surely Azkaban can't be THAT bad in Winter. Maybe they'll put me in there for my own protection!"

"Azkaban?" Ron asked incredulously. "Remember mate, this is HERMIONE we're talking about here. Azkaban wouldn't even slow her down to get to you."

Harry passed out. He really and truly was dead when Hermione found out about last night.


Moral: If you drink, don't Floo. If you floo, don't drink. Or maybe drugs and Fan Fiction don't mix. Or, then again, maybe they do. I don't know.


A/N 2: Special thanks go to MeteoricShipyards for pointing out that I didn't torture Snivellus in this fic. To be honest, I forgot all about him and Draco while I was "under the influence." After having my nose rubbed in the fact that I was an idiot (my words, not his), I added in the Snape & Malfoy water fountain as my first attempt ever at slash. It seemed the best possible punishment for the pair that I could think of.