12Authors Note: Alright, so, my brother - who is in every way the inspiration for Drunk-Harry - got tired of waiting for an update to this series; so he wrote it himself. I have to say, seeing him sitting in his penguin onesie and slippers while trying to give himself alcohol poisoning and banging away at the keyboard was… a truly unique experience. Anyway. He has asked to post these stories on my page for the sake of continuity (and a desperate desire for nobody to discover that he has ever written fanfiction). Please enjoy, and know that all reviews will be passed onto him with alcoholic tributes.
Drunk-Harry: Yay! I like alcoholic tributes!
"Hermione," protested Harry, "I clearly had a blinder last night. I should probably give my liver a bit of time to recover before we try this experiment of yours."
"Nonsense Harry," replied the brush headed nuisance, "the longer we wait to get to the bottom of this, the greater the chance of another… incident like last night happening."
In the hour and a half since Hermione had finished her YouTube movie show, Ron's intrepid posse had returned with 5 bottles of Firewhiskey, and Dean and Seamus had completely cleaned out the bathroom. Emptied it of everything in fact. They'd even taken the sliding mirrored doors from the medicine cabinet and the shower curtain. A camera on a tripod had been placed in the doorway to record his every movement and Ron was going to stand at the door to make sure no one, especially Harry, got in or out.
"Alright," said Seamus, making sure the camera was recording, "we're all set. Put him in and let's see where he gets his penguin gear from."
Feeling a little bereft of dignity, Harry was herded into his own gutted bathroom and unceremoniously plonked onto the closed toilet. Draco brought in an open bottle of Firewhiskey and, after taking a swig himself (purely to ensure the quality of course), cheerfully told him to "drink up Harry".
Harry felt that this was an excellent suggestion and followed it to the letter.
A bottle and a half went by without any sign of incident or Antarctic birdwear. Harry simply became less coherent and less co-ordinated, while the rest of them began to wonder if there was any point to the exercise at all. As Harry approached the end of his second bottle however, a chill, malevolent breeze swept through the apartment trailing a flurry of snowflakes, and the clock fell off the wall with a resounding crash. All eyes turned towards it as it shattered on the floor, and when they returned to Harry a second or so later, it was too late; far too late.
Harry was standing in the middle of the bathroom resplendent in an immaculate penguin onesie and monster feet slippers, with a fresh bottle tucked under his wing. Gone was the swaying and the lack of co-ordination, gone was the incoherence, slurred speech and blurriness of cognition. In his eyes burned a fierce, intense look of mischief and a frightening sense of energy about to be unleashed. He also smelled faintly of fish.
Before anyone could even think to say or do anything, he inexplicably vanished, leaving behind only a small scrap of paper. Hermione picked up and read the tiny note.
"Accio camera"
Suddenly, the camera vanished as well.
"Well, feck!" Seamus was the first to break the silence.
"I didn't see where it came from," wailed Hermione. "Did anybody see anything?"
"That," said an awestruck Ron, "was brilliant!"
"No it wasn't!" Shouted Hermione, growing more agitated while Draco sat in the corner sobbing with laughter.
"Ugh," groaned Harry, emerging from the bedroom to the lounge, collapsing onto the carpet and producing a cacophony of snores and other less socially acceptable noises.
Draco immediately stopped laughing.
"What on earth?" He began.
"It's been less than a minute!" Hermione cried. This really was becoming too much. "He wouldn't have even had time to get changed in the state he was in!"
"Well he's not wearing it now," observed Dean, stating the blindingly obvious.
It was true; of the mysterious onesie and slippers, there was no trace.
"Well," added Ron, "at least he wasn't gone long enough to have created any trouble this time."
Just then a high pitched, abrasive sound cut through the room. Hermione was pointing at her open laptop with eyes as large as saucers, making an odd strangled squealing noise. A notification had popped up for one of her subscribed YouTube channels.
"Drunk_Harry has uploaded a new video."
Slowly, warily, disbelievingly, Ron reached over and opened the video.
Harry, and it was unmistakably Harry, was sneaking up behind a lion who was stretched out enjoying the sunshine. He lay down behind it, threw his arm around the lion's side and clasped it in a tight bear hug.
"It's a beautiful day for lion around, right kitty?" He asked, grinning at the camera.
The lion leapt up like a shot and lashed out at Harry with its claws missing him by bare millimetres.
"You gotta be kitten me!" Shouted Harry running for his life. "Get meowt of here!"
The group stood agape, staring at the screen while Harry farted loudly from the floor at their feet.
A very clumsy jump cut and the video continued.
Harry was running down a hill towards a lake carrying a baby goat and being chased by what appeared to be an angry farmer with a pitchfork. He stopped at the water's edge, placed the small animal in a rowboat and set it adrift onto the lake. The farmer shouted "Now I gotta swim out and get my boat back, too!"
Harry flashed him a big toothy grin and replied "Whatever floats your goat!"
Looking down at the unconscious Harry, Ron gave him a sharp kick in the ribs and snapped.
"Prat!"
"Goat," murmured Harry back, barely stirring from his stupor.
Another jump cut later and Harry was in another boat, with a large dugong at his feet and a frog on the seat beside him. He was painting the dugong in rainbow colours and the poor animal was clearly not impressed. He pushed the unfortunate sea creature over the side and back into the water, and cried "Oh! The Hue Manatee!" To which the frog beside him croaked loudly.
"I see" said Harry. "How ribbiting."
"Where does he come up with all these horrible puns?" Seamus wondered aloud.
"The question," snarled Draco, "is why does he come up with all these horrible puns?"
The video had changed again.
Harry wearing a bow tie with his onesie was chasing a startled looking sheep in a wedding dress. "Come back, baby," he cried. "I love ewe!"
The sheep bleated in alarm to which Harry replied, "I promise I'll never do anything to herd you!"
The video came to an end and Hermione slowly closed the laptop. Draco was staring into space muttering, "I don't get it! It doesn't make any sense!"
Hermione looked sadly down at Harry's prone form on the floor and groaned.
"Oh, Harry."
"It's raining," murmured Harry groggily. "Weeeeeee!"
Hermione pretended not to notice the spreading wet patch on the carpet beneath him.
"Boys," she intoned solemnly, a look of grim determination spreading across her features. "Get your wallets. This does not end here."
