Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Rules of Hogwarts	By : MistressAshley Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 3608 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I make no profit from writing this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Rule 1
- 2-Rule 2
- 3-Rule 3
- 4-Rule 4
- 5-Rule 5
- 6-Rule 6
- 7-Rule 7
- 8-Rule 8
- 9-Rule 9
- 10-Rule 10
- 11-Rule 11
- 12-Rule 12
- 10
- 11
- 12
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I make no profit from writing this story.

AN: Wow! I don't really think of myself as funny, so I can't believe so many of you are enjoying this. Thank you all again for all of your support!

Also, I'm really sorry for this one. It got away from me and then it just wouldn't end! After 8 pages, I'm kind of sick of it. I don't even want to reread it for errors. *shrugs* If you find anything truly horrible, let me know and I'll fix it. On with the story!

Timeline: No Triwizard, unless you want there to be—it was a perfectly normal Triwizard if there was however. No Voldemort, no Death Eaters, and no Cedric dying. Right, a perfectly normal magical tournament.

WARNINGS: This has drug use (marijuana) and the enjoyment of said drug use; if that offends you please go no further. If you read it and flame me, I'll feed you to the starving Fluffy! (Harry's run out of first years, and Fluffy's still mega hungry. I'm sure you'd make a better meal than tiny first years!)

Rule at the bottom

Smoke Up

Harry Potter wrinkled his nose, a grimace on his face as he reached out with one hand and grasped the sock between two fingers. He gagged as his fingers connected with something wet. His mind shied away from what it might possibly be and he tossed it quickly into the hamper.

What was Harry doing you might ask that he doesn't know what is on a simple sock? Why following the orders of his Aunt Petunia, of course, and cleaning Dudley's room for him while he was visiting with Piers Polkiss. Visiting, right, Harry thought, more like terrorizing the neighborhood while I pick up his dirty laundry.

Harry moved through the room, tossing any clothes laying out into the hamper. There was no way he was going to sniff them to see if they were dirty. He reached out with two fingers again (they were going to need undiluted bleach to ever feel clean again) and grasped a pair of pants. It was with disgust that he felt the crinkle of plastic wrap. He was going to have to check the pocket. Aunt Petunia would have his head if he let her put what might be a candy bar or other treat into her precious washer. It was top of the line, nothing but the best for her family, she would whisper to the neighbors every time they simpered about her dresses.

A shudder worked its way up his spine, and whimpering slightly, Harry pulled the denims closer and stuck his fingers down into the pocket. Imagine his surprise when what he pulled out wasn't a candy bar or any other sweet treat but a sandwich baggy filled with some kind of dried, green plant. A bit of investigating found a bit of the dried plant in a cigarette wrapping. A smirk displaced the grimace. Oh, this was something that would get Dudley in big trouble! The rants Uncle Vernon would get on with about potheads and the pride Aunt Petunia bandied about with the neighbors of how her sweet Dudders hadn't given into peer pressure. Such pride they showed that Dudley was drug free.

Still, there was a certain amount of curiosity within Harry. How many people smoked this stuff? There had to be something wonderful about it, and anything that sent his relatives into fits was always a good thing in his book. Harry debated for several moments before he carefully opened the baggy and removed the cigarette. He tiptoed back to his room and stashed it under the loose floorboard and on a whim he dug out a few of the seeds that were also within the bag and wrapped them carefully in his invisibility cloak.

With that, Harry tiptoed back to Dudley's room and safely tucked the bag back into the denims. He knew that if he took the bag to Aunt Petunia she would only accuse him of attempting to frame Dudley, but if she found the baggy herself it was more likely that she wouldn't connect him.

)()(

Things worked out better than Harry hoped. Aunt Petunia found Dudley's stash the next morning as she was washing clothes. The moment Uncle Vernon waltzed through the door, grin on his face, Aunt Petunia was there hissing the news to him. By the time Dudley got home from 'tea' at Malcolm's house Uncle Vernon had worked himself into a towering rage. Poor Dudley was stupid enough to catch sight of the plastic bag in Uncle Vernon's fat fist and immediately lay claim, "Hey, that's mine!"

It went without saying that Dudley's summer was a goner. He quickly found himself grounded for the first time in his life, practically confined to his room except for meals. Without Dudley to corral them the gang fell apart, though they certainly tried for a few days without Dudley—until the little Evans boy managed to get in a few good kicks when they tried bullying him. It spread like wildfire through the neighborhood that Dudley's gang was no more.

It was a quite, peaceful summer.

It was also the summer that Harry learned the joys of recreational drugs.

)()(

Harry grabbed the old metal cigarette case he'd managed to find stashed in a drawer and stuffed it into his back pocket, pulling at the massive hand-me-down shirt so that it covered any lumps in his pants.

Dudley's door was open, in an effort to prevent his escape or any drug use, and the boy lifted his head to glare at Harry as he passed. Harry was kind enough to give a smirk and a cheeky wave.

He made it out of the house easily enough and was slightly surprised to find the streets crowded with children walking, laying around gossiping, or playing games in the street. Harry didn't know there were this many children in or around Privet Drive, but without Dudley and his gang to send them running for their house in fright they descended in droves. Harry got more than a few wary looks, but he ignored them easily enough.

It was a swift walk to the local park and another few minutes of navigating the woods behind it that he found a spot where the voices of happy children died down to nothing and he was alone in the silence of nature.

Harry slid the cigarette case from his pocket and clicked it open. Inside was the white cigarette with the twisted and pinched ends and a long nozzled lighter that he knew Aunt Petunia used for the candles placed around the house. He hoped she would blame it on Dudley; that would make this experience all the sweeter, Harry thought with a grin.

Harry fumbled with the cigarette. How was this supposed to work? There was no filter to let him know which end was to go in his mouth and both ends look too twisted to let smoke through. On close inspection, Harry found that one end was twisted completely shut while the other was pinched flat before someone gave it one twist. He guessed this was the part that went into his mouth but the twist wouldn't let the smoke through so he carefully untwisted the end, making sure the keep the crinkled paper pinched between his thumb and index finger.

He placed the pinched paper in his mouth and raised the lighter, pushing the child lock with his thumb and pulling with his finger; the lighter gave a snap and flame leapt out of the nozzle. Harry raised the flame to the twisted end of the cigarette and sucked at the paper in his mouth. The tip grew hot and red and he let the lighter fall, flame extinguishing.

Harry knew enough to puff hurriedly to make sure the tip lit properly, and finally musky smoke curled from the tip and around his nose; it was ready. He took an experimental puff, sucking the smoke into his lungs. It burned his throat and ached in his lungs and Harry coughed up the smoke, choking even more as smoke came out his nose. His eyes stung and his throat was sore and he felt vaguely lightheaded. He wasn't sure if that was from the weed or from lack of air, but his coughing stopped. His throat still stung but, he was ready to give it another try. It was supposed to be great, right?

Harry took an even smaller pull and managed to hold it without sending himself into another coughing fit. His head was definitely feeling light and his arms and legs were a bit numb. He blinked lazily and took another drag, this one deeper and longer. This wasn't so bad once you stopped coughing. The forest around him was both overly bright and exceeding dull. Harry also noticed in an absentminded sort of way that his eyes were drooping and half-lidded. He was more relaxed than he could ever remember being.

Harry struggled to raise his heavy limb for one more puff, noticing that he hadn't really made much progress on smoking it all. He decided with a firm nod of his head and a slight giggle that he would save it for later, stubbing it out on the smooth bark of the tree he was leaning (more collapsed at this point) against. He carefully tucked it into the cigarette case and placed it back into his pocket for safe keeping.

He relaxed against the tree and let his mind wander. He could think about anything like this and not a twinge of guilt or anger or regret rose within him. Harry relaxed even further and for a moment thought he might be dreaming as he fell and fell and fell. The forest swirled around him, fading in and out, before he dropped into colors.

There was a mass of color before him, like a ball of twine that had been added one oddly colored scrap at a time. Those threads spread out around him going in every direction. Harry's intoxicated mind found nothing wrong with this situation and Harry found himself moving forward, fingers reaching out to grasp that ball; except his fingers swept through the ball sending wisps of color shooting in a variety of directions. Some of those wisps curled around his hand like a snake, sliding sinuously up his arm. There was a curious air about the wisp before it dissolved.

Harry found himself ejected from this peaceful place, forced back into the waking world. The world was bright around him and he felt filled to the brim like an overfull cup. There was a colorful aura rising off of him and it took his fogged mind a moment to connect the colors to those of the wisp. This feeling needed out, needed to go somewhere, and he pushed, pushed with his fogged mind, tensing his body against the feeling and there was an explosion of color. Rocks were blasted from the path before him, some rising to hover in the air, blades of grass ruffled and grew.

Wandless magic or just an accident?

)()(

Harry found out a week later, just a few days before he was to make his way to King's Cross and board the Hogwarts Express. It wasn't an accident. It also wasn't completely controllable. Once the floating heaviness of the weed wore off, Harry's coherent mind supplied that to fully control the magic you must need all faculties. The problem with this theory was that it was un-testable. Harry tried for days to access his magic, to drop into that colorful place again while not high off his rocker, but that proved to be impossible. To access his magical core he needed to be high, but to fully control the outcome of said magic he needed to not be high.

It was a hard choice: be high and have magical outbursts that he could only slightly influence or not be high and need his wand. With his wand he would be able to perform great feats of magic, perfectly controllable feats of magic. Feats of magic that he would be expelled for if he attempted during the summer. But no magical warnings had flown in by owl when he performed his nigh uncontrollable feats of wandless magic.

Who was he kidding? It wasn't a hard choice at all.

The Harry that boarded the train to Hogwarts was only slightly less high than his first time being high. He also carried a spiky leafed potted plant under each arm. He was sure he could find some way to pass it off as Herbology extra credit.

)()(

Neville was the first to recognize the potted plant for what it was. The boy had shakily threatened to go to McGonagall until Harry showed him what he could do with his magic while high. Harry enticed Neville with his hopes and dreams of being a powerful wizard—or at least on who didn't stutter and could perform a stunner.

It was a surprise to them both when Neville's first magical outburst was nearly as powerful as Harry's first. After that, Neville spent most of his time floating through the clouds. The teachers were stunned when he performed near par class for class with Hermione. Neville would live the rest of his life in this state and be recognized as one of the greatest wizards of his age.

It was Neville who, after hearing Harry's story of finding Dudley's stash, brought the idea of selling the dried leaves to their fellow classmates. Harry was reluctant to part with any bit of his plants. He worked hard to grow those. Luckily, Neville wasn't considered a genius in Herbology for nothing. He took the rest of the seeds Harry managed to snitch from Dudley's baggy and also harvested multiple seeds from Harry's plants. The pudgy boy came back within days carrying two fully grown pot plants while multiple planters floated behind him. The Gryffindor fifth year dorm was starting to look like a greenhouse and the other boys were beginning to ask questions given Harry's interest in what they considered Neville's pet project.

It was how they ended up in this situation. Dean, Seamus, and Ron corned Harry a few weeks before Yule break, forcing him onto his bed as they towered around before him.

"Alright," Ron started, exchanging glances with the other two. It seemed now that they had him where they wanted him they weren't sure how to proceed. "You've been spending a lot of time with Neville," Ron said and Harry, who knew Ron so well, could hear the hurt in his voice.

"You've been different, mate." That was Dean, concern clouding his face. "You're always in your own little world nowadays, your eyes are always red, and I've heard you sneaking out at night—without Ron—and you always come back with as much food as you can carry. Now Neville does it, too! And it's even weirder because he's even started beating Hermione in something besides Herbology.

"We're worried," Seamus piped up.

Harry snorted out a laugh, eyebrow raising high. "Is this one of those intervention thingies? There's nothing wrong with me, guys! I'm perfect, better than ever, and I'm sure if you ask Neville he'll say the same thing." The door opened and Harry looked up to find said boy in the doorway, though he didn't look confused so he must have been listening at the crack. "What do you think, Nev? Are we ready to start branching out?"

The three boys glanced warily at each other before switching their gazes between Harry and Neville.

"I think we're just about. I talked to Professor Sprout about your findings a few weeks ago. She says she's researched it thoroughly and she's prepared to give us a greenhouse for further production as long as she gets a cut," Neville stated with a lazy grin. It had become Neville's signature smile since he almost always had a clear, blown glass pipe (called a bowl Neville informed him) on his person so he could take a few hits between class. Neville, it seemed, performed magic better when he was out of his head and could leave all family aided insecurities behind.

Neville moved into the room under the astonished eyes of his roommates and pulled out of his trunk what looked like a large, old-fashioned smoking pipe. On closer inspection, Harry noticed the mouth piece was longer and thicker and the bowl was a dragon's large open mouth. That mouth could hold enough weed to get those in the dorm high many times over. It was the type of thing you would see being passed around the hottest parties. It was also something to look into selling when they went public.

"Sit down, guys," Harry said, motioning to his bed. "Lock the door, Nev." Harry moved from his position, urging the others to sit as he moved to open the windows. "This isn't the most ideal place, but we can work with it."

Moments later he was seated on the bed packing the dragon's mouth with dried leaves from his precious plants—not enough to fill the mouth though, no use wasting them after all. His intervention group watched with confusion, though Dean was showing some comprehension having been raised by his Muggle mother with no Wizarding influences.

"I don't think this is a good idea, Harry," Dean pleaded.

"It's a wonderful idea and you'll see as soon as you try some."

"What? What's going on? Try some of what? Harry?" Ron yelled.

Harry didn't answer as he placed the pipe in his mouth, gratefully leaning forward for the brightened tip of Neville's wand. The wand tip touched the dried leaves and glowed bright, smoke curling upwards before the leaves caught and shone like coals as Harry puffed. Smoke hovered thickly in the room before it made its way lazily from the room and out the opened windows.

Harry took a deep hit from the pipe, pulling the smoke into his lungs and held it in as his chest ached and convulsed with the need to expel it. Finally, Harry gave into that need and let it out slowly. It would take longer to truly affect him but the lack of air made him lightheaded and gave him the feeling that it was working as he passed the pipe to Neville.

The pudgy boy gave no thought to taking a deep pull. He held it for a moment before taking another, shorter, pull. Neville really was a god when it came to smoking weed. It was like the drug patched his broken magic, so said magic sucked it up like a sponge.

The other boys watched Neville in a type of fascinated horror before the fascination vanished as the pipe was passed off to Ron. The redhead held the pipe warily between thumb and forefinger with a lost look on his face.

"Go on, Ron." Harry gave an encouraging nod. "Just a small puff or you'll choke," the boy warned. Best to warn them else they be put off the entire experience.

"But—," Ron started, eyes sliding to Neville before finding Harry again.

"Practice, but this is your first time. You'll not be used to it; Merlin, I spent almost five minutes coughing up a lung my first time and my chest was sore for the rest of the day—though Nev's just a monster," Harry laughed.

A bitter grin twisted Neville's lips. "Uncle Algie used to smoke this horrid pipe. He took it everywhere with him, and the only time it wasn't lit was when he was packing it. He trailed this bloody nasty scent wherever he went; it was usually wherever I was at, because he was always trying to scare the magic out of me. If you walked around in a cloud of that awful stuff you'd get used to it right quick. This stuff is Merlin blessed compared to Uncle Algie's stuff."

And so it went, passing the pipe around; each boy taking a hit with much encouragement from the others with much laughing and coughing. The room (now slightly more messy from magical outbursts) grew hazy with smoke even with the windows opened and the boys sprawled over the bed, hanging off in places where there was no more room.

"This is bloody brilliant," Ron called. His voice was higher and louder to compensate for the heart pounding in his ears. There was a murmur of assent before Harry rolled off the bed. "Where you going, mate?"

"Hungry," was Harry's short reply but the others scrambled up as well as thoughts of all the sweets they could beg off the house-elves came to mind. Harry's mouth was dry but he dredged up enough spit to drool at the thought of some treacle tart. Mmm, maybe he could get the elves to whip up some treacle crisps. Was there such a thing? Harry gave a shrug as he bounded down the stairs; it didn't really matter as the elves could whip up anything.

)()(

That was how the Hogwarts craze began; with one boy who became two and then five. It spread through the school quickly after that. The Gryffindors were the first to convert. Oddly … or maybe not so oddly, it was with Hermione in the lead after Ron, Dean, and Seamus began to overtake her in classes. She cornered Harry one day and demanded to know what potion the boys were taking. Was it an intelligence booster or a magic releaser? What were they using?

Introducing Hermione to the joys of marijuana was like pulling teeth. It took much bargaining, pleading, and much manipulation, but it would become one of Harry's favorite memories. A well loved memory that he would look back on often—but never for long with the newer, freer Hermione plopping herself into his lap as she wheedled samples of Neville's improved pot plants out of him.

Hermione rose far above her classmates with the added stimulant of marijuana backing her magic and she was perfectly content once more. The only one who could give her a run for her money anymore was Draco Malfoy.

With the loosened inhibitions the boy turned into a tried and true hippie, paving the way for his fellow Slytherins. Last Harry heard, Draco had fled the country to escape the uncool practices of the Death Eaters. It was weird not to have a fourth table at Hogwarts, but with the Slytherins following their leader there was just no need one. According to Neville (who was sending bundles of weed to them), Draco had opened a temple where they smoked pot all day; made music; and prayed for peace, love, and happiness.

It wasn't long before Harry's simple idea took over the magical world. After Hogwarts, Harry and his friends set out to supply the people. Harry become little more than a figurehead, something he was not displeased with as it gave him time to relax with his comforts. Hermione was the voice of his operation, Ron his bodyguard as there were still those nonbelievers, and Neville (with the help of Professor Sprout) worked the greenhouses and discovered more potent plants.

Life was good. And to think, it all began with a little Herbology extra credit.

End

Rule 11: Growing marijuana and/or hallucinogenic mushrooms does NOT count as Herbology extra credit.
- 10
- 11
- 12
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Rules of Hogwarts