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“The greenhouses just got a new type of Devil’s Snare,” Neville said to Ron. The two men had met up for drinks at Hogsmeade. Ron had the night off, and the Three Broomsticks was the easiest place to meet up with Neville after Longbottom had started working at Hogwarts. The current Head of Hufflepuff House and Professor of Herbology continued to gush at Ron. I’m thinking of calling it a Tentecular Tuber…”
Ron nodded his head and made agreeable noises at the right times. It was no surprise to anyone that Neville had accepted the Herbology position, it had been his favorite subject throughout Hogwarts. The real surprise was when he took over as Head of Hufflepuff.
Ron thought there could have been issues, since Neville had been a Gryffindor, but the man was almost as beloved as the previous Head of House.
Neville paused his rambling about the newest plant to grace the greenhouse to finish his beer.
“I’m happy for you, mate,” Ron said. “Sounds like you’ve really settled in at Hogwarts.”
“This Christmas break will be five years,” Neville replied, placing his bottle down and standing up. “The Headmaster joked about buying me a plaque.”
Ron followed his example and they settled their tab. Exiting the Three Broomsticks and into the chilly evening blanketing Hogsmeade, Ron bumped Neville’s shoulder. “You know, it’s George’s turn to plan guys' night this month. You should join us.”
Neville laughed. “A guys’ night?”
Ron chuckled as they walked the sloping path back towards Hogwarts. “Just you, me, and the rest of the lads. ”
Neville shook his head, a smile on his face. “Gryffindors are always a party looking for an excuse.”
“You spent basically all your life at Hogwarts,” Ron said. “After graduating, you came right back and started teaching.”
“I don’t regret it.”
“Not saying you should, but you need to get out more. See more places, meet new people.”
“Try new drinks?”
Ron nodded. “Exactly.”
They stopped at the gates to Hogwarts with Neville turning to Ron. “That doesn’t sound half bad. Just nothing too much, no strippers.”
“Fine, we’ll go with Plan B then.”
/\/\/\/\
\/\/\/\/
“Gentlemen,” George Weasley said seriously. “Tonight we gather to discuss a very important issue.”
On the couch opposite of where George stands, Harry chuckled, and Charlie sipped from his tumbler. To their right, Ron sat in a chair, nursing a whiskey.
“Our beloved friend and favorite professor, Neville Longbottom, has finally agreed to join us for a lads night,” George continued speaking, ignoring the growing amusement of his friends. “As his best friends and confidantes, it is our solemn duty to throw him a hell of a banger.”
The four of them were hanging out at George's place. As the only single man remaining among them, his apartment was the obvious choice for planning a bachelor party. Charlie had some time off from his job and was staying with George to avoid sleeping at the Burrow.
“This also marks one year since we started this sacred monthly tradition.” Turning to his brother, George motioned gratuitously towards Ron. “How did he react when you brought up the idea?”
Ron snorted into his drink. “He’s down, but no strippers.”
George snapped his fingers. “Not too difficult; less fun though. Anyone have any ideas?”
“Take him to a Quidditch game?” Ron asked after a moment.
“Neville’s not into Quidditch, not even the Hufflepuff team,” Harry replied.
“Male bonding via hiking?” George asked.
“Too much work,” Ron countered.
“Pub crawl?” Harry offered.
“London’s chock full of places to quench your thirst.” George agreed.
“Leaky Cauldron’s the perfect place to meetup and start out,” Ron pointed out.
“The real question is,” Harry interrupted, “Do we stick purely to magical pubs?”
Charlie put in his two knuts. “Muggle’s have better variety.”
George raised his glass in answer, and everyone took a swallow of their respective drinks.
“The Blighted Crow opened at the entrance to Knockturn Alley,” said Harry. “They’ve got this steaming pint that goes down smooth.”
“Isn’t that place run by hags?” Ron asked.
“Hags that owe me a favor. I helped with getting their permits. In return, they don’t sell anything poisoned.”
“A man of the people,” George toasted Harry. “I say, after pints, we head to the Wasted Wastrel.”
“Muggle bar?” Harry asked.
“Muggle club, actually. Large dance floors and flaming shots fresh from the bar.”
“Neville’s not much of a dancer.” Ron refilled his cup from the bottle on the table and passed it to George. “He’ll stay rooted to the bar.”
A chuckle passed through the group.
“Next stop has to be The Three Broomsticks,” Harry said after a moment. “We’ll cleanse our palettes with some nonalcoholic butterbeer before continuing on our quest.”
“Seamus knows a place in Ireland that he swears serves the best Guinness,” said George. “He’ll take us there if we invite him along.”
“We should have a designated minder,” Harry said. “Someone to stay sober and make sure we don’t fall asleep on the road again. Not it.”
“One time,” Ron grumbled. “Not it.”
“Not it.” George grinned at Charlie. “Looks like you get to play ferry the drunks.”
The scarred Weasley smiled. “Can’t be harder than herding fire-breathing lizards. Least I can wash my clothes after you puke on me, instead of needing an entire new pair.”
“Do we return to jolly old England afterwards, or continue on to the continent?”
“Germany does beer,” Ron opined, setting down his empty cup.
“That it does,” Harry agreed, “but why stop there? I can get us a portkey to America.”
“A merry jaunt over to the colonies?” George stroked his chin. “The idea is fun, but the trip probably won’t be.”
“Once we land in New York, I can apparate us anywhere in the states.” Harry waved his hand and levitated his empty glass to the sink in a show of wandless magic.
“There’s a bar in the middle of the Alaskan wilderness run by a crazy squib,” Charlie spoke up. “Mostly sells moonshine, all homemade.”
“What’s it called?” Ron asked.
“The Melted Igloo. The owner’s brother is a wizard and helps with enchanting the alcohol.”
“Hobo moonshine?” George pondered.
“He lives above the bar.” Charlie chuckled.
“We’d have to hop by California first,” Harry said. “Might as well look around Los Angeles while we are there.”
George pulled a piece of paper and a pen. “So, Leaky Cauldron, Blighted Crow, Wasted Wastrel, Three Broomsticks, the Irish pub, someplace in New York, a club in Los Angeles, and then finish off at the Melted Igloo.”
“That’s a lot,” Ron said.
“We can skip anywhere in New York.” Ron said. “Clubs aren’t really his thing, so let’s also skip the Wastrel.”
“Alright, but we are definitely trying one in L.A.” George made another note.
“Who’s paying?” Bill asked.
“I am,” Harry said. “When I killed Voldemort, I also collected on the bounty the Ministry put out. Neville wouldn’t take any that I offered for his help stopping Nagini, so I set aside some to spend on him.”
“Then it’s settled.” George copied the final selection onto a fresh piece of paper. “Gentlemen, we have a plan.”