All in all, it had been a very good evening for Seamus Finnigan. Not only had he enjoyed one of the most wonderful meals he'd ever had at Hogwarts, an entire new world had been opened up to him thanks to Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. The tunnel to Hogsmeade that he'd been shown and the map they had used to avoid trouble were truly mind-blowing. He thought he had been adventurous making his earlier jaunt to the kitchens, but that paled in comparison to the subsequent trip he had taken. And what a trip it had been. To see an entire community come alive just by speaking two words, Harry Potter, was exhilarating. But he derived the greatest excitement from what they had brought back from Hogsmeade. It was one of the greatest gifts you could give any teenage male, free alcohol.
It all came to a crashing halt, however, after a simple request was made to Neville to bring him a bottle on his way over to join in the conversation. He had noticed the grin on Neville's face after he had made his request. It seemed as if he was enjoying getting the bottle for him. "Must be as happy as the rest of this that it's all over," he thought as he began to take a drink from his third (and definitely not last) bottle of ale.
As he swallowed the ale, he suddenly lost complete control of his body. His upper torso was jerked down and he was forced to grab his ankles. "What the?" were the only words he could get out before the situation turned infinitely graver. He could feel his belt being unlatched and watched from his upside-down perspective as his trousers sunk down to the very same ankles he was forced to hold. It all happened so quickly he couldn't quite grasp what had just happened. It had taken less than five seconds for him to begin essentially mooning every fifth-year and up in the Gryffindor common room. His eyes turned to the bottle that he had dropped onto the floor. He saw the label and the words written at the bottom. Bottoms Up! You Stupid Twit!
"Bloody hell," was all he could say as he braced himself for further humiliation. As he struggled to regain his thoughts he was hit with another wave of absurdity. But it couldn't be happening could it? His posterior began to speak in a voice that bore a remarkable resemblance to the voice of Fred Weasley.
"Good evening everyone. As you can see this poor boy has been struck by an awful affliction. But fear not! All hope is not lost. For you see it is only through the actions of you, his true friends, that…that, what is your name dear boy?"
Seamus was still in a daze as the actions had unfolded. Under normal circumstances he would have never answered a question coming from his arse, but these were definitely not normal circumstances. "Umm…Seamus."
"Ahh yes, as I was saying. It is only through your actions that poor Seamus can be saved. You see Seamus has been hit with a powerful curse…one that will take powerful action on your part to reverse. He was the victim of that diabolical conglomerate, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and their Bottoms Up Ale."
"The remedy to the situation is simple…please direct your attention to the sign now flashing on Seamus' arse. Could someone please tell Seamus what the sign says? Unfortunately he is in no position to be able to read it. Tragic really."
It was Harry who spoke up, but barely. He choked out the words between his and everyone else's laughter. "It says "My name is Seamus and I'm a stupid twit, please kick me!""
"Thank you young man. That is correct. To release our friend from his shackles his behind must be kicked a minimum of ten times. Please keep in mind that the magic involved in this tragic assault is extremely powerful. To counteract its effects the kicks must be powerful as well. So please don't be shy."
It was a veritable stampede as the Gryffindors quickly formed a makeshift line to help "save" their friend Seamus. The only one Seamus could tell wasn't competing for one of the ten coveted kicks was Harry and he suspected it was the condition of his leg that kept him from the struggle. The fact that Harry was doubled over in laughter also impeded his ability to beat the rush to help.
For the second time that evening, the fastest feet belonged to Ginny Weasley. She laughed and spoke before she let loose. "No need to thank me Seamus. Just doing my part," she spat out between the giggles.
After her solid kick the voice began the count. "One."
The procession of kicks continued with the voice triumphantly adding them up one by one until at last the highly anticipated number ten had been reached. But to Seamus' horror even after the tenth blow had been delivered he still could not stand up. He remained in that exceedingly embarrassing position, looking at the upside-down smiles of his classmates through his bare legs. Unbeknownst to him the sign on his boxer shorts had changed to read "Thank You". Then the damn voice returned.
"Well done, well done everyone. You should be extremely touched Seamus. I can't recall ever seeing a group of friends so eagerly coming to the aid of one of their comrades. You are truly loved. Now to finally rid yourself of this situation please repeat after me."
Seamus gathered himself as he awaited the humiliating words he would have to speak.
"Thank you all for saving me from myself, for I am extremely thick.
Seamus gritted his teeth and growled out the words. "Thank you all for saving me from myself, for I am extremely thick.
"It is a miracle I can even get dressed in the morning."
"Will this ever end?' he thought as he repeated the latest humiliating words. "It is a miracle I can even get dressed in the morning."
"Thank you again because, as I said, I am extremely thick."
"Thank you again because, as I said, I am extremely thick."
As the last word rolled off of his tongue Seamus regained full control of his body. After quickly pulling up his pants he surveyed the group to try and spot the guilty party. All he saw was a group of laughing faces staring back at him and his extremely red cheeks. The group applauded in appreciation of the entertainment he had unwittingly provided. "I definitely need to drink more ale," he thought as he grabbed another bottle and carefully checked the label before taking a drink.
Seamus unfortunately had given up his search for the culprit too quickly. If he had remained looking he might have seen none other than Harry Potter raising his bottle to Neville Longbottom and mouthing three words.
"Well done, mate."