Harry Potter and the Stinky Diver
Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the youngest seeker in a century, rider of thestrals, vanquisher of dementors and Triwizard Grand Champion, felt like his insides were falling out.
"Phew," he said, "that's the last time I down a Blishen-bomb with Lima Lush!"
The bathroom stall filled quick with a sickly sweet stench that brought to mind goblin tonics and Deathday puddings. Harry felt sorry for Ron, Seamus, and Neville. Being most directly between Hogwarts' front portcullis and Griffindor commons, this lavatory was the one they'd likely stop after arriving from the next return carriage from Hogsmead. And unfortunate be them or any poor cis/trans-male barging in here for the next hour, if they didn't want their eyebrows singed off in Harry's little Dutch oven.
Pulling up his trousers, Harry reached over the toilet to flush. But he stopped, because it was hopeless! The mottled sludge