Hairy woke up from a pleasant dream, where he was with his parents in a garden full of flowers.

He heard Herbonme's voice and he wondered who she was telling her facts about the bus to now. He opened his eyes a crack and saw that Gon had switched seats and was now sitting next to Herbonme. She was reading to him from her big book.

"Look who's decided to join us!" said Gon, seeing Hairy awaken and smiling in his direction.

"Uh, hi," said Hairy, sitting up. He pushed his dreads out of his eyes and straightened his glasses on his face. He didn't know how long he had been asleep.

"Herbonme's just reading to me about Hempwards," said Gonall. "Go on..."

"Well," said Herbonme, "I was just saying that Hempwards school lies within the Canabis Castle, which is made almost entirely from hemp." She looked back into the book to find her place. "The location of the Castle, and even its very existence, is one of the most carefully guarded secrets within the Weedster community. However, some things are known. It's constructed almost entirely out of a hemp product called Isochanvre, which is similar to Square cement, but more flexible and only a ninth the weight. It's so easy to make, just hemp hurds mixed with lime, and it actually petrifies into a mineral state. The Cannabis Castle has stood for many centuries."

The bus came to a sudden halt, jerking the book from Herbonme's hands and sliding Hairy halfway out of his chair before he caught himself. Hairy looked down and saw that Headstash had been knocked over, so he righted the pot and scooped the spilled dirt back inside.

"We're here little dudes!" called out Otto, opening the front doors. "Grab your stuff and get going!"

They gathered up their bags and trooped off of the bus. Hairy wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it was dark out, with a full moon hidden behind clouds hanging high in the sky.

A tall woman in emerald-green robes stood there to greet them. Her black hair was wrapped in a tight bun, and she wore thick-framed glasses marked with spots. She held a powerful flashlight in her hand, and she smiled as the students gathered in front of her.

"Thank you Otto," she said to the driver, then turned to the students. "I am Professor McGanjagal. Everyone ready? Right then, let's go."

Slipping and stumbling, they followed the professor down a steep, narrow path. Tall, ominous-looking trees loomed over them on both sides. Nobody spoke much. Then there was a loud "Ooooh!"

The path had opened onto an expansive clearing with a steep hill at the centre. Perched upon the hill was a great castle, with many turrets and towers jutting up from the shadows. The wind suddenly shifted and blew back the clouds, freeing the moonlight to reflect upon the students from the castle's many windows. Dozens of flags and banners fluttered up on the breeze, displaying the same seven pointed, serrated leaf that Hairy wore as a scar. Some of the castle towers looked like giant bongs, with smoke flowing out from chimneys shaped like lit bowls of cannabis.

McGanjagal strode purposefully along a broad flagstone path, leading them towards the imposing structure. They reached a drawbridge, and Hairy saw the moon glinting up at him from the water as they crossed over. The main door was decorated with a man's face emerging from a mass of seven-pointed leaves. The face had its tongue sticking far out, wrapped around a large brass ring. The professor grabbed the ring and banged it loudly upon the door three times.

The door swung open at once, and a woman in white greeted them. Her white cottony hair was layered high above her head into an ascending pouf. She wore a white embroidered crinoline skirt and many layers of lace. All her garments held myriad intricate patterns of stylized cannabis leaves, buds and seeds.

"Good evening Professor McGanjagal," said the woman, smiling warmly and motioning them to come through the door.

"Good evening Professor LaChanvrette," replied McGanjagal, leading the students into a large entry chamber. The walls were made of big blocks which looked like stone, but felt a little softer and warmer to Hairy's touch. They were hung with hundreds of photographs and painted portraits depicting the most successful of Hempwards graduates. Hairy read out names like Thomas Forcade, Howard Marks, Marc Emery, and Woody Harrelson.

McGanjagal stood before the students and clapped her hands twice to get their attention before she spoke.

"Welcome to Hempwards! I hope your journey here was as pleasant as possible. You are beginning an even greater journey now, one which will change your lives and expose you to a whole new world and a different way of being. But to become a student here, you must first go through a special ceremony in the Great Hall, where you will be sorted into your houses.

"Hempwards School was founded long, long ago," she continued, "by four great Weedsters: Pakinbowles Puffintuff, Jahmon Rastalaw, Getriche Growindor, and Selzimout Snytcherin. The founders built the school together, far from prying Square eyes. It was an age much like this one, when marijuana was feared by the common people and Weedsters suffered much persecution.

"There are four Houses within Hempwards, each named after one of these great founders, and each student is assigned to one of them when they arrive. You will each draw a slip of paper from the Picking Pot, then announce the name of the house you will attend.

"While you are here, you will have classes with the rest of your house, you will sleep in your house dormitory, you will toke in your house common room. Your successes at Hempwards will reflect well upon your house, and I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house you join."

She led them through a large set of doors and into a massive main hall. The room was full of smoke, with giant hashish incense cones smouldering along the walls and behind the head table. The walls were painted with fields of marijuana, so highly realistic that for a brief moment Hairy thought that they were somehow windows onto the outdoors.

Other students were already lined up into a long row, waiting for their turn at the Picking Pot. Hairy's busmates all took their places in the line. At the front of the row, Hairy saw a brown-haired girl stepping forward to reach into a small cauldron.

A professor stood over the cauldron, holding a clipboard in one hand and a long quill in the other. "Andamide, Anne!" he announced, checking her name off of the list.

Anne pulled out a piece of paper, read it, then quietly said "Pu- Puffintuff."

A group of students broke away from the huddle of youths waiting past the cauldron. They clapped and shook Anne's hand, greeting her into her new house, then an escort took her through another set of doors and deeper into the castle.

The next student who came forward was large and hulking, with small eyes embedded into his thick head. "Raveel, Finke!" announced the professor, as the boy reached into the Picking Pot and pulled out his slip of paper.

The boy squinted, held the paper close to his sallow-skinned face, and muttered to himself for a moment, sounding out the word.

"Snee... Snit... itch... itcher..."

"Snytcherin!" cheered some of the greeters, and another equally thick and dull-looking boy came forward to grasp Finke's hand, followed by a few other creepy Snytcherins. Finke stayed to watch the other students making their picks.

The next few students seemed to go quickly. "Carrot, Camberwell!" joined Puffintuff, along with "Spark, Roland!". "Bagbottoms, Shakey!" joined Growindor, but not until he had knocked over the Picking Pot while drawing his name.

"Tokersson, Heddy!" joined Puffintuff. "Bobo, Shanti!" and "Lambsbread, Natty!" both joined Rastalaw. "Squeale, Will!" joined Snytcherin, along with "Dent, Biggerow!" and "Terrus, Trey!".

Herbonme and Gon were in front of Hairy, and both gleefully called out "Growindor!" when they drew their slips of paper.

Finally it was Hairy's turn. He stepped forward nervously, and the teacher called out his name as he reached his hand into the pot. A hush fell over the room, and Hairy pulled out a slip of paper. It had only one word written upon it: SNYTCHERIN.

Hairy swallowed. Not Snytcherin! He didn't want to join that unsavoury lot. His mouth felt very dry. He looked over at the Snytcherin crew, and he did not feel like he belonged there. He thought of the obnoxious boy at Olliboinger's, who was sure he would be joining Snytcherin. He looked at the youths standing in the other houses, all watching him eagerly. He saw Gon and Herbonme standing together in the Growindor group, smiling at him warmly.

Hairy tried to speak but no sound came out. His heart was beating very fast. He swallowed dryly, and then managed to croak out a single word.

"Gr... Growindor."

He quickly dropped the slip of paper back into the pot and jogged over to his new housemates. Gon and Herbonme were smiling and clapping for him. A tall boy with straight white teeth and golden-blond hair stepped forward to shake his hand. Hairy felt his knuckles grinding under the boy's firm grip.

"Olfyber Hurd, Hairy. Growindor House Captain. Glad to have you on board!

Hairy smiled back weakly at Olfyber. He felt vaguely guilty about his deception, but he was glad to be with his friends and not with the Snytcherin crew. A smiling girl introduced herself as Tootie Piper, and she led Hairy, Gon and Herbonme out of the Great Hall and through dozens of winding passages. As they walked, she told them that they should try to have a bit of a sleep, as in a few more hours it would be morning, and they needed to be out of bed and back in the Great Hall for the opening day Waykenbake Ceremony.

Finally they went up a long spiral staircase and entered the Growindor common room, a cozy, round chamber full of plush armchairs and elegant stand-up ashtrays. Then through more doors and into the common bedchamber, where a series of elegant four-poster beds awaited them, hung with hemp velvet curtains coloured in deep gold.

Hairy, Gon and Herbonme each chose their beds and put away their belongings. Some Growindor students were already sleeping, others were chatting in small groups. Tootie left them to get settled in.

Herbonme and Gon sat on Hairy's bed and smiled at him, holding their bongs in their hands. Gon's bongwater was still slowly seeping through the layers of duct tape.

"Can we have a little more of that fabulous bubblehash, Hairy?" asked Herbonme sweetly. "It is amazing stuff!"

Hairy picked up the jar of hash which he had shared with everyone on the bus. It looked like hardly any had been used. He was amazed that just the little bit that was missing had been enough to get the whole bus incredibly stoned!

He put it back and picked up the other jar. The label said "Moroccan Hashplant x Candycane Indica. 45 microns. 4.5 stars. Heavy body stone and muscle relaxant. Good for insomnia and pain relief."

Hairy opened the jar and smelled the golden powder within. It had a scent like spearmint and pink bubblegum. It was a finer powder than the other hash, more bronze than brown, and it shimmered like ground glass. Hairy placed a tiny pinch into each of their bongs, and a third tiny pinch into his own.

Hairy smiled and held up his bong like a wineglass. "I propose a toast," he said. "A toast to new friends, to marijuana, to Hempwards, and to Weedsters everywhere!"

"I'll toke to that!" added Gon. They clinked their bongs together and sparked their lighters in unison, sucking in the delicious smoke from the highly potent hash.

Herbonme and Gon both began to cough as they staggered back to their own beds. Hairy simply held in his toke and smiled happily.

"Thanks Hairy!" said Herbonme, still gasping as she closed the curtains around her bed. "I am fabulously baked and also exhausted. See you in the morning!"

"Me too Hairy," choked out Gon. "Have a great sleep! See you in a few hours."

Hairy lay back, closed his eyes, and let the smoke flow slowly from his nose and mouth. He felt the cannabinoids saturating his bloodstream yet again, his body becoming heavy and lethargic as his muscles relaxed. He could barely believe that this was all real.

He had spent fifteen years living in a closet, unaware of his true nature, blinded even to the existence of this special, magical plant. And now he was in an amazing Cannabis Castle, with new friends, good friends who actually enjoyed his company! In the morning he would begin classes, begin learning more of the secrets of this plant and the hidden culture that was part of his true heritage.

Hairy's thoughts swirled down into sleep, and soon he was deep into a dream. He saw himself as a tiny figure, trapped within the Picking Pot, clambering among giant slips of paper all marked with the word "Snytcherin" printed in blood-red ink. Then the rude blond haired boy reached into the pot and grabbed Hairy in his giant fist, pulling him out of the pot while saying "You're one of us now, Hairy Pothead! You're one of us!"

Hairy rolled over and fell into a deeper sleep. When he woke in the morning he didn't remember the dream at all.