"I'm a what?" gasped Hairy after a pause.

"A Weedster, o' course," said Hogride, releasing Hairy and sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower under his bulk. "With a ma an' da like yers, wha' else could yeh be?"

Hogride slid the top off of the wooden box, and immediately the strong smell of potent marijuana buds filled the room, mixing with the scent of the recently smoked blunt. Hogride pulled a fat bud from out the box, and crumbled it expertly between his thick fingers. He then picked up a large pack of rollies with "Smoking Green" written on them and slipped out a huge paper. Using the small folding scissors, Hogride snipped a strip off of the pack's cover and rolled it into a filter.

As Hogride prepared a massive joint, Hairy grabbed the letter from the table and smoothed it out on the edge of the couch. Then he held it up and read it to himself.

HEMPWARDS SCHOOL OF HERBCRAFT AND WEEDERY

Master Head: Alwaze Duinthadope

(Beatnik First Class, Grand Stoner, Chf Bongmeister, Toker Supreme,
International Confed. of Weedsters, Council of Canabians)

Dear Mr. H. Pothead,

This letter is your final comfirmation that you have a place at Hempwards School of Herbcraft and Weedery.

As per our earlier two letters, please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins 4:20am, March 21st, Spring Equinox.

Yours sincerely,

Moruvva McGanjagal
Deputy Mistress Head

Questions fizzed inside Hairy's head like a shaken bottle of pop, and he couldn't decide which to ask first. Norm spoke before Hairy could collect his thoughts.

"He's not going," he said.

Hogride grunted. He had the rolling paper in his fingers and was packing it full of the crumbled buds.

"I'd like to see a feeble Square like you stop him," he muttered.

"A what?" asked Hairy, interested.

"A Square," said Hogride, licking the paper to seal it shut. "It's what we call non-tokers like them. An' it's your bad luck that you grew up in a family o' the biggest Squares I ever laid eyes on."

"We swore when we took him in that we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Norm, "we swore we'd grind it out of him! Weedster indeed!"

"You knew?" said Hairy. "You knew I'm a - a Weedster?"

"Knew?" shrieked Aunt Vanilla suddenly, storming into the living room from where she had been hiding in the kitchen. "Knew?! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh she had her hair in dreads too, and she was always listening to that damnable raggae music! She got a letter just like that, and disappeared off to that school, and come home every holiday with her pockets full of hasheesh, reeking of that disgusting smell! I was the only one who saw her for what she was - a criminal and a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Mary-Jane this and Mary-Jane that, they were proud of having a Weedster in the family!"

She stopped to draw a deep breath, and then went on ranting. It seemed she had been wanting to say all of this for years. Hogride lit the huge joint and began puffing away, once again filling the house with smoke.

"Then she met that Pothead at school, and they left and got married, and had you! Of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as stoned, just as - as - spaced-out! And then, if you please, she went and got her house burned down with them both in it, and we got stuck with you!"

Hairy had gone very white. He found his voice, and said, "House fire? You told me they died in a car crash!"

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hogride, jumping up so angrily that Mr Straitely cringed in fear. "Tha's an outrage! A scandal! A dirty damn lie!"

"Why? What really happened?" asked Hairy urgently.

The anger drained from Hogride's face. He suddenly looked anxious.

"Och, 'airy, I don' know if I'm tha right person ta tell yeh, but someone's gotta. Some parts are a myst'ry! But it's best if yeh know as much as yeh can..."

Hogride sat back down and looked into Hairy's eyes for a moment, then looked away as he began to speak.

"It begins, I s'pose, wi' a person called... Aw, I don' like sayin' tha name if I can help it."

"Why not?"

"By the leaf and the flower, 'airy, people are still scared. He infiltrated us deep, hurt many people... As bad as you could go, he was worse. His name was... Officer Pasdepot."

Hogride shuddered. "Anyways, this fellow, Officer Whats-his-face, most folks think he was originally a Weedster. But he switched on us, he turned traitor and he joined the other side. It was dark times. Di'nt know who ta trust. Di'nt dare get friendly with strange Weedsters. Terrible things was happenin'. 'e was takin' over. Some stood up ta him, but they was busted, or killed. Only one of the safe places left was Hempwards. Reckon Duinthadope's the only one that Whats-his-face is afraid of.

"Now, yer ma an' da were as good a pair of Weedsters as I ever knew. The highest heads at Hempwards in their day. No-one knew how Officer Whats-his-face found 'em, or why he wanted them so bad. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the suburb where ya was all livin', on 'alloween fifteen years ago. 'e came to yer 'ouse, an' - an' -"

Hogrid picked a large handkerchief from his pile of belongings on the table, passed his joint to Hairy, and blew his nose loudly.

"'e burned down their 'ouse! He killed them! An' he tried ter kill ya too. But summat wen' wrong, he couldn't do it, an' he got caught in tha fire, an' he hasn' been seen nor heard from since! I took yeh from tha burnin' 'ouse meself, on Duinthadope's command. Brought yeh ta this lot."

"What a load of horseradish!" said Uncle Norm. Hairy jumped, he had almost forgotten that the Straitely's were there. "I accept that there's something strange about you boy, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured, but as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdos. The world's better off without them, there's no denying it. They asked for all they got, getting mixed up with those weedhead types. I always knew they get burned up just like one of their ruddy joints."

Hogride began to rise again in anger, intending to beat some sense into Mr Straitely, but Hairy put his hand gently on Hogride's leg to restrain him.

"Hogride," he said quietly. "I think you must have made a mistake. I don't know anything about marijuana. I can't be a Weedster."

"Not a Weedster, eh?" Hogride looked a Hairy with surprising fondness. "Wha's tha' in yer mouth, then?"

Hairy reached up and touched the thick joint that was hanging between his lips. He realized he had unconsciously put it there when Hogride had passed it to him. He inhaled, tentatively at first, then deeply. The smoke filled his lungs. It felt good, it felt natural, it was delicious!

Hairy felt like the smoke flowed from his lungs and into every part of his body. He felt it filling him, touching him from the inside, becoming part of him. His mind filled with smoke. He felt his thoughts expanding, his head opening up with new ideas and connections.

Hairy closed his eyes. His thoughts were moving so fast that he felt like time was slowing down. His skin felt prickly. He inhaled again, even more deeply, and then felt Hogride pluck the joint from his mouth.

"Take it easy 'airy," said Hogride.

Keeping his eyes closed, Hairy took a deep breath of air. He felt almost like he was floating. Intricate patterns of colours streamed past his eyes. His mind was reeling with profound ideas, each new revelation whizzing by too fast for him to remember. He could hear Uncle Norm speaking, but the words didn't seem to make any sense.

Hairy opened his eyes. He looked around the room, his eyes blazing. He looked at Norm and Vanilla, and felt as if he was seeing them for the first time. He saw them not as his terrifying Uncle and his manipulative Aunt, but as two human beings, flawed, scared, lonely and confused, yet also noble and magnificent. Harry felt like he understood them. Even though they were both ruddy great gits who had made his life miserable for fifteen years, at that moment, Hairy forgave them.

Hairy smirked. Then he chuckled. He tried to hold it in but he could not, and suddenly a great spurt of laughter burst out of him.

Hairy laughed harder than he had ever laughed in his life. He suddenly got it! He got everything, and it was hilarious! Hairy laughed until he couldn't breathe. He thought of his life, his miserable sad life, and he laughed at what a loser he was. He thought of his parents, who he loved so much but would never got to meet, and he laughed at his sadness. He laughed until his sides hurt. He laughed and laughed until he was laying on the floor, guffawing uncontrollably. Hairy suddenly felt scared that he would never stop laughing, then he burst out in a fresh body-shaking blast of hilarity.

"Come on 'airy," said Hogride, reaching down to him with one meaty hand and pulling him to a standing position. "It's time fer us to be goin'"

Hairy was still giggling like an idiot, but the wave of overwhelming hilarity had passed, and he could function again, if not speak.

"Git whatever ya need from yer room," said Hogride, "and we can talk more on tha way. I can't stand ta be here no more."

Hairy turned and stumbled down the hall and through the door to his closet. Had it really been less than an hour since he had discovered the strange little man in his room? He glanced around the sparse space, knowing there was nothing he wanted to take. Nothing except for the scraggly little plant that he had lovingly tended for the past two months. Hairy grabbed the teacup in which it was growing, then made his way back down the hall, the thin plant swaying in its tiny home.

Back in the living room he saw Vanilla and Norm standing, unmoved. They were both quivering slightly, trembling in a strange combination of rage, fear and relief that Hairy was finally about to be out of their lives.

The front door of the house still lay on the floor, and through the archway Hairy could see Hogride climbing onto a massive motorcycle with the words "Harley Davidson" written on the tank. He waved his hand at Hairy and gestured at him to come over.

Hairy walked slowly past his aunt and uncle, unable to meet their gaze. "Good- goodbye," he muttered, then ran out the door. He wondered for a moment whether he would be riding behind Hogride, but then he saw the sidecar, with the word "Liberty" emblazoned upon the back. Hogride looked over and chuckled as Hairy placed his fragile plant under his seat.

"Couldn't leave yer Headstash behind, eh?"

Hairy didn't know what a Headstash was, but he liked the sound of it. Headstash... that would be a great name for his plant, mused Hairy, climbing into the sidecar.

Hogride kicked the starter and the engine roared noisily to life. Hairy could see neighbours peeking out of their windows at the strange spectacle which had unfolded in his home. Hairy closed his eyes and lay his head back against the support. He felt safe, at peace, and so very tired. It wasn't even noon, but it seemed like it had been a terribly long day. He felt the rocking of the sidecar and the roar of the engine sending him drifting off to sleep.