/lit/ - Literature

"Harry, you look different," said Hermione as I joined her and Ron in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express.

I suppose I did. I was wearing an ushanka with a Red Star, a Che Guevara T-shirt, and browline glasses. I had grown a scruffy beard and had had my scar changed from a lightning bolt to a hammer and sickle.

"Why are you wearing a shirt with that murderer on it?" asked Hermione as I sat down.

"He's not a murderer, he's a soldier," I explained. "I'd be offended, but I know you've been brainwashed by the bourgeoisie capitalist establishment. You're suffering from false consciousness."