“Hi,” says the snake, and Larry couldn’t be more delighted.
“Ohmygod,” he squeals, pressing himself against the glass. “I knew it. You’re a snake, right? Like a real snake.”
“Yeah,” it hisses. “Listen, could you find me a mouse or some-”
“‘Cause this means, like… I’ve had this scar my whole life, and my aunt and uncle are terrible, and I’ve got this stupid cousin. See?” He brushes his blackish hair back to reveal a sort of S-shaped thing. “And now you’re a snake and you’re talking to me. So I’m a wizard.”
“What are you, retarded?” asks the snake.