Harry Potter and the Song of Time

Harry Potter and the Song of Time
by Crazy Ivan

Chapter One: "I Know What You Did Last Summer"

"And now, the news at oh-nine-hundred British Wizarding Time on August first, 1998," the radio next to Harry's bed blared, its alarm function working for once.
"The Department of Magical Education today announced that results for NEWTs and OWLs from Hogwarts School can be collected from their Espeche Alley Enquiries Centre from ten a.m. Those students unable or too lazy to come to Espeche Alley will receive their results by owl in two days time. Students arriving at Espeche Alley are reminded, for Health and Safety reasons, that Espeche Alley is closed for Apparation today. Floo Powder is recommended, although extra broom landing spaces have been provided. In other news this morning..."

Harry threw the duvet off his bed and swung his legs over the end. He grabbed his dressing-gown and towel from the peg and, wrapping the gown around his chest, kicked off his pajama bottoms and headed out into the corridor, hearing but not fully comprehending a rather pleasing tenor voice singing a rather lewd song by Flanders and Swann, that famous wizarding musical duo. He came to the bathroom door and, half-asleep still, pushed it open. The startled yell from the figure in the shower prompted Harry to wake up to see Draco wrapped in and attempting to conceal himself behind the bright yellow shower curtain, water cascading from his hair.

"Do you mind?" Draco shouted.
"Oh, shit, sorry, it was unlocked," Harry stammered, backing away and closing the door. He leaned against the corridor wall and ran his hands through his hair, which was being particularly disobedient this morning. Draco emerged a few minutes later, towel wrapped around his middle.
"I can understand that you're thrilled by my bronzed, muscled Adonaic form, Harry, but you're just not my type," Draco said. "Besides, think what the Daily Prophet would say."
"Good morning to you too, Draco," Harry said irritably, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and heading into the shower. He quickly scrubbed himself down, washed his hair and hurried back into the bedroom, where the Muggle clock he'd not quite got around to throwing out showed 9.15. He pulled on a pair of trousers and boots and rummaged around for a t-shirt to go under his new purple robes, full-length but made from a cooling material, trimmed with gold fabric. He grabbed the matching, trendy hat from above the wardrobe and headed downstairs.

Harry tossed a bright "Morning!" to Sirius and Narcissa in the kitchen and nearly collided with Draco as they almost ran into the living room. Draco was looking particularly stylish in a high-cut dark grey robe with a pointed collar and a matching cape flowing behind him. They each grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and, before checking, threw it into the cold fireplace. "Bollocks," said Harry, reaching for his wand.
"Actually, it's a wand," Draco said, lips pursed, trying not to grin as Harry lit the fire with his wand and gave Draco a very dirty look.
"Espeche Alley!" Harry yelled at the fireplace and ran into it. He emerged at the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron, nearly colliding with Neville Longbottom, who had just emerged himself. He looked back to see Draco entangled on arrival with a tall Ravenclaw whose names Harry could never remember -- it was Islington or Battersea de Something de Other, and he had transferred in from Beauxbatons in sixth year. He was also rumored to have had several off-on torrid affairs with Justin Finch-Fletchley of Hufflepuff.

Cursing loudly, Draco disentangled himself and walked over to Harry, who was shaking Neville's hand. Hermione, Ron and the other Gryffindors appeared minutes later, and they all headed down to the DME's Enquiry Centre, located in Espeche Alley, just along from Ollivanders. A large crowd of students was already gathered, and a short, round, pompous-sounding wizard with a red face was shouting that the results would not be given out for another ten minutes. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were comparing their predictions of everyone's grades, placing particularly doom-and-gloom emphasis on Neville's results, so Hermione shot off a McGonagall Fires-of-Hell Look, which quieted them down somewhat.
"I still don't believe that you can get a NEWT in Divination, of all things. Talk about fuzzy maths..."
"Oh, Hermione, relax. Who do you think will employ them anyway?" Draco asked, an eyebrow askew at Lavender and Parvati. Padma Patil, Parvati's twin, shrugged and rolled her eyes at Draco, as if to say it wasn't her fault. He grinned back in reply, but then a tall head came between them, talking excitedly to Parvati. Draco nudged Harry. "What's that chap's name?" he asked, pointing at the tall Ravenclaw with whom he had been entangled on arrival and who was now blocking his view of the rather shorter Padma.

"Search me," Harry said. "Paddington de Claret de Chardonnay, I think. Ravenclaw, though."
"Really, Harry," Hermione tutted. "As former Head Boy, you should know that his name is Kensington Cartwright de Plume. And he's highly intelligent. Despite the fact he did Divination." She snarled the last word as if it was an Unforgivable Curse, but looked dreamily at Kensington.
"Forget it, Herm," Draco said, eyebrows furrowed mischievously. "He, how shall I put it...enjoys broomstick riding."
"He doesn't play Quidditch, though," Hermione said, not quite understanding the metaphor.
"We're not talking about Quidditch, Hermione," Harry grinned. "He's interested in other people's wands. Get it?"
"No," Hermione said. "Surely spells wouldn't work as well--"
"Hermione, for someone as intelligent as you are, you can be very dense sometimes," Draco said, making little motions of tapping his two index fingers together. "He plays for the other side. And no, I'm not talking Dark Magic."
Understanding dawned on Hermione's face. "Oh! I--er--see. He's--er--"
"--like Remus," Harry finished for her, and Draco turned inquiringly to him.
"You never told me that Lupin..."
"You never asked. Besides, he's...involved."
"Involved?"
"Yes, with a bloke from the States. They've got a very nice flat in Knightsbridge," Harry said. "Right around the corner from Harrod's."

If Draco wanted to know more, he didn't have the opportunity to ask, for at that moment a large flock of tiny owls, smaller than Pigwidgeon, exploded from the window above the Enquiry Centre and dove at the students below. Each owl headed for one student, dropping a large fancy envelope with the Hogwarts and Department of Magical Education crests on the top, bordered with small green flowers, into their hands and flocking back to the window. The hushed silence broken only by the sounds of opening seals which ensued would have been comical if any of them were not utterly paranoid about the letters' contents.

"Yes!" someone yelled, shattering the silence, which was followed by more whooping. The crowd erupted almost entirely into cheers, hugs and shrieks of happiness. There were a couple of disappointed faces, but none of them were from Gryffindor. Hermione had got five As (in Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Arithmancy and Wizarding Literature), Harry and Draco both three As (in Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms for Harry and Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions for Draco). Ron had got an A and two Bs, and Neville had got an A in Herbology, a B in Care of Magical Creatures and a D in Charms.

Harry, Hermione, Ron and Draco were swept up in the mass group hug which ensued. Harry caught sight of Neville crying with joy, results certificate clenched in his hand, and hugged Hermione even tighter. The crowd of students eventually, after much prodding from the DME staff, headed towards the Leaky Cauldron and the large function room which had been set aside especially for them. It seemed strange, Harry thought, to see everyone in anything but Hogwarts' black robes -- Neville was wearing a rather bright yellow robe, Hermione a deep emerald, Ron a Chudley Cannons orange one, all trimmed with matching or opposite colours. Several of the Slytherins, including Draco, were in variations on the black theme, but with greys and charcoals thrown in for good measure. Pansy Parkinson, as usual, was clinging to Draco as if he was going to disappear if she didn't -- which was probably true. He looked about as happy as a rabbit in headlights, and started looking meaningfully at Harry as if to say 'rescue me'.

The entire staff of the Leaky Cauldron were on hand to dish out butterbeer from a large barrel, as well as Buckfast Tonic Wine for those who didn't like butterbeer. Harry clinked mugs with Ron, Hermione, Neville, Seamus, Dean, Draco, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Ernie MacMillan and several other people whose names, at that moment, he was having trouble remembering, including the boy who was named after a part of London. Chiswick, was it? Holborn? Harry shook his head and quickly forgot about it as Seamus thumped him on the back in celebration, splashing his butterbeer. The students organically mingled into several different groups, each discussing much the same thing -- what to do next. Harry, Hermione and Ron had all got the grades they needed to get into their courses, Neville was into the Ministry, Dean in the Gringotts training programme and Seamus, whose reserve Chaser position with the Barbarians didn't require any particular grades, was congratulating them all and helping to drink the butterbeer. This brew, unlike the stuff they'd been served previously at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade and elsewhere, was fully alcoholic butterbeer, and Lavender Brown was looking rather tipsy after her second mug.

"I think I f'got to have breakf'sht," she slurred to Parvati, who quickly tapped her friend's head with a Insobrius charm, which helped to refocus Lavender's eyes. Ron sniggered and pointed at Lavender, who, despite Parvati's efforts, was still having difficulty remaining on her feet. "I predict that she's going to have one hell of a hangover."
Hermione sniggered. "For once, Ron, I'll agree with a prediction."

The group of students started to get more and more hammered, until Justin Finch-Fletchley, who had been Head Chorister, stood on a table as Ernie MacMillan started to shout for quiet.

"I would like, if I may, to sing you a verse of my favorite song. It's called 'I May Be A Tiny Chimney Sweep But I've Got A Large Broom.' It goes a little shomething like thish..." Justin shuffled on his table and started to sing.

"Ohhhhhhh,
The chimneys were dirty at Mrs McFry's
And I'll grant they were worse down at Molly O'Clue's
But the chimney sweep said, with a gleam in his eye
'I've got a great tool here for...cleaning the flu-u-uuuues...

'For I may be a tiny chimney sweep
With a tiny grimy face,
But I'm carrying a broom that makes strong girls weep,
Won't you let me up, up, up your fireplace?'"

The drunken crowd of students roared with laughter as Justin accompanied his song with some rather vulgar arm movements. Harry noticed Piccadilly de Montfort de Rah, or whatever Justin's Ravenclaw ex was called, blushing from his chin to his ears at the refrain. He put his arm around Hermione, who staggered slightly. Harry wasn't sure that he'd ever seen her so 'merry'. At that point, the crowd thundered applause for Justin's song, which he'd not quite got through, being rather smashed as he was.

Harry and Ron led Hermione over to the corner to some mild, ineffectual protests. "I'm not dwunk," she clamored, trying to swat their hands away but managing instead to punch Ron on the nose.
"Of gorse you're dot, Herbiodee," Ron muttered, scowling heavily and rubbing his nose with his free hand. Stepping over the now-horizontal Lavender Brown, he and Harry sat Hermione on a wooden chair and passed her a large glass of water.
"Drink this, Hermione," Harry said, grinning.
"It'sh not funny!" Hermione said indignantly.
"Oh, I dunno," Ron said.
Neville fairly bounced over, still grasping his results certificate in one hand and a mug of butterbeer in the other. "Oh dear, I think I'm going to be ill," he announced, and promptly hurried off towards the gents loos, watched by an amused Ron and Harry. Hermione had started to snore softly.

"Ish Hermione dwunk?" Seamus asked as he and Dean staggered over.
"Yeah," Harry said, eyeing the two Gryffindors, who weren't in that good a state themselves.
"I know a good anti-drunkienesh shpell," Dean said, tripping over his tongue.
"No, Dean, wait!" Harry cried, but Dean already had his wand out and had yelled "Exaquis!", confusing the spell used to relieve drunkenness with one used to drench a fire. About ten bucketfuls of water exploded out of Dean's wand, cascading over Hermione and splashing Harry and Ron. Hermione jerked awake, water dripping over her eyes. "Have we gone shwimming, Hawwy?" she muttered, and fell back asleep again.
"Dean!" Harry and Ron yelled as one of the Leaky Cauldron staff bustled over, waving a wand to get rid of the water.
"S'all right, lads, don't worry 'bout it," the plump wizard said with a smile. "Let your 'air down, that's all right."

Harry looked at Ron. "Think she'll be okay?"
"She'd better be," Draco said from behind him, clapping an arm around Harry.

"Uh oh," Ron said as a large group of Hufflepuffs descended on them, clamoring for Harry and Draco to sing for them. Reluctantly, Harry stood on the table recently vacated by Justin, now sprawled over three chairs at the side of the room, and Draco clambered up next to him.
"Just remember," Draco muttered, "this was your idea."

"We're going to do a Flanders and Swann number," Harry yelled, and the drunken rumble reduced itself to a tremor. Draco coughed once and, in a lilting tenor, began:

"She was young, she was pure, she was new, she was nice,
She was fair, she was sweet seventeen.
He was old, he was vile, and no stranger to vice,
He was base, he was bad, he was mean.
He slyly envigled her up to his flat
To view his collection of stamps
And he said as he hastened to put out the cat, the wine, his cigar and the laaaaaamps:"

At this point, Draco stopped and looked at Harry, who continued in a a deep baritone voice:
"'Have some madeira, M'dear
You really have nothing to fear
I'm not trying to tempt you, that wouldn't be right
You shouldn't drink spirits at this time of night
Have some madeira, M'dear
It's very much nicer than beer
I don't care for sherry, one cannot drink stout
and port is a wine I can well do without
It's simply a case of chacun à son gout
Have some madeira, M'dear!'"

Harry gestured expansively to Draco, who resumed his narration:
"Unaware of the wiles of the snake in the grass
The fate of the maiden who topes
She lowered her standards by raising her glass
Her courage, her eyes and his hopes
She sipped it, she drank it, she drained it, she did
He quietly refilled it again
And he said, as he secretly carved one more notch
on the butt of his gold-handled caaaaane..."

Harry grinned and again boomed:
"'Have some Madeira, M'dear
I've got a small cask of it here.
And once it's been opened, you know it won't keep
Do finish it off, it'll help you to sleep
Have some Madeira, M'dear
It's really an excellent year
Now if it were Gin you'd be wrong to say yes
The evil gin does would be hard to assess
Besides, it's inclined to affect me prowess
Have some Madeira, M'dear!'"

Draco, with Harry inserting bits of the man's speech, continued:
"Then flashed through her mind what her mother had said
with her antipenultimate breath:"
Draco's voice went up into a strong falsetto,
"'Oh, my child, if you look on the wine that is red
then prepare for a fate worse than death!'"
and returned to its normal tenor.
"She let go the glass with a shrill little cry
Crash! Tinkle! It fell to the floor.
When he asked", Draco paused. "'What in heaven?'" Harry rumbled.
"she made no reply,
Up her mind, and a dash for the door." Draco looked at Harry.
"'Have some Madeira, M'dear'" Harry boomed,
"Rang out down the hall, loud and clear
A tremulous cry that was filled with despair
As she paused to take breath in the cool midnight air." Draco grinned.
"'Have some Madeira, M'dear!'" Harry thundered.
"The words seemed to ring in her ear,
Until the next morning, she woke up in bed
With a smile on her lips and an ache in her head
And a beard in her earhole that tickled and sa-a-aid," Draco hung on the last note, until Harry finished,
"'Have some Madeira, M'dear!'"

The applause was so loud that not only did it wake Hermione, but Lavender sat up and bumped her head into Seamus' knee, knocking herself out cold. From then on, the party rather degenerated, and Harry found himself and Draco carrying an utterly gone Hermione and an only slightly less drunk Ron in the direction of the fireplace, where they found Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey sitting in casual robes around the table.

"Good afternoon, Harry," McGonagall said. Harry frowned, feeling that something was wrong, until he realised that this was the first time that she had used his first name.
"Afternoon, Professor?" Harry asked, confused. "Isn't it evening?"
"Please, Harry, call me Minerva," McGonagall said, and Harry gulped. That would take some getting used to.
"And no, Harry, it's not evening," Dumbledore said, smiling, "but I'm sure it feels like it. We are just here to make sure that you all get home safely."
"And I," Madam Pomfrey said, "am to make sure that you're all right to travel through the Floo."
"Don't worry," McGonagall said, "We're using a special, one-way Floo Powder. It'll only take you to one particular grate."

"Is that like Summoning Powder?" Harry asked, remembering the first time he'd seen that used, when Severus Snape had Summoned Remus Lupin into his office through the fire.

"Exactly, but the opposite," Dumbledore said. "Now, where are you going?"
"Home," Harry said, rubbing his eyes.
"Which is...?" Dumbledore said kindly.
"Sorry. Sirius Black's house, used to be Malfoy Mansion."
"All four of you?" McGonagall said, raising her eyebrows.
"Well..." Harry said, looking at Draco, "Hermione's folks aren't used to wizard drinks, and Fred and George would never let Ron forget it if he came home like that, especially if--"
"Yes," Draco interrupted, "to answer your question, Minerva, all four of us."
"It's number 3745, Albus," McGonagall said a few moments later, as she looked up Malfoy Mansion in the Floo Directory. Dumbledore waved his wand over a large handful of the powder and said "Three Seven Four Five" very clearly. Standing, he threw it in the fire and motioned Harry and Draco, carrying Hermione and Ron, through the fireplace.

* * *

Sirius couldn't stop himself laughing. Knowing what the students were in for, he'd invited Remus and his partner, Tacitus "Bud" Lieghte, around to watch them stumbling home. It was about three in the afternoon when the fireplace flashed and the four stumbled through and straight into the large pool of water which Sirius had planted in their way. Harry and Draco looked up, astonished, while Ron snored loudly and Hermione muttered "No, not a Grindylow!" to nobody in particular.

"Surprise!" Sirius beamed. "Welcome to 'Who Wants To Have A Wizard Hangover?'! I'm your host, Sirius Black, and this is my lovely assistant, Remus Lupin."
"I'll take 'a large glass of water' for three hundred, Sirius," Harry muttered.
"No, Harry, that's the wrong show," Sirius said in a stage whisper.
"Oh, Sirius, let them be," Narcissa said, smiling down at the four drenched wizards.
"Yeah, let us be, you big bully," Draco said in his best imitation of a little boy voice.
"Not convincing, Draco," Remus said with a smirk. "Draco Malfoy, you had this much dignity," and he spread his arms wide, "but you just lost this much," and he narrowed them slightly. "Congratulations to Draco Malfoy, who goes to bed with this much dignity intact!", leaving about an inch between thumb and forefinger.
"Sadist," Draco muttered as he half-dragged Ron upstairs and into one of the guest rooms. Sirius followed and, taking off Ron's wet robes, covered him up with the duvet.
"He'll sleep for hours," Sirius said, grinning, and they left to find Narcissa coming out of Hermione's guest room with an amused look on her face.
"Good night, boys," she said to Harry and Draco, who headed off to their rooms, slipped their robes to the floor, crawled into bed and under the covers and fell instantly asleep.

* * *

When Harry awoke, he glanced at the Muggle clock on the wall and realised that it was six o'clock. He reached over for his glasses, knocking over a glass of water in the process. Cursing loudly, he jammed his glasses on his face and staggered over to draw the curtains. It was a particularly nice evening, with the sun still fairly high in the sky, and Remus and Bud were piling charcoal up in the huge barbecue at the end of the garden. Harry pulled his dressing-gown down from the peg, walked carefully but in a zig-zag down to the bathroom, and stood under the shower until someone hammering on the door jerked him out of his hangover-induced reverie.

"Whuh--coming," he yelled, turning the shower off with a word and stepping onto the large fuzzy bath-mat. He towelled off quickly with his large red towel embroidered with a golden 'H' and rewrapped the dressing-gown around himself. He emerged into the corridor to find Hermione, legs crossed, leaning against the wall with her eyes clenched shut, hair sticking up in a near-mohawk at the back.

"Men! Bloody loo-hogs!" she grunted as she scuttled into the bathroom. Harry smiled, hangover beginning to disappear, and sauntered back into his room. He pulled on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, running his hands through his hair. Giving up on any chance of making it behave, he wandered down to the kitchen where Sirius was throwing a lump of ground beef from hand to hand, together with some onions, to make his special homemade burgers. Narcissa was stirring her excellent balsamic vinaigrette dressing and Draco was mixing up a huge jug of Pimms no. 1, garnished with slices of orange, apple, lemon and cucumber. Harry grabbed a pint glass from the cupboard and drank four pints of water in succession, to everyone's amusement.

"The Prodigal returns," Sirius said, poking Harry in the ribs with a wooden spoon on his way past.
"Ungh," Harry said, clearing his throat as he realised that his powers of speech had not yet returned.
"Would that be 'ungh, yes' or 'ungh, no,' dear?" Narcissa asked as she took the salad out of the refrigerator.
"Ungh, yesh," Harry mumbled, grabbing a roll and stuffing it into his mouth.
"Don't, dear," Narcissa said, slapping his wrist with a salad server as she retrieved them from a drawer. "You'll spoil your supper."
"Is Ron up yet?" Harry managed through a mouth of roll.
"Yes, but he's having an intimate head-to-bowl relationship with the downstairs loo," Draco said, eyes sparkling.
"Ah," said Harry.
"Seen Hermione?" This was Sirius.
"She dashed into the bathroom after me," Harry replied. "She was a bit, er, taken short."
"I was not," Hermione said from the door, wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt saying "Nobody Knows I'm A Witch" in large letters which she had enchanted to change color every few seconds. Harry thought that if he looked at it for long enough he'd be quite ill. "You were just hogging the bathroom. Typical man."
"That's the cauldron calling the kettle black," Sirius muttered with a sideways glance at Narcissa, who rapped his knuckles with a long baguette.
"Behave, dear," she said affectionately.
"Would you two please stop the personal displays of affection?" Draco said, frowning at them.
"Yeah," Hermione said, hands on hips in an excellent impression of Minerva McGonagall. "Anyone would think you were in love or something."
Draco shot her a dark look. "It's all right for you, Hermione, it's not your mother!"
"Sorry, Draco dear," Narcissa said, not sounding all that sorry.
"S'all right," Draco grumped and turned back to the water biscuits he was unwrapping and arranging around a rather ripe-looking Camembert on a plate.

At that point, Ron came into the kitchen, shaking water from his hands and looking a little less green than he had before monopolising the downstairs loo.
"Feeling better, dear?" Narcissa asked brightly.
"Ungh," Ron said, and everyone but him laughed.
"Was that 'ungh, yes' or 'ungh, no'?" Harry asked between chuckles.
"Ungh." Ron nodded. "Wa-er."
Harry poured his friend a pint of water, which he downed and held out the glass for another.
"Ank-oo."
"Welcome," Harry said, reaching up for some Magical Milk of Magnesia and pouring some into a shot glass for Ron. "You'll need some of this too."
Ron downed the starchy white liquid and grimaced. "I fink that would've tasted worse 'f I c'd taste it."
"Very probably, dear," Narcissa said, taking his glass and washing it up. "But think of the good it's doing you."
"Ungh," Ron repeated.

"Barby's ready!" Remus yelled through the living room to the kitchen, clicking a long pair of tongs at them to hurry them up. Behind him, his partner Bud chuckled.
"Any more beers, Narcissa?" Remus asked
"Would you like a Bud, Remus?"
"I've already got one, Narcissa," Remus said, prodding Bud with the tongs. Narcissa sighed dramatically and threw a bottle of beer at Remus.

"I don't think I want to go out there with Remus brandishing those tongs at me," Draco said, pretending to cower behind the large jug of Pimms.
"Don't be so wet," Hermione said, picking up the tray of nibbles and carrying it out. She emerged onto the large slate patio, dotted with large barrels of flowers which cascaded down. There were petunias, geraniums, pansies, alyssum and some that Hermione's Herbology OWL didn't quite cover. A large wooden table surrounded by eight chairs was covered with a colorful blue gingham tablecloth and laid out with Narcissa's favorite table setting, a different color plate and colored glasses for each person.

Harry stood beside the red setting, next to Draco's green and Sirius' purple. Narcissa put her glass of wine in front of the bright pink, and Hermione put her glass of dandelion and burdock near the yellow setting, next to Ron's orange. Remus' beer, above the blue set, was next to his partner Bud's peach-colored plate. Bud waved from the barbecue, where he was brushing the grill off to remove the flavors from the previous food. Sirius walked up to him with the exquisite-looking burgers and smiled. "Six minutes for each," he said.
"Aye aye, captain," Bud said, taking a sip from his gin and tonic.

Harry and Draco went back into the kitchen to pick up the last few things, bringing them out into the late evening sunshine which was starting to touch the tops of the tallest trees in the garden. Sirius walked around with his wand, tapping the tops of the tiki torches set around the patio and setting them alight.

"What're those for?" Ron asked as he munched on a cracker.
"They help to keep the flies away," Narcissa said. "It's so we don't have to put a Bugblatter charm on the patio, dear -- that sort of charm tends to keep the butterflies and hummingbirds away."

"Oh," said Ron. They sat and sipped at the sweet, fruity Pimms until Remus yelled over that the burgers were ready. He wandered back over to a round of applause, and everybody tucked in.

A surprisingly few minutes later, they had moved onto Narcissa's excellent gooseberry fool, creamy and smooth, and Sirius turned to Harry.
"Well, how does it feel to have left school then?"
"In a word, weird," Harry said, smiling. "It certainly doesn't feel like the culmination of seven years of effort."
"You can say that again," Ron said.
"It certainly doesn't feel--"
"Yes, yes," Draco said, flicking a piece of bread at Harry. "Smartarse."
Harry blew a raspberry at him and continued. "It's also a bit scary -- Hogwarts was really the only constant in my life, ever since I left the Dursleys, since you, Sirius, since Voldemort...it's very strange to consider having left it."
"I know what you mean," Hermione agreed. "Since I got the letter, I've automatically associated Hogwarts with magic. It's probably different for you and Draco, Ron, but that's how we Muggle-raised think."
"Hmm," Draco said. "I suppose that does make sense."

"I was so glad for Neville," Hermione said to Remus. "He got into the Ministry, just like he wanted."
"As an Auror, like his parents?" Remus asked.
"Not quite," Hermione smiled. "He's in the Herbology Department. He thinks that he'll be asked to go on research trips, and Professor Sprout agrees with him.
"Huh. And what about that Irish boy, what's his name?"
"Seamus Finnigan. Well, he's been signed to the Bruton Barbarians as Reserve Chaser."
"Fantastic! And what about his friend, Dean, was it?"
"Gringotts. He'll be off chasing a Gorgon who's been interfering with their mining efforts in Llanelli." Hermione sipped at her Pimms. "And, before you ask, Lavender and Parvati are doing Divination research with that old bat Trelawney." Hermione spat the last word out like a Cheek-Pinching Sourball.
"Oh, dear Sybil, how is she?" Remus asked, nudging and winking at Hermione.
"Not dead yet," Hermione said grimly.
Remus lifted his hands and started to wiggle his fingers. "I sense tension...anger..."
"You're about to sense a nasty Charm, Moony," Hermione growled.
"Help! Harry, she's going to hex me!" Remus whimpered.
"Quick, get the Dementors!" Draco said, sarcasm dripping from his tongue.
"Well, when are you all thinking of heading up to St Andrews?" Narcissa said, referring to the location of the wizarding community's most prestigious research and higher education institution.
"Hmm," Harry said. "Well, term starts on September 15th...so I was thinking maybe get up there for the first -- go see Hagrid and everyone at Hogwarts one day. It's only a few miles away, we could even go on broomstick."
"I've not told you about the offer of a position I've had, have I?" Sirius asked.
"No," Harry said, frowning. "In fact, you hadn't told us anything at all about positions."

"Oh, no, we're just not going there," Draco said, backing away and holding a warding hand out.
"Draco!" Hermione said. "Your mind is like a Welsh railway!"
"What?" Draco looked confused.
"One-track and dirty," Hermione explained patiently.
"Oh. Oh! Cow," he muttered.
"Ahem," Sirius coughed. "As I was trying to say..."
"Sorry," said Draco.
"Anyway, I'm thinking of taking up a teaching job in Temporal Mechanics," Sirius said. "It involves working with Ludmilla Vachova, though."

The four students looked at each other, the last reference having passed them by. "Who?" Harry asked.
"Ludmilla Vladimirovna Vachova," Sirius explained, "is the Dean of the Faculty of Philosophy, and Chairwitch of the Department of Applied Temporal Mechanics. She has the personality of a dead tree-rat and the interpersonal communication skills of a reporter for Witch Weekly."
"Nothing wrong with Witch Weekly," Narcissa said, prodding him.
"Of course not, dear. Anyway, Ludmilla Vladimirovna is a bit of an old bat, not to put too fine a point on it." Sirius took a large gulp of his Pimms. "And I'm seriously considering taking up the post."

"You should, Sirius," Hermione said seriously. "It's a fantastic opportunity, after all."
"Yeah," said Draco. "And you can buy a large house and we can live there for free."
"Now who's having delusions of adequacy?" Ron shot across Draco's bows.
"Boys!" Narcissa looked shocked. "Behave yourselves."
"Sorry, Mum," Draco said, and Ron mumbled an apology.
"Well, at least you're not mellowing in old age, chaps," Remus said, chuckling. "Who knows, you might even get to the point of civility soon."

The verbal sparring continued for a while as the evening darkened and the torches became the only sources of light, until Hermione gave an almighty yawn.
"Well," Narcissa said motheringly, "I think it's time certain people went to bed."
"Mother!" Draco sounded shocked, but his protest was cut off by a large yawn from Ron.
"I certainly think we should move inside," Narcissa said. "The nightflies will be coming out any moment."
"Yes, dear," Sirius said, rising and starting to clear, helped by Remus, Bud, Draco, Harry, Hermione and Ron. Once all the dishes had been removed to the kitchen, everyone decamped to the sitting-room and Sirius brought out the large decanter of port and a small fleet of glasses.

"Urgh...alcohol..." Ron wibbled, looking green again at just the sight of it.
"Oh, come on, Ron," Sirius said with a gleam in his eye. "It's a restorative."
"Yeah, and it'll restore me right back to the downstairs loo."
"Most likely," Sirius grinned.
Ron frowned and went to fetch a large glass of water.

The evening fairly degenerated from there. Despite his protests, Ron -- and everyone else -- did get quite drunk, and was even persuaded to join in a chorus of a particularly lewd song of which Narcissa did not quite approve. The evening ended, unsurprisingly, with several rounds of "I May Be A Tiny Chimney Sweep".

As he lay in bed that night, Harry's thoughts were inexplicably drawn back to the incident with the Pensieve, and his dreams were filled with images of the swirling liquid with its shining thoughts. Somehow, he knew that this was terribly relevant, but went into a deep sleep before he could remember quite how and why.

Read it? Enjoyed it? Review it @ Schnoogle.com!