Harry Potter and the Song of Time

Harry Potter and the Song of Time
by Crazy Ivan

Chapter Three: The Flying Scotsman


The next few weeks passed quickly for everybody. Hermione and Ron returned home for a while, until, on the night of August 31st, they all met, with Sirius and Narcissa leading the way, at King’s Cross at 11.55 pm to travel up to Scotland. Ron was last, dragging a very large trunk behind him, with Pigwidgeon chittering irritably inside his cage. They loaded their luggage onto trolleys and, checking the tickets, Sirius steered them towards Platform 6 1/2. The setup was remarkably similar to Platform 9 3/4, although the Muggle barrier looked a little different. Once through, they marvelled at the steam engine, which was a cobalt blue, perfectly complementing the spotless cream sleeper carriages.

"We’re in carriage..." Sirius glanced at the tickets "C."
They maneuvered their trolleys along to carriage C, where a tall young wizard helped them carry their luggage onto the luggage racks just inside the door. Entering the compartments, everyone was stunned by the size of the beds and the compartments themselves. An Expanding Charm was obviously in effect, since each regally-appointed compartment held two king-size beds with cerulean blue bedspreads, a pair of large, blue-checked, squishy sofas, a huge partitioned bathroom with a two-person bathtub the size of Ron's father's car and was fitted in polished wood with gleaming brass fittings. Hermione whistled, never having been on a wizard sleeper before, and jumped on one of the beds as Harry walked into their compartment.

"These are fantastic!" Hermione exclaimed. "Although, Harry darling, I don't really intend doing much sleeping tonight..."
Harry blushed but jumped onto the bed next to Hermione. He kissed her full on the mouth, but sprang away as someone knocked loudly on the door.
"Come in!" Harry yelled, shuffling quickly over to his own bed.
"Wow, this is brilliant!" Ron said, entering and not noticing their rather guilty-looking, red faces. "I've never been on a sleeper before."
"Isn't it great?" Harry enthused as Draco walked in through the open door. He, of course, cocked an eyebrow at Harry as if to say "What have you been up to?"
"Weasley, you'd better not bloody snore or I'll tape your nostrils together," Draco growled. "Oh, and Harry, your wand's sticking out of your trousers."
Harry hurriedly looked down in panic but relaxed when he saw that Draco was indeed correct. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and set it down on the nightstand next to his bed. Catching Hermione's eye, he grinned smuttily at her.
"Anyway, we apparently arrive at St Andrews station at noon tomorrow," Draco was saying.
"Thank god, that means we won't have to get up early," Harry sighed with relief. "Where does this thing stop, anyway?"
A rather snooty-sounding magnified voice came from one of the brass wall-lamps on the far side of the room.
"The Flying Scotsman will call at the following stations:
Kirby Muxlow
Scholar Green
Midsomer Norton
Mumby Row
Chester-le-Street
Chorlton-cum-Hardy
Edinburgh Eastwestern
Littleton Badsey
Stornoway
Openshaw
Carlisle
Long Stanton
Formby Four Crosses
Dunstable Town
Fort William
Tumby Woodside
Glasgow
Troublehouse Halt
Dog Dyke
Dundee North
Ambergate
Chitterling
St Erth
St Ives
York Underwater
Durham
Portree
Lerwick and
St Andrews.

Passengers will please keep all hands, legs, tentacles, tongues and other sensory limbs, organs or cells inside the train at all times. Mind the doors."

Harry raised an eyebrow at the lamp. "Are you fully interactive?"
"Yes, sir," the lamp sniffed.
"Well then," Harry said, picking up his wand, "Off!"
The lamp extinguished itself with a sniff, and Harry jumped back on his bed. "Pull up a sofa," he told Draco and Ron, who did just that, Draco stretching out along the length of the comfy couch.

"Well, no matter where we go, there we are," Harry mused. "Do you realise it was almost exactly seven years ago that we met each other?"
"That is scary," Draco said. "I was a bit of a prick, wasn't I?"
"Actually, you were a complete and utter prick," Ron said.
"Ron!" Hermione scolded. "Actually, no, Draco, he's right."
"Cheers," Draco said, rolling his eyes.
"Won't it be nice not to live our lives in September-June instalments?" Harry said, idly leafing through his copy of the Daily Prophet.
"Yeah," Hermione said. "That was starting to get a little irritating. It was like living in a book, for goodness' sake!"

Sirius knocked, entered and perched himself on Harry's bed. "Narcissa is having a good soak before she goes to bed," he said, "so I thought I'd come and have a chat."
The train whistled loudly and, with the tiniest of jerks, pulled out of the station.
"You're always welcome, Sirius," Harry said with a smile.
"I know. I thought I'd come and tell you a little more about what I'm going to be doing up in St Andrews. It's quite exciting."
Hermione leaned forwards, hugging a pillow between her knees and her chest, and even Draco looked interested.
"Well, the project name is Tempus Fugit, and it's essentially a research project into, surprisingly enough, time. Ever since Merlene MacBeth -- who, by the way, was a Magid -- managed to zap herself five years into the future during a heated argument, the Ministry of Magic has been funding this research project. Ludmilla Vachova has headed it up for the past two years, and it's widely believed that the group are about to make some breakthroughs."
"How fascinating," Hermione said. "And what are you going to do there?"
"I'm there as a theoretician. The previous incumbent disappeared while on a test of the setup they were using."
"Does mother know you're likely to disappear into time at any given moment?" Draco asked pointedly. "If you hurt her, I swear I'll hunt you down and feed you to a very callipygous anthropophagus."
Sirius had the grace to look embarrassed. "Well, I've not actually told her what I'm doing exactly..."
"Sirius!" the four students chorused.
"That's awful!"
"How could you!"
"Typical man!"

"But I'll tell her tonight," he promised.
"You'd better!" Hermione looked apoplectic.
"If you don't..." Draco threatened. "I'll blow up half of Cornwall with rage."
"He will, you know," Harry pointed out.
They had all become most fond of Narcissa Black, who, since her husband, Lucius, had been sent away to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, had become a much more self-confident woman. Her own personality, previously hidden beneath her fear of her husband, had flowered, and now lay somewhere between Molly Weasley and Minerva McGonagall, with a bit of Fred and George Weasley thrown in for comic effect.
"I will, I will," Sirius said.
"In fact, you should go do so right now," Hermione said reprovingly.
Sirius looked abashed and, hands out in front of him as he backed away, muttered something about going to tell Narcissa and left their compartment.

Harry leaned back on the bed and conjured up a small ball of green flame, which he tossed from mental tendril to mental tendril.
"Stressed, Harry?" Ron asked.
"No, just bored," Harry replied, splitting the flame into three lumps and mentally juggling them.
"Well, mind you don't scorch the bedsheets," Hermione said disapprovingly from her own bed, stroking Crookshanks, who gave Harry an almost perfect imitation of Hermione's look.
"So, Harry," Draco said with a gleam in his eye, as if something had just occured to him, "did you find those...protections against Magid...overexcitement useful?"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, thank you, Draco. Last time I only destroyed a five hundred foot wide swath of land."
"How useful. I'm sure that Scottish National Heritage are very grateful," Draco replied, voice dripping.
"I'm sure," Harry said icily, and the temperature in the compartment dropped considerably.
"Draco..." Ron warned, "now might not be the best of times..."
"Well, we're safe tonight, at least," Draco said. "The walls are soundproof and the compartments are safely warded off, against...accidents."
"Somebody's really looking to be turned into a frog," Hermione warned in her best McGonagall YouReallyShouldn'tDoThat Voice.
Draco smiled at her, but seemed to take her advice into consideration.

"Okay, Harry, and Draco if you want," Ron said. "Explain this whole Magid thing to me in words of two syllables or fewer."
"We are big powerfu--damn," Harry said, "Three syllables. We are big strong wizards who do not draw power from the same place as other wizards. We are much more pow--strong than other wizards. Is that a sufficient lack of syllables?"
"Yes, thank you," Ron said sarcastically. "Now, the detailed explanation."
"Okay," Harry said, leaning back on the bed, "here we go. Magids are potentially much more powerful than your average wizard. However, the powers we're talking about are somewhat different. We draw from up to five Elemental Powers -- Sky, Sea, Earth, Fire and Life -- and we're all skilled to different levels in each. Someone skilled in Fire, for instance, could burn anything they wanted with a touch or a shot of their Power. An Earth master could move mountains if they were strong enough. Someone with Sea could change the course of rivers, part oceans...that sort of thing. And so on. No living wizard has Master Power in all five Elements. Dumbledore has four, all but Sky. Fleur has Sky and Life. It's somewhat traditional to say that Earth and Fire are masculine, while Sea and Sky are feminine, with Life being neuter, but I've read of quite a few men with strength in Sea and women in Earth."

"What are your strengths?" Ron asked.
"We don't know. There's all sorts of tests once we get up to the Institute in St Andrews, but I have a feeling that my strongest are Earth and Sea," Harry said, catching Hermione's mental picture of the island exploding around them during sex.
"And I reckon mine are Fire and Earth," Draco said. "Of course, these are just guesses, don't forget. Educated guesses...but guesses nonetheless."
Ron muttered something that sounded like "educated my arse", but Draco either didn't hear or pretended not to.

Ron noticed Hermione smile somewhat smuttily at Harry, so he stood and nudged Draco with his heel. "Ah, I'm knackered," he said diplomatically.
"That sounded like an 'I'm not all that knackered, but Harry and Hermione look like they're ready for a good hard shag, so I'll nudge Draco to get him to come back to our compartment' to me, Weasley," Draco said while Harry flushed bright red and Hermione looked rather satisfied.

Rolling his eyes, Draco walked out after Ron, leaving Harry and Hermione gazing lovingly at each other.
"Somehow," she said, "I feel a Bath Moment coming on."
"Lucky that it's a two-seater, then, isn't it?" Harry murmured.
"Very," she said, pulling her t-shirt over her head, revealing a slinky black bra. She quickly shed the rest of her clothes and, wrapping herself in one of the huge blue fluffy towels provided, turned the taps until the water was splashing merrily into the enormous tub. Harry picked up his wand and, with the help of a hubbly-bubbly charm, sent multicoloured bubbles foaming into the hot water. Steam started to billow out of the bath as Harry pulled off his trousers, socks, shirt and boxers. He gingerly tested the water with his left toe, and smiled at Hermione. "Perfect."

He slipped into the water, murmuring happily as the heat began to seep into his body. Hermione shed her towel and lowered herself in next to him.
"Ahh, this is gorgeous," she said, scooping up some of the bubble foam in her right hand and plopping it on top of Harry's head.
"Oh, so we're getting frisky now, are we?" Harry enquired mischevously.
"That remains to be seen, Mr Potter," Hermione said, flicking a large bubble so that it popped on his nose.
"Oh really," Harry said with one eyebrow raised, and grabbed her leg, pulling her underwater. She emerged spluttering, shaking a finger at Harry.
"That's not on, Harry," she said, attempting in vain to smother a wide smile, and picked up a large squishy sponge. "Come here and let me scrub your back."
"If you insist," he said, turning to sit cross-legged away from her. In a flash, Hermione had whipped a flannel across his eyes and knotted it at the back.
"Now try that monkey-business, dearest," she said. In a flash, Harry used his Magid powers to raise Hermione four or five feet above the bathtub, and she started to drip water down onto him. He pulled the flannel blindfold off and, placing his right index finger on his chin, smiled up at her.
"You know," Harry said, "I quite like the view from this angle."
"Put me down right now, Harry Potter!" Hermione yelled.
"Shh, you'll have everyone in here," Harry said as he pelted her with a steady stream of indigo bath foam.
"Not fair," she said, pouting. "I can't do that to you."
"Well, you could," Harry said, "but I'd probably manage to break a Wingardium Leviosa spell quite quickly, wouldn't you think?"
"Yes," Hermione said huffily as he lowered her back into the water on top of him.
"Oh, hello," Hermione said as she came to rest on top of him. "What do we have down here?"
Harry blushed. "Hermione!"
"Well," Hermione said, "You did lower me down on top of you."
She moved her hands to his head and started to scrub his hair with vivid tangerine shampoo dispensed from a small spout in the wall.
"Hermione, that smells ghastly!" Harry protested.
"No it doesn't, it smells of elderflower and St John's wort," she said, sculpting his lathered hair into a mohawk and giggling.
"What's so funny?" he asked.
"Nothing," she said. "It's just that, if you ever do that to me again, I'll enchant your hair to stay like this."
"Like what?"
"You'll see if you ever do it again," she said smugly, flattening it down.

* * *

"Draco, what are those things on your socks?" Ron asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Those little yellow patterns," Ron explained.
"Ducks," Draco said, simply.
"Ducks?!" Ron exploded in laughter. "The--Magid, fearless, cold-hearted Draco--has ducks--on his socks! Ducky socks!"
"Yes, and what about my ducky socks?" Draco asked glacially.
"They're--they're--hilarious!" Ron chortled.
"Those socks were a present from my mother."
"Yes, I know, but--"
"Just because your mother doesn't love you enough to give you ducky socks," Draco said with the vestiges of a grin, "doesn't mean that you have to be envious of mine."
"If my mother gave me ducky socks I think I would scream," Ron said.
"But not a maroon jumper," Draco counterargued.
"Touché," Ron said.

* * *
Hermione, Harry thought at her as they lay in the tub, do you remember that bit in the Pensieve with Voldemort?
Yes, Hermione replied, It's not exactly something one tends to forget.
Well, Harry said, I've been doing a bit of reading about the phenomenon. Apparently, it's not the first time it's ever happened.
Yes, I know, Hermione said. It's all in Pensieves: Theory and Practice.
Well then, you know that the barrier between Pensieve reality and historical reality can be broken.
Yes, she agreed.
Apparently, it's happened before. Crundlethorne the Emollient did it in 154 AD. And you know what's interesting about Crundlethorne?
Apart from the fact he had three arms?
He was a Magid, Hermione, Harry said. And I also read that it happened once during the trial of the Iron Lady for misuse of witchcraft in order to gain power in the Muggle world.
Well, Hermione said, she was a true dark witch. One of the most powerful ever, in fact. I wouldn't be surprised if she turned out to be a Magid.
She was, Harry said. Sirius lent me this book about Magids.
What was it called? Hermione asked interestedly.
Something along the lines of Magids through the Ages. It wasn't really very good, Harry said. Kept talking about how bad it was to be a Magid. Published by the same goons who put out that irritating biography of me.
You mean Harry Potter: Saviour or Satan? Hermione asked.
Yep.
Ah.

They sat in silence for a while until Harry spoke again. Hermione...I'm thinking that I could do it again...but this time I could talk to my parents.
But Voldemort was the only one who spotted you, Hermione said.
Yes, but he's a Magid, and I wasn't even trying, Harry said. If I were to really try to push through the barrier...
Harry, that would be awfully dangerous, Hermione mused. Remember what happened to us last time.
It'll probably be different with only one, he said. There shouldn't be any melding of minds then.
Harry, promise me you won't just go back without telling anyone, Hermione said earnestly. I'd have to go into a Moaning Myrtle Mood if you didn't return.
I'd be fine, Hermione, Harry said dismissively.
If you did, I'd pull Draco, Hermione said, and it got the desired reaction, Harry jerking forwards and splashing water out of the bath.
What? That slimy, blond, little--
Harry darling, relax. I'm not going to go out with Draco.
Harry relaxed and leaned back against the side of the bath. You had me going, he admitted, flicking some ruby foam at her.
I did, didn't I? she said satisfiedly. They cuddled closer for a few minutes until Hermione spoke out loud.

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?"
"Yes, Hermione, I am," Harry said. "It means a great deal to me -- more than winning the House Cup, or the Quidditch Cup, or the Triwizard Tournament, or Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Contest."
"You won Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Contest?" Hermione gawped, amazed.
"No."
"Bastard."
"Seriously, though. I'd give anything to actually meet my parents. You wouldn't understand, you've always known yours. The only time I've ever even seen mine is in photographs. Do you know how that feels?"
"Probably not," Hermione said. "But I do know that you mustn't go rushing into something like this. Talk to Sirius, or Ron, or even Draco. But talk to someone."
"Okay," Harry said, rubbing noses with her.
"Promise me, Harry," Hermione said intensely.
"I promise, Hermione," he said, slightly amused.

She leant back. "Could you rub my neck? I've got a crick just at the shoulder..."
He applied his fingers expertly, eliciting moans of approval and little murmurs of "higher" or "lower".

As they lay next to each other later that night, Harry could just not get his eyes to stay closed for more than a minute. He slipped gingerly out of bed so as not to wake Hermione and, padding silently over to the window, sat on one of the chairs next to the small table. He pulled the curtains open ever so slightly so that a sliver of moonlight fell across his forehead, casting his scar into deep relief. He stared at the water over which the train was currently flying and guessed that, since Polaris lay almost directly in front of the train, they were somewhere between Stornoway and Littleton Badsey.
"They do really mean 'Flying Scotsman', don't they?" he observed to himself wryly. "And Arthur Weasley got in trouble for enchanting a bloody car. Humph."

As he watched, a school of dolphins started to frolic alongside the train. Harry sat mesmorised as they splashed happily, following the train and turning end over end in the maritime moonlight. He smiled, really smiled, for what seemed like the first time in ages. It had, he suddenly realised, been a long time since he had inwardly smiled, and resolved to do it more often.

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