Tristan Parkes: Day of the Dementors

Tristan spent an hour walking south from the TARDIS before arriving in a town around dusk. For some strange reason, Tristan couldn't shake off a nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right. After walking through the town for a while, Tristan ended up in a park and spotted a newspaper that had been hastily tossed in a bin. The person who tossed it there had done a rather sloppy job of it, and the paper was only halfway in the bin.

Tristan went and picked up the paper and checked the date on it. It read "7th January, 2005". From the looks of it, the burnt-out power relays had stopped his trip back in time short by nearly two years.

"So much for those power relays," Tristan muttered.

Looking around the park, the only other person he could see was a girl of about eighteen sitting on a tree root, reading a book. Tristan cursed himself for not wearing clothing that was more fitting for the early twenty-first century. His current clothing consisted of a comfortable nanite-impregnated silver shirt, black cargo pants (with fingerprint-recognition zip locks), and his usual steel-tipped black boots and thick grey woollen socks. The nanites in Tristan's shirt prevented it from getting dirty, as they just took any dirt that did end up on it to the surface, where it fell off the shirt.

Tristan started to walk away, hoping the girl wouldn't see his futuristic clothing, but he suddenly felt an odd prickling sensation on the back of his neck, which he had only felt once before, and that was when he had visited Azkaban prison and he was nearing the Dementors. That couldn't be right, could it? The history books said nothing about Dementors in Australia in this time period.

Tristan stopped walking and turned around to see a Dementor heading straight for the girl. Tristan knew that you should always think things through whenever possible. It was a natural trait when you were a former Ravenclaw, but Tristan didn't have time to think right now. The only time he had was for action, so he quickly rushed back over to the girl and pushed her out of the way of the Dementor.

"What the hell...?" demanded the girl.

"Run! We've got to put some distance between us and it!" shouted Tristan.

"What are you talking about?"

"Just move it! I'll explain later!"

Tristan and the girl ran towards a ridge. When they reached the top, Tristan looked back for the Dementor. Although he couldn't see any sign of it, Tristan could still feel the vile creature's presence.

"Would you mind explaining to me what we were running from?" demanded the girl.

"Not just now. It's still around here somewhere. What's your name?"

"Ashlee."

"I'm Tristan Parkes. Nice to meet you, Ashlee," replied Tristan, looking around.

"What are you looking for?" asked Ashlee.

"Hold it," said Tristan, holding up a hand.

Tristan spotted the Dementor and entered "207" on his pattern buffer and with an electric-sounding thump, he was immediately presented with a microwave gun. Tristan took a careful aim, looking through the gun's scope at the Dementor and fired. There was an electric sounding bling as the gun fired, and the Dementor exploded in a flash of white light and a cloud of steam.

"What the hell is that thing?!" asked Ashlee.

"The weapon? It's a microwave gun. As for what I shot, that was a Dementor. They are the foulest of all magical creatures to walk this planet. Non-magical folk, like yourself, cannot see them. A microwave gun is one of the few things that can kill a Dementor and about the only non-magical method of doing so. You have to be careful using it around metal objects, as metal reflects the radio waves used by the gun."

"Ok, ok. Hold on. What the hell are you on? You're tripping off your face. Demti-whatis and magical microwave guns? Sit here and calm down while I go call the men in the white coats."

"I'm not crazy. You saw the flash of light and cloud of steam when I killed the Dementor, so don't go denying what you know to be real," replied Tristan, desperately hoping Ashlee wouldn't turn him in.

"Alright, let me get this straight. You're magical. And you just shot something that isn't there. Sorry if I'm finding this a little hard to believe."

"It was there, you just couldn't see it."

"So, it's invisible?"

"If you're not magical, then yes." Tristan tapped in "900" on his pattern buffer and handed Ashlee a set of goggles. "Put these on. They're the magical version of thermal night-vision goggles

"Um, ok," replied Ashlee and put on the goggles. "Holy shit! What is that thing?!"

"The remains of a dead Dementor," replied Tristan, gesturing to the pile of goo and black robes.

Ashlee started to shake and asked worriedly, "What would've ...it done to me? To us?"

"You felt miserable when it was alive, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but that's no reason to shoot it."

"Dementors suck all the happiness out of a place, and if they get a hold of you, they can administer the Dementor's Kiss, which sucks out your soul. Without a soul, you're just a vegetable with zero chance of recovery."

Ashlee shuddered at Tristan's explanation and asked, "Ok, so how did you get rid of it?"

"The microwave gun works in basically the same way as a microwave oven, only with a lot more power and a much shorter duration. The microwaves from the gun are powerful enough to turn the water in the cells of the target into steam in a fraction of a second. While a Dementor may be a magical creature, it still has water in its cells and if that water is vaporised, the cells burst, killing it." Seeing the inquisitive look on Ashlee's face, Tristan guessed that she was about to ask about the flash of light when he killed the Dementor, so he answered the question before she got the chance to ask him. "The flash of light is all the positive energy the Dementor sucked up while alive being released when it gets killed."

"Oh." Ashlee closed her eyes and waited for the information to register in her mind, then replied: "So, you're a magician and you killed a soul sucking monster?" Ashlee gave Tristan a smile and continued. "Hey, if I can see that pile of goo, who's to say you're not telling the truth. Now, what are you doing here? You're not from around here, are you?"

"Actually, the correct term for a magical human is a wizard or witch. No, I'm not from around here. I'm from England and ... ninety-eight years in the future."

"Ok, first it's magic, then you're from the future?"

"'Yes' to both questions."

"Um, so what are you doing here?"

"I was testing out an invention. Curious, are you?"

"Yeah! I mean, you just vaporized a... um... what are they called again?"

"Dementors. Actually, I didn't vaporize it. If I had done that, there would have been nothing left, and you saw the remains. The gun only vaporized the water in the Dementor."

"Right. So, is the future good? Shit, what a dumb thing to say. Forget I said it," blurted out Ashlee.

"No, it's not a dumb thing to say. Actually, it's quite a logical thing to say."

Ashlee blushed and asked, "So is it good?"

"Well, there was a big magical war in the 2030s and also in the 2070s, but that was covered up. In the Muggle world, there have been four or five wars between now and my time," replied Tristan

"Small wars or more like World War Three?"

"More like Vietnam. One was like World War Two, though."

"Shit." Ashlee gave a brief sigh, and then continued. "Did anything good happen?"

"Well, there was plenty of technological advancement, and the Moon has been colonised since 2012."

"What, people on the moon?! Wow." Ashlee paused in wonder that the Moon had finally been colonized. "So, why this time? Why this place?"

"Well, I figured that I should be able to adapt twenty-first century technology to my needs should any systems break down, and I picked Australia, so I wouldn't run the risk of running into any of my ancestors."

"Oh. So I guess you'll be going now. Your invention seems to work."

"Ah, no. The power relays for the temporal circuits got fried during the trip. I can travel in space, but not in time at the moment."

"Uh, that means what? You're stuck here?"

"In this time, at least. I'm not sure just how badly damaged the power relays are, but I think they'll probably need to be replaced."

"How long will it take to fix?"

"Well, if I can get the Pattern Replicator circuit fixed, I can replicate new components in a few seconds. What I'm wondering about right now is: why are there Dementors around here right now?"

"How the hell should I know? I can't even see the buggers without these," snapped Ashlee, gesturing to her goggles.

"That's another odd thing: the wizarding history books of 2103 don't record any Dementor activity in Australia in 2005."

"So, any leads, Sherlock?"

"Not as yet. I should try running some scans with the TARDIS scanners. Want to come?"

"Sure. Just do me one favour."

"What might that be?" inquired Tristan.

"Pinch me. I would feel better if I knew this wasn't a dream."

"And you were calling me crazy earlier..."

Ashlee punched Tristan lightly in the arm. "Smart arse."

"You dropped your book when we were running from the Dementor. Let me get it for you." Tristan drew his wand out of his belt and calmly said, "Accio book." Ashlee's dropped book flew towards Tristan, who caught it out of the air and handed it over to Ashlee.

Ashlee jumped at this display and exclaimed "Holy Mother of Joseph!" She fell to her knees in shock and pleaded quietly: "Please tell me I'm not crazy."

"You are not crazy," replied Tristan. "That was some real magic. Normally I'm not supposed to show you, but these are not normal circumstances."

"Real magic," gasped Ashlee as she promptly fainted.

Tristan sighed at this, then pointed his wand at her and said, "Enervate!"

Ashlee murmured with her eyes closed "It's all a dream. Just a dream." Tristan considered leaving her like this, but decided otherwise. Ashlee opened her eyes, took one look at Tristan, and muttered, "Ah, crap."

"There's another use for magic," replied Tristan. "Waking up people who have fainted or been knocked out," he added.

"Really? So, you gonna zap me or something? I'm not supposed to know about you, huh?"

"Let me put it this way, if it wasn't for me, you'd be worse than dead. Normally, I'm supposed to wipe your memory if you see anything magical, but given we're in this mess together, I won't bother. Besides, I don't like all the secrecy the wizarding community demands of us."

"Well, thanks." Ashlee held out her hand. "I'm Ashlee. Ashlee Lowe."

Tristan shook her hand and replied, "Pleased to meet you. I believe I've already introduced myself."

"Yeah, Tristan, Right?"

"Yep. Tristan Parkes."

"Well, Mr Parkes-"

"Yes?"

"Did you mean it when you said: did I want to come with you?"

"Of course. I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."

"Um, ok. So, where are we going, Mr Parkes?"

"I, er, landed, about a kay-and-a-half North of here," replied Tristan. After a moment, he added, "You know, you can just call me Tristan."

"Ok. Then you can call me Ashlee or Ash if you prefer."

"I think I'll go for Ashlee," replied Tristan.

"So, what next?"

"First, I think I should run some scans back at the TARDIS. Come on, it's this way."

Tristan started walking North towards the TARDIS with Ashlee following silently in his wake.

An hour later Tristan and Ashlee arrived at the location of the TARDIS, which was still disguised as a boulder.

"Why did we stop here?" asked Ashlee.

"Because this is where the TARDIS is located."

"It's a rock," said Ashlee, taking off her goggles and putting them in her pocket.

"That's just a disguise," Tristan took his remote control out of pocket and turned off the holographic projectors, revealing the black box with doors that was the true appearance of the TARDIS. "This is what it really looks like."

"Woah." Ashlee walked around the TARDIS, inspecting it. "How does it work?"

"There are eight holographic projectors mounted on the corners of the outside. They project the three-dimensional image by using millions of tiny particles floating in space. Each particle has its own little power supply, and emits the colour of light instructed to it by the projector. In theory, each projector could render about one thousandth of the entire universe."

Ashlee stood there blinking for a couple of seconds, then asked, "So, how do you use it?"

"The projectors are fed the data to render by the TARDIS computers, which constantly scan the outside and adjust the colour of the image to match the light-levels."

"No, I mean how do you travel in it?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were still talking about the cloak. Do you want the short explanation or the long one?"

Ashlee gave a laugh and replied, "Whatever you think I'll understand. I'm still trying to get my head around this."

"Okay, basically it has its atoms pulled out of normal space-time in one place and pushed back in another. Make sense?"

"Yeah, kinda. So, how long will it take to repair, day wise?"

"I haven't had a good look at the damage. I was too eager to explore the past."

Ashlee shooed Tristan towards the TARDIS and said quite firmly, "Go. Inspect. I'll keep watch."

"You don't need to. The defensive shields are capable of withstanding a supernova, at least in theory." Tristan pressed another button on his remote and the sound of door locks could be heard. "Come inside," he said, pushing the door open and walking in.

"Will it hurt me?"

"Nope. Just tingles like when you get a shock from static electricity."

Ashlee closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and stepped through the shimmering portal across the doorway. She opened her eyes again and exclaimed, "Oh, wow! Did you build this? All by yourself?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," replied Tristan, looking up from a computer console. "It took me fifteen years to build it."

Ashlee raised an eyebrow and asked, "How old are you?"

"Thirty-two."

"Really? You don't look a day over twenty-four."

"I'll take that as a compliment. Wizards and witches age slower than Muggles once they reach physical maturity. I've probably got about another hundred-and-forty years left in me," explained Tristan, as he started another diagnostic program running.

"Wow. And I thought I was all grown-up."

"If you're eighteen, as you look, then you've probably got about another sixty years left in you."

"Yep." Ashlee gave a brief sigh. "Ah, well. Gotta make do with what I got."

Tristan gave a small smile at this. "That's the sort of thing my great-grandfather says his Headmaster used to say."

Ashlee nodded and replied, "He sounds very wise. Shouldn't you be checking for damage?"

"I am. What did you think I was doing at the computer console?"

"Oohh." After looking around the control room for a bit, Ashlee suddenly said, "You know, it kinda reminds me of an old TV show my dad used to watch. Heard of 'Doctor Who'?"

"That's where I got the idea for this TARDIS from."

"Shouldn't there be a copyright law?" joked Ashlee, with a wink.

"I don't think inventing a working replica of something that previously existed only in science-fiction is a copyright issue."

Ashlee burst out laughing at Tristan's response. "Settle, mate. I'm only yanking your chain. Don't you have jokes in the future?"

"I knew you were joking. I often answer jokes literally."

"That just spoils it," replied Ashlee, shaking her head. "So, how much damage?"

"According to the diagnostic programs, I was right about the temporal circuit power relays. They are going to need to be replaced. Burnt out beyond repair. The Pattern Replicator circuitry has suffered some minor damage, and one of the processors in the main data core is toast. Luckily, the main data core is not a vital system, so having it run a bit slow won't be a problem, just a minor inconvenience."

"English, please."

"That was English," replied Tristan. "I can't speak any other language," he added as an afterthought.

"My English. Not all of us are tech geniuses."

"Do you want me to explain the damaged systems to you?"

"Just tell me how long it will take to fix."

"The Pattern Replicators can probably be fixed in a couple of hours. Once they're fixed, I can replicate new power relays for the temporal circuits in a few seconds, and install those in a couple of minutes, provided the dud ones are not fused with the surrounding circuitry."

"How come everything is breaking down? Shouldn't high-tech stuff like this be a bit more reliable?"

"This TARDIS happens to be my first prototype. Most of the technology in it is very recent, as in the last two years. The only technology that has been around for more than ten years is the holographic projectors for the cloak, and they've been around since about 2007."

"Wait, wait, wait. You travelled in the past in a prototype? Without even testing it? Do you have a death wish or something?"

"This trip was the test."

"Oh, God. You could've gotten yourself killed."

"It's not like I had any means of remotely testing the TARDIS, and if something broke down, I'm the only one who knows enough about the TARDIS to fix it."

Ashlee sighed and then replied, "But what if you got hurt? Or stranded?"

"I currently am stranded. At least in 2005," pointed out Tristan.

"I meant stranded with no means of getting back. You've got the technology to make repairs here but what if you didn't? Sorry if I sound pessimistic, but you have to admit it's pretty risky."

"I know. To say I was apprehensive about the first test would be an understatement."

Tristan then left the control room, and Ashlee followed him through a few corridors until they arrived at a room with a large amount of circuitry in it. Tristan headed over to a panel in the wall and removed it. Immediately the room was filled with the smell of burnt plastic.

"Woah, I think 'toasted' is an understatement," exclaimed Ashlee, fanning her nose and looking at the blackened circuitry.

"These are the Pattern Replicator circuits that are damaged," said Tristan. "It's not as bad as it looks."

Tristan lay down on his back on the floor and slid himself under the circuitry. He then proceeded to start picking out bits of burnt circuitry and tossing them aside.

"Ashlee, could you hand me a pair of needle-nose pliers out of that toolbox?" asked Tristan.

"Yep," replied Ashlee, and handed over the requested item. "Here you go."

"Thanks," acknowledged Tristan. He then spent several minutes prodding around with the pliers, pulling out more blackened bits, until he finally pulled out a large, charred piece of circuitry, and held it up for Ashlee to see. "This is the little bugger that is causing most of the problems in the Pattern Replicators."

"Right. Anything else I can do?"

"Yes. Pass me that bag of components," replied Tristan, pointing at a silver bag on the floor.

Ashlee handed Tristan the bag, and Tristan rummaged around inside it for a minute.

"Thanks. Aha. Here's the right part." Tristan inserted the replacement component, then announced, "Right. We should have some of the Replicators working now. Want to test one out?"

"Sure! So, what do I do?"

"See that recess in the wall over the other side of the room with a control panel next to it?"

"Yeah?"

"Go and pick something small from the menu."

Ashlee brought up the menu and selected a pocketknife. An image of a pocketknife appeared in the space, then shimmered and vanished.

"Damn!" exclaimed Tristan, as there was obviously more wrong with the circuit than just that one component. Tristan stood there for a minute tapping head while thinking about where the problem could be.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm thinking, I'm thinking."

Tristan suddenly snapped his fingers and exclaimed, "Got it!" He then rushed out of the room and came back with a futuristic-looking device.

Ashlee, having no idea what the device was, just sat there baffled.

"It's a circuit-analyser. This is early 22nd century technology, I'm not surprised you don't recognise it," explained Tristan, seeing her obvious confusion.

Tristan spent a good fifteen minutes fiddling around with the analyzer at the damaged circuits,and then pulled out a circuit-board with a fried chip on it. "This is what's preventing proper materialization in the replicators," he announced. He left the room and came back with new board and plugged it in. "Try it again," he instructed Ashlee.

Ashlee selected the pocketknife again, and the replicator worked correctly this time.

"Eureka!" exclaimed Ashlee.

"See, I told you the damage wasn't as bad as it looked," said Tristan as he got to his feet again.

"Cool," said Ashlee, holding out the knife. "So, what do you do with it now? Does it vanish after a couple of hours?"

"Nope. That's solid matter," replied Tristan, confidently.

"Wow," Ashless said and offered Tristan the knife. "There you are. Merry Christmas."

"You're a bit early for that, and that was only a test. I've already got a knife stored in my Pattern Buffer. You keep it."

Ashlee grinned at Tristan's generosity.

"Ta," she said as she tucked it inside her jeans. "Never know when it could come in handy."

Ashlee felt around in her pockets and pulled out the goggles Tristan had given her earlier. "You want these back?" she asked.

"No. I've got the pattern for them stored in my Pattern Buffer. You can keep them. You'll probably need them, anyway."

"Right. But you know, you better get changed. If you wanna wander in this era, it's best not to be noticed. I'll just have to use them when absolutely necessary, 'cause they do look kinda strange."

"Well, I can put a spell on the goggles so they look like, say, sunglasses to other people who don't already know about them," said Tristan.

"Really? Well, spell away," replied Ashlee, and handed him the goggles.

Tristan cast the spell on the goggles and handed them back to Ashlee. "There you go. To anyone who doesn't know about the goggles, which will be everyone else in this time, given they don't get invented until the 2080s, they'll look like black sunglasses. They don't look any different to you, because you already know about them."

Ashlee tried on the goggles, which felt no different to last time she wore them. "Oh, I'm really tempted to quote the Blues Brothers right now."

"Can't say I've heard of them."

"Ok, I'll save it for parties." Ashlee surveyed Tristan's outfit and said, "I meant what I said before. You need a change of clothes."

"No problem," replied Tristan, and promptly transfigured his shirt into solid Ravenclaw-blue. "How's this?"

Ashlee raised a critical eyebrow, and added, "Lose the collar."

"Why? I like collared shirts, and besides, the back of my neck gets itchy if I don't wear one."

Ashlee sighed and replied, "Fine, have it your way. At least you look normal now."

"The silver did look a bit too futuristic, didn't it?"

"No shit, Sherlock," replied Ashlee, rolling her eyes.

"Right. I'd better replicate those new power relays," said Tristan, as he headed over to the replicator.

"Hey, Tristan? Don't forget the processor," Ashlee reminded him.

"Right. I completely forgot about it. Four power relays and one processor coming up," announced Tristan Instantly the items appeared in the replicator bay. Tristan put the processor in his shirt pocket, and picked up two of the power relays, one in each hand. "Could you take the other two power relays? These things are heavy."

"Sure thing," replied Ashlee lifting the heavy power relays easily.

Tristan raised his eyebrows in surprise, thought for a moment, then said, "You seem to be stronger than you look."

As they made their way to the relay room, Tristan gave Ashlee a little lecture. "I wonder if you have some rudimentary magic in you? A small percentage of Muggles have just enough magical genes active to give them some simple magical ability and the ability to see through anti-Muggle enchantments, if they concentrate."

Ashlee laughed and replied "Me, Magic? Nah, I've always had strong arms. Helps me with my favourite pastime."

"It is possible. I should run a genetic analysis on you sometime. What is your favourite pastime, anyway?"

"Boxing," replied Ashlee, with a sly smirk.

"Ah. You sound like my great-grandmother. She's really good in hand-to-hand combat. When she was fourteen, she beat up four highwaymen single-handed."

Ashlee looked rather surprised and replied with: "Really? Now that is girl power."

"She's a lot stronger and faster than she looks. She's about four or five times stronger than a normal human. She also moves like lightning in a fistfight."

Ashlee shook her head in disbelief, stunned into silence.

"I told you my great-grandmother is good," said Tristan.

"Yeah, so did you inherit any of Granny's talents?" inquired Ashlee.

"Great-grandmother," Tristan corrected. "Yes I did, as a matter of fact. I'm a really good shot with a gun and a throwing-knife. I'm also a whirlwind in a magical duel. I'm not so good in the strength department, though."

"Brains and brawn. I'm impressed. Most smart guys can't look after themselves."

"My great-grandfather can. You get into a duel with him and you're going to lose. Badly."

Ashlee smiled and replied, "Wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley. Nor you for that matter."

"I could curse you into next week, literally," said Tristan, as they arrived in the relay room and put the power-relays down near the fried ones.

Ashlee laughed and asked, "Did you mean to make that pun? Or were you just lucky?"

"That was no pun. I really can curse someone into next week. It's a temporal spell my great-grandfather invented during the magical war in the 2030s, but he was the only one powerful enough to use it at the time. If I needed or wanted to I could send someone a week into the future with one spell."

"Ok. I get the feeling I've always got to take you literally," replied Ashlee.

"Not always, but a lot of the time," replied Tristan as he grabbed a hammer and chisel out of a toolbox and started chipping away at the black material holding one of the burnt-out power relays in place. Ashlee, meanwhile, just sat there and watched Tristan work with some interest.

Tristan finally finished chipping away and yanked out the burnt-out power relay, which clattered to the floor. To say it was fried would be an understatement. "Phew!" exclaimed Tristan. "Well, that was the worst of the lot. At least the contacts aren't damaged. The others will just be unplug-and-replace."

Ashlee looked around and asked, "Is there anything else I can do? You hungry? 'Cause I make a mean vegetarian lasagne."

"Well, seeing as the replicators are working again you can replicate any foods that are in the database. Depending on what you pick, you could get out of cooking altogether."

Ashlee wandered out to the kitchen, while Tristan got back to work on replacing the power relays. Half an hour later, Tristan finished replacing the power-relays and then headed off to the main data core to replace the processor. Ashlee entered the room to find him sitting on the floor with a circuit board in his lap and opening a small casing with a large pipe attached to it.

Ashlee handed Tristan a plate and said, "It's not as good as homemade, but it's not bad." She sat down next to him and took a bite from her plate while Tristan continued to work on opening the casing. "This place is so big! I thought I was gonna get lost on my way back here."

"Well, the interior does have an area of several thousand square metres," replied Tristan, as he undid one of the clasps on the casing.

"Bon apetite!" said Ashlee cheerfully. She then spotted the circuit board on Tristan's lap. "What's that?" she asked him.

"That's one of the motherboards from the main data core. This little thing," Tristan held up the container with the pipe attached to its lid, "contains the processor. These little buggers generate so much heat that they need heavy refrigeration to keep them cool enough to run properly."

"Hmm. Why don't you build a cooling system into the machine?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the heating is what's causing the meltdowns, right?"

"This processor got fried because its link to the cooling system broke down." Tristan opened the case and took out the chip, which was burnt black. "The chips are contained inside these little compartments so they can be kept cold, providing the cooling-system for the chip doesn't break down."

"Oh. Well, can't blame me for trying," replied Ashlee, who then took a look at Tristan's plate. "You better eat that before it gets cold."

"Yeah, you're right," replied Tristan. He put the new chip into the case, clamped it shut, and put it and the motherboard aside. Starting on his meal, Tristan announced: "Pretty good. A bit better than what I can cook myself, and I'm not too bad a cook."

Ashlee gave a snort. "If you think that's good you should taste it when I make it at home. Or better yet, when mum makes it. I learned from the master."

"Maybe I should get the patterns for the ingredients you use when you make it at home then?" replied Tristan, with a cheeky grin. Tristan actually surprised himself at this, as he hadn't really had any opportunity for his mischivious side to come out over the past fifteen years. Perhaps being around Ashlee had unlocked Tristan's sense of humour? 'It's always a possibility,' Tristan thought to himself.

Ashlee smiled innocently at this. "Oh, I don't know. It's an old secret that's been in the family for...about ten years," she finished with a laugh.

"Well, it probably would be better if made with different ingredients. I just got the patterns for the ingredients in the replicator database from what was available when I was building the TARDIS." replied Tristan. "I might not have gotten some particularly good quality ingredients," he added, with a shrug.

"Quality, shmality. It's the love you put into it that makes it taste good." Ashlee paused for a moment, and then added, "That, and your parmesan cheese is crappy."

"Well, the shops were running low on stock on the day I bought the dairy ingredients."

"Well, when you decide to start exploring this time period come shopping with me and I'll teach you how to cook a proper meal."

"My cooking isn't that bad, and I could probably do better with better ingredients," replied Tristan, defending himself. He finished up his meal and put the plate on the floor. "Anyway, I should finish fixing this." Tristan grabbed the circuit board and chip in case and plonked the pins of the case into the socket on the motherboard, then pushed the lever on the socket down, locking it in place. He then proceeded to plug the motherboard back into its rack, and announced: "Done. Now I've just got to fix the refrigeration plumbing for that chip."

"Right, I'll clear up,"Ashlee volunteered as she picked up the dishes and left the room.

While Ashlee was gone, Tristan went around to the back of the racks, and found the broken pipe. He then retrieved a spare metal seal and welded it into place. Ashlee came back in just as Tristan was coming back out from behind the racks.

Leaning against the wall, Ashlee asked: "So, this wizarding world. Is it any different to mine?"

"In some ways it is, in others, it's quite similar. More so in my time than yours. Just let me get the main data core up and running, and you can read about it for yourself."

Tristan headed over to a large switch on the wall and flipped it. The refrigeration systems hummed to life. A minute later, Tristan flipped a second switch and the computer started to boot up.

"Speaking of reading, where the hell did I put my book?" asked Ashlee, looking around.

"You left it in the control room," replied Tristan. "Let's see, the diagnostics show everything is working fine. Just head over to that terminal over there, and you can call up a number of files on almost any topic you can think of," finished Tristan, pointing at a screen and keyboard on the other side of the room.

Ashlee sat down and started reading and soon had a question for Tristan. "What's a Muggle?" she asked, curiously.

"'Muggle' is another term for a non-magical human."

"Oh," replied Ashlee and started reading again.

She spent a considerable amount of time reading while Tristan checked out various systems on the other terminal, and inspected some of the computer's hardware.

Suddenly Ashlee called over shoulder, "Do you think you could do that spell thing? I really want my book back."

"Sure," replied Tristan. "Accio book!" The book came zooming into the room, but Tristan failed to catch it and it instead hit him in the head, knocking him to the floor. "Ouch," moaned Tristan, from the floor. "I've got to work on my usage of Summoning Charms indoors," he said, sitting up and rubbing his head where the spine of the book had hit him.

Ashlee immediately jumped up to help Tristan. "Are you OK?" she asked, kneeling beside him and peering into his eyes. "Hold still. You might have a concussion."

"I'm fine," insisted Tristan. "I'm not seeing double, and I inherited a pretty hard head from my mother. It takes a lot to knock her out."

Still looking worried, Ashlee said, "Well, you better sit down. Just in case."

"Yeah, okay. I think there's a bug in the temporal control software anyway. On second thoughts, it could be in the spellware." Tristan sat down at the other terminal in the room and started typing away.

Ashlee pulled the chair away from the computer. "No. You are going to sit there for a few minutes and rest your head."

"You seem a bit overprotective of a guy who you only met a couple of hours ago," observed Tristan.

Ashlee blushed and replied, "Well, that stranger happened to save my life." Acting casual, she added, "Anyway, if you died, I'd have to drag you out of here, then bury the body... too much work."

"If it will make you feel better, go and replicate a medical scanner and scan me with it," replied Tristan, irritably.

Ashlee headed over to the microwave-sized replicator in the room, and replicated the scanner from the list. She then came back to Tristan and scanned him with it, but the readouts only indicated a minor bruise where Tristan was hit by the book.

Ashlee sighed with relief at the results. "Well, you better get that bug," she replied, then headed back to the other computer and started reading again.

Tristan gave a sigh and said, "I just hope it's not in the spellware. Bugs in spellware are notoriously difficult to fix, just ask my great-grandfather."

"Spellware? Don't you mean Spyware?" asked Ashlee.

"No, spellware."

"Let me guess. Magic?"

"Bingo."

"So you mix magic with technology. How very hybrid."

"Actually, it was my great-grandfather who first did it."

"You mention your relatives a lot. They must be a smart bunch."

"They've all been in Ravenclaw House at Hogwarts ever since my great-grandfather started there back in 2003."

"Ravenclaw. That name rings a bell." Ashlee scanned the screen in front of her for a few moments, before announcing: "Ah ha! Here: 'Ravenclaw House is renowned for producing some of the brightest witches and wizards in the magical community.'"

"Yep. Sounds about right. You know, I'm actually temporally-related to Rowena Ravenclaw, although not biologically."

"One of the Founders? Cool!"

"An explanation about how I'm related to her might be a bit confusing for you. It involves time-travel and parallel universes."

Ashlee didn't appear to hear this, so Tristan went back to work looking through code on the other terminal for a couple of hours. Eventually, he decided he was too tired to work any longer, as he found himself starting to doze-off at the computer. "I can't go on any longer. I'm going to bed," he announced.

Ashlee snapped out of her daze, and asked: "Bed? What time is it?"

"The time, according to the computer, is oh-one-eighteen and thirty-two seconds," replied Tristan.

"Lucky I fed Ruffles." Ashlee looked at Tristan and asked, "Can you lend me a torch? It's dark out."

"Feel free to use the replicator to get yourself one." Tristan suddenly paused, then said, "Well, I do have a few bedrooms in the TARDIS. You could use one of those," he offered.

"Oh, thanks. But I have to get back in the morning or my Ruffles will go hungry."

"Ruffles? Is that a dog or a cat?"

"Cat. She's a silver tabby and she's gorgeous."

"Guess I'll have to take a look while I'm in this era. Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere until this mystery with the Dementors is solved."

Ashlee smiled at this. "Well, if you'll kindly point me in the right direction..."

"Hang on while I get you a torch," said Tristan, and replicated a torch with a futuristic design and a microwave gun. "Here you go: a torch and a microwave gun, just in case you run into any Dementors on the way home. You've still got those goggles, so seeing the rotten things won't be a problem. Sure you don't want to stay here?"

"Wow," said Ashlee, giving the gun a look-over and practising aiming it. "On second thoughts, I'd rather not go parading around at night. Apart from Dementors, there are weirdos in the park at night," she added with a shudder.

"You want a stun-gun, too?" asked Tristan.

Ashlee gave a laugh and replied, "If you insist, but I think we better get some sleep."

Tristan replicated a stungun and handed it over. "True," he replied. "Still, I doubt anybody with any sense would argue with the firepower you're carrying around right now."

Ashlee smiled and yawned. "Excuse me. So, where's the extra bedroom?"

"I see you've made up your mind. Follow me." Tristan led her down a few corridors to a large bedroom with a replicator a bit taller than a man and twice as tall as it was wide in the wall. "The toilet is at the end of the corridor. I'm three doors up from here on the other side of the corridor."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. See you in the morning."

"Good night. Don't let the bed bugs bite," said Ashlee, sweetly.

"The only bugs in this TARDIS are of the software or spellware variety," replied Tristan, dryly.

Ashlee rolled her eyes at this. "Night, Trist."

"Likewise, Ashlee," replied Tristan, then left the room and headed for his own.

Ashlee watched him leave and shook her head with amusement before she closed the door to her room.

On his way to his bedroom, Tristan remembered that he hadn't re-engaged the cloak since bringing Ashlee to the TARDIS, and headed for the control room where he turned it back on before heading back to his room, taking off his boots, and climbing into bed, where he immediately fell into a deep sleep.