Indecent Proposal

Chapter 94 - Indecent Proposal


Remus sat in Grimmauld Place, reading a long scroll of parchment. He was feeling a little down. His transformation had come over him night before last, and even with Padfoot by his side, the wolf had taken its toll. Remus nibbled on a piece of chocolate, and sighed. He shoved the parchment away, and stared unseeingly across the kitchen. Even the weather reflected his feelings, with a chilly grey sky and heavy rain. Sniffling a little, Remus wondered if he should go take a nap.

But before he could stand, the kitchen door opened and Sirius walked in, smiling. "Morning, love." He came up behind Remus and kissed his neck softly. "I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" Remus turned to face his lover. "What is it?"

To his utter shock, Sirius reached into his robes and pulled out a small box, dropping to one knee as he did so. He opened the box to reveal a lovely, glittering ring. "Remus... will you marry me?"

All the depressing thoughts blew away in an instant. Remus' heart leapt for joy, tears filling his eyes. "Oh - oh Siri!" He broke down as Sirius smiled up at him. "Yes! Yes! Of course I'll marry you!"

Sirius slipped the ring on Remus' finger. It was a bit tight, but Remus was too happy to notice. He flung his arms around Sirius' neck, kissing him passionately. "Oh Siri-! I've been waiting so long...."

"I love you, Remus," Sirius whispered.

"Oh Siri... I love you too..." Remus beamed, looking at his ring. 'But -"

"But what?" Sirius looked worried.

"My ring. It's too tight," Remus said, trying to twist it off. "It hurts."

"Oh, I'm sorry....." Sirius helped Remus pull it off. "I must've, uh, picked the wrong size."

"But Siri... you know my ring size." Remus stared at him. "You memorized it in sixth year."

"Um, oh - sorry, Remus - I probably forgot when I was in Azkaban..."

"You wouldn't forget." Remus' eyes narrowed. "And you haven't called me 'Remmie'. Not once."

"Er - Remmy-"

"You spelled it wrong!" Remus shrieked, jumping up from Sirius' lap. "You're not Sirius!!!!"

"Remus -"

"What underwear am I wearing?" Remus asked suspiciously.

"Er - boxers?"

"NO!" Remus screamed, backing away. "You watched me put on the pink panties you like! YOU ARE NOT SIRI!"

At that moment the kitchen door swung open again, and another Sirius entered, rubbing his head. "Somebody hit me on the head and stuffed me in Buckbeak's room," he complained.

"Siri!" Remus ran to him, sobbing. "Is that really you?"

"Of course it is, Remmie. What's -" Sirius saw the other Sirius, and scowled. "Tonks. Knock it off."

Remus gaped in horror as the extra Sirius transformed back into the familiar pink-haired form of Tonks. "Shit. Almost had him."

"The day you marry my boyfriend is the day I gut myself," Sirius growled. "Get another hobby, will you?"

"I... I kissed Tonks," Remus whispered. "I... I.... have... I have... COOTIES!"

And he passed out.

Adventures Of Pigwidgeon

Chapter 93 -Adventures of Pigwidgeon


Ron patted Pigwidgeon on the head. “Don’t screw up, okay?” he said to the tiny owl. “Make sure this gets to Mum in good shape.”

Pigwidgeon hooted importantly. Ron carried him over to the window and let him go. He watched as the owl fluttered away in a wavering line. “I wonder what happens to him on his journeys,” he said to himself, watching Pig until he became a dot on the horizon.

After leaving the Hogwarts grounds, Pig made his way over the rocky terrain and grassy fields of Scotland, more or less making his way in the direction of Ottery St. Catchpole. He flew rather like Woodstock in the Snoopy cartoons; that is, he sometimes flew backwards or upside-down, always on a shaky course. If he had been a cartoon, a dotted line would have marked his progress through the air.

Around nightfall, Pig heard a strange array of sounds. A woman's sobbing echoed over the crackle of flames. As Pig drew closer, he saw that the woman's house was on fire! The woman was sobbing into her hands. "My baby! My baby!"

Pigwidgeon carefully placed Ron's letter in a tree, and fluttered down to the flaming house. He swooped in through the window, carefully avoiding the flames. He heard the baby crying and followed the sound into the nursery. Demostrating strength no one had ever expected of him, Pig grasped the back of the baby's shirt and lifted him out the window, into his mother's arms.

"My baby! Oh, thank you, little owl!" the lady cried happily.

Pig hooted and retrieved Ron's letter, then continued on his lopsided way. He fluttered along all night, and finally stopped to rest. Then he heard a soft cheeping. A baby bird had fallen out of a nest! Carefully, Pig swooped down to the baby bird and reassured it with gentle hoots. He then picked up the baby bird in his talons, carefully, and carried him back to his nest. The baby bird chirped excitedly, happy to be back with its siblings. Pig hooted and flew off.

Soon he was flying over London. He heard a shriek. "Help! My purse!"

A robber was running away, clutching an old lady's handbag. Hooting loudly, Pig shot out of the sky and into the robber's face, attacking with claws and beak, his wings fluttering in the robber's face.

"Blimey! Stupid - what the-" the robber swatted at Pig furiously, swearing. He dropped the lady's bag, but didn't notice until the old lady started beating him about the head with it, screaming. Pig disengaged himself from the fight as several bobbies joined in, swinging their clubs at the robber.

"Thank you, little owl!" the old lady called after him.

Finally, Pig fluttered down on the sill of the Burrow's kitchen window. He hooted. After a few minutes, Mrs. Weasley appeared and retrieved the letter Pig bore. It had gotten a little crumpled and dirty in the fight with the robber, and Mrs. Weasley sighed.

"Honestly, Pigwidgeon.... you're getting just as bad as Errol these days."

Two Of A Kind

Chapter 92 - Two Of a Kind


Sirius and Remus had escaped from Grimmauld Place to go on a date. It wasn’t much fun being around the children at the moment. Ron, still traumatized by Harry’s reenactment of The Jerry Springer Show, spent his days curled in a ball in the corner, muttering to himself. Hermione and Ginny, embarrassed beyond imagination by being forced to wear hideous whore clothes, hid in their bedroom most of the day. And Harry, upset at losing the television, wandered around randomly kicking things and muttering vicious threats under his breath.

The two men headed for Diagon Alley, planning on getting drinks at the Leaky Cauldron. Remus was never a really big drinker, but right now, he felt a strong glass of firewhiskey was just what he needed.

As soon as they stepped through the door of the pub, Sirius volunteered to order the drinks. Remus was a bit wary, because Sirius was prone to overdoing it when not supervised; but he agreed good-naturedly and went to sit down.

“Hullo Tom,” Sirius said cheerfully to the bartender, who grinned at him.

“What’ll it be, Mr. Black?”

“A good, stiff firewhiskey for Remus, and a bottle of rum for myself.” Sirius winked at Tom.

“You bet.” Tom accepted the five Galleons Sirius slid across the counter, and began pouring Remus’ whiskey. Sirius leaned against the bar and cast an eye around the pub. There was the usual assortment of little old witches sipping at whiskey shots and discussing the latest gossip; a wizard in a black cloak was tucking into a large helping of steak-and-kidney pie and a lager; and beside Sirius, seated at the bar, was a man with long, brown hair. Sirius studied him out of the corner of his eye. He had on some unusual clothes - a billowy white shirt, grey trousers, a ragged old vest, and tall brown boots. His hair was ornamented with strings of beads and a red bandanna. A pistol hung from a thick belt over his shoulder, a compass hung from his waist, and the lot was covered by a dark brown coat. A tricorner hat rested on the bar beside him. He looked rather like a pirate.

As though sensing Sirius’ gaze, the man looked up. Sirius offered a friendly smile, which the man returned. He had several gold teeth, Sirius noted, and his beard was braided and beaded. When he spoke, it was with a slightly roughened voice. “Oi. Whiskey drinker, are you?”

“Nah. It’s for my boyfriend. I’m more of a rum man, myself,” Sirius grinned.

The pirate laughed. “That’s what I like to hear!” He held out a hand. “Captain Jack Sparrow. Pleased to meet ye.”

“Sirius Black.” They shook hands. “Captain, is it?”

“You bet. Been around the world, seen it all. Once I was marooned on a desert island. As one lass put it, it was three days of ‘lying on the beach, drinking rum’.”

Sirius cackled. “Sounds like my kind of vacation!”

Jack held up his glass of rum. “A fine man!” They clinked glasses.

“Cheers!” Sirius downed his rum in two gulps.

“Fancy a drinking game?” Jack winked at him.

“You bet!” Sirius grabbed his bottle of rum. Jack did the same. “1-2-3-GO!”

THREE HOURS LATER

Remus, all this time, had been innocently reading a book as he waited for Sirius to bring the drinks. He had glanced up at one point to see Sirius chatting with a pirate-y looking fellow at the bar, but his jealousy nerve hadn’t twinged in the slightest, so he had gone back to reading. But by now his arse hurt from sitting in the wooden chair, and he realised he had been sitting there without a drink for a very long time.


He put his book down and approached the bar. “Siri?”

Sirius grinned at him. His eyes were red-rimmed and bleary; the man opposite him had the same look. The bar was littered with empty rum bottles and one solitary glass of whiskey. “Remmie! ‘Bout time ya showed up. This bloke... ‘e... ‘e’s a captain.... ‘e’s got gold teeth...”

“This is your lad, eh?” the pirate leered. “Blimey, I can see what you like about him. That arse is divine.”

“You know it,” Sirius slurred, squeezing Remus’ rear end. Remus yelped and blushed, heartily embarrassed.

“Sirius, I think you and your friend have had enough for tonight,” he began.

“Not nearly enough!” Sirius planted a disgusting, sloppy, stubbly, rum-smelling kiss on his lover’s cheek.

Jack continued to leer. “How’s about a three-way, mate?” he asked Sirius.

“NO thank you,” Remus said irritably, though Sirius was nodding in agreement. “Come along, Siri, Molly’s going to have supper waiting -”

“Aww, Remmie!!” Sirius pouted. There was a loud thump and a snore. Jack had fallen asleep, his head resting on the tiny amount of wood that showed amidst all the empty bottles.

Remus pulled a handful of Galleons from Sirius’ pocket and handed them to Tom before hauling his lover off the stool. “You’ve emptied Tom’s rum supply. I can’t believe you drank that much!”

“But I believe in me!” Sirius sang as they staggered from the pub.

“Well, don’t!” Remus said, exasperated.

Trash TV

Chapter 91 - Trash TV


The Easter holidays arrived, and Harry and his friends returned to the dismal atmosphere of Grimmauld Place. When they arrived (picked up by Mr. Weasley, since Mrs. Weasley would not allow Sirius to drive anywhere ever again with the kids in the car), it was to find the house decorated with paper rabbits, pastel-coloured paper chains, and plastic chicks (enchanted to chirp and hop). It looked like a certain ex-convict was going a little stir-crazy.

But the latest development in the house was the installation of a Muggle television, one big enough to block Sirius’ family tree from view. Bill, Fleur, Sirius, Remus, the twins, and Tonks were clustered around it when the children entered the drawing room.

“Hey, TV,” Harry said happily. He plopped down on the sofa beside his godfather. “Now I’ll get to choose what I want to watch for a change.”

“Does it get the History Channel?” Hermione asked eagerly, perching on a hassock with Ginny.

Ron said nothing. He just bowed to the television and sat on the floor gazing up at it, his eyes as large as Galleons.

“Brand new,” Sirius said proudly. “It cost tons.”

“We’re bankrupt,” Remus mumbled in a undertone.

“Oh, be quiet. It’s the best, isn’t it, Harry?” Sirius beamed.

“It sure is!” Harry clapped in delight.

As this was going on, something else was happening. A long, long time ago, Sirius’ father had hated Muggles so much that he had vowed never to let any Muggle artifact or device enter his home. So in defense, he had put a curse on the house. This curse would destroy any and all Muggle objects in the house as soon as they were brought in. However, it took a while to work on electronic devices, especially large ones. But as Harry and his friends were happily watching television, the curse was working, building and building until....

POOF. The television screen went blank. A cloud of smoke emerged from behind the unit. The smell of ozone and melted plastic filled the air.

“What happened?” Harry wailed, remote control still in hand.

“This looks like Da’s work,” Sirius said glumly. “He must’ve put a curse on the house. He’s the worst father that ever lived... or died....”

Ron was crushed. “I always wanted to see what those Muggle talk shows were like!”

“You mean you’ve never seen Jerry Springer?” Harry gasped.

“Nooooooo,” Ron wailed.

“Well, we can’t have that!” Harry leapt to his feet, a brilliant plan formulating in his brain. “Come here! I have an idea!”

~Twenty minutes later~

Sirius’ drawing room had been transformed into a set of sorts. Three chairs sat before the fireplace. Hermione sat in one, looking very embarrassed in a miniskirt and thigh-high stockings. Bill stood off to the side, wearing a black t-shirt and jeans. Ron, his parents, Fleur, Tonks, and Remus were seated on the sofa and in chairs, facing the “stage”. Harry, holding a pile of index cards and wearing a black suit with bowling shoes, stood off to the side.

“Hello everyone, I’m Jerry Springer, and today I have guests who need to get sexy secrets off their chests! My first guest is Hermione! Hello Hermione, what’s wrong?”

Hermione squinted. Fred was standing behind the sofa, holding up cue cards for her to read out loud. “’‘Hello Har - Jerry. I came here today because my husband is cheating on me.’ You spelled ‘husband’ wrong,” she said to Fred.

“Never mind that.” Harry said hastily. “Let’s bring out your husband, Sirius!”

Sirius emerged from behind one of the curtains. He was wearing a gray football jersey and jeans that were far too big for him. They kept slipping, revealing his heart-printed boxers to the world. Remus quickly pulled out a hanky to stop the flow of drool; Mrs. Weasley groaned and averted her eyes.

Sirius went to join Hermione, tripping over his jeans because he was trying to read the cue cards as he walked. “Yo... biatch? I.... don’t want you anymore. You’re... a.. ho?”

Hermione turned red, but struggled to read her lines. “You cheater. How could you do this to me?”

“You have to meet the other woman now!” Harry cut in. “Here’s Ginny!”

Ginny emerged from a closet, wearing a checkered halter top and Daisy Duke shorts, her hair in pigtails. “I’ve just come from my.... trailer park? ... to talk to you, bitch.” She blushed profusely. “Sirius is my man now. So go back to your job at... Mc Donald’s!”

Hermione read her next line. “Well I have to tell you something too, you whore. I am sleeping with your boyfriend George.”

George came out dressed in a fashion similar to Sirius’. “I had your woman and she was... da bomb?” he said to Sirius.

“Yo, you ain’t touching my girl. Hit George with chair.” Sirius read.

“I think you’re supposed to do it, out read it out loud,” said George.

“Oh. Sorry.” Sirius picked up a chair.

“That’s enough of that.” Bill took the chair away. Harry smiled and cleared his throat.

“Audience, any comments?”

“Sirius, I’m touching your boyfriend!” Tonks sang, her hand plopping down on Remus’ thigh.

Sirius turned red. “Get you hands off him, BITCH!” he yelled, throwing one of his Nikes at her. Remus shoved her hand away and ran to the loo to wash off the cooties. Harry beamed and plopped down on a tiny stool.

“Well, that’s that. And now for my final thought.”

“What d’you mean ‘that’s it’? You didn’t solve anything.” Hermione said, disgruntled.

Harry ignored her. “Cheating ultimately hurts both parties. Be smart, don’t start. Until next time, take care of yourself, and each other.” He turned to his audience. “So, how did you like it?”

Silence reigned.

Ron twitched. “Is this another toadstool dream?”

“Sadly, no.”

Ron fainted.

Fondue For Buckbeak

Chapter 90 - Fondue For Buckbeak


It was Saturday morning. As usual, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were going down to Hagrid’s house to visit before Quidditch practise started. Harry led the way, walking a million miles ahead of Hermione. He still hadn’t quite forgiven her for trying to pair him up with Draco Malfoy.

Buckbeak the hippogriff was tethered in Hagrid’s front yard. Sirius and Hagrid had a system where Buckbeak lived at 12 Grimmauld Place on weekdays and came to visit Hagrid on weekends. Harry often wondered if Sirius and Hagrid knew how strongly a resemblance their agreement bore to the custody settlements of divorced Muggles.

The three teenagers bowed to Buckbeak, who bowed back and resumed crunching a mouthful of ferret bones. Harry trooped up to Hagrid's door and knocked. After a few seconds, Hagrid’s heavy footsteps were heard and the door opened, emitting a strong smell of cheese.

“’Morning, Harry, Hermione, Ron,” Hagrid said happily. He was wearing a massive pink apron bearing the legend KISS THE WARLOCK, as well as an enormous pair of flowered oven mitts. He smelled like cheese as well, and Harry suspected there was cheese in his beard. “’Ow’s things?”

“Pretty good,” Harry said, as he and his friends filed into Hagrid’s cheesy-smelling cabin and plopped into chairs around the kitchen table. They cast glances around with wrinkled noses. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, except that the large cauldron hanging in the fireplace was bubbling and frothing. The cheesy smell seemed to be coming from there.

“Er - Hagrid, how’s Grawp?” Hermione asked timidly, having not yet located the source of the odour.

“Wonderful,” Hagrid responded happily, stirring his cauldron with an oar-like wooden spoon. “He’s comin’ along great, learnin’ more and more ever day. Proud of him.” His huge chest puffed up to alarming standards as he went to a cupboard and opened it. He withdrew a gargantuan wheel of cheese, which he stuffed into the cauldron.

Ron was sweating profusely. Harry figured it was because of the heat in the stuffy, cheesy house; or perhaps Ron thought the mixture in the cauldron was intended for them. Harry supposed either was possible.

Hagrid went to another cupboard and pulled out a box. Inside were several dead ferrets.

“Oh, are you feeding Buckbeak?” Harry asked.

“Yep,” Hagrid responded cheerfully. He took the cauldron off the fire, stirred it again, and set it down on the hearth. He seized a pair of fire tongs and used them to grasp a dead ferret, which he immediately dunked into the cauldron. The children turned many interesting colours. Finally, Harry summoned the courage to speak.

“Er.... Hagrid?”

“Yeah?” Hagrid raised the dead ferret out of the cauldron and put it on a plate. It was now covered in what looked like melted cheese.

“What exactly are you doing?” Harry was afraid this was a new recipe to share.

“I tol’ yeh. Feedin’ Buckbeak.” Hagrid dunked a few more ferrets in the cheese and stacked them neatly on top of the first. Then he seized the platter and skipped outside.

“He’s gone mental,” Ron said in disbelief, as they watched Buckbeak chow down. “He’s making fondue for a hippogriff.”

“He must really want Buckbeak to like living with him better than living with Sirius,” Harry said.

Intense Rivals

Chapter 89 - Intense Rivals


Sirius was glaring.

He was glaring at Trent Reznor.

More accurately, he was glaring at a picture of Trent Reznor which was in the copy of Rolling Stone clutched in his hand. It was a mighty glare, Sirius’ eyes narrowed to slits and a fierce scowl twisting his face into an ugly mask. If he could have, Sirius would have burned holes through the magazine with his eyes. If looks could kill, and if glaring at magazines acted as some sort of voodoo curse, then Trent Reznor would have almost certainly dropped dead wherever he was currently standing.

Tonks had been watching this for several minutes. Finally, she decided to speak up.

“Er... Sirius... you’ve been glaring at that magazine for twenty minutes. What’s wrong?”

“This,” he said brusquely, shoving the magazine in her face.

Tonks pried his fingers off it and moved it far enough away that it didn’t just look like a black blob to her. She drooled. “There’s nothing wrong with Trent Reznor. Nothing at all.”

“What are you, insane?”

“Are you?” she countered. “You like men - how can you not say he’s gorgeous?”

“I like Remus,” he corrected her, his jaw sticking out stubbornly. “That guy’s a - a - goblin!”

“Er - yeah,” Tonks mumbled. “What brought this on, might I ask?”

Sirius scowled harder and swiped his hair out of his eyes. “He’s a jerk, that’s what.”

“You’ve never even met him!”

“So?”

Tonks glanced back down at the photo. She looked back at Sirius. “What makes him a jerk? It can’t be his money, you have plenty of that. It can’t be his fame. You’re just as famous - or infamous - as he is. It can’t be the girls he must get - you don’t like girls. It can’t be his looks - you’ve got those, too. So why the need to call him a jerk?”

Sirius refused to answer. Tonks waited, looking from her cousin to the photo and back. Then, quite suddenly, it hit her. “It’s the beard stubble!” she gasped, leaping to her feet. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re mad because he’s nearly as stubbly as you, right? I’m right, aren’t I?”

He gritted his teeth. “And if I am?”

Tonks began to laugh. She laughed so hard she had to drop the magazine and hold her stomach. Tears streamed from her eyes, making her glittery purple eyeliner run. “Oh, come on! Sirius, you are just too stupid sometimes!” she choked out, bent nearly double. “Jealous of someone just because they’re as stubbly as you are?! Wait until I tell Remus!”

“No way! Remus will want to see a picture - and dammit, he’ll fall in love with that nerd!”

“I wouldn’t blame him,” Tonks replied saucily. “Trent Reznor’s probably a lot smarter - and a lot less concerned with who’s as stubbly as him - than you are!”

“Shut up,” Sirius grumbled, tossing the magazine into the wastebasket and striding out of the kitchen.

Tonks waited until a door slammed upstairs before taking the magazine out of the garbage. She rolled it up and stuck it in the pocket of her jeans, then skipped out of the kitchen. She opened a door and Trent Reznor stepped out, looking disgruntled.

“What a jerk,” he muttered. 

“Pay him no mind. Now, where shall we go for dinner?...”

Fetch, Oooboo, Fetch

Chapter 88 - Fetch, Oooboo, Fetch


Remus wasn’t the only one trying to find a job. Bellatrix was searching for a job as well. It had all been Voldemort’s idea.

“All my Death Eaters, you must go out into the Muggle world and get Muggle jobs!” he had announced at the latest Death Eater meeting. “This way, we can infiltrate the Muggles, see how they work, see what makes them tick, and use our superior knowledge to KILL them all!!”

It was a good plan, at least in Bellatrix’s mind. So, she was searching for a job.

While wandering around Wiltshire one day, she happened upon a building with a HELP WANTED sign in the window. She looked up. “Willie’s Driving Range”, the sign read.

Bellatrix went inside. A Scottish man with a flaming-red beard and moustache and a gleaming bald head was sitting behind a desk, punching numbers into a strange machine. A nameplate on his desk read simply: WILLIE.

“Excuse me,” she said.

“Ach! Lassie!” The man’s eye wandered over her. “What can I be helpin’ yeh with?”

“I noticed a HELP WANTED sign in your window,” Bellatrix said.

“Ach! Lassie! Yeh be the answer to m’prayers!” Willie stood up and crossed over to her. He seized her hand and pumped it wildly. He was wearing a red-and-green kilt which exposed his bony, hairy knees to the world. Bellatrix forced a smile.

“When can I start?”

“Right now!” he trumpeted, handing her a pair of tan trousers and a green golf shirt. “Just go in me loo and change!”

She did as she was told. When she emerged, Willie beamed and handed her a bucket. “Come with me, lassie! Ach!”

Bellatrix followed Willie out a back door. She found herself gazing out at a large green field. Huge signs marked white lines painted on the grass, proclaiming how many yards away each line was. Several Muggle men in clothes similar to Bellatrix’s were hitting golf balls across the field.

“Ach, lassie! Yeh job’s to go out there and pick up all the balls!” Willie said, gesturing towards the field. “Think yeh can do it?”

“O-of course,” Bellatrix said, her smile faltering. This hadn't been exactly what she had had in mind when she had decided to look for a job. But this place seemed popular with Muggles, so she started to head out onto the field.

“Wait lassie!” Willie handed her a helmet. “Yeh should wear this! Danger of hittin’ yeh head, there is!”

“Um, okay.” Bellatrix strapped on the helmet. She felt ridiculous. She headed out onto the field.

She saw a ball right away. She picked it up and dropped it in the bucket.

“This is easy,” she said to herself.

She saw another ball and picked it up. This was beginning to feel like an Easter egg hunt, only the eggs had been hidden by a group of mentally challenged trolls. She picked up another ball.

Bellatrix didn’t realise that she was drawing closer and closer to the men with the golf clubs. Suddenly she heard a shout. “There’s the ball kid!”

And suddenly, a barrage of golf balls flew straight towards her!

“Auuuughhhh!” Bellatrix was pelted with ball after ball. She was being hit so often that she couldn’t even pick up the balls after she was hit by them!

“Waargh!” Bellatrix dropped her bucket and fled. The men kept hitting balls at her, until she reached the safety of Willie’s office. She slammed the door behind her and let out a shuddery sigh.

“Ach! Lassie! Ready fer yeh break?”

“I QUIT!” Bellatrix yelled at him. “CRUCIO!!”

Mystery Date

Chapter 87 - Mystery Date


Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day. Harry had not plucked up the courage to ask Cho to Hogsmeade again, especially after remembering last year’s disastrous Valentine’s visit. But he lamented not having a date, especially since Hermione and Ron were already going together.

“I have an idea,” Hermione suggested. “Muggles watch a show called “The Dating Game”, in which a girl asks questions to three men - Bachelor Number One, Bachelor Number Two, and Bachelor Number Three - sitting behind a curtain. She picks the man she likes best, and then he comes out to surprise her.”

“Okay,” said Harry, “But where will we find anyone willing to go out with me?”

“Leave that to me,” Hermione winked, and wandered off.

Three hours later, she called to him. “I’m finished!”

Harry was impressed. Hermione had successfully reconstructed the set of “The Dating Game”, and was dressed in a glittery tuxedo. She held her wand to her mouth like a microphone as Harry took a seat on the spindly stool standing before the curtain. Hermione handed him a slew of index cards and said, “Okay, Harry! Start asking the questions printed on the card!”

“Er - okay.” Harry squinted down at the cards (having removed his glasses so as to appear more attractive). “Um. Bachelorette Number One, what do you think is - the - er - h-hottest thing I could do to you?”

“You could shut up!” a voice shrieked.

“Um. Okay. Bachelorette Number Two?”

“You could cover me in whipped cream, and lick it off,” a sultry voice suggested.

Harry drooled. “Bachelorette Number Three?”

“You could... I don’t know. You could... er... go out with me. I’d like that,” a misty voice replied.

“Boring,” Harry whispered, then said in normal tones, “Bachelorette Number One, I love the colour green. What’s your favourite colour?”

“Harry Dead Red!” the evil voice screamed.

“That isn’t Voldemort behind there, is it?” Harry asked Hermione anxiously.

“Of course it isn’t. Just get a move on.”

“Okay... Bachelorette Number Two?”

“Mmm,” purred the sultry voice. “I like black. Black silk sheets, black leather... oh, and silver. Shiny manacles and sexy chains...”

Harry pressed a tissue to his nose as it began to bleed. “Bachelorette Number Three?”

“Blue is nice....” the dreamy voice said. “Like the battle costume of the Queen of Snorlak....”

“Er... yeah. Bachelorette Number One, what’s your idea of a perfect date?”

“A trip to the torture chambers!” the voice shrieked.

Harry twitched. “Bachelorette Number Two?”

“Oh... I dunno... I guess I could take you for a ride, if you know what I mean.”

“That sounds good,” Harry drooled. “Bachelorette Number Three?”

“Would you like to tour the office where Daddy prints The Quibbler ?”

“Um... maybe.” Harry looked at Hermione.

“All right, Harry! Which one do you want?”

“Number Two! Number TWO!” he yelled happily.

“All right! But first, we’ll show you who you didn’t pick!” Hermione called out. “Bachelorette Number One, please come out!”

She did. Harry screamed. It was Millicent Bulstrode, who punched him in the arm before walking away.

“Bachelorette Number Three!”

Luna Lovegood emerged from the depths of the curtain. Harry had had a suspicion it was her. She giggled and went to stand beside Hermione. Harry looked eagerly at the curtains, drooling, waiting for the gorgeous, apparently sex-starved girl to emerge.

“And here’s your date!” Hermione announced. “Bachelorette Number Two!” She pulled open the curtain with a flourish. “DRACO MALFOY!”

“Ewww!!” Harry shrieked. It was truly disturbing to be paired with Draco, but even worse to think of Draco practising his S&M fetish on him!

“Icky!!” Draco wailed. “You didn’t tell me I was going after POTTER! I hate you, Granger!!!” He ran off, sobbing.

“Hermione,” Harry said through gritted teeth, “NEVER help me get a date again. EVER!”

Snape's Bubbling Cauldron of DOOM

Chapter 86 - Snape’s Bubbling Cauldron of DOOM


Potions class was exceptionally boring, as always. Harry and Ron had to keep from falling asleep as they stirred their potion to cure measles. Hermione was at full attention as always, and her potion was perfect - again, as always.

Harry jerked his head up from a particularly long doze to see a strange orange light reflecting on the ceiling. He didn't know what it could be, but figured it was somebody’s potion.

“Bring your samples up to me,” Snape’s harsh voice cut through the haze of drowsiness and multicoloured potion fumes. Harry wearily corked a flask of potion and put it on Snape’s desk. Then he began to clean up, as the others did the same.

The bell rang for lunch. Snape swept out of the classroom, mumbling something under his breath. Harry was prepared to followed Ron and Hermione out of the room when he noticed that the strange orange light was still on the ceiling. He stopped, befuddled, and stared at it.

“Harry? What are you staring at?” Hermione asked.

“Look.” Harry pointed. He looked ‘round. “It’s coming from that cupboard over there.”

“Don’t open it!” Ron cried. “It’s Snape’s, after all! It could be dangerous!”

Too late. Harry had already wrenched open the door.

Inside the cupboard was a large cauldron, filled with a bubbling, frothing liquid. Harry peered at it. It was giving off the eerie orange light.

“What is it?” Ron and Hermione asked, interested despite themselves.

“I don’t know,” Harry frowned. “It looks like... there’s something in here... Ron, hand me that ladle.”

Ron handed Harry a ladle with an extra-long handle, which had been hanging on the wall. Harry dipped it into the potion to fish out whatever was in there.

His first ladle-full revealed several burnt, bubbled, soggy photographs. The trio stared at them.

“Is that me, or is that Professor Lockhart ?” Hermione asked.

Harry dipped the ladle in again. This time, he came up with a charred piece of paper. On it was scrawled, in Snape’s handwriting, “SECRET CRUSHES. 1. Remus Lupin. 2. James Potter. 3. Sirius Black. 4. Gilderoy Lockhart.....”

“Ewwwww,” all three teenagers said in disgust. Harry put the ladle in again. This scoop revealed a handful of small dolls, each with a name inscribed on them!

“Potter... Weasley... Black... Lupin... Granger....” Harry’s eyes widened as he read the names off the dolls. “Oh, God! Snape’s making VOODOO DOLLS of us all!!”

“ARRRGH!” screamed Hermione and Ron.

“ARRRGH!” screamed Harry.

“ARRRGH!” screamed Snape, striding into the room. “My Bubbling Cauldron of DOOM! How dare you! Get out!”

Harry and his friends were all too happy to oblige. They tore out the door and didn’t stop running until they reached the safety of the common room, where they hid under the sofa.

Snape closed the door of the cupboard. “Silly me,” he chuckled. “i have got to be more careful about closing that door properly!”

And with that, he headed off to lunch.

Some Kind of Monster

Chapter 85 - Some Kind of Monster


Remus Lupin had decided to apply for another job. Not a full-time one, because he had Order business and Sirius to deal with, but a little something to supplement his income (which was nothing). He had long since given up on working for Muggles, since he had no way to explain to them why he disappeared during certain times of the month. But he spent a while scouring the Daily Prophet’s classified ads for jobs in the wizarding community.

There was a job opening for a cashier at a shop on Diagon Alley. Remus wasn’t too sure about it, since it seemed to be one of the dodgy shops quite near to Knockturn Alley, but he figured it was worth a shot. He sent a letter to the owner and soon received an owl in reply, asking him to come for an interview.

On the day in question, Remus dressed carefully in his least patchy clothes, and headed to the shop. Apparently it sold knickknacks and trinkets to the wizarding community; Remus suspected some of the items might not be legitimate, but he did well on the interview. The owner and his assistant, who looked to have some troll blood in them, seemed to be impressed with him. Then they broached the subject of his full moon disappearances.

Remus felt he couldn’t lie, so he admitted it. “I’m a werewolf, actually.”

He expected shock and disgust, but what he received was confusion.

“A werewolf?” the owner asked blankly. “What’s that?”

“I think it’s one of those things that rises from the dead and eats people’s brains,” the assistant said.

“Erm - no,” Remus said. “That’s a zombie.”

“Is it one of those green blokes made out of corpses that kill kids?” the owner said, scratching his head.

“No, sir. That’s a Frankenstein,” Remus said.

“Wait! I know! It’s that thing with teeth that sucks blood!” the assistant said triumphantly.

“No, that’s a vampire,” said Remus, politely incredulous. Had these two wizards never attended a Defense Against the Dark Arts course?

“Are you one of those things all wrapped in bandages?” the owner asked suspiciously.

“No... that’s a mummy,” Remus sighed.

“Is a werewolf one of those children with the creepy eyes and mental powers?” the assistant inquired.

“No! That’s the Children of the Damned!”

“I know! It’s that dinosaur that rises out of the water and stomps on Japan!” the owner cried.

“That’s Godzilla!”

“The dead transparent people who put curses on you!”

“That’s a ghost!”

“Are you the big, stinky, hairy man that wanders around America?” the assistant inquired happily.

“That’s Bigfoot!” Remus was exasperated. “A werewolf is a person who becomes a wolf during the full moon and hunts human prey!”

There was silence for a moment. Then the owner shrugged. “Whatever. Some kind of monster, anyway. Welcome aboard.”

“Sorry, I’ve changed my mind,” Remus muttered, already halfway out the door.