Death's Knight: Revisited
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction and constitutes no claim on the personalities or ideas incorporated in the Harry Potter series or those of the DC Universe contained within.
A/N: The following AU story is best understood if you are familiar with the mainstream comics of the DC Universe as well as the story of Harry Potter. If you aren't a fan of DC, or dislike comics, this probably isn't the story for you. Ideas being used come from Green Lantern, Sandman, World's Finest (The New 52 Universe, and the mind of Heather Sinclair. This universe differs greatly from the one you may be used to, be it the comics, movies or animated features. This story begins a year after the inception of the New 52, and merges with the post Voldemort world of Harry Potter.
This tale is inspired by Heather Sinclair's wonderful Death's Knight Story, and is being retold with her permission
Chapter 2 –
I'm not going to try to describe the Etheric, the home of the Endless. Since that first visit, I learned that Death was only one aspect of the Endless; she had six brothers and sisters.
Destiny, who I've already mentioned, Dream, Destruction, Desire, Despair, and Delirium make up Death's 'family'. I met them all during visits to the Etheric after the Reset, but I try not to think about them much.
I've discovered I value my sanity far too much to spend much time thinking about aspects of existence having personalities.
That first time, Death took me to a formless, timeless void, told me it was the Etheric, and disappeared for approximately forever, or about 5 minutes.
I'm quite honestly not sure which. I mean when a cosmic entity performs a 'reset' on reality, what happens? Does he just open his book (Destiny's book is called the Cosmic Log, which if you believe the hype has written in it everything that has ever or will ever happen. The Log is either chained to Destiny or Destiny is chained to it. Again, I'm not sure which, or if it even makes a difference) and scratch out the offending passage and write in the changes?
Are the changes retroactive or did the Universe have to roll back to the beginning and play out again minute by minute to incorporate the changes?
Yet another thing I try not to think about.
So, after five minutes, (or forever), Death was back. Without preamble she returned me to the site of the Burrow.
Except, there was no Burrow. Together we were standing in some well-tended farm land.
How do I know we were on the site of the Burrow? The ring told me. There is a voice in the ring and it talks to me.
"Harry," Death said taking my hand in hers. "This has all happened quickly. You're only human. Before you start on the destruction of the remaining Black Lanterns, I want you to come to terms with the changes in your life, and learn to use my ring."
I curled my left hand into a fist and looked at the ring. "How long to I have?"
"No one is going to know what happened," she said. "The Heroes of the universe will remember fighting the Black Lanterns and winning, but will be fuzzy on the details. The surviving living Black Lanterns will know they lost, but not know how. The few reanimated dead will neither know nor care. I've stopped the creation of new rings, so you have a chance to acclimate to your new situation. Call it six months. That should be time enough for you to come to terms with the changes in the world, and give you a chance to learn to use my Ring before you leave Earth to cleanse the universe of Nekron's servants."
oooOOOooo
Wrapped in Death's Cloak, I hovered in the air over the back garden of #46 Velwell road in Exeter.
The home of Arthur and Molly Weasley.
My Ring found them through governmental records, though surprisingly, at least to me, not from the records of the Ministry of Magic. I found Arthur Weasley via the records of Inland Revenue.
He paid taxes to the Muggle Government. I am relatively certain that the Arthur I knew had never done that. Something very odd was going on.
Not long after I found the house, a white Ford Transit van pulled into the drive, bearing signage that indicated that it belonged to Arthur Weasley, Electrician.
Electrician. That made no sense.
"Ring, scan the house for any sign of magic."
COMPLIANCE was the only response from the voice in the Ring.
After several seconds the Ring spoke again.
USING RING BEARER POTTER AS AN EXAMPLE OF 'MAGIC', NONE OF THE RESIDENTS OF #46 VELWELL ROAD SHOW ANY SIGN OF BIOLOGICALLY GENERATED POTENTIAL FOR THE MANIPULATION OF QUANTA.
The Weasleys were Muggles?
The Ring allowed me to enter the house through the expediency of simply passing through a solid wall. 'Phasing' the ring called it. I found myself in a girl's room. Ginny's? A quick search of the room found a pile of magazines, a few posters of what I assume to be actors or singers and a under the floorboards directly in front of the window containing a small bottle of rum and a plastic bag of weed.
No sign of anything related to Hogwarts or anything else to do with magic.
Ron's room was next
This version of my friend was evidently a fan of Exeter City, judging by the posters in his room and the strip in his wardrobe. More weed, this time not hidden at all. A pay stub indicating that Ron worked as a plumber's assistant.
A Muggle Ron Weasley. My mind was officially blown.
Then I found Arthur and Molly's room. A bed, a pair of wardrobes, various tables and dressers. Unmoving photos on the walls, photos of redheaded children and grandchildren.
Downstairs I found the expected sitting room, a large telly and more photos of red-headed people I recognized doing unmagical things.
Molly and Arthur were in the Kitchen, Molly fussing with multiple pots on the cooker, Arthur sitting at the table, pretending to read the Daily Mail while watching his wife's every move, lovingly.
That much, at least, had not changed.
Seeing the adult Weasleys like that really hit me hard. They were healthy, (the ring confirmed that, after noting a bit of an issue with Arthur's heart, that I corrected unseen and undetected), happy and so very in love. But they were Muggles.
I exited the kitchen by passing through the ceiling, directly into Arthur and Molly's bedroom. I paused to gather myself when it occurred to me that I could at least do something for them. From subspace I extracted the Weasley Family clock. I placed it on Molly's side table and examined the hands.
It appeared to actually be working. The hands for Arthur and Molly showed them to be at home. Bill and Fleur also showed they were at home… Were Bill and Fleur together in this world?
"Ring, locate Bill Weasley, report marital status."
COMPLIANCE:
Returning to the clock I saw Charlie, Percy and the Twins were all indicated to be at work, while Ron and Ginny's hands showed them transiting from 'Travelling' to 'Home'. I glanced out the window in time to see a battered white mini pulling into the drive behind Arthur's van, after it stopped, Ron and Ginny exited the car, squabbling about something the way they always did.
Report: William Arthur "Bill" Weasley Born 29 November, 1970. Married Fleur Isabelle Delacour August 1 1997.
Well, that answered that. Stepping away from the window, I left the clock and exited the house, not sure if I was ever coming back.
oooOOOooo
Melancholy is an odd state of being. I'd never really felt it before. Not as dark as depression, that one I knew well, but not as light as sadness, another emotion I was more than familiar with.
It was more of a not caring what happened.
That's what I was feeling since finding the Weasley family. I'd known they wouldn't have known me… since I was off the dimensional plane during the reset; I hadn't existed for them to know me. That was fine. I could meet them again.
But for them to not be magical?
I thought about finding Hermione… but wasn't willing to face an unmagical girl wearing my best friend's face, just as I wasn't ready to face Ron.
Hovering high over Exeter, wrapped in Death's Cloak, I found myself fixated on the Weasley family not having their magic. Never having had it, they didn't miss it, and Arthur's fascination with plugs took a somewhat humorous turn with his being an electrician in this world, but what about the rest of the Magical World?
Were they powerless too?
I had to know. With a thought the ring warped time and space for me and I vanished from the skies of Exeter.
oooOOOooo
And appeared over Hogwarts.
Power Rings, I am more than willing to admit, are seriously awesome.
The old girl was still there, still as beautiful as the first time I saw her on one of those ridiculous boats that Hagrid used to bring us from Hogsmeade. I could see students in uniform scurrying to and fro in the windows.
That's when I realized that my sense of time was off. It had been mid-July when Kal-L had attacked me. School should not be in session.
"Ring, local time and date."
COMPLIANCE: the ring said in my head. LOCAL TIME 18:24 LOCAL DATE SUNDAY 20 SEPTEMBER 1999.
I'd lost two months, on top of all else. "Ring, scan for Hogwarts Headmistress." Maybe McGonagall would be interested in helping out an intra-universal traveler.
COMPLIANCE: there was a short pause. FACILITY DESIGNATED HOGWARTS IS CURRENTLY HEADED BY HEADMASTER ALBUS DUMBLEDORE. SUBJECT DESIGNATED DUMBLEDORE IS IN THE HEADMASTER'S OFFICE.
A section of the castle lit up in a light that only I could see. That didn't even register at the time. I was too busy digesting the fact that Dumbledore was still alive.
You have to understand, to me, he had been dead for more than a year at this point. I'd grieved and made my peace with his death… I'd even forgiven him for making me watch Snape kill him. Finding out he was alive was only the latest shock of the day.
I landed outside of Hogsmeade. Death's Cloak flowed around my body until it appeared to be a mildly expensive set of robes and I went looking for the Three Broomsticks.
I badly needed a drink.
oooOOOooo
Rosmerta herself brought me my firewhisky.
It was comforting to see that somethings hadn't changed in this new reality. Rosie was still the woman we would fantasize about in the dorms.
Thank Merlin for small favors.
"Ring," I subvocalized. "Locate Hermione Jane Granger.
COMPLIANCE:
I concentrated on my drink, trying not to stare at Rosmerta's chest, and waited.
HERMIONE JANE GRANGER, BORN 19 SEPTEMBER 1979. CURRENT LOCATION: 17-18 TOOK'S COURT LONDON.
Crap, that's right, she'd be 20 as of yesterday. The location was odd; her parents didn't live in London.
"Ring, provide more detail about the location of Hermione Granger."
COMPLIANCE: 17-18 TOOK'S COURT LONDON. BUSINESS RECORDS SHOW THAT ADDRESS IS ASSIGNED TO THE FOOD SERVICE BUSINESS DESIGNATED VANILLA BLACK. A SEARCH OF THE BUSINESS' COMPUTER RECORDS SHOW HERMIONE GRANGER RESERVED SEATING FOR TWO. THIS SUGGESTS SOME STAGE OF THE HUMAN MATING RITUAL.
Well, crap on a crumpet. Hermione was dating? Transitioning to London would only take a second; I could check up on her and see if she had her magic…
I raised my drink to my lips and almost jumped out of my chair when I locked eyes with Albus Dumbledore sitting across the table from me.
oooOOOooo
"Hello," the old man said, his eyes twinkling in his normal way. For some reason I could not quite identify, I found that comforting. I also found the fact that I found his twinkling eyes comforting to be a bit disturbing.
"I hope you don't mind my joining you, but I have made it my habit to meet any beings of great power who suddenly appear so close to my school."
"Oh, stop," I said with a smile, "you're going to make me blush. Professor Dumbledore I presume?"
"I am indeed, my boy. And you are?"
Who was I indeed? I hadn't even checked to see if the Potters existed before being found by the Headmaster. No sense trying to pass myself off as a lost relative if the Potters were a force in this world. Keep it simple if they were, I would claim to be a Muggleborn. "My name is Harry Potter, Professor."
"Ring" I subvocalized. "Scan for Dumbledore's wand. Is it the Death Wand?"
COMPLIANCE: the Ring responded.
"What can I do for you?" I asked.
"As I said," the old man said, his eyes twinkling like mad. "I detected a person of great power appearing outside of Hogsmeade and thought to meet you. You will find I am quite protective of my students."
WAND IN POSSESSION OF WIZARD DESIGNATED ALBUS PERCIVAL WULFRIC BRIAN DUMBLEDORE: OAK AND PHOENIX FEATHER. ANALYSIS: NOT THE DEATH WAND.
Well that was a relief. Then I remembered Dumbledore's penchant for mind magics. "Ring, protect my mind from mental intrusion of any kind."
COMPLIANCE:
"A reasonable attitude for a professional educator to have," I nodded, while trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for my presence. It struck me that the truth about needing to improve my piss-poor education might be the best reason I could offer. "I mean your students no harm; I am simply visiting various centers of learning around the world in an attempt to expand my knowledge."
"You are a bit older than our average student, Mr. Potter," the old man noted. No mention of other Potters. Well, that was a relief.
"Oh, I'm not looking to enroll, Professor," I laughed. "I was hoping for a chance to use your library for a bit of research."
A smile crossed his lips, "Hogwarts is hardly a public lending library, Mr. Potter."
"Oh, I understand that, Professor," I laughed. "I was thinking of it as more of a business opportunity. I've never heard of a school that couldn't use a bit of cash to bolster its budget. I was hoping that we might be able to negotiate the establishment of a Potter Scholarship in exchange for access to your famous library."
That seemed to interest him. It seemed I had stumbled upon a universal (or perhaps, trans-universal) truth, no school ever had enough money. The negotiations for access to the Hogwarts Library began.
oooOOOooo
One of the problems with being dropped into a reality where you don't exist with a Power Ring powered by Death herself is that, while, as jobs go, it's really cool, it doesn't actually pay. If I wanted a warm, dry, place to sleep at night and regular meals, I was going to need a source of income.
Especially if Dumbledore was going to charge me to use the Hogwarts Library.
I know, I know, I can hear you hypothetical readers asking, why would the idiot with the Power Ring need access to a magical library?
The answer to that is that the power over the dead that Death had allowed me in my original existence was a one-time thing, isolated to that time and place. Here in this reality, the reanimated Black Lanterns wouldn't just remove their rings and die (or deanimate or whatever it is that happens when something that is already dead stops moving around) when I told them too.
Yeah, I had a Power Ring, but so would everyone I was to be hunting. So I was going to need to stack the deck in my favor. This came from the best bit of advice I'd ever gotten in my life, and that came from the Weasley Twins.
"When in doubt, young Harry," Fred had said, "Cheat."
"Cheat most grievously," George nodded his agreement.
"But that would be unfair," I protested.
"Harry," George said, ruffling my hair, "we aren't talking about Quidditch, or chess, or classwork."
"We've noticed that you seem to find utter disasters without really trying," Fred agreed. "And often as not, our idiot brother is right there beside you."
"Not that we really care if he gets hurt or mangled," George pointed out, "but Mum is really attached to him."
"You would think that with six sons, she wouldn't be so adverse to a bit of pruning of the family tree," Fred sighed. "But she is."
"So, if you can keep Ron in one piece by cheating," George said, "Cheat."
Just thinking about that conversation made me want to find a way to reconnect with the twins again.
I put that thought aside. If I was going to have what could even laughingly pass for a life, I was going to need a place to live, and everything that required. This meant I needed a source of income. Being Death's personal Superhero had its advantages, but it didn't come with a paycheck.
Oh, sure, between my magic and my ring, I could take pretty much what I wanted, but I still needed to be able to look myself in the eye while I shaved.
Damned morals.
A job seemed pretty much out of the question. Most employers would take exception to my disappearing to run Death's errands. No, I needed to be independently wealthy.
But how?
When in doubt, ask the Ring.
"Ring, I need a source of income."
DEFINE INCOME PARAMETERS was the response from the ring.
Well, that was a good question, wasn't it? Directing my response to the ring I continued. "I need a source of legal income that will not attract attention from the government of the UK."
DEFINE INCOME
Evidently I was expecting a bit much from a ring created by a pair of incarnations of Death. I pondered the question for a moment before deciding to go with the Magical answer. "Gold. I need a steady, legal, source of gold."
ACCESSING GOVERNMENTAL DATABASES
I waited several seconds while the ring did its thing.
SEARCH PARAMETER PRECLUDES ACCESSING GOVERNMENTAL GOLD RESERVES, AS WELL AS MINING FOR GOLD AND SALVAGING SHIPWRECKS. TOP THREE OPTIONS IN DESCENDING ORDER OF EASE OF ACCESS:
HARVEST DISOLVED PARTICULATE GOLD FROM SEAWATER
HARVEST ASTROIDAL GOLD DEPOSITS FROM NEAR TERRAN SPACE
ADAPT TRANSMUTATIONAL TECHNOLOGY TO CURRENT TERRAN STANDARD.
I blinked. You could get gold from seawater? Learn something new every day. "How much gold could I get from seawater?"
TERRAN OCEANS HOLD ON AVERAGE ONE MILLIGRAM OF GOLD PER TONNE OF SEAWATER.
And suddenly, I understood why I'd never heard of gold in seawater before. A milligram in a tonne? Why would anyone bother?
"Clarification, how much gold will you be able to process from seawater in a day?"
FULL COVERAGE WOULD REQUIRE SIX CONSTRUCTS PROPERLY PLACED IN THE WORLD SEA OF TERRA PRODUCING 400 KILOGRAMS OF GOLD EACH DAY, PER CONSTRUCT.
There was a short pause while I did the arithmetic in my head. 2.4 metric tonnes a day?
"Do it." I instructed, trying not to betray my emotions to the ring.
COMPLIANCE:
oooOOOooo
Twenty four hours later I was standing in Diagon Alley regarding a hidden shopping district that was a shadow of what I remember, but Gringotts was still there, as large and imposing as ever. The same guards at the door, the same slogan inscribed on the plate warning thieves of their fate, it actually felt homie to me.
Until I got inside and found the place to be almost empty. Where before there had been dozens of teller windows and counting tables there were now three teller windows, two of which had 'Next window please' signs pointing to the third.
At least there wasn't a line.
"Name" the goblin behind the window snarled helpfully.
Well, at least somethings hadn't changed, "Harry Potter," I replied.
The goblin glanced up at me before grabbing an accounts ledger and paging through it. "No Potters. Get out."
No Potters. That was news. I know I should have at least looked for my family, but I hadn't. Mostly I was afraid I would find myself happily living with my parents I suppose.
"I'm here to open an account," I explained.
"Wizards only," the Goblin snapped. "There are no wizards named Potter. Get out."
There was that Goblin charm I remembered. "I think you'll find that there is at least one Wizard named Potter, and I'm here to open an account. Now go get your manager and tell him that the biggest business opportunity of his life time is in his lobby getting angry, or I might just bring this place down around your pointy ears."
The Goblin's mouth twisted into a macabre imitation of a smile. "A threat, human?"
"A promise, Goblin," I responded, ordering the ring to give the walls of the bank a little shake.
That got everyone's attention. The Goblin disappeared from his window and returned moments later with a taller Goblin, this one in a suit that looked like it might have been from the Victorian era.
"What do you want Human?" the new comer demanded.
Ignoring the suited Goblin, I bent over until I was eye level with the teller. "Perhaps you should clean the wax out of your ears Goblin. I said I wanted your manager, not a floorwalker. Get him, now."
oooOOOooo
The Goblin technician looked up from his test chemicals.
"It is pure," he gasped.
I sat facing the large imposing desk. Beyond the desk, Ragnak, the Manager of Gringotts sat, glaring down at me. Yeah, Goblins like to play the dominance game of high ground, just like Humans.
To my left were four pallets of gold bars that I had summoned from subspace storage once the Bank Manager got finished threatening me for wasting his time. The four pallets only contained 1000 kilos of gold. I didn't want to flood the market after all.
Behind me stood three heavily armored and armed security Goblins, 'for security', I had been assured. To my right, on a side table was a cup of poisoned tea in a delicate china cup. The ring identified the toxins and my environmental shield filtered them out as I drank.
It appeared that my immunity to their poison was alarming to the Bank Manager, though he didn't mention it. The Ring's analysis suggested that the poison wasn't intended to do me any real harm, but to cause gastric distress. It was either a tool for aggressive negotiation, or the Goblin version of a prank.
"Is the purity a problem?" I asked innocently, sipping at my tea. In all honesty, it never occurred to me to have the ring introduce impurities into the gold.
"A problem?" the technician gasped incredulously. "In the history of the bank, we've never had gold this pure, our artisans will…"
"That will be quite enough," Ragnak interrupted the technician. "You are dismissed."
The Bank Manager waited until the technician had left his office before speaking again. "Who are you, Human?"
"As I said when I introduced myself, I am Harry Potter," I said with a nod.
ALERT: The ring spoke in my head. GOBLIN WARRIORS ARE PREPARING FOR VIOLENCE.
"Understood," I subvocalized. "Prepare for defensive response."
"And who knows you are here, Harry Potter," Ragnak sneered.
"Oh, no one," I admitted.
"So, if you were to disappear, no one would know about all this gold," he continued.
"True enough, I suppose," I agreed. "So, tell me, Bank Manager, is your second well trained?"
"What?" the Bank Manager demanded, "Why would you ask that?"
"Well," I sighed, "if I'm forced to kill you, I would feel bad if I left your people without adequate leadership, and myself without someone to negotiate with who is capable of recognizing a deal of a lifetime when he sees one."
Behind me the trio of Security Goblins move, blades out seeking to end me, I allowed the ring to deal with the threat. As the blades bit into my environmental shield, each of the armored Goblins were snatched from the ground and flung into the stone walls of the chamber. Their impacts were carefully calibrated by the ring to be hard enough to stun, but not enough to kill.
"So, tell me, Bank Manager, do we need to call for your second?" I asked reasonably. "I envision this as being the first of several annual deposits. It is difficult to deal in raw gold in the Muggle world; I was so hoping to be able to count on Gringotts' legendary discretion…"
oooOOOooo
I signaled the barmaid for another drink by holding up my nearly empty pint before returning to my misery.
A bookstore.
Despite the depression I was feeling, I couldn't help but smile, Hermione Granger worked in a bookstore. Somehow, I knew that she had ambitions far beyond this little hole in the wall book sellers, but she also seemed to be more at home than I had ever seen her.
I had been wrapped in Death's Cloak not five feet from her, wondering if I should leave the shop so that I could return visibly and meet my best friend for the first time.
I didn't, of course, no more than I had when I tried to approach Ron at his work. When it finally came down to it, I hadn't had a clue what to say, so I just watched him digging a trench for a while before using a switching spell to put 500 pounds into his inside jacket pocket without his noticing.
I was insanely flush, so why not? Hopefully he had fun with it when he found it.
And then, I lacked the balls to approach Hermione. How pathetically typical.
A new pint appeared in front of me, grasped in a large hand connected to a massive arm. "If you're thinking about starting any trouble, just leave now," a quite familiar voice said quietly.
I looked up and into the eyes of Neville Longbottom. My own eyes widened when I noticed this version of my old friend was sporting the most amazing 'porn' mustache I'd ever seen outside of Dean Thomas' collection of 'art' magazines. I guess my surprise showed on my face because he continued.
"I know you're a wizard," he said as his massive right hand released the full pint and removed my empty glass with his equally large left. "You so much a think about pulling your wand, I'll shove it up your arse before I see how far I can throw you into the street.
"You're also a wizard," I responded in similar tones. "Not looking for trouble, just in for a drink."
Neville's eyes narrowed as if he were taking my worth. "Muggleborn?"
"Close enough," Harry smiled, wondering if the mustache on this version of his friend's face was intentional.
"Last wizard who came in here was looking to Imperius a few birds for a party," Neville explained. "I broke both his arms before I handed him over to the Aurors. The only wizard who pulls birds in this bar is me."
"I'll remember that," I said.
Neville moved away to serve another customer, this one a young woman. I watched as his body language shifted from angry defender to charming protector.
More than Weasleys without magic, more than Hermione working at a bookseller's, more than anything else, Neville the hound drove home just how different this world was.
oooOOOooo
Neville flicked on the lights of the pub, causing the locals to protest while shading their eyes from the brightness.
"Last call was fifteen minutes ago, lads," Neville called out, "You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here."
A few halfhearted protests were issued in a perfunctory manner, suggesting that they were the usual responses. I watched as everyone filed out, and the bar staff went about their clean up routines.
"I can finish this ladies," Neville called after all the tables had been wiped clean.
"Are you sure Neville?" the pretty blonde who had been working as a waitress asked.
"Unless you want me to walk you home, Mavis," Longbottom said with a leer.
"Oh, no," she said with a shake of her head. "I made that mistake once, Mr. One Night Stand."
"Good night Neville," the Brunette who had been behind the bar with Neville all night said when she hooked her arm through Mavis' and led the other woman out of the bar.
Neville locked the door behind them before turning to me. "Your Notice-Me-Not really sucks, I could see you all night."
"Muggle avoidance charm," I corrected him. "Not a Notice-Me-Not. I was intrigued by the idea of a wizard working as a bar tender in a Muggle bar. I thought I'd stick around and ask why you were doing it."
"My life is none of your business," he said.
"A fact I fully acknowledge," I said agreeably. "Still, it doesn't hurt to ask."
Neville looked at me curiously. "Who are you? You look to be my age, and you're clearly English, why don't I know you?"
"Muggleborn," I lied. "My birth parents died when I was still in nappies, I grew up with my mother's sister and her husband. He's in the Foreign Service, so we travelled the world. When my magic showed up, I picked up a few things here and there. I've got a German wand, studied with a Brazilian tutor, and just generally got along. My uncle retired last year, and I'm trying to make my own way in life, and wanted to try to connect with the wizards of Britain… at least for a while." I grinned at the much larger man. "That's my story, what's yours?"
Neville returned my grin. "Leety?"
A house elf appeared with a pop, the small creature wore a blouse bearing the Longbottom family crest. "Yes Master Neville?"
"Leety, a quick clean up in here, please, call Kolly for help if you need it."
"Oh, Master Neville," the Elf's eyes gleaming in gratitude, "Thank you, thank you, thank you. Leety knows he must not been seen."
It was nice to see somethings didn't change.
"Potter," Neville said after the elf disappeared into a rampaging vortex of cleaning, "I have no idea why, but I trust you. Let's go to my flat, and I'll explain my plans to you."
Then he put his right hand on my shoulder and we twisted into nowhere.
I absolutely hate apparation.
oooOOOooo
"The plan is simple really," Neville explained.
His flat was surprisingly spacious. I'm not really sure what I was expecting, but this wasn't it. Upon arriving, Nev had shoved a drink in my hand, and started with his story. Evidently, he had just been waiting for someone to ask.
"The best plans usually are," I nodded.
"It all came to me the summer after 6th year," he continued. "I visited a Muggleborn friend for a few days and we went to see if we could pull a few birds and Dean took me to a pub."
"Dean?" I asked.
"Dean Thomas," Neville supplied, "a fellow Gryffindor. We'd been to the pubs in Hogsmeade of course; the Three Broomsticks and the Hog's Head, but I'd never seen anything like Dean's local. So many different spirits mixed in so many different combinations, and so many women," he shook his head. "I knew I'd found my calling."
"No family obligations?" I asked. "I've heard of the Longbottom's, you're an old important family aren't you?"
"That's my Dad's problem," Neville laughed. "He's only in his 40s, he's got at least another Century in him, so I can have my fun. I've been working at the pub for almost a year and a half, I started sweeping up, and learned to tend bar. I'll be a manager inside of another two years, and then in two more, I'll have the business learned front to back."
"And beyond that?"
"I buy the Hog's Head," Neville laughed. "Alberforth has been making noises about retiring for years. I bring in Muggle booze, and sell the mixed drinks I've learned here, giving them appropriate magical names of course. Then I train myself some bartenders, and then spend my time introducing a whole collection of Hogwarts girls to the mysteries of sex, with a new set each year."
I drained my drink. "Neville, that has to be the best thought out plan in the history of mankind for getting laid."
"Ain't I something?" He agreed.