All characters owned by JK Rowling of course. Other characters are owned by their authors. With special thanks to Cmar for beta reading this for me and thanks for all the reviews!
Chapter Four - The time turner, Harry Potter and the fire whisky
"You fed them their liver?" said Ron, trying to keep a straight face. "Brrmpph!" he said, trying and failing not to laugh. "You're funny!"
The Joker glared at him. "Do I look funny to you?"
"Yes, you do."
"Do I make you laugh?"
"Well that liver gag was quite…"
"Do I look like a comedian to you?"
"Well you know, the clown face, the purple boots…"
"Shall I show you what really makes me laugh?" said the Joker, reaching into his pocket.
"Is it a bottle of fire whisky?" asked Ron hopefully.
"Fire whisky?" said the Joker, for once stumped for words.
"Yes, fire whisky, it comes in bottles like this," said Ron, drawing out an empty bottle from his pocket.
"No, this is what puts a smile on my face." The Joker drew out a gun covered in painted flowers.
"Excuse me, Mr," Hermione walked up to the Joker, she thought for a moment, "mime."
"Mime? MIME!" screamed the Joker. "I AM NOT A MIME! I CAN TALK! DO YOU EVER SEE A MIME TALKING!"
"Well, sometimes you see them talk in circuses," said Ron, thinking. To say this non-fire whisky related thought put a strain on his brain is like saying a mammoth has a slight body hair problem.
"Those are clowns," said the Joker wearily.
"Are you a clown?"asked Ron. The non-fire whisky thoughts that were whizzing around his head were almost sending smoke from his ears.
"I am not a clown!"
"What's with the makeup then? Are you a walking billboard for a cosmetics factory?"
Hermione bustled up to them. "We have to be going. I've programmed this properly now, we can get back to where we want to."
"Sorry, circus boy," said Ron. "Love the act by the way, but you rather overdo the lipstick."
"What's this?" asked the Joker, and snatched the time phone from Hermione. He pressed a few buttons. "Can't get a signal or anything?" He threw the phone back at Hermione.
"Oh no…" said Hermione as they all three faded from existence.
"Where are we now?" said Ron tiredly as he looked about him. "We're on board ship. Great. Hopefully they will have a bar."
"Ron, wait!" said Hermione. "Let me get my bearings as to where we are now." She got the phone and started to peer at it intently. "Harry, stop Ron!"
Harry happily tottered after Ron. He looked blearily eyed at where they were. This was a ship. Definitely a ship. A big ship in fact. A very big ship. Certain words were floating in the alcoholic haze that was Harry's mind. A gigantic ship. A gargantuan ship. That was a good word. That word needed real brains to think of. He was happy to have thought of that word. Now he needed to find a gargantuan drink to pickle his brains some more.
He followed Ron happily off the deck into a restaurant. He was surrounded by upper class English and American types. All in tuxedoes. They were all whittering on about what a great voyage this was and how they were saving time. Harry was still thinking of words. The word that floated to his mind now was drink. The sort of drink that would be nice with ice, in fact.
He joined Ron at the bar. "I'm looking for fire whisky."
"Never heard of him," said the barman, his eyebrows raised so high they could scare passing sea gulls. "Aren't you two a little young to be ordering drinks?"
"Aren't you a little sarcastic to be working behind the bar?" said Harry, dropping a gold Galleon on the bar.
The barman's eyes goggled at this and with one swift movement he palmed the coin. "What can I get you gentlemen that are definitely over 21?"
"I said wirefisky." Ron looked confused. "Fire whisky. That's it."
"We have normal whisky, gentlemen." He got two glasses out from behind the bar and put two shots of whisky in them. "There you are."
Ron peered at his suspiciously and then smelt it. "Hmmm." He spat it out. "Needs ice."
There was a huge crashing and cracking sound and several tonnes of ice came pouring into the room. On top of it, surfing the ice like a huge penguin, albeit a penguin with a hat, a cloak and the type of hair that is always used in the before shots for shampoo, was Hermione.
"Titanic! Titanic!" she squealed at Harry and Ron.
"Yes, it is a rather big ship," said Harry, looking about with an impressed look on his face.
"No, Titanic! It's a ship!"
Ron scooped up some ice from the floor and put it in his drink. He drank the whisky down in one gulp. He picked up another glass of whisky. "Well, I feel King of the World!"
"We're going to drown!" said Hermione.
"Please stop shouting," said Ron. "I'm trying to enjoy my whisky." The whisky started spilling. "Why am I spilling the whisky?"
"The ship is sinking!"
"The first bar that sells whisky is sinking." Ron started getting angry. "I can not believe it!" He grabbed the phone from Hermione and pressed some buttons down.
"No, I just programmed it again…"
They all disappeared in a flash of green light and flames.
"Oh, where are we now?" asked Hermione groggily. As the only one who hadn't had anything to drink for at least three scenes she was starting to recover some of her senses. Her senses did not like what they saw. They were in a metal room. There was some sort of cockpit in front of them with four people staring out the front. They were looking out at space. Infinite space. They were in a space ship of some kind.
One of the men in the cockpit turned round and saw them. He was wearing a tight fitting green uniform with the name Rimmer sewn into his jacket. Behind him was a man with a strange pink angular head. Almost robotic in look. There was a very stylish looking man behind him and a rather dilapidated, almost tramp like man behind them.
"I don't know who you three are," said Rimmer, putting up his hands. "But boarding our vessel in the middle of deep space flight is an act of tantamount aggression and according to space corp directive 4392048 we…"
"Space corp directive 4392048? Is that really apt sir? Here we are being boarded by interstellar," he sniffed a bit, "either pirates or members of the whisky marketing board, and you are worried about the correct colour the male urinals should be painted?"
"No, 4392049 then?"
"That's about making sure both the male and female toilets have the same sign outside. It is illegal to make anything gender specific now."
"What's that one about surrendering the vessel and lots of apologising for wasting their time then? The only surrender terms are that they supply rubber underwear?"
"43902050, sir but might I point out…"
"What, Kryten?"
"The spottier of our guests is currently looking in the ship's galley. And judging by his comments he is looking for something called fire whisky."
"Ah ha!" said Ron as he pulled out a bottle of something that was either alcoholic or used to clean the drains. Judging by the cast iron cork and the fact there was a strange smoke coming from round the top it could probably do both. Although to be honest if you poured it down the drains the resulting life forms that would emerge would make Aliens look as dangerous as a swarm of butterflies.
"Mr Lister sir," said Kryten to the man who looked like he bathed once a decade and he had missed out on the previous two.
"Who the smeg are you guys?" said Lister.
"Excuse me sir," said Kryten waggling his finger nervously at Ron. "I wouldn't recommend drinking that…"
"What's wrong with it?" said Ron, taking a swig of it. "Woah! It certainly has good body. Plenty of real fire to it." He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. For some reason he was left with a strange yellow foam moustache.
"That is urine recyk, sir," said Kryten. "Might I recommend you…"
They all disappeared again in a flash of light.
"That stuff is really, really," said Ron, screwing up his face, "not bad actually. Quite like shirefwisky in a stwange sort of way." He offered the bottle to Hermione. "Do you want some Shermnionioe?"
"I think I'll pass actually."
Harry grabbed it off Ron. "I'll have a bit." He poured some into his mouth. Where it fell on the metal floor smoke rose and started to eat through the metal.
A strange metal robot covered with round protuberances and what looked like an egg whisk and a sink plunger glued to its front, rolled towards them
"WHO ARE YOU?" A metallic sinister robotic voice said.
"What the hell are you?" said Ron. "Some sort of giant talking pepperpot? What's this sticking out the front?" Ron walked up to the strange creature. "Is this an egg whisk? Are you a cook?"
"WE ARE THE DALEK'S!" The lights on the top of the dalek glowed every time it spoke.
"Really?" said Ron. "You look like you crawled out of a garbage skip. What's this?" He waggled the front end of it. "Is this a sink plunger?"
"WE ARE THE RULERS OF THE UNIVERSE!"
"Well if you are the rulers, you can get me a drink," said Ron in a fascinating display of drunken logic that could probably keep a philosophy professor employed for a year on. "I could do with a fire whisky," he held his stomach. "Actually I'm not feeling too hot at the moment. I think that urine recyk is disagreeing with me. I could do with a doctor."
"DOCTOR!" There was a note of panic in the dalek's voice. "YOU KNOW THE DOCTOR! HE MUST BE EXTERMINATED. EXTERMINATE THE DOCTOR!"
"Doctor? Doctor who? Sod the doctor, I want a fire whisky," said Ron. He tapped the dalek on the dome. "Fire whisky! Fire whisky!"
"EXTERMINATE!"
Just before the dalek could blast Ron off the face of the universe Hermione and Harry dragged him back and pressed a button. It was probably a bit of luck for the dalek that he didn't shoot Ron. With the amount of whisky and alcohol in Ron the resulting explosion would have not only blown up the dalek battle fleet, and subsequently stopped the impending invasion of the ganymede quadrant, but consumed at least three neighbouring stars with it. As an interesting side note, in an alternative universe Ron managed to persuade the daleks that taking over the universe was more trouble than it was worth and they all got jobs in those trendy bars that have guitars nailed to the walls. In fact judging by the sound that most people can get out of guitars nailing them to the walls is a positive force for music.
Harry, Ron and Hermione sat down when the universe stopped moving again.
"Has everybody forgotten what we are meant to be doing?" asked Hermione, waving her hands at Ron and Harry.
"Getting some fire whisky," said Ron.
"Helping Ron get some fire whisky," agreed Harry.
"No! Voldemort has taken over Hogwarts! We have to stop him!" said Hermione, selfishly using all the exclamation marks for herself.
"Does Mole trousers sell Fire whisky?" asked Ron hopefully.
"Well, he is not best known for…"
"Sod that then," said Ron. "Where are we now then?" He looked about him. "In fact, I don't care where we are. All I want is some fire whisky…"
"I care that you don't care about the fire whisky," said Harry.
"I care that you don't care that I care about not caring for the fire whisky," said Ron.
"I care that you two are talking rubbish!" said Hermione. It is quite clear that we are…"
A huge shadow loomed over them. Judging by the expression on his face he was not there to sell them fire whisky…