"Rather peculiar, isn't it?" The healer said, more to himself than Harry. "Well, I see there is nothing more I can do here. You are free to go, Mr. Parker. And do try to keep away from trouble, won't you?"
Harry smiled sheepishly. "Thanks. Yeah, but you should know, sir, that I don't go looking for trouble. Trouble finds me."
Django chuckled and shooed him away, turning to a witch with a gash down her cheek. The gash was bleeding profusely, but Harry wasn't squeamish (He had seen a great deal of blood before - most of which was his own).
"Finally!" Sirius groaned loudly, earning a glare from some healers. "You'd think they'd patch you up sooner, I mean really..."
James hit his best mate upside the head and turned to Harry. "Come on, kiddo," he said with a smile, "Dumbledore wants to meet us at the Three Broomsticks. I hope Butterbeer's on him." They slowly headed out of the crowded reception area.
"I think I'd rather have some firewhisky," Harry thought out loud, remembering how the heat of the drink spread from his throat throughout his body, giving him newfound strength.
"Now I'm jealous," Sirius said, crossing his arms and pouting (thus bearing a strong resemblance to a child who had been given a time-out). "They won't give me any firewhisky."
"Oh? Why not?" The time traveler asked curiously. Sirius was of age, after all. Why couldn't he drink yet?
"They have this wild idea that I would slip something stronger in it and get everybody drunk," Sirius said, rather sulkily.
"And they have very good reasons to think that, Padfoot, mate," James said, smiling wistfully as he recalled a memory in the Three Broomsticks, which involved Mrs. Norris, a plunger, two banana peels and a little bit of a Muggle drink called vodka.
Harry smirked at that, wondering what could have possibly happened. They joked and laughed all the way up the corridors to the Entrance, where they met up with Mr. Potter beside his car.
"Hullo, Harry, m'boy," James's father greeted as the boys approached. "How's the cut?"
"Much better now, thanks," Harry said, smiling at his grandfather.
"Good, good," Mr. Potter smiled back. "Can we just wait a moment? Driving this Muggle contraption can be tiring at times..."
"Oh, I can drive, if you want," Harry said, approaching the driver's side door.
"You can drive?" Sirius asked, clearly impressed (and a tad bit jealous).
"That's what I just said," Harry said, giving his godfather a sarcastic smirk.
"You twat, Padfoot," James exclaimed, rolling his eyes (but he was smiling, which kind of ruined the whole effect). Sirius hit him upside the head and enterred the car, followed by his best mate.
"Are you sure?" Mr. Potter asked, a little nervously.
"Your lack of confidence in me is insulting, gramps," Harry joked, bouncing on his heels as he said the last word.
Mr. Potter smiled and enterred the car, riding shotgun. Harry sat on the driver's seat, smiling as he felt the cool leather. The steering wheel was also bound in black leather, something Harry's car had as well.
He had learned how to drive after the war, knowing that it could come in handy... Well, no, actually he learned how to drive so that Arthur Weasley could charm his car to fly, just like the Ford Anglia (Oh, such wonderful memories). He had been given a red Porsche by an extremely wealthy witch fan.
It was not as easy to maneuver as his Porsche (which was automatic) but nevertheless, he knew how to drive a stickshift too. Soon, they were cruising along the streets, and Mr. Potter was giving him directions to the manor.
"Dad," James said, poking his father on the shoulder. "Can you teach me how to drive?"
"Ask Harry to teach you," was the reply.
"Your son teaches you how to drive," Sirius said, shaking his head. "That is so odd."
They went on like that for the whole drive, keeping the conversation casual and light. Harry almost forgot about his Voldy problem, but it lingered in the back of his mind. Whenever there was a pause in the conversation, he found himself wondering what Tom Riddle was so happy about.
"Okay, we'll have a bit of brunch first, then you boys can lounge around and then you'll head off to Hogsmeade at noon, okay?" Mr. Potter said as Harry smoothed the car into the lot.
"Food," Sirius mumbled dreamily.
The boys enterred the Potter manor and were greeted by a frantic Mrs. Potter ("Oh, Harry, dear, are you okay? Does it still hurt? Do you want anything at all? You just tell me, or the house-elves, and you'll get it straight away..."). Harry appreciated her fussing, but nevertheless mollycoddling was kind of embarrassing ("I'm fine, don't worry... No, it's healing... I don't want to be a hassle...")
They tucked in and enjoyed a meal of all their favorite food, talking lightly and joking around. Mrs. Potter told Harry the story of the Vodka incident, with the boys injecting a few of their lines ("It wasn't that bad... The plunger helped though... Oh, that bloody cat was asking for it anyway!")
And then the doorbell rang, and something happened that was probably not supposed to.
A little house elf (It was Lua, she had a moon clip on her toga-towel-thing. Geo has a flower clip, and Soli has a sun clip) skipped past them and opened the door, greeting, "Oh, hello, masters Moony! Please, do coming in."
Harry's heart skipped a beat when he heard it. Moony. Remus Lupin. He had died in the final battle, leaving little Teddy in his hands, leaving sadness in his wake. And he was here.
Sandy hair? Check. Golden-caramel eyes? Check. Werewolf scars? Check, but not as many. The main difference was that this Remus was smiling, a true happy smile, and he didn't look stressed.
"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Potter," he greeted respectfully. Then he turned to the boys. "Hey, Prongs, Padfoot, Prongs again... wait. What?" He gave Harry a quizzical look as James and Sirius chuckled.
"Er, Moony, this is my cousin Harry," James said, rather lamely. Remus scrutinized Harry and decided that it was okay to drop the matter for now.
"Hullo, Harry," he said, then turned back to the parents. "I was just dropping in, can I stay before term starts?"
"Of course, Remus," Mrs. Potter said, smiling warmly.
He dropped down on the seat next to Sirius and said, "Thank you. By the way, guys, I brought some treacle tart." He held out a package.
The effect was instantaneous.
"TREACLE!" James.
"TAART!" Harry.
"Miiiiiiine!" Sirius.
Three hands lunged out for the package in Remus's hand at once. Remus, clearly surprised, widened his eyes and attempted to shield his face from impact, thus letting go of the package.
The package flew. Sirius reached for it. James scrambled over him and tried to catch it. Harry leaped over them and caught it in his hands, showing off his Seeker skills. He raised the can triumphantly, which of course left it vulnerable.
James and Sirius reached out at him from left and right. Harry raised it high above their heads, and they all fell down into a massive heap on the floor. Harry was buried under the other two, but he was still holding the can up. Sirius's fingers were millimeters away when...
"Accio Treacle Tart!"
The can flew into Mrs. Potter's hands, and she stowed it away in a magically password-locked cupboard.
"MUM!" James groaned as Sirius stood up from over him. He got to his feet as well and helped Harry up (the poor bloke had been squashed twice that day). "We wanted that!"
"Obviously," she said and rolled her eyes. Behind her, Mr. Potter was chuckling and Remus was trying hard to steady his breathing from the laughter. "I'm keeping it for now, somebody could get hurt."
Sirius was looking longingly at the closed cupboard. James was stretching his arm, which Sirius had seriously damaged (A/N: No pun intended). Harry was trying to catch the breath that had been knocked out of him - yet again.
Remus's eyes were still shining in mirth as he said, "So, er, Harry," he said, smiling widely. "You're a fan of treacle tart, too, huh?"
Harry simply breathed, "Huuhhhhh suuuuhhhhh yuuuhhhhhh." He was doubled over, clutching his chest.
Mr. and Mrs. Potter shook their heads knowingly and exited the dining room, leaving the boys. Sirius attempted to open the cupboard with Alohomora, but it didn't do anything.
"I really wanted that," James mumbled sulkily.
"Me too," Harry mimed his father.
"Yeah, I could tell," Remus chortled. "So, Harry, I'm Remus Lupin - a friend of James and Sirius from Hogwarts. Are you going to go to Hogwarts as well?"
"Er, well, I'm not sure," Harry murmured truthfully. "But I came from overseas, I used to study in a place called... er, Harrington Academy of Magic."
Remus nodded, but had this glint in his eyes that told Harry he would probably look that up. The time traveler hoped against hope that Harrington was a real magical school somewhere in the world.
"So, Moony," Sirius said. He seemed to change his sulky mood remarkably. "Watcha?"
"Well, guys," Remus said grimly. He, too, had changed his mood. "There's a rumor about You-Know-Who flying around.
Harry's heart stopped for a fraction of a second, and when it restarted it was twice as fast. Was this possibly the reason Voldemort was so happy?