Chapter 2: Societies and the Essence of Lemon

"Are you going to finally tell me why a giant koala plushie jumped me the moment I entered the Police Box?"

"TARDIS, Harry—Time And Relative Dimension In Space—not 'Police Box', and I told you. I had propped it up against the entryway because that was the only free space on the whole main deck of the thing, and it must have slipped is all," huffed Daphne from where she was crouching beside him.

Harry prodded the slight bruise on his head where the monster had hit him as he looked towards his redheaded partner dubiously. "So...the koala wasn't sentient like...Handsy the octo-bag back in your office?"

"Of course not! They're two entirely different things, obviously," said Daphne, as she peeked over the low cobblestone wall they were hiding behind. "Alright, come on. The coast is clear."

Harry didn't think it was obvious at all but he ducked out from behind the wall where the TARDIS had landed and followed Daphne without saying anything. The two dashed across the courtyard and into one of the rooms lining the hallway around it before the wizard, the gamekeeper, by the look of his attire, could circle back to the courtyard and see them.

The room they had entered appeared to be an equipment storage chamber of some sort—cauldrons were stacked in a corner, with brass telescopes lying piled in a pyramid shape along the far wall. Obviously hasn't been used in a while, thought Harry as he brushed away webbing that had gotten caught in his hair.

Daphne shrieked, and Harry whirled about, drawing his wand even though she had warned him against using magic while travelling.

"There's webs in my hair! Spiders!" Daphne appeared to be on the verge of passing out, so Harry decided to help her out. He grabbed her shoulders and Daphne stilled, looking up at him. He carefully used one hand to thread out the bit of webbing that was entangled in her hair.

"There. All clear," he said, smirking as Daphne mumbled what could charitably be called a 'thank you.' "Are you really that scared of spiders?"

"If they're on me, then yes, like any sane person I should think," groused Daphne, straightening out her clothes.

Harry leaned against the wall beside the door, taking a slight breather. "So...here we are. Hogwarts, sometime during Easter break, circa 1892. Now what?"

Daphne looked up, adjusting her glasses. "All I know is that the disturbance is in Hogwarts, and around this time. We'll just have to proceed the old-fashioned way."

"...fine."

Daphne began dragging him to the doorway. "Wait," he said, digging into the floor with his heels, causing Daphne to turn around with her hands on her waist, "probably should have asked this back in the magic box—"

"TARDIS."

"—but won't our clothing be anachronistic? Considering this is over 100 years in the past…"

Daphne shrugged. "Wizarding fashion has remained largely static in the past few centuries, we'll be just fine; robes are robes, you know?"

The two walked out into the corridor and turned right.

"That's actually one of the reasons why," she continued, "Astoria and Chang are so excited about their clothes business. It's already been picked up by —"

"Why, hello there, Sir, Ma'am," said a voice from behind.

The two turned around, coming face to face with a smiling blonde girl in Hogwarts robes.

"I assume you are here for the party the headmaster is throwing?"

Harry looked at Daphne in panic. Oddly enough, she had schooled her face into what he liked to call the Narcissa Malfoy expression — eyes disdainful, and mouth turned ever so downwards at the corners.

"Indeed," she said, looking at the girl, who appeared to be a student in Hufflepuff going by the trim on her robes, though there was only the Hogwarts emblem in place of the house insignia, "we should like to be shown the way towards the ballroom or chamber where the fest is taking place." The girl bowed and turned around, gesturing for them to follow her.

Daphne grabbed his arm and pulled him close, whispering in his ear, "Did that sound sufficiently pureblood-ey to you?"

"I... yes? But what —"

"Play along. They likely think we're also guests heading to… whatever this is."

"I don't know how to act like a 19th century Pureblood!"

"Leave it to me."

Their student guide led them through the winding hallways of Hogwarts. It wasn't any section he could recognise, but then, the building shifted every now and then, until they finally stopped in a foyer on the second floor.

"Well," said the Hufflepuff, gesturing towards an archway covered in a purple curtain, "the venue of the ball is right through there. Now, if you'll excuse me…" She bowed and set off towards where they had come from.

Daphne took a deep breath. "Alright, Daphne. Time to act like mum's tea party companions. You can do this."

She looked up at Harry. "You let me do the introductions, alright? I have a plan."

Harry shrugged. "Sure. We should also try and find out if anything… odd, as you put it, has been happening here lately, right?"

Daphne nodded, looped his arm through hers, and walked through the curtain.

"Why does my fake name have to be Hadrian Radcliffe?" whispered Harry as Daphne fanned herself with an oversized fan, trying to be aloof in a corner while they scanned for likely people to probe for information.

"Not quite sure, really. The name just vibes with me, I suppose."

A young man in his twenties, dressed in a red coat-robe, approached the duo, Charles Montague, as per Lady Hemsworth's introductions.

"Lady Duncan!" he said, greeting Daphne as took her stiffly proffered hand and lightly brushed her knuckles with his lips. "Your beauty is truly out — er heh…"

His rehearsed pick up speech petered out as Daphne produced a handkerchief from her robes and wiped her knuckles with it, pointedly looking at Montague.

"Well, I, er... I shall leave you be, then!" he said, looking at the floor, glancing up at Harry for a moment, before moving to leave. "Sir."

"Now, Mister Radcliffe, hold out your daddles, won't you?"

"My what?"

"Your fists, my dear boy," said Lady Hemsworth, laughing as she turned to Daphne. "He really is quite a sweet thing isn't he?"

"He is. Very Sweet. Indeed," stammered Daphne, as she awkwardly reached out and patted his cheek.

What on earth?

"...anything new in Hogwarts this year, Professor Binns?"

"Eh?" said the evidently not-yet-dead Professor of Magical History, holding up his ear horn.

"I asked," said Harry, speaking into the hearing implement, "if there are any interesting developments here in the past month or so — I do try to keep with ongoing events at Hogwarts even if I was schooled at the Underloch Academy. The castle is the academic centre of Britain, after all, regardless of what the pretenders at Borkswig would have us believe."

The old wizard narrowed his eyes as he thought, — wait, was that weird Charles fellow trying to talk to Daphne again?

"Well, no," said Professor Binns as one of Montague's acquaintances grabbed him, leaving Daphne to stomp away in relief, "it's been a sleepy term this time round, with the exception of the older Dumbledore brat and his tomfoolery in the dungeons… the clocks and tempus charms have been all over the place lately. I tell you, the Department is going to get involved if he continues doing whatever he's doing, and that'll be good for no one. That Dumbledore! An absolute podsnapper. I keep telling Hoid to keep a leash on the boy, but who listens to Binns... on my deathbed, they say…"

Well, if that isn't a sign of something that needs fixing, — wait, whose tomfoolery?

Harry lounged about near the door as he waited for Daphne to come back from the confectionery table.

So a teenage Albus Dumbledore has special permission to carry out certain experiments in the dungeons over the break, does he? Honestly, I should have thought of that earlier, Professor Dumbledore would be of Hogwarts age in 1892.

He watched in amusement as Daphne sneakily took a bite from every dessert dish on the table. She looked up and eyed him, shaking her head in displeasure; the foodstuff obviously did not receive the Daphne mark of approval. She paused, glaring at the crowd at the centre of the room before looking back at the table, picking up a pastry and starting to make her way back.

Even if Professor Dumbledore's experiments aren't behind the disturbance, I'm sure he'll be able to help us find the true source—

Daphne smushed the pastry into the back of the redcoat who had tried to talk to her earlier and skipped into the crowd as Montague turned around and started hyperventilating about his expensive coat. Harry watched, amused, as Daphne appeared on the other side of the crowd, nobody the wiser as to what had happened, and made her way to him, a distinctly evil grin on her face.

"You still haven't grown out of that, huh?" Harry said, remembering a particular incident involving Seamus Finnegan, Mrs Norris and cat food.

Daphne hummed happily as she swiped up a stack of macarons from a passing tray. "He was very annoying."

"Ah! Lady Duncan! And your rather dashing looking companion, Mr Radcliffe," said the jovial man with a walrus moustache, sipping from a glass of a vividly green drink. "Our surprise guests for the evening. Well, as I always say, it's always good to see new people joining the Society..."

The gathering was evidently organised by some sort of Society with a capital 's'...

Daphne smiled. "A pleasure to meet you, Lord Bones. And well, do excuse Hadrian's lack of manners—he's a bit of a country bumpkin, you know," she said in a conspiratorial whisper. Bones laughed as Harry's eye twitched (whichever muscle was behind eye twitches must be getting a boatload of exercise that day).

"Ah! A sense of humour; you could make a stuffed bird laugh, or rather you have already, if one recollects how the good Madam Capenoir was doubling up over there. Anyhow, jolly good of Ol' Headmaster Hoid to let us use Hogwarts for our Society's monthly get together, eh? Jolly good fellow he is, pity he couldn' make it to the party."

"Very true, good sir," said Daphne. "I greatly admire Headmaster Hoid's writings on the possibilities of interplanetary travel."

"Indeed, indeed," said Bones, turning to Harry. "And as for you young man! Now, do tell,what is the situation like in the hinterlands? I have been trying to get this bill passed in the Gamot for months now, so it would be right dandy to get the rural borough representatives onboard."

"It was an absolute pleasure having you with us today, Lady Duncan, Mister Radcliffe!" gushed Lady Hemsworth. "You must attend the gathering at our usual location in Cardiff next month — we'll get you properly initiated into the Society there since we didn't have the proper tools here."

With that, she ushered them towards the exit leading towards the Portkey point.

The dungeons were in the opposite direction.

Bloody hell.

"I'm so sorry! That must have been awkward for you," Daphne said, looking up at him with wide eyes, "Me clinging on to you, while you and Ginny—"

Harry squeezed her shoulder. "Oh that's… okay. We aren't…"

"Oh," said Daphne, stilling. "You and Ginny aren't… together?"

"Nope. Been a few months."

"Oh," whispered Daphne, refusing to meet his eyes.

"But, still, introducing me as your — merlin — childhood friend from the impoverished countryside with whom you've fallen hopelessly in love with?" asked Harry, trying to hold back his laughter, as he leaned back against the cool stone of the tunnel.

"I — yes, well, you don't know Pureblood Etiquette, much less Victorian Pureblood etiquette, obviously, so you needed some sort of reason for being here and behaving like you were, didn't you?" Daphne hissed, glaring up at him as she brought up her hands to play with his collar.

"Alright, alright, fair enough. Though, gotta say that was some highly impressive acting out there."

Daphne giggled. "Yeah. Tracey and I used to act out our own self written tragic romances — oddly enough, playing the icy privileged pureblood princess was what I most excelled at…"

"Ah yes," said Harry in an imperious voice. "The Ice Queen of Slytherin, eh? You have to admit, the Badgers are great at making monikers—"

"Shut up, you. I swear if I ever get my hands on Ernie Macmillan… anyway. It was pretty fun, playing Lords and Ladies in a mock-Wizengamot with an overly simplified faction system, I suppose…"

"Oh, I've heard about that game from Millicent Bulstrode — she's my liaison with the Aurors whenever the DMLE calls me in for consulting on a case. 'The Light, The Dark and The Grey' is the name of that game, right?"

"Mmhmm. A ridiculous number of people thought that was how actual Wizarding politics worked…" she mumbled, glancing down the tunnel towards the ballroom

Harry snorted as a strand of Daphne's hair tickled his nose.

"Are we waiting for some—"

Her eyes widened as she muffled his mouth with her hand, pressing up against him as a group of very inebriated-sounding wizards walked by the alcove they were hiding in.

"—fngh?"

"Well, looks like that's the last of the party-goers leaving the room…" she whispered, her breath warm on his neck as she lowered her hand from his mouth. "We should double-back through there towards the dungeons now, before the elves come by to clean the place."

She made no effort to actually move.

"Daphne?"

"Mhm?"

"I'm not complaining, but," said Harry, laughing nervously as he felt the blood creep to his face. "I — oh, wow, um it's really… compact in here, eh?"

"What?" Daphne asked, swinging her head up to look at him, knocking into his chin in the process.

"Ow!" said the two, Daphne jumping back into the hallway, nursing her head.

She looked sheepishly up at Harry, a tentative smile forming on her face. "Heh, sorry about that. You were saying…?"

"Nothing!" blurted Harry, taking a moment to dab at the perspiration on his throat. "Um, the dungeons, yes?"

"Yep! Follow me!" she chirped as she ran down the hall, shoes tapping against the stone. Harry adjusted his robes and followed.

"So, you have a sword or something? A hammer of doom? A charm-breaking lock-pick?"

"No?"

Daphne sighed as they looked at the solid stone wall separating them from their quarry. A sign above read: Albus Dumbledore's Private Lair. Beware ye!

"Don't you have that all-purpose screwdriver or whatever of yours?" asked Harry.

Daphne shrugged. "Doesn't work on wood or stone."

They spent a few moments observing the wall.

"Well, there's always fiendfyre..."

"Whoa! Merlin, Harry. Easy there," said Daphne, grabbing his hand and glaring up at him.

"Fine… perhaps there's just a password?"

Daphne looked at him. "Well, I — yes, there could be a simple password mechanism…"

"... acidnut icepops?"

The wall rumbled and slid to the side. Harry shrugged.

"Binns told me Professor Dumbledore raided the kitchens for this particular sweet…"

"Like me!" said Daphne, grinning up at him.

"... exactly like you."

They walked through the opening, wands drawn, and stopped short as light from a slit in the wall revealed a study desk in the centre of the room.

There was an Apple Macintosh on the table.

In 1892.

"Harry, what exactly is a muggle computer from the 1980s doing in 1892?"

"Er, Daphne? How do you know what a computer is? I mean, I don't want to assume anything, but you're a pureblood..."

"Indeed, Harry. I'm also a time traveller and dimension jumper, hmm?"

"... right, that makes sense. I should have known that."

Daphne laughed as she walked around the table. "It's alright. Anyway, I know what these are because Justin had one at his place in 5th year, not because of time travel—so far I've only been allotted excursions taking place in the past." She shrugged, poking the flickering screen of the Macintosh with her odd screwdriver. "And none of them were set in the muggle world or dealt with muggle artefacts."

Harry hummed as he scanned the chamber—hadn't this been the potions store in his time?—looking for clues, one hand clutching his wand inside his robes. How was the thing even working inside Hogwarts, and where was it drawing power from?

"Your parents let you go to your muggleborn boyfriend's house?" he asked.

"They didn't know; Millie covered for me by saying I was at her house for bird-flute lessons, but well… for all their faults, you know my parents weren't blood purists. So it wouldn't have been too bad either way," she said, now pointing her weird screwdriver at the computer. "Say, any news from Justin in recent days? Haven't really talked much with him in a while."

Harry shrugged. "Not really. Last I heard he was playing football for some club in Germany."

"Mm. Well," she sighed, from where she was crouching behind the computer, "shutting down the beacon shouldn't be too hard, and then… then I suppose you do something to make sure that this doesn't happen again."

Harry chuckled as waited for *something* to come along and make life difficult for them. It couldn't be this easy, could it?

"Oh, also, remember how I said I could only travel into the past?" continued Daphne, perking up, "Well, after this mission I'll be eligible for trips to the future! Provided we don't mess this up, that is."

"Well, let's not mess it up then. I wonder if all the science fiction predictions about space colonies come true, would love to see all that… "

Daphne didn't say anything so he looked towards her. She was looking at him over the back of the computer, mouth slightly ajar, eyes seeming impossibly large in the particular angle through the lens of her glasses.

"Daphne?"

"You would want to continue travelling with me?" she said in a small voice.

"Well, it seems much more interesting than holding seminars and consulting around the world, and well, the company doesn't hurt either."

Daphne squatted down behind the computer table.

"Unless, of course, your… organisation has restrictions on repeat travellers like me," he said, carefully.

"No!" said Daphne, peeking around the side of the table. "Not at all, it actually makes life easier for me since I don't have to go searching for a new 'Touched by Fate' person every time. It's just … all my previous companions thought I had an unhealthy obsession with Ice Cream. And koalas. And I was too chirpy. And —"

"Daphne," said Harry as he walked behind the computer table, and offered his hand to the blushing girl. She pulled herself up and latched onto Harry, arms circling around his back, and Harry, after a moment's hesitation, rested his chin on her head and reciprocated with his arms.

"I love those things about you. Okay? And I'd absolutely love travelling with you whenever you need to go somewhere."

Daphne hummed affirmatively against his chest.

This is nice.

"Once we're back in our time," she mumbled, her voice muffled by Harry's shirt, "do you want to go to the Mont St Michel Ice Cream fair sometime? It's the largest in the world."

Harry laughed. "I'd love to!"

They stood like that for a few moments.

"Daphne? This feels great," he whispered, and Daphne hummed in agreement, "but the frame of your glasses are really digging into my sternum."

"Yes, true," Daphne said, jumping back from him and clearing her throat.

"So... the computer."

"Ah, yes," said Daphne, staring at the beige coloured box intently. "I… am not sure, exactly, how this ended up in this time. It was definitely not Headmaster Dumbledore's work — a wizard can't have done this. This seems like something I'll need to pass on to the higher ups at CR…"

"Okay… so is the computer causing the rip in space-time or—"

"Oh that's simple enough to solve, the rip that is. It's the fact that a working muggle device from the next century has been kept working using bastardised magic that is causing the rip and disturbance. That is probably the future Headmaster's work — pretty impressive for a 13 year old, really. We should be able to solve this if we just break the comp —"

Something thumped to the ground behind them, and they swivelled about to come face-to-face with a grinning, pimpled teenage boy who was wearing mink earmuffs for some reason.

"Hello there!" he shouted, waving his arms.

"Ouch!" cried Daphne, clutching at her ears, and Harry winced.

"Sorry, sorry," mumbled the newcomer as he took off his earmuffs. "I was sleeping up there" — he pointed upwards to a dark shaft cut into the ceiling that Harry hadn't noticed in the shadows — "with these newfangled things on, so I didn't hear you come in…"

Harry quirked an eyebrow. Was this secretly one of Snape's ancestors? Hiding in a dark shaft and jumping down to surprise decent people seemed like something he would do. But no, the hair wouldn't fit.

"Who are you anyway?" the boy asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Yes," said Daphne, still frowning and tapping her ear — the boy had been rather loud.

"We were, er… we were sent by Headmaster… Hoid. To check up on" — Harry waved at the computer — "the experiments being carried out by one Albus Dumbledore."

"Oh? Well… aha! Appreciate my genius!" said the auburn-haired boy, holding his arms out and looking upwards like that statue in Rio de Janeiro.

"You're… Prof—Albus Dumbledore?" asked Harry dubiously.

"The one and only…" whispered the boy, conjuring a top hat and placing it on his head, "Albus! Brian! Percival! Wulfric! Dumble—whoa!"

He accentuated every name with what appeared to be some sort of breakdance pose, losing his balance on the 5th one and tumbling to the floor.

"Wow," remarked Daphne. Harry concurred.

"Wait!" exclaimed Dumbledore from the floor, holding up a finger while the other hand removed the hat from his face. "I got the order wrong, again. It's Wulfric before Percival, and Brian after… oh buggering hippogriffs."

"Wow," repeated Daphne as she gazed upon the teenaged Fury of Nurmengard and the One Voldemort Feared.

Deciding not to comment on his future headmaster's vocabulary, Harry soldiered on. "How did you manage to forget... the order of your name?"

"Oh," Dumbledore grunted, getting to his feet, "my name's just Albus Dumbledore. My… sister suggested that I should have a more awe-inspiring name, so I added stuff… Albus! Wulfri—"

"Stop! Please," groaned Harry, holding up his hand. Dumbledore shrugged.

"Never meet your heroes, they said..." mumbled Daphne.

"Nobody appreciates my moves or attire right now, but I tell you! Give it a few decades and Dumblestyle will be all anyone, noble or commoner, will be harking on about!"

"Dumblestyle. Yes," said Harry, trying to keep a poker face. Daphne moved around Dumbledore lightly, heading towards the computer.

"Also," exclaimed Dumbledore, pointing a finger at Harry while rooting around in the back pocket of his trousers, "let's not forget Dumbletaste!"

He held up a yellow orb as Daphne started clattering on the Mac's keyboard behind Dumbledore's back. Harry peered at the orb; was that a —

"Candy Balls with the Essence of Lemon!"

"That's… quite a mouthful, isn't it?"

"Oh, it's not that big," said Dumbledore, popping the candy into his mouth. "Shee?"

"No, the name, not the sweet… I…" said Harry, as Dumbledore leapt for a box on a side table, opened it and stuffed his mouth with a handful of the same candy. He looked at Harry as if just remembering he had company.

"Duh hame?"

Harry laughed awkwardly as Daphne held up a finger from where she was working on the computer. "Er, yeah? Perhaps something like Lemon Drops would work better… are you okay?"

"Yesh! Yesh! Hemon Hops!"

Daphne got up from the computer, taking care to not look at Dumbledore — was he having some sort of magically enhanced fit?

"The computer's sorted, it shouldn't give us any more trouble. As for the esteemed Headmaster, however…"

"Wait!" — he had evidently finished his mouthful of candy in record time — "I have more moves!"

He bounced to the centre of the room and Harry and Daphne backed to the door leading out.

"Every day I'm dumblin'," shouted Dumbledore, moving his appendages in a haphazard manner. Their job done, Harry and Daphne made a hasty retreat, leaving teenage Dumbledore to figure his life out.

The sky was a kaleidoscope of colours, ever-shifting, as the sun sank down over the Black Lake. The view from the Astronomy Tower had always been grand — remarkably little had changed in Hogwarts during the 100 years between then and the present — and Daphne had brought him up here, calling the Tardis up using that awfully suspicious magic-but-not-exactly screwdriver of hers.

Daphne sighed softly as she thumped her head sideways, resting it on his arm, her hands folded in her lap. Harry stiffened for the briefest moment, and then relaxed, looking down at the top of her head. Snaking an arm around her shoulder, he pulled her closer to him as night fell on the Scottish highlands.

"Been a while, hasn't it?" he murmured.

"Yeah."

Daphne swung her legs out in front of her, over the sheer drop from the Tower. Barefoot, sandals lost while fleeing Dumbledore. A herd of thestrals flew in the distance, towards the disappearing glow on the western horizon. Harry wondered if Daphne could see the skeletal horses.

"You never really told me why you pulled the disappearing act after Hogwarts. And well, Astoria and Tracey never seemed to know where you were when I asked about you, and I didn't know anybody else I could ask—"

Daphne took a hold of his hand, gently squeezing it.

"That's, well, I suppose I asked them to play dumb…" she whispered, as a playful fairy flitted past on the wind, blue-white ribbons of light floating behind her (odd, Harry had never seen one up this high on a Hogwarts tower).

"Why'd you do that?" asked Harry.

"I didn't want to distract you!" she said in a rush, hiding her face in his arm as Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Daphne—"

"Shut up. Wait. Listen. I wanted to approach you, talk to you but… you just had so much going on! Not to say it wasn't so in Hogwarts but… here you had a reason. You were relaxing, I was getting away from Slytherin stuff and out there… well, you were off travelling and giving speeches and consulting with law enforcement and rounding up the remaining idiots and of course Ginny…" she said, rubbing her eyes. "And no! I think she's a great person, they all are, your friends, but… and of course I had my travelling, though that was largely an excuse for myself considering it's literal time travel, just… I didn't think you'd want to hang out with me," she finished in a small voice.

"That's not — wha…"

"I know. I know. I was dense. And I'm not making much sense right now, but I will. At some point. Probably."

"Daphne. I loved spending time with you here on this very tower, and sneaking out to Honeydukes. Talking about anything and everything, however inane. Why'd I want to stop that just because school got over and everyone and their mother started badgering me to grant their newborn my blessing? Seriously, some people..."

Daphne sniffed.

"Yes. Enough with all… this, for now, topic change," — Harry stifled a smile, vowing to bring this up some time when she was less volatile since he couldn't very well let it fester; Daphne had never been good with serious and sad atmospheres — "You remember when we burst in upon Terry making out with Susan here that time in 6th year?" Daphne questioned.

"Don't remind me," Harry half-groaned, half-laughed. "I was so embarrassed I ended up instinctively handing them the Ice Cream you had painstakingly liberated from the kitchens."

Harry could feel her smile as she burrowed her face into his arm.

"Oh, and that time Luna tailed you to the Shrieking Shack, and you were mortified that she was going to tattle-tale? But she only wanted to exchange some of her strawberry pudding for the gelato Theo's mum had sent to you."

"It was a fair trade, to be honest. That was some very good pudding," Daphne said, giggling as she peered up at him with those beautiful eyes of hers.

Behind the two, the TARDIS chimed in an approximation of a giggle.

The two started, and Daphne sat up straight.

"We should really head back, less time we spend out of sync the—"

She glanced at him and turned red as a hair. The next thing he knew, she had got up from their perch and dashed inside the TARDIS.

Harry smiled.

Albus Dumbledore leaned back in his chair as he regarded the contraption — those two odd visitors had called it a 'computer' — on his desk dejectedly.

"All this does is show a black screen with a crudely drawn frowning face. Interesting but…" he sighed as he got up and started pacing. His eye fell on a letter that had arrived the week before.

Well, it's not like I have anything else to do, he thought as he picked up his travelling cloak and waved to his sister who was sitting blank-eyed in the corner of the room. Might as well go and see what that odd German fellow wanted to talk about.

AN: The first chapter of Laurus Nobilis, the standalone prequel of sorts to Cosmic Responsibility set during the Hogwarts years, has been published! Have a look if you haven't already.

Do let me know your thoughts and comments! Many thanks to Webstriker for his invaluable help while editing this story.