Things slowly settled into a routine— a routine that was much easier to get into than adjusting to being called "Scott." I still hadn't given up on trying to flirt with Rosmerta, though the more I did it, the more she knew what I would drag out, and I think she may have been starting to get just slightly exasperated with me.

Work, too, settled into a pretty basic routine. David was not an easily excited men, to say the least, and in a joke shop, the potential of things to explode was great. Nevertheless, Zonko's existed almost solely for the Hogwarts crowds, things got fairly quiet. Like the weasley twins had been doing before I got pushed through the veil, I started playing with various things to see what kinds of effects I could get. In a couple of weeks the biggest effect I got was waking David up while he was dozing, which he got increasingly upset about. The idea that night existed for sleepign rather than day fell on deaf ears.

Once I was comfortable enough with the ruse to be able to write my name without having to cross my real one out or think about it, I started getting the Prophet delivered, so I could keep up with what I did remember about the world at large when I was sixteen, even if what I generally nicked the paper from Remus for had been Quidditch scores. The articles with Voldemort's name in them were sparse, few, and pretty far between. They still used his name, and the reign of terror had almost a year before it started to get bad— another few before the final straw of his had finally been pulled and he brought out the big guns. It was about two before the first Order of the Phoenix, too.

Life started to become uneventful, which after the past three years was almost a welcome change.

"Still at those experiments?" David asked one morning. He looked as if he'd barely bothered to change clothes after crawling out of bed, brown hair tousled.

"There a cyclone outside I missed?" I asked him absently. "We both know that eventually I'm going to come up with something halfway useful."

"Useful? Saleable, maybe, but I doubt you're capable of coming up with anything that's actually useful, Barker," he answered, pulling out the accounting. I'd told him point blank the only time he'd suggested I help that I was awful with numbers— failed my Arithmancy OWL, actually. Andromeda had claimed from time to time that my inability to do math may have had something to do with how often I got outnumbered in a fight.

"I could be useful if I wanted to be useful."

David snorted. "Scott Barker, you would scare me if you behaved usefully," he told me.

"Well," I answered, rummaging around in a drawer for something to poke the gelatin-like substance I'd come up with (I wasn't stupid enough to touch it with my finger or wand), "I know what to do for Halloween, then."

"Be helpful? It'd be nice if you scared me like that more than once a year."

I found a quill and poked the gelatin— which promptly exploded. "Not quite the effect I might like," I mumbled, trying to brush it off my face.

David, now properly awake, was staring wide-eyed at me. "I should think not. Did you fail your potions OWL, too, or something?" he added.

"Actually I did pretty well on my Potions NEWTs— I am experimenting," I told him, glancing over at him— he'd returned to the account books with a will. "Note to self— do not mix those three ever again, unless you're looking for an exploding device."

David grumbled something and shook his head.

I frankly had no definite aim in mind, and I got no nearer to finding something I could use to do something with that day than I had any other. After I'd wandered back into the Three Broomsticks around dark, Rosmerta looked up. "There's an owl in your room, you might like to know," she announced.

"What would an owl be doing in my room?" I asked her, puzzled.

"Delivering a letter, probably," she answered. "I did warn her about you, by the way, but she didn't move. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't say another word to me."

"I am still not in shape," I announced.

She scowled a little at me and waved me up. "Go read your mail," she suggested.

I grinned like a maniac at her and took the suggestion. Sitting on the back of one of the chairs was a reddish-brownish barn owl with a cream face— Lily's owl. What was Morganna doing here?

Morganna wasn't sharp with me at least, ruffling her feathers slightly as I tried to get Lily's letter off, at least to check the addressee and make sure she hadn't been headed elsewhere, though I doubted it. Sure enough it was addressed to Scott Barker at the three broomsticks.

"Well, that's certainly interesting," I told the owl, who simply cocked her head at me.

Sitting down in the remaining chair, I slit the seal, wondering what, exactly, Lily had written to me for.

"Dear Scott,

I've honestly given up on asking my friends about men, and my mother refuses to explain, but you seemed ready enough. Besides, I saw you having a conversation with him— if you haven't guessed already, I'm asking for help with James Potter. I CAN'T GET HIM TO LEAVE ME ALONE!! I haven't for three years, but if you have any ideas on getting the point that I'm not interested across, I appreciate them.

Oh, and by the way, since you did seem to know them, too, Sirius Black managed to send him an Peter Pettigrew out of a second story window yesterday night. Idiot. Peter broke his leg in two places— Madame Pomfrey was fussing over Black and muttering about graceless imbeciles for a couple of hours, but he seems to be okay."

I had to put the letter down for a moment to laugh— I remembered that incident, and Madame Pomfrey had indeed been livid, muttering various things about killing me instead of mending me. It had taken her forever, too— I'd been stuck with two cracked ribs and a concussion to add complications to what she could heal in an instant. It also explained why I'd woken up in pain yesterday night— apparently I had some kind of a connection to the younger me, though quite what it was or how far it went I'd yet to figure out.

"Anyway, thanks.

— Lily"

"But answering your question takes all the fun out of watching you two stumble around figuring it out on your own," I mock complained at a whisper. As if Morganna knew my reply might irritate her human, she hooted at me indignantly, though it may have been that she'd put her wing over her head before I'd started laughing.

I found a quill, ink, and a scrap piece of parchment to reply to her on, knowing full well she'd find me infuriating.

"Lily—

I believe we've stumbled upon the thing that's going to annoy you about me most. I've been enjoying watching the two of you try to figure it all out, you see— and if you've been trying to tell James that for over a year, the only actual way to stop him would be to find a date that isn't him. (I'm not going to blame you if you ball this up and throw it across the room for that.)

Sadly, us guys stick together. (Now I KNOW you're going to throw it across the room.)

Yeah, I'll talk to you later, alright? And avoid the subject of men entirely. . . .

—Sirius"

I rolled the letter up, sealed it, and wrapped it around Morganna's leg. She glowered at me for a few moments, then swooped out the window. I sat watching her ans laughing. Lily had a friend in me, definitely, but I'm just not the person to ask concerning dating.

Author's Note: I've done my best to explain a couple of things, but I need that element of mystery. . . . Dadaiiro— I did give you the explanation you wanted, right? Yeah, um. . . . I had the last week of marching band, on top of writers block. . . . and then when I finally update, it's a slow chapter. Ah, well, I hope you're still reading? All CC, of course, is still appreciated, and I need to thank all my reviewers so far! Cheers! — Loki