Disclaimer- The one from the first couple chapters still holds true.

Author Notes- Sorry about the delay in update… I wanted to get a new chapter up a couple weeks ago, but classes attacked, along with a small case of writer's block.

The idea for Jazz-fiend Remus comes directly from the Shoebox Project (go check it out on Livejournal if you haven't read it yet). I think any Bebop fans should be very amused by this chapter, with the characters that M,P&P are channeling.

Chapter 3: What Planet Is This?

Shortly after leaving the Common Room, Harry made his way to the Room of Requirement, where he could write his letter in peace—and without a fuming Ron to distract him.

Harry couldn't help but laugh at his best friend's behavior; it was about time Ron did something about his feelings towards Hermione. Unbeknownst to the youngest male Weasley, there was actually a sizable betting pool, consisting of almost the entirety of Gryffindor, which was based around when the pair would finally size up to the truth. Harry hadn't placed a bet—both because he didn't need the money, and he didn't want to deal with the repercussions when they found out about it. However, just watching Ron and Hermione dance circles around each other was enough to provide a good deal of entertainment.

Soon, Harry reached the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, and proceeded to walk back forth three times, thinking of a room where he could relax and write his letter to Remus. The door appeared, and he went into the room and sank down into a squishy armchair (remarkably similar to his favorite in the Gryffindor Common Room).

He took out a sheet of parchment, a quill, and some ink, and set to work writing the note. It took some thinking to word things right; he didn't want to run the risk of revealing sensitive information if Hedwig was intercepted. Unfortunately, this made it very difficult to actually relate what happened in the occlumency lesson. In the end, he had to settle for being extremely vague and asking Remus to come speak with him in person.

When he was finally finished, he saw that it was too late to send Hedwig out with the letter. He'd have to send it before classes the next morning. Harry gathered up his letter, quill, and ink before making his way back to the Tower.


The next day, Remus was sitting in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place, in the midst of a discussion with Nymphadora Tonks.

"… a prophecy?" the metamorphmagus asked skeptically.

"So Charlie says, 'only hands can wash hands. If you want to receive, you have to give.' Something like thatI wish I could remember the exact wording." Remus trailed off, a pensive look on his face, but then resumed speaking. "Anyway, I think Charlie's telling us to just do it. What do you make of it?"

"Somehow, I don't think Charlie Parker'd be quoting Goethe," she said, smiling bemusedly.

Remus sighed. "I know it sounds ridiculous, I feel embarrassed simply speaking about it, but I still believe the idea has merit."

Tonks laughed. "Remus, I'm all for the idea of inducting Harry into the Order early—it only makes sense, doesn't it, with everything that seems to happen to him?

No, I'm just concerned over your obsession with jazz music—to the point of speaking to Charlie Parker in your dreams!" she said teasingly.

Remus smiled sheepishly. "I've always been a fan of jazz. Sirius and James used to love taking the mickey out of me for it."

Tonks said nothing in response as the werewolf's eyes briefly clouded over at the thought of Sirius. His eyes cleared quickly, but neither of two said anything. Before they could descend into awkward silence, Hedwig arrived.

The owl settled herself smoothly on the arm of Remus' chair and held out her leg, waiting for him to remove the parchment.

"That's Harry's owl, right?"

Remus nodded in the affirmative as he opened the note. He smiled as he read it over, but his brow furrowed in confusion as he neared the end.

"That's odd…"

"What is it?" asked Tonks.

"Read it for yourself," he said, handing her the note.

She glanced at him and then curiously turned her attention to the parchment.

Remus,

How are you? I hope everything is going well in London, and everyone is well.

It has actually been pretty quiet here—relatively speaking, I mean. The D.A. is going well, and we won our first Quidditch match of the year: 220 to 70 in the match against Slytherin. Snape still acts like a git, but I've been making headway in remedial potions.

Speaking of remedial potions, something weird happened in there tonight. I thought I saw Snuffles and Prongs at one point. They looked really happy. I can't really explain it well in a letter, but are you coming to Hogwarts anytime soon? If so, I can explain it better in person.

Say hi to everyone- and 'Watcher' to Tonks- for me.

-Harry

As she finished reading, Tonks looked to Remus in confusion. "What does he mean, 'he saw Snuffles and Prongs?'" she asked.

"I don't know. I was planning on visiting Hogwarts in soon, anyway, partly to look in on his D.A. and see how he's really doing. We'll be able to talk about it then."

Remus quickly wrote a reply to Harry, informing him of his plans to visit, and asking him when his next D.A. meeting was. He gave it to Hedwig and watched the owl fly away.

"Well," said Tonks, "whatever it is, make sure you tell me about it. Knowing Harry, it's bound to be interesting."


At Hogwarts, the day passed in a generally unremarkable manner. By the time dinner had rolled around, Hermione seemed to have all but forgiven Ron. Ron, however, was oblivious, as he kept glaring at Dean and Seamus, and occasionally staring off into space—with a look on his face remarkably like one that Hermione often had, usually she was about to come up with one of her brilliant ideas.

Harry, though amused, let his friend's weird behavior go without comment. He was sure he could tease him all he wanted once his two best friends got themselves sorted out.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he looked up to see the grinning face of Ginny Weasley.

"You sure you don't wanna place a bet?" she asked, "Nobody's called this weekend yet, and it looks like something's going to happen pretty soon."

He smiled, but shook his head. "I'm sure. I think I'm safer if I don't place a bet."

"So, you can face You-Know-Who multiple times, but you need protection from those two?" laughed Ginny.

"Well, you know what Hermione is capable of," he paused to grin at her, "and Voldemort isn't a red-head."

Ginny couldn't help but laugh outright at that. "You're a strange one, Potter."

"You think so?" he asked, grinning even more widely.

As a result of that grin, Ginny felt a bolt of nervous excitement in her stomach—and then felt someone kick her in the leg. She glanced away from Harry briefly, to see Hermione smiling pointedly at her. Returning to her conversation with Harry, she returned a kick in Hermione's general direction. Hard.

"Ow!" yelped Ron, who had once again had that thoughtful look on his face, "Who kicked me?"

Apparently, Ginny had missed. Oh well.

Ron saw that no answer was forthcoming, so he scowled, stood up, and limped out of the Great Hall.

Hermione shook her head in exasperation, but was also smiling in the direction Ron had gone. Harry and Ginny exchanged amused glances.


After that particularly unfulfilling dinner, Ron slowly made his way back to Gryffindor Tower. He told the Fat Lady the password, and headed through the portrait hole to collapse, once again, in his favorite chair by the fire.

"Ugh… what am I going to do?" he groaned.

"Er… Ron?"

Upon realizing that someone else was in the common room with him, Ron quickly jumped out of the chair and spun around to see who surprised him.

"What—oh, hey, Neville."

"What's the matter? Is Hermione still angry at you?" Neville asked, stopping at the Tower exit.

"I think so," mumbled Ron glumly. "I don't suppose you have any advice to offer, do you?" He didn't have much hope, but he had to ask anyway.

"I'm probably not the best person to ask for advice," Neville cautioned.

Ron dropped his face into his hands. "S'okay," Neville heard his muffled voice reply, "I understand…"

"Sorry," he said, feeling slightly uncomfortable, and then headed out of the common room. As he made his way to the library, Neville wondered if Ron would be able to hold off from whatever he was going to do until a week after Thursday… it would be nice to have a few extra galleons for spending money…


Remus settled himself down in bed, grateful for being able to rest after another stressful day of working with the order. He was so exhausted that his head had barely hit the pillow before he slipped from consciousness.

He was sitting in a bar, and was listening to Jelly Roll Norton play. Idly, Remus noted that Tonks might have been right to be concerned with his Jazz obsession. The bar was crowded with other people, but their faces were all indistinct, and he sat by himself at a table with two other empty chairs. He felt something in his hand and looked down to see that he was holding a glass tumbler three-quarters filled with whiskey. That was odd... Remus rarely drank, and even less often in dreams.

Suddenly, the scene of his dream faded away, leaving him sitting at the table with his tumbler of whiskey, completely surrounded by white. After a moment of adjustment, he noted that the previously empty chairs were now occupied. He raised a single eyebrow.

"Muahahahaha," laughed James, in what Remus remembered was his best imitation of maniacal laughter.

Sirius gave his characteristic bark of laughter, and addressed the werewolf. "You jazz fiend, you. Having more dreams of dead yanks playing the piano?"

Remus gave no reply, but promptly drained his whiskey.

"Isn't it bad for your health to drink it all in one gulp, Moony?" asked a smirking James.

"What's bad for my health is seeing you come back to life," he replied dryly, "or whatever this is. It's a shock to the system."


Harry was the last person in the common room at half past midnight, finishing up his essay on the basic theory of the animagus transformation for McGonagall. Though the NEWT class was assured by their strict professor that, 'no, she would not be teaching the transformation and no, she did not in any way condone or approve of them attempting to learn it on their own,' Harry still wanted to try and achieve it. It would be a link to his Dad and Sirius, and it probably be useful in the fight against Voldemort.

After he scrawled the last line of his essays, Harry trudged his way up the stairs to his dorm room and got ready for bed. He made sure to practice his occlumency before going to sleep, but his dreams still revolved around making the marauders proud and transforming into a hawk, and sometimes a lion, and at one point even a wolf. And then his dreams became very strange indeed…

He found himself surrounded by white as he watched Lupin, Sirius, and his father sitting around a table, happily playing cards. Quite suddenly, Sirius slammed his palm down on the table and began cursing.

"Son of a bitch!"

Lupin and James rolled their eyes, not seeming at all surprised by this outburst.

"Here it comes," Harry heard Lupin mutter.

"We wouldn't be able to eat here if it weren't what I've done!" exclaimed Sirius, leaving Harry very bewildered. There was nothing at all surrounding the group, much less a restaurant, or any place that would even make that statement make sense.

"Why," continued Sirius, "I remember that summer I worked my arse off on that farm with my two good buddies, and this is the thanks I get?"

"Padfoot," James said in a bored tone, "That was the farm that belonged to Moony's uncle, and Moony and I are the 'two good buddies' you're talking about!"

"And there is no way you could ever possibly still have money from that summer. As I recall, you spent it all as soon as you earned it, on that monstrosity you call a motorbike," said Lupin.

Sirius seemed to lose a little of the conversation as he smiled fondly in remembrance. "Ah, my motorbike. I loved that monstrosity."

"That was a good summer," said James, "but hard work; we planted those seeds like there was no tomorrow."

"You were always planting seeds of a different kind, though," Lupin said wryly to Sirius.

Sirius grinned unabashedly. "Aye, that I did."


Harry woke and sat up straight in his four-poster, eyes wide and very confused.

"What the bloody hell?"


"You know," said Sirius conversationally, "I think we just scared the sprog."

"Scarred for life, more like," muttered Remus.

James looked at Remus and grinned slightly. "By the way, I've been wondering why you didn't start freaking out more when you found yourself sitting at a table playing cards with two of your dead best friends."

"Yes, well, I just assumed that I'm either hallucinating or that you two have decided to demonstrate that the word 'impossible' still does not apparently apply to you."

"Bah, Moony, you're too reasonable. It's no fun. What the point in visiting you and disrupting your dreams if you don't even panic at the sight of us?"

"Hmm," replied Remus.

The three men all put down their hands, exposing their cards.

"Haha!" crowed Sirius, "I win!"

Remus and James rolled their eyes at each other once again.

"I don't even know what we were playing for," commented Remus.

Sirius, seeming to ignore him, grinned and turned to James. "So…is there any message you want me to pass on to your son tomorrow night?"


Author Notes:

Tweeny-Weeny- I hope you enjoyed the infamous P&P in this chapter!

Augurey Song, BuckNC- I'm glad to see Seamus and Dean got the reaction I was hoping for… I must admit I had a lot of fun writing that interaction.