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Pre-fic Comments:
All latin can be considered 'doggy latin', in that I don't know Latin and am trying to fake it.
Some adult language in this. Having a good knowledge of canon proceedings would be a good idea, as I skip a bit of detail later on.
For reference (yours and mine), Ma Baker has four sons. From eldest to youngest: Robert, Bill, Ash, and Tim.
"I want to come home.
It's been so long since I've been away
And please, don't blame me 'cause I've tried
I'll be coming home soon to your love to stay
Coming home to stay
Coming home to your love, mama I've seen better days."
Lynyrd Skynyrd, "Comin' Home"
In a small yet busy bar in New York, the phone rang.
"Hello, Baker's Bar."
"Is Lord Baker there?"
"Who should I tell him is calling?"
"His daughter."
"One moment please."
The softspoken bartender put the handset down on the counter, then moved to the end of the bar.
"Lord, sir, your daughter's on the phone," he called out softly across the small room to a table where a white haired old man held court.
"Ginny, bring the handset over for me please?," the old man asked. His voice was grizzled, yet smooth.
A redheaded girl, daughter to the bartender, brought the cordless handset for the phone over to Baker, then returned to where she was serving up beer and whiskey.
"Hello?," Lord Baker said into the telephone.
"Pa?," a familiar voice said.
"Guin, it is good to hear your voice again," Baker said, a smile carrying through in his voice.
"It's good to hear your voice too, Papa. I rang about Tim."
"Little Tim? He's a good boy, him and his brothers. You're bringing 'em up right."
"I just remember how you did me, Pa. He got invited to a special school up north of London, in Scotland, learning magic."
There was a pause here.
"Like Old Wizard Harris?," Baker asked, lowering his voice. LaVelle had done some jobs for him, making up amulets and potions of various sorts. He was good people, in Baker's book.
"Yeah," Ma Baker confirmed. "Except they don't believe in reading, writing and 'rithmetic."
"Don't the government over there say they have to?"
"They think they're above us common poor non-magic folks," Ma spat.
Lord Baker exhaled while he thought.
"I'll tell you what, Guinevere," Baker said. "I'll come on over across the Pond and visit ya, then we'll go and visit the boys."
"Thanks, Papa," Ma Baker said. Her voice developed an edge. "And Mother Kilpatrick's sons better not start up again while they're over here, or I'll tan their backsides for 'em. That goes for the MacDonalds and the rest of 'em too."
Lord Baker laughed. "I'll tell 'em."
"This's a transatlantic call, so I'll be goin' now," Ma said. "Brooks says hello, by the way."
"Okay, love you baby."
"You too, daddy."
Draco had no idea what was going on, but assumed that something bad was happening.
He had been studying in the common room, when... music? had started playing.
It had begun with a strange beat, sharp edged and yet somehow ductile. Next began something like scraped piano strings, and then...
Then began something he could only approximate a description for. Lightning turned into sound.
He recognised the human voice, though. Even though it wasn't anywhere /near/ singing, he recognised it.
Actually, he had to admit that it was compelling listening.
He stopped looking around for the source as the portal from the corridors opened, and Professor Snape stepped through, followed soon after by the Headmaster ambling through.
"Where is it?," Snape hissed through his teeth.
"Where is what, Severus?," Professor Dumbledore asked, trying to separate a cluster of sticky hardboiled lollies.
"That infernal screeching," Snape elaborated.
"Oh, I believe that your newest students are responsible," Dumbledore shrugged. One of the lollies became unstuck. "Eureka!"
Snape winced as a chorus of deep voices underlaid the main singer briefly, aurally underlining the harsh scream.
"And I thought Voldemort sounded horrible," Snape muttered. One of the seventh years gave him a puzzled look.
Satanus was having the time of his life. After being deprived of life and electricity itself, the sweet meaning of life was restored by the graces of Old Wizard Harris.
So he was happily headbanging to the music, and somehow also managing to play Quake, when Professor Snape burst into his room like a chainsaw murderer with a grudge.
Harry and Tim had left earlier -- while they liked heavy metal, Meshuggah was a bit /too/ heavy for their liking.
"/Silencio!/," Snape roared in the direction of the stereo system.
"Hey!," Satanus protested. "That was mine!"
"/Mister/ Brooks," Severus hissed at him. "Two hundred--"
"Now, now, Severus," Dumbledore gently interrupted. "Take away points when you've calmed down somewhat. For the time being, three detentions, Mr Brooks."
"Detention?," Satanus asked, puzzled. "What for?"
"For torturing the entire castle with that... abomination," Snape sneered.
"Tough gig," the student muttered.
Mustering self control, Snape whirled on his heel and left, the Headmaster behind him.
Draco, Crabbe and Goyle poked their heads through the door, one on top of the other like a totem pole with Draco on the bottom.
"What /was/ that?," Draco asked, both eyebrows raised.
"Swedish black metal?," Satanus offered. "You know, muggle music."
"I have GOT to get my own copy of that somehow!," Draco announced. "Can I get a cylinder of it off you?"
"Cylinder?"
"Yes, so I can play it on Father's music playback machine."
Post-fic Comments:
You've had your first glimpse of Grandpa Baker, now. Inspired by stuff like the PC game 'Mafia', the music video for 'Ich Will' by Rammstein (the guy with the leg brace), 'Fairytale of New York', and other cool stuff.