Disclaimer can be viewed in previous chapters. AN: Once again, my life is busy and complicated, so I took a long time to update. For those of you reading-I am NOT abandoning this story, even though there are huge gaps in betwen my updates. Thanks to all you wonderful reviewers! Keep reviewing,; keep reading!
Harry sat glumly upon the hard wooden bench, staring at the only decoration in the room. It was a portrait of a very humorless witch. Her face was all thick angles and delicate lines, formed from years of drawn lips and angry creasing of the brow. She surveyed the room with critical glances every last occupant with a heavy distrust and definite disapproval. Every so often she would clear her throat, usually whenever someone made eye contact or moved suddenly.
To Harry's left was a very depressed looking young goblin who sighed repeatedly. Harry thought she was making little choking sounds, almost like hiccoughing, but more stifled. He politely ignored the noises.
Without further warning, the goblin burst into tears.
"Bloody hell!" Harry exclaimed, jumping off of the bench. "You startled me . . ."
The goblin wiped her tears away, though they only slowed. "I'm sorry. I simply can't believe this is happening to me. Oh, what will my father say?" She looked at Harry as though she expected a sympathetic response.
Harry thought he might be too drunk to deal with other people's problems. On the other hand, it was a distraction, at least. "Um . . .why are you here?"
"Embezzlement. I'm an accountant at Gringott's. I didn't do it, just so you know," she added fiercely, glaring at him as though daring him to deny it.
"Oh. Oh, yes. Of course not." What's the appropriate reaction to that? "Well, I'm sure it will all work out." Can't really say anything else. Harry tried to pace, but tripped over his own legs, landing hard on the stone floor. Okay . . .so no pacing. He hauled himself back onto the bench.
The woman in the portrait gave him a cold stare. "Cease your lawless horseplay at once!" she snapped. "There are far more severe holding options, and unless you want to find yourself in a full body bind with a silencing charm, I recommend you sit quietly and make no noise! It should be as if you are not even there!" With an austere sniff, she settled herself into an intimidating pose.
Fuzzy though his brain was, he still remembered very similar phrasing from the Dursleys a few years previous. That had been another bad night. Her words struck a nerve with him.
He faced the portrait. "Sit quietly. Make no noise. Kiss my fucking ass and love it," he mimicked in a whiny, singsong tone. Wisdom was beyond Harry at this particular moment in time.
The witch in the portrait gathered herself without fury. Before she could call for anyone, she was interrupted by the heavy clatter of footsteps from down the hall. Four wizards in black and blue robes aided a motley quartet down the passage and into the cell.
The newcomers looked like they'd been hit with a barrage of mind-hindering charms and curses. Their faces were blank in a resigned sort of way; their expressions were accented only by touches of bewilderment and frustration. One of the uniformed wizards tossed a pack of cigarettes to the one with the dreadlocks before he closed the cell again.
The man stared at the cigarettes for a moment, desire and hope written on his face. Then he looked up angrily and flipped around to face the door. "Oh, that's just smegging wonderful! Think you're funny, do you? Tease a man with cigarettes and no way to light one?" The man looked down at the smokes. "Never heard of PipePow! cigarettes anyhow." He threw up his hands, still clutching the pack.
Harry tried to think through the firewhiskey. "Oh, yes!" he said out loud. The man looked at him. "Sorry, mate. I just-I wanted-here, they're-" Harry swayed a little as he stood again. He carefully made his way across the cell to the man. Harry reached out for the cigarettes, misjudged the distance and the presence of gravity, and headed towards the floor again.
The dreadlocked stranger caught him just in time. "Had a few tonight, mate?" he asked as he straightened and steadied Harry. "I envy you. Really wish I'd grabbed a drink earlier."
Harry motioned for the PipePow!'s, being prudent with his movements. The man placed the smokes in Harry's hand. "These are pretty neat," Harry explained as he pulled one out of the pack. Harry put the cigarette in his mouth and inhaled.
The man looked impressed when the cigarette lit itself. He took them back, pulled on out, and took a drag. He nodded, smiling beatifically. "Oh, yes . . ."
"Do you mind if I smoke this?" Harry asked. "I mean, since I showed you how. They didn't give me cigarettes." The stranger waved his hand in agreement.
"I'm Harry," said Harry, pleased with himself for getting it right on the first try.
"Dave Lister. Lister's fine," he replied, taking Harry's hand and shaking it. "The blocky one is Kryten, the other guy is Rimmer, and Cat is-well, the cat."
Harry squinted at Cat. He laughed as he remembered Hermione's bad experience with the Polyjuice Potion. The other man -Rimmer- had taken a seat on the bench and was sitting with arms crossed. He looked pissed. Harry decided not to talk to him just yet.
"Why are you here?" he inquired of Lister.
Lister shrugged. "I'm lost on that one. Dunno what happened, or what's going on-and you don't even want to know how we got to here. I figure this isn't likely to be any weirder than everything else I've seen." He took a long drag off of the cigaratte. "But I could be way off."
