A/N: Another entry for the International Wizarding School Championship. It's another short drabble, this time a little crack-y. Entry information:

IWSC Writing School Challenge Round 5
Story Title/Link: That Ticking Noise
School: Beauxbatons
Year: 6
Word count: 988 (10% leeway)

Technique: Flashbacks
Prompt: (sound) Ticking

Note: As I said above, this story should probably be classified as crack fiction, if anything. It's silly, and if you've never seen The Mysterious Ticking Noise on YouTube (by Potter Puppet Pals), you should probably stop reading, go watch it, then come back... otherwise, this story will be a little strange for you (and you'll be missing out on some classic HP fun). However, I'm assuming that as you've come so far as to read and/or write fanfiction, you're likely already familiar with this video.

That Ticking Noise

James Sirius Potter is in trouble. Again. It's not a new experience, sitting in the Headmistress's office, but while he's a little apprehensive, he's mostly just bored.

He glances to his cousin Fred, sitting in the chair next to him, and wonders if Professor McGonagall will let them talk while they wait on their parents. He looks to the Headmistress sitting at her desk writing something in a book—his long list of prior punishments, perhaps—then decides it's better he doesn't test her today. He really doesn't want extra detentions.

He sits as quietly as he knows how, listening to the clock on the wall tick away the seconds until his parents arrive and he learns his fate. Tick… Tick… Tick…

Something about that ticking noise tickles his memory, the tendrils of familiarity wrapping their way through his brain. It makes him want to giggle, but he's not sure why. Tick… Tick…

Suddenly it hits him, and he sits back, trying to contain his grin at the memory.

It had been last summer that he'd first heard it. He'd been keeping an eye on Hugo for Aunt Hermione while she was out, and Rose and Albus were playing around on Rose's laptop in her bedroom. Albus always seemed to want to mess with that thing when he was over, since their own house didn't hook into the Muggle amenities like his Aunt and Uncle's did.

James had been helping Hugo with his summer Transfiguration homework when he heard squeals of glee coming from upstairs.

"Oh, Merlin! No freaking way. This can't be real, can it?" Al's voice rose above his cousin's raucous laughter.

"James! Hugo! Get in here! You just have to see this!"

James rolled his eyes and smiled at Hugo, reaching out to ruffle his smaller cousin's bright red curls. "Another cat video, you reckon?"

Hugo laughed. "Nah, this is Rose and Albus. It's probably some boring science experiment or something."

"Come on!" came Rose's voice this time, sounding slightly hysterical.

James stood and followed Hugo toward Rose's room. As he entered the room—a ridiculously unsuitable bedroom for a teenaged girl, in his opinion, being completely lined in books and resembling a library more than anything else—he noticed his younger brother nearly falling off his chair, wiping tears from his green eyes in laughter.

"Hey, come on, I'll start it over. This is perfect. Evidently some Muggleborn and their friends made this and put it on the internet. Watch."

James rolled his eyes, prepared to be irritated at being dragged in to see it. The video started to play and focused on a homemade puppet show stage, while ridiculous music played that he already found annoying. Then, a ticking noise began, and the strangest looking puppet appeared. James's jaw dropped as he realised what he was seeing.

"Merlin," he muttered. Then sat back and watched the rest in amazement and glee.

In the week following that fateful day, they'd shown all their cousins and aunts and uncles. His mother had thought it was the best thing she'd ever seen and proceeded to taunt his father with it for days.

It's been nine months since that day, though, and he realises he'd nearly forgotten it.

Tick… Tick… Tick… McGonagall's clock won't leave him alone. Tick… Tick…

Finally, James can no longer resist. Feeling a moment of weakness rush over him, he glances to Fred and mutters in a low voice, "What is that mysterious ticking noise?"

Fred snorts, obviously catching his reference.

James waits a few more moments, then looks up at a small portrait on the wall behind McGonagall. It's not nearly as large as the other past Headmasters' and Headmistresses', but it's one that James has had reason to notice before, with its greasy hair and hooked nose. "Snape, Snape, Severus Snape."

McGonagall looks up sharply. "Excuse me, Mr Potter? Did you say something?"

James smothers his laugh and shakes his head, and she goes back to her writing.

Tick… Tick…

He can't take it another minute. "Snape, Snape, Severus Snape."

Fred jumps in. "Dumbledore."

"Mr Potter, Mr Weasley, that will be quite enough!"

James knows he should stop, but he just can't. It's just too good, and now both Snape and Dumbledore's portraits are watching them with raised eyebrows. James has never been able to say no to an audience.

"Snape, Snape, Severus Snape."

Fred moves on, and James is reminded why Fred has always been his favourite cousin. "Ron, Ron, Ron Weasley. Ron, Ron, Ron Weasley!"

Snape's portrait has now started making loud, vocal complaints to McGonagall, adding to the overall din and confusion, and Dumbledore's portrait has raised his wand and begun conducting the boys, moving his head back and forth to the beat.

Feeling encouraged, and honestly, just not able to help himself, James keeps going until he sees the flash of green out of the side of his eye, indicating the arrival of someone in the floo. James is mid-"Hermione" in the song as his mother and father step through the fireplace.

And his mother—Merlin, he loves his mother—gives him a grin and joins in with perfect timing, elbowing his red-faced father in the chest. "Harry Potter, Harry Potter, yeah, Harry Potter."

Evidently, McGonagall reaches her limit because she yells in a frightening tone of voice that James has never heard her use in his six years of schooling, "Enough!"

The room falls silent. Then he hears it again. Tick… Tick… Tick…

His mother snorts. "It's the clock, Minerva. Sorry, I'll explain later." She looks at her son, and the grin fades. "Now, James Sirius Potter, what on Earth did you do to the Slytherin Quidditch team? You will answer me right now, young man." She glances to his cousin. "And don't think you're free here, Fred. Your parents are on their way. Now talk."

James sighed. Time to come clean, evidently. At least it was fun while it lasted.