ZA: Obey the Overshirt!

Crispy: *to readers* Trust me: you don't want to know.

ZA: *evil laugh*!

Crispy: Are you done?

ZA: For now. Who should do the disclaimer this chapter?

Crispy: I'll check the schedule…

ZA: …

Crispy: …

ZA: We don't have a schedule, do we?

Crispy: Of course not. What do you think we are? Organized?

ZA: Oh! I know!

David Gilmour: Zsugami Alba does not own Harry Potter. Or Pink Floyd.

Draco: DAVID GILMOUR! OMIGOSH! DAVID GILMOUR! I'M YOUR BIGGEST FAN I LOVE YOUR MUSIC! AAAAHHHH! I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M TALKING TO DAVID GILMOUR! QUICK! SOMEONE TAKE A PICTURE! DAVID GILMOUR! Wait, where are you going? David?

"Speech"

'Thoughts'

Parseltongue

Chapter 7: Full Circle

"Mail's here," said Blaise as hundreds of owls swooped into the Great Hall, depositing packages next to the platters of bacon and eggs. Draco looked up to see his own eagle owl coming to land at his side with a flat, rectangular package tied to its leg.

"It's from Mother," said Draco. "I wonder what it is." He tore the wrapping off to reveal an old, small, handbound book. The silver lettering on the green leather cover declared it to be:

Uncle Sal's Bedtime Stories for Sleepy Little Slytherins

Blaise peered at it over Draco's shoulder. "Is that a children's book?"

Draco ignored him and opened it to the title page where there was a faded inscription:

For my favorite student, Mordred Malfoy

"Who's Mordred?" asked Blaise.

"He's an ancestor of mine. He invented the Bat Bogey Hex," explained Draco. "I thought I'd lost this book ages ago. I wonder if Sal's still in it." He turned a few pages until one of the illustrations waved at him.

"Draco! I'm being chased by those Death Eaters from page twelve again! Quick! Freeze them!" cried the obviously exhausted man.

Draco waved his wand at the three tiny figures in the background, and they stilled immediately.

"Uncle Sal! It's been so long!" Draco greeted his friend happily.

"My, you look quite a bit older now. How long has it been?" Uncle Sal looked around from his position on the page. "Is that the ceiling of the Great Hall? That...cloud looks familiar."

Draco looked a bit sheepish. "Yes, I'm in my fifth year now at Hogwarts."

Uncle Sal nodded. "Slytherin, I expect."

"Of course, Uncle Sal," said Draco. "Couldn't be anything else, could I?"

"Yes, you are too much like Mordred to wind up anywhere else. Although you were most like him when you were five. It took him longer to grow out of his baby fat."

Blaise leaned in a bit closer. "Is that your ancestor's uncle?"

Sal laughed. "Oh no. I was his teacher. Cute little fellow, that Mordred. Smart as a whip, too." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Hmm...your fifth year, you say? Anything...interesting happen yet?"

Blaise snorted, rolled his eyes and returned to his toast and marmalade.

"Well, at first I thought I was going to die because I killed Harry Potter," started Draco.

"There's no evidence that Potter is dead," Blaise pointed out. "Nor is there any evidence that you're responsible."

"Yes, well...but everything got so much better after that," Draco continued.

"Because this Potter boy is gone?" Sal asked. "That's not very nice, Draco."

"No!" Draco hurried to correct his friend. "I meant that...well, in my attempt to enjoy what little time I have left, I started a bucket list. First, I broke up with Pansy."

"That little pugnosed girl that used to drag you around everywhere?" asked Sal.

"Yes. I gave her a breakup box and everything."

"Well done," said Sal. "You're much too good for her, you know."

"Yes, and then I got a bicycle!"

"Is it green?"

Draco frowned. "No, of course not. First bicycles are always red."

"Oh, of course. How silly of me," nodded Sal. "What else have you done?"

"He's rebelling," interjected Blaise, who was daintily licking a spot of marmalade off his thumb. He nudged Draco with his elbow. "Tell him about the rebelling."

"Right," said Draco. "Blaise said that all teenagers rebel, and all I have to do is think of what Father likes and then do the opposite."

Sal raised his eyebrows. "So you've taken to wearing horizontal stripes?"

"Don't be daft, Sal. I've enrolled in Muggle Studies," said Draco.

"Excellent!" cried Sal. "That will prove very useful in life, I'm sure. Muggles are quite handy, you know."

Draco grinned. "And they have excellent taste in music! Look! There's a band called 'Queen' and they've got t-shirts!" He opened the front of his robes to show off a white t-shirt with a black and white photo on it.

"It says 'Freddie' there," Sal pointed out.

"He's the lead singer," Draco declared proudly. "Do you like the shirt? One of the Hufflepuffs in my Muggle Studies class gave me a catalog for a muggle store that sells these and lots of other muggle stuff. I have a dozen so far!"

Sal looked amused. "Sounds like you're enjoying yourself."

Blaise leaned over again. "You have no idea."


"Instructions are on the board," droned Professor Snape. "Begin."

"Psst! Draco. Don't forget the saffron." The muffled whisper came from Draco's book bag as he and Blaise were dividing up the ingredients list.

Draco frowned. "There's no saffron on the list."

"He did say you were brewing the Sharp Wit Potion, didn't he?" the voice replied. "Without the saffron, it's just the Elixir of Semi-Intelligence."

Draco looked at Blaise who simply shrugged and went back to the supply cupboard for saffron.

When the brewing was completed, with some helpful suggestions from Uncle Sal, Professor Snape studied their cauldron with a furrowed brow. "Did you add saffron to your potion?" he asked the boys.

Draco looked to Blaise, who was making a very obvious show of cleaning up the remainder of their ingredients. He turned back to Snape. "Uh...yes?"

"Hmm. Well done. See me after class."

Blaise nudged Draco. "Could we still be in trouble for doing something right?"

Draco shrugged. "Don't know. I suppose we'll find out."


Draco and Blaise approached Snape's desk as the rest of the class filed out. They stood there uncomfortably for a moment as the professor leveled his gaze at the two nervous students before him.

"How did you know?" Snape asked.

Draco looked at Blaise, who was showing a sudden, keen interest in his own fingernails. Deciding there would be no help from that quarter, he squared his shoulders and faced his head of house. "Well, you are always encouraging us to research a potion through multiple sources. The addition of saffron was listed in another text."

"And that text would be?" prompted Snape.

Draco took a moment to clear his throat, but Blaise was the first to cave. "Uncle Sal's Bedtime Stories for Sleepy Little Slytherins. Sir."

Snape actually looked dumbfounded for half a second before schooling his face back into its usual intimidating expression. "I don't believe that volume is available in the Hogwarts Library. I've certainly never heard of a potions master named...Uncle Sal." He pronounced the name with a derisive sneer.

Draco looked at Blaise again, but the latter had apparently remembered what about his fingernails was so interesting. He sighed, "It's a children's book from the Malfoy library. Mother sent it to me this morning. There's a portrait of the author inside, and he knows a lot about potions."

"Do you mean to tell me that you altered the approved recipe on the advice of a doodle?" Snape was incredulous.

"I happen to be a very well done doodle, thank you very much!" came the voice of Sal from the depths of Draco's bag.

Snape shifted his gaze meaningfully to Draco's bag, and Draco dutifully withdrew the book and presented it to the professor. "Page 3. At least, that's where he usually is. He says it has the best view."

Snape opened the book to page 3 to find a sketch of a small cottage beneath the title: "The Beekeeper and His Wife". The background showed an apiary surrounded by a field of wildflowers. There was no Uncle Sal. Snape looked back at Draco.

Draco shrugged. "Perhaps he's visiting another story. Ask the bee."

Snape looked back at the book. A tiny dot in the field grew larger as it approached the foreground and soon became recognizable as a bumblebee...with a beard. "I suppose I am to ask you where I may find Uncle Sal?" Snape asked it.

"Why certainly, my dear man," buzzed the bee as it hovered in the center of the page. "You may ask me, but I may not know; however, you will never learn if you do not ask." Was it even possible for a bumblebee's eyes to twinkle? 'No, it must be a trick of the light,' thought Snape.

"Where is Uncle Sal? I wish to speak with him."

"Wish? Well, I generally grant three to a person, but I suppose there's no minimum limit. Very well then. Sal is currently hiding in the shrubbery on page twenty-seven. Those three masked gentlemen have become unfrozen and resumed chasing him again. Luckily, that absurd group of knights is delaying their quest with ridiculous tasks."

Snape turned to page twenty-seven. A wizard in late tenth century clothing was peering out from behind a small hedge surrounded by a white picket fence. The laurels seemed particularly nice. "Are you Uncle Sal?" Snape inquired.

The wizard stepped out from behind the shrubbery and straightened his robes. "Not your Uncle Sal, certainly, but I am Sal. What can I do for you?"

"What makes you qualified to instruct my students in the art of potions brewing?" Snape wanted to know.

"I should think that over twenty years as Hogwarts' Potions Master would suffice," Sal replied rather smugly. "Trust me, I've seen things of which even your wildest imagination couldn't conceive. Teaching Potions is not for the faint of heart, as you well know. Nor should it be attempted by anyone who finds the mere presence of children distasteful." He frowned at Snape as though accusing him of Snape knew not what.

"I should think that, after more than 20 years of teaching experience, you would know that the addition of saffron can make the Sharp Wit Potion particularly volatile in the third stage of brewing. It is much safer for less experienced brewers to omit that ingredient." Snape pointed out.

Sal did not look satisfied. "Then why refer to it as the Sharp Wit Potion? Without the saffron, it is merely the Elixir of Semi-Intelligence. Students will not understand the difference. You're encouraging their ignorance."

Snape smirked. "I suppose, but it is amusing to watch the less scrupulous Ravenclaws who attempt to use the potion to improve their test scores."

Sal looked taken aback for a moment before bursting into laughter. "Ha! I imagine they stumble around, looking at all the pretty colors!"

Snape nodded, still smirking. "Yes, like hippies on acid trips."

Draco and Blaise were thoroughly confused, and Blaise decided he didn't like that. "I don't understand," he complained.

"Well, you see, Blaise," Sal began, "The Elixir of Semi-Intelligence adjusts the drinker's brain capacity to average. For some, this is a blessing. For example, the village idiot can actually count to ten. For others of tremendous intelligence, however, brain capacity is diminished. They process information at a much slower rate. They view the world as if they are in slow motion while the world simply continues on at normal speed. It can be both mesmerizing and disconcerting."

Blaise and Draco both looked up at Snape with a newfound respect. "Brilliant, Professor!" said Draco.

"I stand in awe," said Blaise.

"I always wanted to try it on Rowena," said Sal, "But she was much too clever for me. Wouldn't drink or eat anything I gave her."

"Rowena?" Snape raised one eyebrow at the diminutive doodle. "You wouldn't be referring to Rowena Ravenclaw, would you?"

Sal froze for half a moment before responding, "Who?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "You can't teach Potions at Hogwarts for twenty days, let alone twenty years, without knowing the name of the founder of Ravenclaw House."

Draco started to catch on. "Uncle Sal! You knew Rowena Ravenclaw? That means that you're THE Sa-"

"Don't be ridiculous, Draco! How could I possibly know someone who's been dead for nearly 1,000 years?" Sal argued.

"You've been dead nearly 1,000 years," said Blaise.

"Dead?" asked Sal. "I'm not dead. I'm just...missing. Yes, I'm missing...my...chamber pot! Where is it? I could have sworn I'd left it on my head, but it must have fallen off when those...hooligans were chasing me. Yes, that's it. I'd better go look for it." With that, Uncle Sal ran off into the forest.

Blaise looked at Snape, then at Draco, then back at the book. "If that's Salazar Slytherin, I vote we never share this book with anyone else ever."

"Agreed," said Draco and Snape simultaneously.


Harry looked around the second floor girls' bathroom. It seemed different somehow. Perhaps, knowing what he now knew, that was to be expected. He approached the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. "Yep, still here." Suddenly he heard voices approaching.

"Hermione, I know you miss Harry. We all miss Harry, but don't you think this Important Moments in the Life of Harry Potter Tour is going a bit overboard? We don't know that he's never coming back."

"Ronald, it isn't a tour; it's a remembrance - a revisiting of strong, happy memories. It helps me cope."

The bathroom door swung open just as Ron said, "I'm not quite sure that you turning into a cat is a particularly happy memory. Or the part where Harry and I had to drink Eau de Crabbe and Goyle."

"You're quite right, Ron," Harry agreed. "That was disgusting. It was more like a memory I've tried to block out."

"Harry!" cried Ron and Hermione. "You're back!"

Harry found himself with an armful of Hermione and a faceful of her bushy hair. "Oh, Harry! I've missed you so much! You've no idea what it was like!"

"Aren't you overreacting, Hermione? I've just been in the loo. Sorry I left without saying anything, but it was rather urgent, if you know what I mean."

Ron looked at Harry incredulously. "Are you trying to tell us you've been in the second floor girls' loo for two months?"

"Two months?" Harry was thrown for a loop. Obviously he'd miscalculated a bit when designing the spell array. "Er...my bladder was really full. And there were other complications which led me to believe I'd be better off using a bathroom that no one else frequented. Odors, you know." He waved his hand about as if to dispel a foul smell.

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "There's no need to be vulgar, Harry, and you're a terrible liar."

"Yes, I am a terrible liar," said Harry. "But it was really bad. I think I was dealing with a mild case of dysentery."

Hermione rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh. "Harry James Potter, if you had been struggling with dysentery for two months with no medical aid, you'd be dead by now. Where have you been."

Harry's shoulders sagged. "Have you ever heard of the Predestination Paradox?" he asked.

Hermione looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure I'm familiar with that one."

"Let's say that a man travels back in time to discover the cause of a famous fire. While in the building where the fire started, he accidentally knocks over a kerosene lantern and causes a fire - the same fire that would, years later, inspire him to travel back in time."

Ron looked confused. "You went back in time and started a fire?"

Harry looked sheepish. "Multiple fires, actually, but nothing important. Actually, I'm referring to something else."

Harry could practically see the light bulb go on over Hermione's head. "It's a paradox where, as a result of time travel, information or objects would appear to have no beginning. That's really intelligent, Harry! But where - I mean when did you go, and what did you do?"

"I'd tell you, but...then the universe might implode, or something," Harry tried to dodge the question.

"But your return would have closed the loop," Hermione argued. "You can't change history by talking about it in the future."

Ron still looked confused. "Could we stop speaking in hypotheticals and actually talk about what really happened?"

Harry cleared his throat. "If it weren't for me, Gryffindor's house mascot would be a puffskein. Or perhaps a baby harp seal. Or a butterfly. Godric couldn't really make up his mind. All he knew was that he didn't want a lion."

"You went to the time of the Founders?" Hermione was practically vibrating with excitement.

"A baby harp seal?!" Ron exclaimed in disgust. "We'd be the laughingstock of the school. Who'd be in the house of the baby harp seal? Slytherins would be roaming the halls, wielding clubs."

"What a horrible thought, Ron! Really, must you go there?" Hermione complained.

"That's what I told him," said Harry. "And then he was distracted by a rabbit, so I made the decision for him."

"Is that all you did?" asked Ron. "Please tell me you at least hexed Slytherin while you were there."

Hermione looked appalled. "Ron! That would've risked changing the timeline! Regardless of your personal opinion of the man, he did help found Hogwarts and is an important figure in our history."

"No, Ron," said Harry. "I didn't manage to hex Salazar Slytherin. That would've been rather painful for me."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I imagine so. He was considered to be a very powerful wizard. You were right to play it safe, Harry."

"Besides," continued Harry. "Helga hexed him enough for the both of us. Actually, she hexed rather indiscriminately. She's no respecter of persons, that one."

Ron looked mildly impressed. "She sounds a lot more interesting than the history books would lead us to believe."

"When have you read any history books, Ronald?" asked Hermione.

"Well, I don't really need to," he replied. "You just quote them at us."

Hermione turned back to Harry. "We'd better get you to the infirmary."

"What on earth for?" asked Harry. "I feel fine. You know I don't actually have dysentery."

"Yes, but there are countless other things in the past that could have affected your health," Hermione pointed out. "It's best we have Madame Pomfrey check you over right away. We don't want to take any chances."

"Does that mean you're canceling the Harry Tour?" asked Harry.

"Oh, shut up," muttered Hermione as she grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him out of the bathroom. Ron followed, grinning.


"Oh, my poor Snookimuffin," Pansy crooned in what Draco was now calling her Terminator voice. He'd discovered that it was really frighteningly accurate after he'd viewed the first two movies. Although, the thought of Arnold Schwarzenegger calling anyone "snookimuffin" was rather silly. Draco was overcome with a sudden urge to giggle, but his head hurt enough that he was able to ignore the impulse.

"Pansy," he patiently stated for the umpteenth time, "I'm not your anything anymore. We're over. Old news. Like Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston."

"I don't know who you're talking about, but they aren't us, Draco. We're...eternal. Our love will never die!"

"I never loved you in the first place," admitted Draco. "I was just going along with what my parents wanted. Now that I'm rebelling, I don't have to see you anymore. I don't want to waste what little time I have left on a sham of a relationship."

"Oh, I see what you're doing," Pansy declared. "You're trying to push me away so that I won't hurt as much when you're gone. Well, it won't work, Draco. Together or not, I'll always love you, and a part of me will die with you!"

Draco rolled his eyes and heaved an exasperated sigh. "My head is really hurting, Pansy. Be a dear and leave me to rest in peace and quiet for a bit."

"Of course, Draco dear," said Pansy. She walked reluctantly to the infirmary doors, turning back as she opened them. "I'll be back, Snookimuffin."

Suddenly, Draco heard a familiar voice drift towards him as he closed his eyes to shut out the disturbing image of Pansy's sultry gaze.

"When did Pansy turn into the Terminator?"

Draco's eyes popped open. "Potter!" he cried. He jumped out of bed and ran toward the owner of the voice, tackling Harry to the ground. "You're alive! I knew I was too pretty to die! I knew it! Now I won't have to choose between wearing white after Labor Day or burning naked for all of eternity!" he sobbed as he clutched Harry's robes.

Harry looked even more disturbed than he had when he'd heard Pansy speaking with Schwarzenegger's voice. He looked up at Ron and Hermione and tried to ignore the fact that Draco was getting snot all over his Gryffindor badge. "What happened to Malfoy?"

"I missed you!" Draco wailed. "You were like the...the…"

"Yin to your yang?" offered Hermione.

"Yes!" said Draco. "Like the Dumbledore to my Grindelwald!"

Hermione shot a glance at Ron before saying, "I don't think that's quite the analogy you're looking for, Draco. Perhaps something a bit more...platonic?"

Draco stopped sobbing and sat up with a frown. "Hmm...yes, I suppose you're right. Um...how about Captain America and Iron Man? Captain America is the goody-goody in the tights, and Iron Man is the rich one with the cool suit, right?"

"Yes, Draco," Hermione agreed. "That's much better."

"Um…," said Harry from the floor, "Could someone get Malfoy off of me and tell me what's going on?"

Ron gave him a hand up and shrugged. "That could take a while, mate."

"Give me the abbreviated version," suggested Harry.

"All right. Malfoy's Madonna now," said Ron with a nod at the Slytherin.

Harry looked at Hermione. "Perhaps you could come up with something a little less cryptic?"

Hermione smiled. "A lot of things have changed since you disappeared. Draco is one of the bigger changes."