Ah School, why must you cut into my writing time?

Musical Accompaniment:

Joe Zawinul's Mercy Mercy Mercy as performed by Cannonball Adderley Quintet

www . youtube watch?v=s4rXEKtC8iY

Just add slashes and . com and enjoy.

Disclaimer: Matthew references A Very Potter Musical despite the Harry Potter Books not existing in the continuity of this story. I will never explain how, so you must live with that.

Episode 2: Time Travelers (Three Different Ones) Part 3

The Doctor was on the floor; having just been hit by Voldemort's killing curse. Matthew looked at Voldemort, and then looked at the Doctor. The room was silent for a minute; Voldemort excited to see Matthews's reaction to the death and Matthew was reacting to the Doctor's death.

"I have a confession to make" Matthew started. "While you got my endless flasks of Moosehead Lager and Maple Syrup, I had a perception filter on my flask of ice wine." He pulled out the flask. "I apologize, but it's terribly expensive and I didn't want Umbridge to get it. Now if you don't mind; I'm going to have a drink. Do you care to join me?"

Voldemort was surprised by the offer. No one, certainly not a prisoner had ever offered him a drink when he was in power. When someone was friendly to him; they were either sucking up to him or were Bellatrix. He didn't seem to be sucking up to him, and he certainly wasn't Bellatrix (he hoped).

"Yes?"

Matthew took out two goblets from Voldemort's china cabinet and pored the wine. "Don't worry, I haven't drunk from this. If I don't have a glass I sky it."

Matthew took the first sip with Voldemort intently watching both cups to make sure he wasn't going to poison one of them. He then started his.

"This wine is…"

"Amazing? The grapes are picked hours after frost, giving the wine an exquisite taste. The French have nothing on the vineyards of British Columbia."

And with that they started to talk about how much they both hated the French.

About an hour later

"Alright so then I asked the Bartender if he was gay or European because you know, they bring their boys up different on the mainland; but he had these silk translucent socks and his shoes were pointy toed."

"Which one was he?"

"He was gay and European; though he had this boyfriend named Carlos so I didn't take him home."

Voldemort laughed so hard that he dropped the bottle of gin he had brought, intending to show Matthew how one gets drunk in Britain.

"Whoa, apparently the dark lord Voldemort can't hold his liquor."

He laughed again and poured himself and Matthew some scotch.

"I can't believe that you are openly gay. That's not even widely accepted in America."

"Bi actually, but it is gardening support in Canada. I do have this friend though that would have invited the couple back to his house as soon as he learned they were together."

"Really!?'

"Yeah, but it gets worse. He's omnisexual."

"Omnisexual what does that mean?"

"Anything with a pulse; I'm pretty sure he's also hit on vampires though."

"Whoa, that guy is messed up."

"You're more right than you know."

"How else could he be messed up?"

"He dresses like he is from World War 2 and he's an American."

With that Voldemort burst into tears laughing. All of his death eaters had been instructed not to talk to him unless Potter was spotted or the two that entered his office left it. They would have seen a different Voldemort than the one they knew. The old Voldemort never smiled, ever, and he never would except over Harry Potter's dead body. This Voldemort lost count after the third or fourth goblet. Matthew had learned much from the parties at Versailles when Franklin had to help get French troops for the Revolution. He could get people drunk, but not too drunk. He knew how to gain a drunken man's trust without being suspicious. He could lie about whatever he needed to seem relatable, and through that he could coax secrets from luggage combinations to confessions of murder. He already had a long list to tell NARWHAL and the Order of the Phoenix. Matthew had an enhanced portrait of the psychopath. Rough childhood (no parents, was a bully, and bullied), experimented in dark magic; he felt like he was entitled to more, and that more kept expanding. He did love once though he denied it. To who? Matthew had several theories; but now was not the time to probe him. He already had enough information to satisfy Granger. And Voldemort was happy he was glad about that. This would probably be the happiest he'd be before he died. It was a fixed point, he couldn't change it. Plenty of time travelers had fucked up the muggle world, but besides him; only the meddling monk had ever been to this world, and he got stranded when the Doctor broke his Tardis. Well the Doctor knew of this world now, his little secret gone. The Doctor wasn't dying he was sure of it, but he'd have to control Voldemort until he came to and Chell came in. His laugh was ending.

"You know, I haven't had this much fun since, well I can't remember ever having this much fun. Most of the Death Eaters are too busy trying to stay on my good side to actually be there, and the joy that comes from killing others only lasts for so long."

"Schadenfreude has its limits I guess."

"Schadenfreude?"

"It's German for happiness at the misfortune of others."

"Wow that is German!" He began to laugh again at his own joke.

"But as I said, it only goes so far. I remember this guy, Joe Walker; and he said something very interesting. If I may quote 'you would think that killing people would make them like you...but it doesn't. It just makes them dead.'"

"I suppose that, that is true. Why did you hear that?"

"I don't know; I'm too drunk to remember. Let's drink to Joe."

"Agreed!"

"Hello?"

Voldemort did a spit take upon hearing the voice of the Doctor, which hit Matthew right in the face. The Doctor stood up a bit shaken.

"Didn't I kill you earlier uh, Doctor?"

"Has someone used a confundus ch-charm on you?" Matthew began. "Well, maybe I should wait before I get another drink if I'm starting to stutter." He winked at the Doctor. "Anyway, you should tell that story of when Bellatrix got you drunk and almost got you to respond to her flirting."

"Ha! That day I swore never to get drunk again. She's a capable killer, but a stalker none the less. Now I know better, it's not that I shouldn't get drunk. I just shouldn't get drunk near her."

"You think you got it bad; at least Marilyn Monroe doesn't think that she's married to you."

"You married Marilyn Monroe?" Matthew Asked.

"The chapel was not legitimate! Not in the least because the pastor was in drag and it was 1952."

Voldemort once again burst out laughing. "Wait a second, you said it was 1952, but you look like your 27.

Matthew shot a peeved glance at the Doctor. "I think you've been drinking too much Voldemort, because that man is clearly older than 27."

"No, he definitely looks 27. Hey Doctor, how old are you?"

"I just recently turned 1107."

"Really, you were born in 890?"

"Doctor, I think you hit your head a bit too hard there."

"Matthew, what are you saying about me?"

"Nothing, I'm just concerned about that nasty spill you had their. I would hate for anyone to not know important information. Others could exploit it in an antagonistic manner." He had heard that the Doctor was a genius, savior of the Earth. Shouldn't he be able to understand that you were not supposed to give information to the people you're trying to get information out of.

"That still doesn't explain how he looks 27." Crap, Voldemort was catching on.

"I say we ignore the dear Doctor right now."

"But he mentioned Marilyn Monroe, and… something doesn't add up. You were my prisoners, so why are you not dead or begging for your lives."

The Doctor stood up. "Well that would be because whoa" the Doctor tripped and used Voldemort to steady himself. "Thank you. Now as I was saying, we aren't dead because we have had no reason to die. Now I don't know about Matthew but I definitely am not was not will not die here of any prior cause as far as I know, so I don't know why we should be dead. Well, actually I do because you said that we would either be dead or begging for our lives, which would imply that someone was threatening us. And I don't see who's threatening us because you invited us to join you for a drink didn't you."

"No, I never invited any of you for a drink." He suddenly gave Matthew a death stare. "You were getting me drunk weren't you? You thought you could escape me couldn't you. I don't like being fooled. AVADA KEDAVA!"

About an Hour Earlier, on Floor 11

The ministry had 10 levels in all, at least where people actually worked. Below the courtrooms on floor 10 settled a large spacey room. Back in feudal times, wizards used this cavern as a torture chamber with the floor above it holding prisoners. When the ministry adopted the space for the ministry, they reformed the rest of the space, making 9 floors above the cells. The cells could still be accessed by the original spiral staircase; however the torture chamber could not be accessed until the advent of elevators in the ministry. The discovery came quite by accident and the room was converted into a storage facility.

Chell stood up as soon as she heard the footsteps fade. Nott was coming, and she was pretty sure she could take him. A ding distracted her thoughts. The elevator had opened and Nott was surely in it. Chell hid behind an old crate that was labeled "to be opened, 2 Tishrei 6000." Chell saw him walk in; crap he had friends with him.

"So after you got that did you still remember your name?" That was Nott.

"Yeah Dolohov, what's your first name buddy; Antonio, Anastasia, Annabel…" That was not Nott.

"I did not forget that my name is Antonin. Just because some mudblood supposedly got a memory charm on me last month does not mean that I'm in any way less than you; especially, you Rosier. Nice of you to show up from Burundi right after our lord takes the ministry".

"Yeah, try getting out of an impoverished African country that is going through a civil war with nothing but the clothes on your back surrounded by muggles," Rosier said.

"You blend in, you're fine," Sneered Nott.

"Hey Nott; it was racist in the 40's, it's racist now," remarked Rosier.

"Yeah Nott, I'm pretty sure he clarified since the beginning that muggle prejudices were misguided as they are, you know, muggle." Now Dolohov was chiming in again.

"Did he tell you that after you and he drank 16 shots each for that Birthday. We all know where that led," Nott commented

"Hey, we were teenagers then, and I told you two to shut up about that!" Dolohov reputed.

"The only reason I never say anything is because I cared about our group's reputation." Nott somehow could be more racist than the other Death-Eaters.

"Ah cut it you two; that was always a muggle convention, and therefore useless." Rosier commented.

The trio was once a quartet led by Voldemort including another guy, Mulciber. They were in the same year as Voldemort, and they were his original gang. Nott was always the most timid, having gone to Voldemort for protection; however, he was the cruelest and quickly became one of Voldemort's assets. Mulciber was little more than a normal bully who would one day become a regular bum until he lost a duel with Voldemort and became his 'bodyguard.' Rosier was an above average Slytherin who was at the top of his class, trailed only and Voldemort (from Slytherin). He saw an opportunity with Voldemort, and was quick to become the one who organized logistics. Voldemort saw those three as assets, not friends; but Dolohov was different, or at least he was. He was timid like Nott, but lacked his viciousness, Mulciber's muscles, or Rosier's intellect. He did have the ability to relate to Voldemort personally without the lubricant of Alcohol, an act which only one other would be able to replicate. He was Voldemort's first friend; not caring that he was an orphan or that he was a half-blood. Not many would ever learn that fact. However, they grew more distant after school was over. Voldemort could not bring himself to accept the acts that he had done, and treated him coldly like everyone else. Never the less, all four friends still were trusted by Voldemort and they were all loyal to him; so much so that the four went to wish him good luck on the day he applied to teach at Hogwarts.

Mulciber is dead now; from the first wizarding war. Nott and Dolohov had been sent to Azkaban, and only recently had Rosier finally escaped the civil war to enter another. This was the first time they'd talked in 17 years.

They turned a corner and spotted the hole in the roof; that could be patched up later. But there was no body there. Well there was somebody, Chell, but the fact that she was hiding was not taken into account by the vision of the Death Eaters. Their minds would have to figure that out. Chell listened to them fire off swears, cusses, and racial slurs, of all varieties. It wouldn't be long though. Not long at all before they would start to search the room.

"You heard the spell Matthew used. Cast it on them."

The voice was back; well it had come back earlier. It had encouraged Chell to go on and choke Nott after she pondered the action. Chell wasn't sure how to react to this, the logical part of her brain told her that they would kill or torture her on sight and that it was the only option. The three of them would surely find her. But another part objected. The Doctor wouldn't approve of this. Matthew wouldn't approve of this; no he wouldn't.

Time had passed. They had stopped swearing, and they were discussing how she disappeared. The phrase "but she's a muggle," appeared several times in their conversation, along with "what if she's a mudblood?" Chell had to act now and she was primed to; all she had to do was say the exact same words as Matthew and point her wand at them, though she would blow her cover. She had too, she was ready to stand up, she was…"

"Stop"

This voice wasn't spoken, but it wasn't the voice. This voice was deep, masculine, and altogether different.

"Cast 'Stupefy Duo'" it continued. "Point the wand at them and say those words. Think about them lying unconscious and do it now. It will knock them out."

Chell stood up, pointed the wand, and uttered the words. The trio stared at her for a moment; too shocked to dodge the orange beam coming at them, hitting all three. All fell with a thud on the concrete.

"Push in the brick four rows up, two steps to your left."

Chell did as she was told, and the wall opened, revealing a staircase. She began to climb.

"Who are you?" she thought.

"I am the Face of Boe."

Anyone wondering why the Antagonists are gay?

Most of the Characters in this story are going to be gay or bi or everything that has a pulse (Captain Jack), and I didn't feel it fair that the villains should be left out. Also, this story is going to humanize the Slytherin house, and it helps in this mission.

DFTBA, review rate and I'll update again soon(ish, I'm aiming for two weeks).