The Flow of The Café
Summary: Time travel is the act of reliving memories, observing the future and dwelling in the past. A dangerous thing, sometimes threatening and violent. 'The Flow Café' is the only place in the entire universe to explore the very depths of time. In fact, precisely one seat, a most common red stool, is capable of doing more than your mind can comprehend. Harry, Ron and Hermione, do just that…
Chapter 1: The Flow Café
The Flow Café, conducted its normal morning procedure, seemingly invisible hands wiped, scrubbed and polished every inch of all surfaces. Murry, the Wizard who owned this particular café was behind the counter, his wand raised, organising pots of butterbeer, larders of firewhiskey and tubs of Pumkin pasties. He hummed to himself, quite engrossed in this routine mindlessly flicking his wand every now and then. Jugs of flowers were flying to the small tables quite to their own accord and books were jumping onto the bookshelves.
Murry's whistling rose in pitch as he moved across the room; he paused in front of a red stool at the corner. One could sense the significance of that chair, whether it was because of the gravity defying tug towards it or the strange vibrations in the air like a halo encompassing it. Perhaps it was the fact that your mind simply fell into a trance. Murry however, appeared rather used to the abnormality surrounding the stool because he comfortably walked past it, swaying slightly to the tune of the humming.
Every morning at exactly 6.34 he made the identical wander around the Café, inspecting that everything was just right. He then lazily, flicked his wand towards the door, where the large neon letters 'The Flow Café is currently closed' rearranged itself to 'We are now open'
He then retraced his footsteps to the counter and carried on humming, awaiting the arrival of his first guest. The Flow Café was by no means popular; tucked away into a small side street with faded red letters announcing its name and a petite window portraying the inside of the Café. However, there were a quite considerable flock of guests who attended the Café on a frequent or even daily basis. This was enough to keep the diner open, and brought in enough galleons for Murry to smile when he calculated the total at the end of the day.
It seemed to be a tourist place, because of the many rumours spread about it, every version was slightly different, but they all seemed to accord that it could dabble with the whelms of time. Sometimes Murry would spend hours chuckling about some of the legends the guests came in awaiting, but to others he would nod, impressed that the truth lay in some rumours.
He was interrupted in his hummed when the tinkling jangle of the bell sounded and he looked up. Three guests, walked in, their eyes roaming about, scanning the place up and down. One was a women with bushy brown hair gently sleeked to the back of her head, with large brown eyes and vast teeth. There were to men, the first had vibrant ginger hair and a splatter of freckles on his wide, well structured face. Murry's eyes lingered on the other Wizard, a tall handsome young man, with jet black hair, artistically flopped around his forehead, green eyes that seemed to contain great intelligence and a smooth red slit in the shape of a lightning bolt cut into his forehead.
Murry's eyebrows furrowed as the odd gathering approached the counter. What in Merlin's name was Harry Potter doing in Romania?