Skirr: to go rapidly; fly; scurry.

May 30, 1999

"Ouch, hey!"

"That was my foot!"

"Watch it, Cattermole!"

Reginald Cattermole paid no attention to the destruction he left in his path: a corridor of Ministry workers scrabbling on the floor to gather their fallen papers or hopping up and down, nursing stepped-on toes. His sole goal was the lift at the end of the corridor, and he fairly flew toward it.

For weeks, now, he had been trying to make it to level four before six o'clock, a near impossibility as his shift had him tending to the windows two levels above until seven. But this was important. Almost more important than his job. And after the last two years, Reg Cattermole had decided he was done trying not to step on toes… literally.

Just before the metal lift doors clanged shut, Reginald ducked in front of a weedy-looking woman carrying a stack of papers and scurried inside. Reveling at his victory after so many failed attempts, it took him a moment to realize the lift was packed full of people and that they were all staring at him.

"Er, spontaneous lift mechanics assessment," he wheezed, out of breath from his run.

And he turned hurriedly and began examining the pulley system visible through the grated doors. He had done it. Reginald Cattermole was not used to this sort of success in his endeavors, but this time was different. He had rarely been so determined.

The lift shuddered to a halt and the disembodied voice announced their arrival on level four. People began jostling to get out as the lift doors swung open, and quite suddenly Reginald found himself face-to-face with the very reason he needed to reach this floor: a skinny teenage boy with messy black hair and all-too-familiar emerald green eyes.

Harry Potter blinked at him and Reginald realized it was because he was gaping. He had been so preoccupied with actually getting here that he had forgotten to think about what he'd do when he had. He wasn't used to things working out so smoothly. Then, all of a sudden, recognition seemed to flow over Harry's face, and for some reason it prompted Reg into speech.

"Mr. Potter? May I have a quick word?" he asked uncertainly, feeling strangely like he was back in school trying to talk to those larger-than-life popular students.

"Sure," Harry said just as uncertainly, leading the way to the side of the queue attempting to get on and off the lift. "Your name's Cattermole, isn't it? Suppose I owe you an apology." He ran a hand through his messy hair and added awkwardly, "You know, for the whole stealing-your-identity thing. It was sort of a life-or-death thing or we'd've never done it, I swear!"

Reg held up a hand to stem the flow of apology. "Actually, Mr. Potter, I wanted to thank you for that. You saved my Mary's life, saved our family. And if stealing my identity was the way you had to do it, well I'm glad I could help."

The young man before him looked a bit taken aback, but that was nothing to what he was going to look like in a minute, Reg thought.

"But, er, that's not the only reason I've been trying to track you down. You see, my wife Mary, the one whose hearing you sort of… crashed, she'd like to speak to you properly. You know, as you," he added, and seeing Harry opening his mouth hurried on. "I realize that you must have loads of people scrambling to shake your hand, Mr. Potter, but it's just that Mary, she knew your parents in school. We both did, as a matter of fact, but Mary was such good friends with your mother and realizing it was you who saved her…. Just a few minutes, Mr. Potter. Just so she could have a look at you, thank you properly herself."

Harry took in the hopeful expression of the little man before him, feeling somewhat winded by the revelation. He had rather assumed that all his parents' old friends were far beyond his reach now. Close to a year of Auror training on top of the rest of his experiences had brought on a healthy paranoia about going anywhere alone with strangers, but a name stirred in the back of his mind.

"Your wife, what was her maiden name, if you don't mind me asking?" he said tentatively.

"Erm, Macdonald," Reg told him bemusedly.

Harry grinned. "I'd love to meet her. Er, but do you mind if we pick up a couple of my mates on the way? You know, the ones who actually took your hair and impersonated you? I think they'd kind of like to apologize for that, too…."

A/N: Alright, this was my indulgence for a part of The Life and Times. I kind of went over the moon when I realized Mary Macdonald was the same Mary Harry rescued twenty years later and I always wondered what she thought of that… didn't actually get to that part, did I? And you sort of have to have read that story to be very interested in this, but I thought about who would scurry in Harry Potter and came up with about three people: Peter Petigrew, Lily Luna Potter, and Reg Cattermole. So I picked Reg and hoped you'd at least find this a little interesting….

Thanks to all my lovely, lovely reviewers!