Carry On
By: Teenlaunch
Disclaimer: If I was JK Rowling, would I be making you all upset by the way I am portraying everyone? No. Needless to say, I am not the owner of Harry Potter. And a few more – Splish Splash (Richard Little), Witchy Woman (The Eagles), Mr. Roboto (Styx), Dancing Queen (Abba), Breaking the Habit (Linkin' Park), Shout (Tears For Fears), and Blinded By The Light (Manfred Mann/Bruce Springsteen)(sorry if the words are wrong. There is much debate over them).
a/n: Well, it's actually partially on time! Thanks to my beta for writing a whopping one paragraph of this chapter (and the last). Hope you like it! Read and review! (Sorry about how the songs turned out. I can't fix it.)
Harry steered clear of Remus for the next few days. He could tell Lupin was worried too. The young professor was growing tired and constantly seemed to be drinking Pepper-Up Potion. Harry noticed that each time he was in the same room as the werewolf his eyes were usually trained on the smallest movements Lupin made. He found Lupin's hands shook and the slightest sound made him jump. He tensed or whipped around to watch when any sudden movement was made. And he wrinkled his nose more than normal, something Harry had never really noticed him do unless something extremely foul was around.
Harry was so wrapped up in watching Lupin at breakfast one morning that he didn't notice Remus had sat down and had been talking to him for almost a minute before Sirius shoved him. Harry lifted his elbow from the porridge bowl with a disgusted look. "Gee, thanks, Sirius. I always wondered what elbow porridge tasted like." He tried to wipe his arm off but only succeeded in smearing the mush around. He scowled. "You could've just tapped me."
"I did! You were so busy daydreaming that you didn't even notice." Sirius gestured to Remus and went back to his ravenous eating.
"What were you saying?" Harry asked, searching for and locating his fork.
"I was just talking about the Hogsmeade weekend coming up. I don't know that I'll go."
"What? Why?" Harry exclaimed, stopping the fork in midair.
"It seems pointless after going so often."
"So? Isn't it better to go and be bored there than staying here and being bored?"
Remus shrugged. "Not really. At least when I stay behind I get something done."
"So, if you didn't go then you'd sit up in the dorm reading through that entire stack of books you have stashed under your bed?"
Remus's eyes narrowed. "How do you know about those?" Harry smiled and whistled a tune softly. He loved irking Remus. It was too fun. Remus ignored him. "Anyway, I just think I'll stay here and…read."
"But it's not half as fun without you badgering me," Harry whined, imitating a spoiled child.
"You've managed a whole weekend before," Remus interjected.
"Yes, but-" Harry froze and cursed his mental capacity as Remus gave him a small smirk. He should've known Remus would try to find a way to make him admit to going to Hogsmeade.
"But what? Finish please."
"That wasn't planned," Harry murmured, looking down at his plate.
"Indeed?" Remus asked, arching an eyebrow. "But you still-"
A screech interrupted him. Owls swooped in from every window. A large tawny landed before Remus. It hooted dolefully and dropped a copy of the Daily Prophet on the table. Remus dropped a knut in the pouch on its leg and it took off, cuffing Sirius around the head.
"Blasted bird!" Sirius snarled, grabbing the paper from Remus's grip and scanning it, flipping the pages noisily. He stopped to read something and snorted. "Another article from that new reporter, Rita Skeeter."
"Can I see?" Sirius handed Harry the paper and yawned, going back to his food. Harry thumbed through the pages. It took him two tries to find Rita's article. It was stuffed between ads for the newest Mrs. Skower's product and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.
Has You-Know-Who Disappeared or Is He Rallying Followers
It seemed as of one week ago that You-Know-Who had disappeared from the face of the earth. No such luck for Ministry officials who arrived at the scene of the murder of Robert Compton and his wife. Both were found dead, killed by the Killing Curse. When asked to comment, Albus Dumbledore chose to send reporters and owls away. Is the mighty Dumbledore afraid or has he joined this madman in his search for power? And is his school only for educational purposes or is he creating an army of followers for You-Know-Who?
Harry growled and threw the paper at Remus, who exclaimed, "Excuse you! I didn't do anything!"
"Sorry," Harry grumbled.
"What's gotten into you? It's just a stupid news article." James grabbed the paper and looked over the article. "That's all just nonsense. Who's going to listen to her?"
"You'd be surprised," Harry mumbled.
"You know, there was a lot of publicity about Compton and his wife. They were famous aurors at one point, but they weren't very wealthy." Remus mused, stirring the food on his plate in his distraction.
"Wasn't the missus sick?" Sirius asked, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
"That's right," Peter interrupted. "Alice and Frank were visiting when it happened. Alice is their daughter."
"That's why they're both in the hospital wing!" James murmured, amazed he hadn't remembered it before. "Frank smuggled himself and Alice out on her father's orders. But I still don't understand why they were targeted. What could Voldemort have wanted with them when he knew that they support Dumbledore?" James rolled his eyes as Peter flinched.
"You've got a good point, James." Remus ran his hand through his hair, a frown on his face. "There was no point, was there? Except to make sure everyone knows he's still out there."
Harry gazed at him, shocked that he hadn't realized it before. The prophecy was already starting its course. Born to the ones who have thrice defied him. Neville had been the other boy in the prophecy. Just because the prophecy didn't exist yet didn't mean it couldn't already be taking place. And the prophecy never said how they had defied Voldemort. Surely running away this once was one of the three times. But why had the Comptons been targeted in the first place? Voldemort had no idea that a prophecy would soon be made. "He did go to them for support." Harry groaned. "Of course!"
"What?" Sirius was baffled. "They had nothing to offer! The wife was sick. Mr. Compton spent all his time looking after her. They spent all their gold on every possible remedy for her. They have a daughter who's still in school. And they were aurors, meaning they would never have a reason to give their loyalty to him."
"You're not thinking, Sirius. They did have something, something very valuable. Just think about it."
"No!" Remus gasped. The others jumped, eyes wide.
"Quiet down, Moony. Sorry girls." James waved to a couple girls who had jumped when Remus had shouted. "What's up?"
"Sorry. I just realized…Alice."
"Beg pardon?" Sirius asked.
"They wanted Alice!"
"Exactly!" Harry smiled. Now they were getting somewhere. "Get into his mindset. He wants purebloods, if he can get them, and he'll get them however he can, even with-"
"Blackmail!" Sirius whispered, horrified.
"They threatened the Comptons to turn over their daughter…" James stopped, looking appalled.
"Or they and their daughter would be killed," Peter mumbled.
-------------------------
"Why did you have to choose today, of all days, to plan a prank?" Harry groaned, watching the Marauders placing the final touches on the last staircase in Hogwarts.
"Because we've only pranked Snape so far," Sirius laughed, tapping the rail one last time.
"And besides, this one's just for fun. It might embarrass some people." Remus shrugged, smirking.
"But it won't mortally harm anyone." James sighed. "It is a shame, but I think we'll get our point across. Want a demonstration?"
Harry looked at him uncertainly. "I don't-"
"Wonderful! Moony, would you do the honors?" Sirius bowed, moving his arms in a sweeping motion toward the stairs. James rolled his eyes and pushed Remus forward.
Remus huffed but stepped a little hesitantly onto the bottommost stair. Immediately, music began blaring from every direction, making Harry's ears pound unpleasantly.
Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto
Thank you very much, oh, Mr. Roboto
For doing the jobs, no body wants to
Thank you very much, oh, Mr. Roboto
For helping me escape, just when I needed to
Thank you
Thank you, thank you
I wanna thank you
Please, thank you
Remus withdrew his foot, a blush on his face. Sirius pounded him on the back, smiling widely. "Works like a charm! Always knew it would of course. Never a doubt in my mind. Excellent! Just excellent!"
James, grinning, was bouncing on the balls of his feet. "My turn!" He rushed forward but stumbled as Harry grabbed his arm.
"So, that's all it does? It just plays music? I mean, there's no catch?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"Catch?" Remus asked, obviously feigning shock at the accusation. Harry frowned. Remus's prankster side had really caught him off guard at first, but he was slowly coming to grips with it. There was no way Remus could fool him into thinking there wasn't a catch now. Harry wasn't going to fall for that again. "There's never a catch. Whatever led you to believe such things?" James, now smirking, stepped onto the stairs.
Yeah he was blinded by the light
Cut loose like a deuce another runner in the night
Blinded by the light
He got down but he never got tight, but he's gonna make it tonight
Sirius, wanting his turn to show off, yanked James off the stairs. But before he had the chance to clamber onto them, Harry caught him by the arm as well.
"Will it always be the same song?"
"Yep. Its design is ingenious, if I do say so myself." Remus snorted. "The spells in the prank pick one of two things. The song is either the victim's favorite song, or one that describes their life or how they feel, to an extent. Not perfect, but at times hilarious." With that he stepped up himself and waited patiently for the music to begin.
Shout
Shout
Let it all out
These are the things I can do without
Come on
I'm talking to you
Come on
Harry smiled at Sirius as he stepped down, relieved that the prank wasn't any more involved than it appeared. The look quickly turned into horror. "What do you say we give Harry a taste?" Sirius asked at large, smirking.
Harry panicked. "No!" He was grabbed by James and Peter. With a vicious thrust, Harry threw Peter away from him, feeling no remorse for the rat as he fell to the floor. Sirius grabbed him instead and James nodded. Putting all their weight behind the throw, they hoisted him in the air and threw him halfway up the stairs. Harry landed rather gently for how far he was thrown, but slipped down a few steps.
In an attempt to stop himself, he tried to stand and cried out when his leg sank through the trick stair. Harry grunted with the effort to free himself, but his foot was firmly wedged inside. It immediately started aching from the position it was forced into. He looked down at the Marauders, stunned that they had bodily thrown him onto the stairs. If they had just asked him…But then he understood. Their smirks said it all. He instantly redoubled his efforts. Remus had indeed lied to him about there being no catch, just as he had first thought. And he did not want to be the first one to be subjected to it. But he still couldn't help but pause when the song began echoing off the walls.
I don't know what's worth fighting for
Or why I have to scream
I don't know why I instigate
And say what I don't mean
I don't know how I got this way
I know it's not alright
So I'm breaking the habit
Tonight
Harry was still pulling desperately on his trapped leg, trying to beat the catch to the prank. It seemed it all had to do with how long you were on the staircases, and, Harry knew, he'd been on too long. And just as his frantic brain processed this fact, it happened.
Harry watched in fascinated horror as his clothing was transfigured in front of his eyes. Before he knew what was happening, he was wearing a pair of torn and faded jeans, a black t-shirt, and leather jacket. A silver chain hung from his waist, dangling to his knee before traveling back up. Its clasps were in the shape of lightning bolts. Harry sighed in relief when the changes stopped. He opened his mouth to yell at the Marauders but found himself unable to control his own mouth. He was singing along.
Memories consume
Like opening the wound
I'm picking me apart again
You all assume
I'm safe here in my room
[Unless I try to start again
Harry tugged his foot from the stair and raced to the bottom of the staircase, praying there was nothing else in store for him. The Marauders stared at him, apparently shocked by his new wardrobe. James opened his mouth to say something, but Remus grabbed his arm. "Someone's coming!" He hissed. The Marauders and Harry, who was still seething, scrambled to hide behind a tapestry and into the hidden passageway. With two at each side and Peter watching from underneath, they peered out at their unsuspecting victim. Severus Snape rounded the corner. Harry fought back a groan. Snape started up the stairs and kept walking, oblivious to the music playing.
Dancing Queen
Young and sweet, only 17
The Marauders almost collapsed in shock. Harry's song they could handle, but Snape's? They continued to watch, still stunned. Snape's clothes suddenly began to change. Harry's eyes widened in alarm. Snape's hair began to frizz until it looked like a bush was growing from his head. His robes changed from the normal black. His new wardrobe would have sent the group into hysterics if they weren't so surprised. Snape was now wearing a pink, sequined shirt and skin-tight disco pants. His shoes, usually black and shined apparently every day, had turned into a pair of lime green platform boots. Sirius emitted an odd gurgling noise.
"It burns!" James moaned.
"I know," Remus murmured, "but…I can't…look…away…"
Harry groaned, suppressing his own laughter. He winced as Snape began to sing along with gusto. He was almost to the top of the steps when someone appeared. Harry whimpered.
"Uh oh…" James muttered.
"MARAUDERS!"
Snape started. Professor Century whispered something to him as he walked past. Snape slowly looked down, flushed, and ran off. Century started down the stairs, taking them three at a time. Harry had a feeling Century would have leapt down them in one stride, but his more reasonable side had talked him out of it. Harry tried to shrink back against the wall as he came nearer. The last place he wanted to be at the moment was on the receiving end of Century's wrath. He had never seen it to its full extent, but at any rate it was something to be feared.
Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto
Thank you very much, oh, Mr. Roboto
For doing the jobs, no body wants to
Thank you very much, oh, Mr. Roboto
For helping me escape, just when I needed to
Thank you
Thank you, thank you
I wanna thank you
Please, thank you
Century hopped off the last step, landing with the most elegance and grace Harry had ever seen him use. He pulled the tapestry back, revealing the Marauders, who blinked up at him in surprise, their eyes wide. Century seemed to barely have a hold on his anger, but Harry noticed a playful glint in his eyes. He seemed to be torn between fury and laughter. "Report to Dumbledore."
"But – Professor-" James gaped. They'd never been caught so quickly, and by a newbie at that.
"Now!" Century snapped, pointing furiously up the corridor, having decided which he would go with.
Harry and the Marauders inched past their fuming Professor and started toward Dumbledore's office. They passed the gargoyle easily enough. Peter figured out the password (Blood Pops) and they all walked towards the stairs. But when they tried to step onto them they were thrown backward.
"I forgot about that," James grumbled, picking himself up from the floor.
"What now?" Harry snapped, having had enough of the tricks.
"Only one person can go at a time. That way everybody gets a turn. All right, Sirius first." They took the stairs as quickly as possible and found themselves in an empty office. It was almost ten minutes later when music announced Dumbledore's arrival.
Splish splash I was taking a bath
All upon a Saturday night
Well rub dub I was splashing in the tub
Thinking everything was alright
Dumbledore waddled through the door. He had somehow managed to retain his robes and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Dumbledore was wearing flippers, a float ring, a snorkel and mask, and a shower cap. The Marauders burst out laughing at the sight. Harry found himself stifling a few chuckles, turning them into hacking coughs to cover them up. Dumbledore sat down behind his desk, not bothering to try to remove the apparel.
"I thought I would be seeing you today. After all, when my staircase starts serenading Professor McGonagall with "Witchy Woman", you know who is behind it." Dumbledore stared at each of them in turn, making Peter and Remus squirm, though Remus seemed to just been getting more comfortable in his chair. He was hardly ever fazed by his friends' antics and the consequences. "So, what do you have to say for yourselves?"
"Sorry, Professor," the Marauders chorused, all looking rather bored with the routine.
"Good, now-" Dumbledore paused, his eyes landing on Harry, and he adopted a look of genuine confusion. "Mr. Times…were you also involved in this prank?"
Harry shook his head. "No."
"Then why are you here, Mr. Times?"
"Professor Century sent me with them." Harry inclined his head slightly.
"Ah, I see. And it seems you were one of their victims as well." Harry nodded. "Not that I can say I dislike your new wardrobe. It fits you."
"Thank you, sir." Harry mumbled, heat flaring in his cheeks. Dumbledore had no idea that he liked the new clothes too. After the initial shock was over he had started to get used to them.
"Well, I think before I punish you, I would like to know exactly what else is involved in your prank." Dumbledore turned back to the Marauders.
"I guess you haven't tried to take off your new wardrobe, Professor, else you would know," James said, smiling impishly. The wizened Headmaster reached up and pulled on the shower cap. It didn't budge.
He lowered his hand, the twinkle in his eyes brighter than ever. "A sticking charm?"
"Yes, sir. It's unable to be removed. It'll wear off at ten tonight. The clothes won't disappear either. They're meant to be a souvenir of sorts."
"And the staircases?"
"The same. You're stuck with it for a while." Sirius beamed, surreptitiously high-fiving James when Dumbledore looked at the others.
"In that case, I believe it should be two weeks detention, under Professor Century." Harry grimaced. He had recently started keeping track of the lunar chart in his sketching pad. And the full moon was exactly a fortnight away. Lupin wouldn't be in the best condition to deal with the Marauders. Dumbledore must have noticed how quietly he reacted, compared to the others' groans. "Is something wrong, Harry? You are not being punished as you were not a part of this plan."
"I know. But, I believe Professor L-Century has something to do that last night."
"Is that so? Well then, one week and six days' detention. Off you go then." The Marauders filed from the room one by one, their spirits not dampened a bit by the prospect of detention. Harry was about to follow Remus when Dumbledore spoke. "Harry, may I speak with you?"
"Of course, sir." Harry sat back down and unconsciously began tapping his heel on the flagstones as he waited impatiently.
"James does that."
"What?" Harry asked, distracted.
"He bounces his leg like you are now. It seems you picked up one of his habits." Harry bit his lip and looked away. It was ironic how much he was like his father when he had never really met him before this year. "Now, as I understand it, you were missing for a couple days about a week ago. A very flustered JR Century came to me about it. Poor lad. I thought he would have a stroke by the time he was through. He seemed to think you will make him prematurely gray." Harry snorted. "Only days after your mysterious disappearance, a rumor surfaced about the Compton deaths. A young Hufflepuff claims she overheard you explaining your theory and immediately told the entire student population. Now, I have found you in this apparel after a run-in with the Marauders' latest and most brilliant prank to date. That may not have anything to do with these other two occurrences. But it seems important enough to point out. Is there anything you would like to say?" Harry shook his head. Many of the portraits tutted at him. "Harry, I simply want to help. Where did you go when you disappeared and almost caused Professor Century to have a nervous breakdown?"
Harry pursed his lips and sat back defiantly in his chair. Phineas Nigellus jeered at Harry. "Answer your Headmaster!"
"I will when I'm ready, Phineas!" Harry snapped. "I was in Hogsmeade."
"Where in Hogsmeade?"
"Why does it matter?" Harry asked rudely, but Dumbledore didn't react to the jibe.
"Professor McGonagall was sent to search for you. She reported that neither hide nor hair of you was found in the village."
Harry snorted again. "I am not so easily found, Headmaster." He paused. "Why not send Century?"
"I thought perhaps you would be more likely to talk with your Head of House. After all, Century was the one you ran out on, am I correct?"
"Yes, sir. But sending someone I am less familiar with makes me no more comfortable with approaching them. If anything, it makes it worse as I do know how they will react."
"Ah…excellent logic. I should have known," Dumbledore said, nodding sagely.
Silence fell then Harry sighed. "I was at the Hogshead."
"The Hogshead?" Dumbledore asked, leaning forward in interest.
"Yes."
"The Hogshead attracts many dangerous people, Harry."
"Of course. But what's life without a little adventure?"
Dumbledore sat back, steepling his fingers. "Why not take your business to the Three Broomsticks? Aside from better lodging, it also has a more positive atmosphere."
"People's minds work in odd ways. Fortunately, there is usually some method to the madness."
"And what was your method?"
"Do what is unexpected." Harry sighed and murmured. "You'll live longer."
Dumbledore chuckled. "You are very interesting, Mr. Potter."
"For lack of trying, I might add."
"You say people's minds work in odd ways, Harry. I agree wholeheartedly with you. They say you know yourself better than anyone else does. That being understood, I am curious as to the origin of your rumor about the Comptons. You see, no one had been told of my suspicions. Your conclusion was right on the galleon, much to my surprise. You came to it very quickly as well. What possessed you to conclude that Lord Voldemort wanted to blackmail the Comptons into surrendering their daughter?"
Harry frowned and looked down at his feet. "I suppose you could say my Headmaster instilled a larger portion of himself in me than even he thought."
"You speak very highly of him. You are close?"
Harry felt his throat constricting. "Yes, we wer-are."
"May I ask his name?"
"You may."
"Will you tell me his name?"
"I can try."
"Can you tell me his name?"
"N-no."
"Why? The interference with time?"
"A bit, sir."
"Why else, Harry?"
Harry exhaled shakily. "I don't trust myself, Professor."
There was silence and then the scraping of a chair against stone. Harry didn't look up even as two flippers appeared before him. Dumbledore knelt down. "Look at me, Harry." Harry slowly raised his eyes to the Professor's. "What was your Headmaster's name?"
"Albus Dumbledore."
"We were extremely close?" Harry nodded hesitantly. Dumbledore quickly processed this. "Harry, I want you to answer me truthfully, as though we were positive that the timeline can not be changed and you could tell me anything. I am not one to try and change the future, no matter how much I want to do so. I will likely forget all the things you tell me, Harry. With that said, I want to ask you something." Harry nodded. "In your time, am I dead? Is that why you cannot trust yourself to talk about me?" Harry put his head in his hands and fought back a sob. All the stress from the past few weeks was catching up with him, making his emotions go haywire. Fawkes landed in a flurry of wings on Harry's shoulder, humming gently.
Dumbledore stood and walked to his desk. Harry sighed. Dumbledore must think he was weak. A cup of tea was pushed into his hands. His fingers trembled as he brought it to his lips. Dumbledore conjured a chair so he was facing Harry.
Harry thought he looked a bit funny sitting there drinking tea in swimming gear. The man never ceased to amaze him. "I left you high and dry, eh, Harry?"
Harry's head shot up. "No, sir! Don't think-"
"But I did, Harry," Dumbledore sighed.
"Professor…I believe you knew that night was your demise. For some reason, your death did not…surprise me, sir. I think you were preparing me for it, in a way." Harry shrugged. "Maybe it would have been different for everyone if you had died in your sleep, but-"
"I was murdered, then? And did you witness it?"
Harry looked away again. "The thing is that, I believe you may have thought me ready to go on alone."
Dumbledore nodded. "Perhaps I did. Then again, perhaps not. A boy should not have to carry a man's weight, even if he has come of age."
Harry snorted. "Since when does that make a difference where I'm concerned?" Harry groaned suddenly. "Oh no…"
"What is it, Harry? Are you feeling alright?"
"Yes, it's just that Professor Century is going to kill me."
"Why? You have done nothing wrong. I told you to not mind the timeline."
"He just likes to be cautious. I could have just messed something up."
"But you did not. I told you my theory about time, Harry. I also said I will not act on this information. If I tried to correct everything you tell me during your time here, what would happen?"
"Hundreds, thousands of people would die. I couldn't let that happen, even if…"
Dumbledore nodded solemnly, not at all perturbed by the lack of information. "I told you when you arrived that I knew you were special. I will not ask for any information that you do not give me. We all have to die, even if it is at the hands of a murderer. I have already had a long life. Two decades more seems like a good wrap-up to me." Dumbledore sat his cup down with a thoughtful expression. "I have a friend, Nicholas Flamel, who is-"
"Six hundred and fifty-two?" Harry asked with a small smile.
"You astound me, Harry! Yes, who is 652. He says that the way to look at death is as the next great adventure. And I plan to do just that. Is there anything I can do for you before you leave?"
"Sir, it is still hard to talk with you, knowing that when I go back to my time, you won't be there."
"True. But you have me now. If there is ever anything you need..."
Harry stood to go. "I'll let you know. Thanks." He was at the door before a thought struck him. "Actually," Harry turned back to Dumbledore. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about wandless magic, would you?"
Dumbledore looked up from his tea. "Everyone does wandless magic, Harry. It is a part of who we are as wizards."
"But, consciously, can anyone do it?"
Dumbledore sat his cup down and sat back, studying Harry. "There are stories, legends really, and very few documentations, but from the records we have, there have only been perhaps two or three wizards strong enough to perform simple spells and live. Why do you ask?"
"Oh, no reason. But, do you suppose, if someone practiced, they might be able to do even more?"
"I do not know, Harry. Is there something you wish to tell me?"
"No." Harry opened the door and paused again. "Sir, do you believe that a person really dies, if they have people still loyal to them?"
"No, I do not, Harry."
"Good. Then, you will never leave Hogwarts, Sir."
--------------------------------
"Harry," Sirius groaned. "You've avoided the questions from our bet forever!" Harry knew his young godfather was not above whining until he got his way, but luckily groveling was not in his repertoire. If it got any worse Harry might have caved right then.
"He's right." Remus fell onto his bed, sighing.
"For once." James smirked at the indignant look on Sirius's face.
"It's been three weeks. We'll do it tomorrow night, since it's Friday." Remus tossed a pillow to Sirius while James wasn't looking.
"Don't you have detention?" Harry asked, careful to keep his eyes on James and not on Sirius and Remus.
"Yeah, but we're halfway done, so this'll be our celebration." James clapped his hands together and smiled at Harry. At that moment, Remus's pillow went sailing toward James's head and the others laughed as James fell back onto his bed in a heap.
"Joy to the world." Harry murmured as a pillow flew at his shoulder, knocking him off his bed.
A good name is better than fine perfume, and the day of death better than the day of birth.
-Ecclesiastes 7:1