Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor - Chapters: 75 - Words: 74,437 - Reviews: 125 - Favs: 81 - Follows: 79 - Updated: Dec 16 - Published: Jan 18, 2016 - id: 11739934
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Author's note: Again, the site software spoils the rightful title of this chapter. It should be "Six-Pack, 9¾, Imperius Curse, Whilst", but apparently you can't use the "¾" symbol in chapter titles. (You can, however, use it in Document Manager file names. Go figure.)
"His chest grew, muscles forming and a sick pack showing as his body muscles grew." –Madriddler, "The Dragon's Courtship"
"Looking good, kid," said Marcus Flint with a smirk, as the newly chiseled Draco Malfoy emerged from Caldwell's Cauldron. "Who says Seekers need to be small and agile, anyway? No way a bloke built like that won't be murderous on the Quidditch pitch come Saturday; if Potter tries to get the jump on you, you can push him out of the way and pluck the Snitch out of the air like an apple off a tree."
"Glad to hear it," said Draco. "One thing, though." He pointed to his naked left pectoral. "Any idea why this cartoon of a pack of wolves lying in a bed, with ice-packs on their heads and thermometers in their mouths, appeared on my chest while I was in the Cauldron?"
Flint squinted at the image, and frowned. "No, not offhand," he said. "Unless it's magic's way of keeping you mindful that he who wields great power must keep the weak and unfortunate near to his heart, lest pride betray him into cruel scorn and corrupt the wellsprings of his spirit."
"Huh," said Draco. "I thought maybe it meant that Fred and George Weasley had got wind of our plans, and decided to gimmick one of the potions to show how stupid they thought the whole idea was."
"Well, yeah, that would be the other possibility."
"Platform 93/4 was once again packed full of students." –Lord Shinta, "The Boy Genius"
"We're going to miss the train," Ron whispered. "I don't understand why the gateway's sealed itself…"
Harry looked up at the giant clock with a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. Ten seconds… nine seconds…
"There you two are." Hermione appeared out of the crowd to their right and came striding toward them, an exasperated expression on her face. "Honestly, if you can't be bothered to read front-page announcements in the Prophet, you might at least actually look at your tickets. Didn't you see there was a new platform listing on there?"
Ron blinked, and glanced down at the ticket in his hand. "Oh," he said. "What do you know? All right, then, 93/4; let's see, that would be… er…"
"Between platforms 23 and 24," said Hermione patiently.
"24?" Harry repeated. "Since when are there 25 platforms at King's Cross?"
Hermione shrugged. "Some make-work project by the Camden Council," she said. "Anyway, come on; they've set the Express's departure a half-hour later to help people adjust – which I daresay you also didn't notice – but that doesn't mean we can just hang around here all day."
"Harry, you seem to know a lot about the Imperious Cruse." –brightsidetolife, "Thousands of Reasons to Smile"
"As well I might," Harry replied, "since it was my Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, my last year at Hogwarts."
"Really?" said Tom.
Harry nodded, and made a face. "Bossy, overbearing little talking oil-flask," he said. "We were all grateful when the DDA jinx kicked in that year."
"I daresay," said Tom. "What happened?"
"Oh, Filch knocked it off a shelf and shattered it one day while he was cleaning the teacher's lounge," said Harry. "An accident, he said, but I wonder. I never did think it was wise of it to needle him so much about how he needed to stop smoking and take up Dancercise…"
"For the 10th time this evening, Harry Potter escorted his 2-year-old son James out of the master bedroom whist he tried to get ready for his Muggle Primary school's 15 year meet up." –5MinuteMiracles, "15 Years Since We All Met"
"Ay a c'ubs!" said James proudly, holding up the top card from the pack.
"That's right, James," said Harry patiently. "That's the eight of clubs. And Daddy's going to need it and all the other cards in less than an hour, so why don't you and Mommy go play Snakes and Ladders or something while he gets everything ready?"
Deftly, he plucked the card out of James's hand and ushered his reluctant son over to the bedroom doorway, where Ginny was watching the two of them with a broad grin. "You really are determined to have your little anniversary event, aren't you, Harry?" she said. "I didn't even know they played whist at Muggle primary schools."
"They don't," said Harry. "My friends and I got the idea from an illustration in one of the school library's books that showed a group of 18th-Century aristocrats at a card table with a sumptuous bed behind them – or a chaise longue, I think it actually was, but it looked like a bed to us. To us perpetual butts of Dudley and his gang of hooligans, it was the most desirable symbol of luxurious ease we could imagine – so we made an oath that someday, when we were all grown up, we would dress up in knee-breeches and powdered wigs and play a round of whist in the master bedroom of whichever of us turned out richest."
"Whatever makes you happy, darling," said Ginny indulgently. "So I don't need to fix anything special for dinner, then?"
"Oh, no," said Harry. "Just a plate of sandwiches will be fine. –No, come on, James, let go of Daddy's cravat."
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