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There used to be such simple directions, back in the days before they invented parallel universes - Up and Down, Right and Left, Backward and Forward, Past and Future...
But normal directions don't work in the multiverse, which has far too many dimensions for anyone to find their way. So new ones have to be invented so that the way can be found.
Like: East of the Sun, West of the Moon
Or: Behind the North Wind.
Or: At the Back of Beyond.
Or: There and Back Again.
Or: Beyond the Fields We Know.
--Terry Pratchett, Lords and Ladies
*
High over Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Harry Potter finally caught sight of the golden snitch. He really had no thought in mind except to catch it and how, when he did, he was going to loop past the Slytherin section and shove it right up Snape's rather beaklike nose. Urging the Firebolt forward, he sped after the glittering speck.
Had he stayed awake during his History of Magical Theory class earlier that week (and paid attention), he would have heard Professor Binns explain the fractal nature of reality and the theory of chaos. But he hadn't (and wouldn't have anyway), so it's really no surprise he didn't even notice the butterfly he flew past, how it tumbled in the backwash of his flight, or how it had to beat its wings a bit more vigorously than strictly normal in order to stay on course.
Hermione, who had been awake (and took excellent notes), could have told Harry all about the Butterfly Effect, but since she thought it was all a load of codswollop, it's doubtful this would have made a difference at all.
*
There was a saying in Lancre: If you don't like the weather, take five steps to the right and turn around. If it wasn't already different, you could watch it roll down the mountains. The truth of the matter is, no one saw this particular bit of weather coming. Not Shawn Ogg doing guard duty up at the castle. Not Goody Nitt out feeding her chickens. And not Esme Weatherwax and Gytha Ogg, who were in the middle of having a nice cup of tea.
"Bugger it anyway. Gytha."
"Yes?"
"There's a newt in my cup."
Nanny Ogg peered into Granny's cup. "So there is."
"Well?"
While it's true Nanny forgot to check the well water for newts before filling the kettle, she was loath to admit this failing to Granny (who never forgot anything), so she assumed an innocent expression and said, "What? You didn't want newt tea?"
Granny set down her cup and a leveled a stare at Nanny, who stopped sipping her own tea, which, until that moment, hadn't the slightest bit of newt flavor.
"It's bad luck, boiling newts alive."
"Eh. Might have already been dead. Besides," Nanny said, glancing into the kettle, "it was just the one."
Just then Greebo, Nanny's bad tempered and disreputable cat, lifted his head, looked toward the door of Granny's cottage and hissed.
A moment later, Granny felt the hair on the back of her neck lift. There was a noise outside her door much like the sound an avalanche makes, except this sound had less to do with tons of snow and ice moving and was more like…air. Air that was going around in circular motion very fast, and was not at all happy about it. And in just another moment later, the cottage lifted as well.
*
One of the witnesses, dwarf Glod Ironfounderson, later described what he saw:
"Well. It was a quiet day, as I recall. Then the direction of the wind changed. Switched, you might say. The cottage sort of gave a twitch, like it had an itch. And then it was airborne. No, I didn't see the witches escape. They've gone to where the goblins go, I suppose. No, not Ankh-Morpork. Last I saw, it was headed straight for Bad Ass."
*
All things considered, the damage upon landing wasn't too severe. True, most of the crockery was a loss, but the clock still somehow on mantel ticked on. For a moment, that was the only noise in the cottage, until "Esme?"
"Yes, Gytha?"
"Would you happen to have a pair of drawers I could borrow?"
"Do I still have an upstairs?"
Nanny Ogg opened one eye and checked. "Yes."
"Then yes, I do."
"Esme?"
"What?"
"I don't think I'm going to wait until April for a bath, either."
There was a tinkle of broken crockery being shifted, followed by an indignant yowl and then the thump of a very large cat hitting the front door, which promptly fell off.
"Nice to know Greebo's fine," Granny said, with only a touch of irony.
Nanny cautiously stood, stepped over the door and looked outside. "Er, Esme. We've landed on someone wearing pink boots."
"I told you boiling newts was bad luck."
"Well. Bad luck for her."
Granny joined Nanny on the porch and looked at the boots, then at the crowd of little people in robes slowly approaching them. "Gytha," she said quietly.
"Yes?"
"I don't think we're in Lancre anymore."
*
Dolores Umbridge folded her arms and watched the two elderly witches look under the awful house that had killed her. She sniffed, or rather, gave an approximation of a sniff. Corporeal habits were hard to break, after all. They weren't even proper witches. No wands, hats hopelessly out of fashion, no robes over the black dresses. And the cat. Not even a first year student would take that cat on as a familiar. It was old, smelly and only had one eye and it appeared to be peeing on her boots. It was a disgrace and if she still had a wand, she'd Crucio the lot of them into next--
Her thoughts were interrupted by a noise just behind her, something that sounded very much like, "HEM, HEM."
*
There were mountains in the distance, but these were soft and rounded by wind and time, not the jagged edges of the Ramtops. There was a castle far off to the left, but it was rather larger and less shabby than the one Verence and Magrat currently called home. There was a village a little ways to the right, which seemed just as charming and picturesque as Lancre's, but a little less dusty and a lot more colorful.
And then there were the children coming from the direction of the village, all dressed in robes like the ones they wear at Unseen University in Ankh-Morpork. However, Esme was reasonably certain they weren't anywhere near Ankh-Morpork. For one thing, there was no obvious smell of sewage. For another, students of Unseen University were usually older, solely male, much taller and fatter, and tended toward mugs of beer as opposed to lollipops.
"You killed Professor Umbridge," one of the children said.
Granny tugged at one ear. "Yes. Well. It was a bit of an accident."
A different one said, "Oh, no, don't feel bad. She was a terrible teacher." The rest of the children nodded.
"Still-"
"No, really. Last year she tried to kill a student."
"I heard it was several students," someone else chimed in.
"Even so-"
"She was a wanted criminal on the run from the Ministry. They'll probably give you a reward."
"Regardless-"
Yet another broke in with a grimly pronounced, "She had decorative plates with frisking kittens on them."
"I see," Granny said.
Nanny said, "What kind of a reward?"
*
One of the children ran off to get something called a prefect. The rest milled about the exterior of Granny's house, some peering into the windows, others attempting to look underneath and past the boots. After much looking, calling of "Professor Umbridge? Still alive down there?" (to no response), and a few kicks to the boots (again with no response), the conclusion was reached that she was really most sincerely dead. This resulted in a few more kicks.
Just as Granny was about to ask if there was a constable or someone in charge, the crowd of students parted to reveal a vision of glittering loveliness. He had blond hair, a smile designed to show off his sparkling white teeth and a robe covered with enough jewelry and gewgaws to put Magrat's crystal collection to shame.
"Oh god," one of the children moaned. "It's Gilderoy."
"Hello," the vision said. "Would you like my autograph?"
"Why would I want it?"
"Oh, everyone does. I gather it's quite the thing."
"This," Granny said to Nanny, "is a very strange place. And stop pulling at those boots right now. Show some respect. You." She pointed to the vision. "Are you in charge around here?"
The vision laughed. "Me? Oh well, no. You want Professor Dumbledore."
"And where might we find him?"
With a vague wave of his hand, the vision indicated the castle. "Up there. Just follow the…oh. I say. They must have changed it. Just follow this rather dull and common gravel path, then. You're quite sure you don't want an autograph? I can do joined up writing perfectly well now."
"No. Thank you."
"Well then. Ta!" And he wandered off.
Granny looked at the children. "Professor Dumbledore?"
They nodded, and pointed toward the castle.
"Is he like that one?"
The children shook their heads. One of them said, with only a little bit of sarcasm, "No. Dumbledore's a wizard, not a--Hey, you don't have to kick me. I wasn't going to say poofter."
"Fine then. Come on, Gytha."
"Coming, Esme." There was a suspicious flash of pink from beneath Nanny's skirts as she stood.
"Gytha?"
"Yes?"
"Did you steal boots off a dead woman's feet?"
"Local custom here," Nanny cheerfully lied. "The children told me. Besides..."
"What?"
"They're a perfect fit. Almost as if it was meant to be."
*
Hermione was still going on about Ron's grades as they started up the path to Hogsmeade. "A D in Transfigurations! We studied! All night! You said you had it, which is the only reason I-" She shot a look at Harry and blushed.
Harry, who knew exactly what the blush meant since Ron hadn't returned to the dorm last night, pasted a blank expression on his face and said, "Yes? The only reason you what?"
"The only reason I said he could, um, sleep." She blushed harder, then whirled around and snapped, "Honestly, Ron. Where's your brain?"
When Harry helpfully pointed at Ron's groin, Ron elbowed him, then said to Hermione, "Don't need one. I have yours."
Hermione whirled back to Harry. "And you, Harry. After working so hard to get into NEWT potions, you still have yet to turn in one assignment to get a passing grade."
"Because of Snape! He does…stuff! And distracts me!" When Hermione just gave him an unsympathetic look, Harry said, "Hermione, you're supposed to be on my side here. Have a heart."
They were still good-naturedly bickering when they rounded a corner and ran smack into two little old woman and one nasty looking cat.
"Pardon us," the smaller one said. "We're off to see a wizard."
Ron eyed them and said, "Oh yeah? Which one?"
"Dumbledore, he said."
"Who?"
"Glittery chap with a brilliant smile. Wanted to give me an autograph."
Ron rolled his eyes. "Gilderoy Lockhart. He escaped from St. Mungo's. Keeps trying to get back to Hogwarts, but gets lost. Totally mental."
"Hogwarts?"
"The castle up there." Hermione pointed.
"And you came from there?"
"Of course."
"Then I suppose you'd like to show us the way."
As a matter of fact, all three had really been looking forward to this trip to Hogsmeade, but something about the look in the little old witch's eyes really didn't suggest refusal was an option.
*
"It's a school," the girl, Hermione, explained when they got to the large doors.
Granny looked at the Great Hall and said, "What, full of books and all?"
"Yes."
Granny turned to Nanny and muttered, "I don't trust books. You remember the best man at Magrat's wedding?"
"Hairy chap? Long arms and prehensile toes?"
"Books turned him into a monkey."
They were miles, possibly worlds away from Ankh-Morpork, but still Nanny gave a nervous look around and said, "Actually, I think he prefers the term ape."
"How would you know?" asked the dark haired boy, Harry.
Nanny thought of the troll with the dented skull, smiled fondly and said, "He has his ways."
*
The last thing Minerva McGonagall expected was a knock on her office door on a Hogsmeade weekend. Still, she wasn't surprised when she opened it to see the trio of Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. The two witches behind them, however, were rather unexpected, as was the large cat that sauntered in and made himself at home on her chair.
*
"So. You're witches. From some place called Lancre. And a tornado picked up your house and dropped you here."
"Yes."
"And you landed on Dolores Umbridge."
"Yes. Er. Sorry about that."
McGonagall waved a hand. "No matter." She leaned against her desk and continued, "And you say you want to see Professor Dumbledore."
"Well. That's what the fairy said to do."
"Fairy?"
"Poofter," Nanny said.
"Lockhart," Ron said flatly.
"Ah. Unfortunately, Professor Dumbledore has been called away on important business. I suppose," she said slowly, "you'll just have to stay here until he returns. And I suppose there'd be no harm in letting you stay in the Gryffindor common room. But I just have to know one thing first."
Nanny nodded sagely and said. "You'll be wanting to know if we're good witches or bad witches, I expect."
"No."
"Then what?"
"What in Merlin's name have you been feeding this cat? He reeks."
*
Hermione transfigured two of the sofas into beds, and even made a cozy little cat bed for Greebo from one of the chairs. She also cast several surreptitious cleaning charms over him, as both Harry and Ron had started to turn rather green when the portrait door closed.
Granny watched her work with narrowed eyes and thin lips. "Always use a wand, do you?"
"Well, yes. How else would you do magic?"
When Granny only sniffed, Nanny said, "Never mind, dear. In our parts, only wizards use wands. Or, well. Staffs." Her eyes brightened. "Say. Do any of you know that song?"
It was funny, because Hermione hadn't thought Granny was all that interested in the castle, but when she leapt up and suddenly demanded a tour, everyone forgot to ask, "What song?"
*
The Library was, by unspoken consent, avoided.
The Astronomy Tower was pronounced The Place Most Likely to Be Chosen For Impulsive Suicide. Still, Granny had allowed there was a nice view.
When Granny saw the candles floating in the Great Hall, she had to bite her lip to keep from saying, "There's an accident waiting to happen."
However, it wasn't a bad castle, and the young ones seemed polite and eager to please, which was, really, how it should be.
"What's down there?" Nanny asked as she peered down a corridor.
"Dungeons," Harry said, with a grimace.
Nanny's eyes lit up. "What, with cells and a torture chamber?"
"Worse. Potions."
*
Harry had his arms folded over his chest and his lips pressed together in a thin grimace. The man who'd been introduced to them as Professor Snape glared back at him, his lips curled in what was a toss up between a snarl and a sneer. When they had greeted one another, they used words no one could possibly take exception to, but in tones designed to convey the maximum amount of dislike and contempt.
Nanny said to Granny, "They practically vibrate with wossname."
"Hatred?"
"Unresolved sexual tension."
They both turned to look at Nanny and Granny with identical expressions of outrage.
"Oh please," Harry said. "As if I'd ever even look at him."
Snape practically spit as he said, "You would have to hex me into next week to even think about touching Potter."
"Then why are you always grabbing me, huh?"
"And I'm sure your frequent episodes of fainting in my office have nothing to do with your desire to be the center of my attention."
"Fainting! I have NEVER-- You always hit me with some curse I've never heard of when I walk in the door! What am I supposed to do?"
Snape casually studied his fingernails as he said, "Oh, I don't know, Potter. I mean, as the supposedly most powerful wizard of your generation, I would think by now you would have least learned to DUCK."
Ron said, in a very small voice, "Sexual tension?"
Hermione cleared her throat and said, in tones of forced brightness, "Kitchens next, I think."
*
The House-elves assured them that it was perfectly fine, no trouble at all, and indeed, an honor to be eaten by such a noble cat. "Hinky always was saying it was the way he wanted to go, Nanny Ogg, ma'am."
They even helped carry Hermione back to the tower.
*
Hermione was still in her room come dinner time, so it was left to Ron and Harry to escort Nanny and Granny to the Great Hall.
McGonagall spelled two extra places at the main table and introduced them to Sybill Trelawney, next to Nanny, and Hagrid, next to Granny.
Nanny said, "How do you do?" to Sybill, who replied with, "I have received a vision. I saw…The Dark Lord, writing huge letters of fire in the sky. They said he will get you." She glanced at Granny. "And you." She looked at Greebo and added, "And your little cat too."
Greebo slit his eye at her and gently burped.
Granny turned to Hagrid, "So, this Dumbledore…"
"Wonderful man, Dumbledore."
"Why is he so wonderful?"
"Because of the wonderful things he does. Never was a greater wizard than Albus Dumbledore."
"What's he known for, then?"
Hagrid ticked off the points on his fingers. "Defeated Grindelwald. Only wizard You Know Who is afraid of. Never has an empty candy dish."
"You Know Who?"
"You know."
"No, I don't."
"He Who Must Not be Named."
"Why not?"
Hagrid sputtered, "Because…because…because..."
Granny shook her head and turned back to Trelawney. "So. Get visions often, do you?"
*
"Voldemort," Harry said, later in the common room.
"Why not just say so?"
Harry shrugged. "Superstition."
"And what's the story with Voldemort?"
Harry said glumly, "He wants to kill me."
Granny gave Harry a curious look. "Why, what'd you do? Name him?"
"No. He wants to kill me because I'm supposed to kill him."
Granny sniffed. "Prophecy, eh?"
Harry nodded.
"I don't listen to 'em, myself. They never turn out the way you expect."
"Tell Voldemort that."
And he looked so glum that Nanny felt sorry for him. "Lad," she said, "you need cheering up. Tell me. Have you ever had scumble?"
"What's scumble?"
"Very healthy for you. Made out of apples."
*
It was Harry's considered opinion that it was amazing what you could do with apples these days. He felt…he felt… he felt like there was nothing he couldn't do as long as he didn't have to walk a straight line. Because he was…he was…"The greatest wizard of my generation," he said loudly. "Snape said so."
Ron peered at him over his own cup of scumble and said, "Severus Snape is. Is. Is. A great big stupid git." And then he laughed.
Harry nodded, then shook his head. "But he was right. About me."
"Fainting?"
"No! I'm…I'm…something." Harry frowned. "But he still gives me detention."
"'Cause he's an arsehole," Ron said, then repeated with great relish, "Arse. Hole. Needs to be taught a lesson."
"Yes!" Harry stood, wobbled a little, then announced, "I am going to teach Snape detention. Greatest wizard of my generation, so I can do it, too."
"Go get him, son," Nanny said. Her own cup of scumble was running a little low, so she topped it off, then did the same for Hermione, who had been lured out of her room by the noise and the fumes. "Feeling better, dear?"
Hermione watched Harry stumble out the door (followed by Greebo, who'd had enough of Neville's attempts to snuggle him) and knew there was something she should be saying, but couldn't for the life of her think what it was. So she said the first thing that came to her.
"What song?"
*
Minerva McGonagall did her nightly rounds more out of habit than necessity. She felt a certain amount of smug satisfaction that she ran a tight ship, and that her students, for the most part, could be counted on to uphold the pride and honor of Gryffindor. So, it was with no small amount of disbelief that she approached the common room door and smelled alcohol and heard what sounded like all of Gryffindor singing--
"Oh, a wizard's staff has a knob on the end, a knob on the end, a knob on the end. And it's big, and it's round and it weighs-"
"CHILDREN!"
*
A part of Ron knew he should not be giggling when McGonagall was yelling, but it seemed beyond his power to stop, so he just went with it. He was still giggling when he collapsed on his bed.
McGonagall looked around the dorm room, then ripped back the curtains around Harry's empty bed and demanded, "Where's Potter?"
Ron knew that, so he slurred out, "Dungeon. Snape."
With a disgusted shake of her head McGonagall said, "Can't that boy ever stop getting detention?"
*
Somewhere down in the dungeons was heard:
"Oh, god, I hate you. Please don't stop doing that."
"Wretched, awful, beautiful brat. God, your mouth, I love your mouth."
"Harder. Please."
"Merlin, yes."
*
Minerva shut the door to the common room and stomped back to her bedroom. When she found out where they'd gotten their hands on alcohol, she was going to have a field day taking points. And that went double for whoever had taught her innocent little students that disgusting song.
Oddly enough, she didn't even once think to blame the elderly witches they'd just taken in, mostly because by the time she'd burst through the door Nanny had hidden the scumble and popped into bed. (Granny had taken to hers hours before, and had been forced to Borrow Mrs. Norris just to get away from the noise of the common room.)
When Minerva got to her room, she jumped when she saw Nanny's cat making himself at home on her bed. And while he didn't smell so bad anymore, she didn't like the way he looked at her, so she said, "Out you go, my lad. Go on. Scoot."
Greebo, who'd followed the scent of she-cat to this room, but had been unable to find her, merely narrowed his eye and kneaded the pillow beneath him. He sniffed again. And while Greebo wasn't a terribly bright cat, he was rather cunning in his own way. His brain put two and two together and came up with Human. So he shifted. And when his mouth could make speech, said, "Play, pretty kitty?"
And Minerva, who, being an Animagus herself, was less shocked than most people upon seeing Greebo become suddenly human, still found herself speechless at Greebo's rather overwhelming nakedness. That is, until he smiled and sauntered over to her.
"I say! You can't--I mean, you mustn't! I…oh. Oh. My. Let me, ah, just close the door."
*
The morning after was, as was the case with most mornings after, filled with regret and no small amount of vomiting.
Almost all of Gryffindor looked like hell after a particularly brutal demon uprising, but no one looked worse than Harry Potter, with his bloodshot eyes, swollen mouth and the hickeys and bite marks that trailed all the way from his neck to underneath his waistband. This was rather noticeable because he couldn't find his shirt. Or cloak. Or underwear (this was later found hanging from the light fixture in the Potions classroom) and had to stagger back to his dorm in just his rather rumpled jeans.
Luckily for him, the only ones who noticed were Nanny and Granny.
"It's like one of those stories."
"What, like the ones about what they do up at the Assassins Guild? Because I don't hold with that sort of-"
"No, no. It's wossname. The story of a love that dare not speak its name in a world gone mad. Like when Our Jason went through that phase with Bestiality Carter."
"Well." Granny glanced around at the pale faces and moved aside as yet another student bolted for the bathroom, hand clapped over mouth. "You've got the world gone mad part right."
Nanny, still thinking of that summer, said, "I blame it on the Morris dancing."
*
Breakfast was a rather quiet affair as almost none of the Gryffindors elected to have any. Granny made a point of sitting next to Snape, who had a bemused and sappy expression on his face.
"Excuse me," said Granny, who rather liked Harry.
"Madam?"
"What are your intentions?"
"I beg your pardon?"
She eyed the book he'd carried in with him and asked, "Are you planning to become a monkey?"
Puzzled, Snape said, "Not in the immediate future, no."
"See that you don't." She poked at her eggs and added, "I don't hold with humans suddenly becoming animals. It's unnatural and no basis for a lasting relationship."
Further down the table, Minerva McGonagall choked on her tea and blamed that on the fact that her face turned red.
*
After breakfast Nanny decided to go find Greebo. And if, along the way, she happened past and then into the Potions room, and maybe mixed a few ingredients together to see what would happen, there was no harm it. Or, she reasoned, none she could be blamed for.
*
Granny returned to the common room after McGonagall informed her Dumbledore was still not back. There she found Harry gloomily rubbing his forehead.
"Best thing for that is some water and a lie down," Granny said.
"Oh, no, it's not that." (Dobby, once he'd ascertained Greebo was not in the room, had brought up some hangover potion.) "It's Voldemort. He's planning something. I can feel it."
"Do you always know when your enemies are planning something?"
"Just him. Because of this." He lifted his hand and showed her the lightning bolt scar. "Voldemort tried to kill me when I was a baby." He told her about the prophecy, and the man formerly known as Tom Riddle.
"Went bad, did he?"
"Yes."
"Wanted to rule the world? Kill everyone as didn't agree with him?"
"Yes."
Granny sniffed and said, "Probably didn't get enough fresh air and exercise."
Harry, who thought the same philosophy could be applied to his cousin Dudley, found himself almost agreeing with her.
"But now I have to kill him," he said glumly.
"What, with a magic sword?"
"It didn't say. Just that I have to kill him, or he'll kill me."
"And how many times has he tried, then?"
"Four? Five?"
"Not very good at it, is he?"
Nanny came in holding a jug and looking rather pleased with herself. This look faded when she saw Granny, and she hid the jug under her skirts.
Granny ignored this, thought for a moment, then stood and said, "Come on, Gytha."
"Where?"
"We're going to find this Voldemort and put an end to this nonsense."
"But, the prophecy," Harry said.
"Twaddle. Don't believe in 'em."
"Then why are we…" But here Nanny paused, because Esme Weatherwax never, ever butted in, or inserted her rather sharp nose into other people's business, or even considered interfering. "…helping?" she finally decided on.
"I said I don't believe in them prophecies. He obviously does, or he wouldn't keep trying to kill the boy." She gave Harry a piercing look. "So. Any idea where this chap hangs his hat?"
*
Hermione was summoned. Arcane spells were cast. Spirits were called upon from the nether regions, consulted, then banished. Sacrifices were made. Well. Sort of. Hagrid wouldn't let them have a chicken, so they grabbed some leftovers from the kitchen. And then made sandwiches. Nanny assured them it was the thought that counted, but then, she had two sandwiches.
But in the end, it came down to a casual glance at the Marauder's Map.
"He's in the Shrieking Shack?!"
*
The Whomping Willow ominously rattled its branches when they approached.
Granny gave it a cold look and said, loudly, "Gytha? Do you think you could conjure me up an axe?"
There was a pause, an almost considering silence, and then the lower branches were lifted in what could have been considered a hasty fashion for them to walk underneath.
*
As they walked down the tunnel, Ron, Harry and Hermione trailed behind to confer in whispers.
"Don't you think we should have told someone about this? Like Dumbledore?"
"He's not here! Besides, they wouldn't wait."
"But, they have no idea, SHE has no idea what she's dealing with. I mean, this is Voldemort."
"Were YOU going to tell her she couldn't go?"
And in front, Nanny and Granny pretended not to listen. It was okay. They were used to being underestimated by today's youth.
When they reached the door, they told the children to wait. "We're just going to have a little peek," Nanny said. "And be right back, to get, uh, your help."
Sadly, today's youth wasn't that gullible, so they had to conk all three on the head to prevent them from following.
*
Granny's first glance of Voldemort confirmed her worst suspicions.
"Red eyes, pale complexion and wossname. Megalomania. You've never pulled your nose out of a book, have you, my lad?"
"Doesn't look like he ever even made it out of the house," Nanny said, giving him a critical look. "On the other hand, he probably has plenty of experience pulling his tonker."
"Gytha Ogg!"
Voldemort drew his wand and said, "I could kill you where you stand, old woman!"
"Oh. Well then," Granny said. "Dearie me and possibly lawks."
"Do you know who I am?"
"Some chap named Tom Marvolo Riddle."
"I am Lord Voldemort!"
"Pish. Takes more than an anagram to make royalty, my boy."
Nanny nodded. "Have to have a birthmark and a sword, at least."
*
Harry swam back toward consciousness and staggered toward the door.
Ron, also coming to, moaned, "What are you doing?"
"I'm going after them."
"What?"
"They're sweet little old ladies! We have to save them!"
"Are you mental?"
*
When the door burst open again and Harry stumbled through, Voldemort aimed his wand at him and immediately seemed to forgot about them. "Potter," he said. "Perfect."
And all right, maybe she didn't believe in prophecies, but it was Esme's experience that if enough other people did, prophecies started to believe in themselves. So she reached into one of the deep pockets in Gytha's skirts where she knew she'd find the heavy jug of scumble, and pulled it free.
"Uh, Esme?"
"Not now, Gytha." She cocked her arm.
"Esme, that's not-"
The creature known as Lord Voldemort, formerly Tom Riddle, parted his lips and snarled, "It ends now, Potter. Avada-"
The jug smashed against his skull, covering him in a clear liquid. He let out a sound that started as a bellow of rage and trailed off into a thin wail as he seemingly melted into the floor under the heavy cloak. For a long moment, there was nothing but silence.
Everyone was rather dumbfounded. Especially when the wail resumed and the cloak moved, as if something underneath it was kicking.
*
"Gytha."
"Yes, Esme?"
"You weren't brewing some sort of youth potion up at that castle, were you?"
"Me, Esme? Interfere in the natural order of things? No, I'd never." After a steady stare, Nanny said, "Well, maybe just a little bit. For, um. Greebo! Yes. You know how he's getting on in years."
"This very morning you called him your sweet little kitten. In a rather sickeningly syrupy voice, as I recall."
*
No one could seem to agree what to do with the now toddler aged Dark Lord. Nanny's answer was to bounce him on her knee and feed him sweets.
"He's just going to grow up and start all over again, you know," Hermione said.
"We could kill him," Ron suggested. "Should be pretty easy now."
Harry said, "But he's a baby! You can't kill babies!"
"He's evil!"
"How can a baby be evil?"
"He's got red eyes! And what's that smell?"
*
"Look at his chubby knees!"
"Gytha."
"And his big red eyes!"
"Gytha. No."
"And his sweet little tummy tum tum! Oh, please, Esme, can we keep him?"
*
In the end, they decided to go back to the castle and consult rest of the staff. "After all," Hermione pointed out, "they're not going to believe it unless they see it."
They didn't, really, even after they saw it, until they noticed the eyes. And when the whole subject of killing him came up again, Granny was surprised to hear herself say, "We’re taking him with us. Back to Lancre."
Everyone gaped at her, except for Voldemort, who tugged on Nanny's skirt. "Want sweeties."
"In just a moment, my love."
"Want sweeties NOW." His wand spat out green sparks.
Granny plucked it from his fingers, and said, "That will be enough of that nonsense." The child gave her a furious look that slowly turned calculating, then bared his sharp little teeth.
Granny leaned down until she was nose to nose with him and said, "Bite me, laddie, and I'll have your teeth for a necklace."
His mouth closed with a snap.
"There!" Nanny said. "I've always said you're a natural with children, Esme."
*
"So," Granny said. "That's settled. Now, can anyone here tell us how to get home?"
It was then that a vision appeared. Well. The vision. Okay, Lockhart. He drifted across the Great Hall and said to Nanny, "My good woman, it's so simple. It's just like I wrote about in Dodging Dimensions. Just click your heels together three times and say, 'There's no place like home.' I find that always works for me." He gave her a brightly expectant look.
"I told you he's mental," Ron said.
Hermione rolled her eyes and said, "I suppose you could make a port key. Just tap that wand on this tea cup, think of where you want to go and say 'Portus.'"
Granny did so, and the cup turned blue, trembled, then became still. "You only have a few seconds," Hermione said.
Nanny picked up Voldemort and slung him onto one hip. He contentedly sucked on a sweet, his red eyes half open. Nanny jiggled him and said, "Now then, Tommy, ready to go home?"
Snape, warily eyeing his former lord, asked Granny, "You're sure you want to do this?"
Granny would rather die than admit to doubt, so she said, "Of course. There's never been a lad from Lancre that's gone bad."
Nanny stopped jiggling the former Dark Lord long enough to say, "What about that boy who-"
"Never mind, Gytha." She gave them all a tight smile and said, "He'll be fine."
"Him?" Ron muttered. "What about them?"
"If it does go bad," Harry muttered back, "maybe the cat will eat him."
They didn't quite understand Minerva's blush when the cat gave her a heavy stare, then blinked.
"You know," Nanny said, "we never did get to see that wizard."
Granny shrugged. "Eh. He would have just offered you some candy anyway."
"Oh, I see. One of those."
And then they were gone.
And Harry, who for the first time ever felt no residual trace of Voldemort in his head, said, "Party, Gryffindor common room. I think we still have some scumble."
*
"Wow," Ron said. "We saved the world."
Hermione frowned. "Well, technically-"
"The potion was brewed in Professor Snape's lab," McGonagall pointed out.
"And they never would have done anything if they hadn't liked Harry," Ron added.
"Everyone likes Harry."
"Except for Snap-- Oh. Never mind. Ew."
*
When they ran out of scumble they made Dobby break into Dumbledore's private liquor cabinet. And when they cleaned that out, Snape reluctantly turned over the keys to his. Or, well, not so much turned them over as had them dug out of his pocket and flung in the general direction of the party by Harry, who was too busy kissing Snape to want another drink just yet.
To his credit, Ron didn't even blink, but mostly because the scumble had deactivated most of his central nervous system.
Minerva made a toast and mumbled something like "farewell, my sweet little kitten." At this, Harry looked up, peered blearily around the room and frowned, as if just remembering something.
"Hey," he said. "Hey. Did anyone ever levitate that house off Umbridge?"
end