As you can clearly see by the posts on my regular LJ, I have become quite the Whovian (meaning I have become quite obsessed with a British TV series called Doctor Who, which, if you don't know, is about a 907-year-old Time Lord called the Doctor who travels through the universe in a blue police box called the TARDIS, which is bigger on the inside....yeah, it's pretty effing weird. BUT IT'S SO EFFING GOOD!)
Anyway, I have somehow managed to resume chronicling the adventures of the certain son of a wizard....no, not Merlin, Jr.! It's Albus Severus Potter, of course. This chapter, however, deals with everyone's favorite gay, buzuq-playing werewolf.(No, not Jacob Black in heat, you TwiTards.) Our beloved Thaddeus T. Wigglesworth takes centre stage in this chapter, where we learn what may happen when you push his Berserk Button too hard...
Enjoy, mon choux.
P.S.: Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey.
A Time Lord in the Fireplace
The sweet, sticky smell of butterbeer still clinging to their charred Hogwarts jackets, Albus, James, and Scorpius stumbled half-drunk into their inn room and fell onto the bed in a pile, landing with a thump on the professor's jacket. Professor Wigglesworth turned from the crackling fireplace to look at the boys, a brief distraction from three hour's worth of fire-staring.
"Enjoy your cold ones, boys?" said Wigglesworth. He absently returned his gaze to the fire.
The boys grumbled, incoherent yet audible despite being in a pile. With a sigh, Wigglesworth pulled his long, impressively polished wand out of his pants and raised it over his head, pointing at the pile of boys.
"Dormiens," he murmured, and noiselessly the boys fell asleep.
Wigglesworth returned his wand to his pants pocket, and resumed staring at the fire. The flames continued to crackle and dance in the fireplace as they had for hours now, Wigglesworth's eyes still on them, hawk-like; a cougar to its prey. Out of the clouds the full moon rose visibly through the misty windowpanes, catching his eyes, which quickly became bloodshot. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, his fingers dug into his thighs.
Suddenly, the fire changed from Floo green to a bright blue, then back again; a wind picked up, and a sound came from beyond the fire...
"Vworp! Vworp! Vworp!"
From nowhere, as if by apparation, a blue Muggle police box landed in the inn room. The doors of the box flung open, and a young-looking man stepped out. He wore a tweed jacket, bracers, big leather boots, and a bow tie; his hair slightly rakish but still quite stylish. He pulled what looked like a metal wand with a light affixed to one end out of his jacket pocket and scanned the room with it. The general air of this man was of an eccentric old professor in a young man's body, but with a distinct, otherworldly sense about him. Wigglesworth, distracted from the fire by the arrival of this strange man, got up and walked over to him, a twitchiness about him.
"And who are you, may I ask?"
"I'm the Doctor," replied the stranger in tweed warmly, shaking the professor's hand.
"Doctor who?" asked Wigglesworth.
"And who might I have the pleasure of meeting this fine evening?" asked the Doctor, ignoring Wigglesworth's query.
"My name is Thaddeus T. Wigglesworth, former head of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw houses at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and – what the HELL are you doing to my students?"
The Doctor had made his way over to the pile of sleeping boys and was using his wand-like apparatus on them.
"Just a bit of sonic screwdriving, that's all – just checking to see if these boys aren't dead."
Wigglesworth looked panicked; his eyes were turning.
"So you're here because of the Neo-Death Eater attack, are you? You some kind of Auror?"
"No, I'm a Time Lord." "A WHAT?" "It's a long story..."
Wigglesworth shook the Doctor violently. "Then what are you doing here?" shouted Wigglesworth. His eyes became slightly more bloodshot; his fingers trembled, his muscles tensed.
The Doctor wiped Wigglesworth's spit from his puzzled face. "I dunno, actually. TARDIS must've crashed here by mistake... where is here, exactly?" He looked at his watch. "Is this 19th century Liverpool? When are we, exactly?"
Wigglesworth shoved the Doctor back into the TARDIS, eyes now the color of smoldering flames. "You're in Hogsmeade Village, 2016. Now get the hell away from my kids!" he roared.
"Well, you're a fiery soul, aren't ya? You should come aboard! Be a companion – "
The Doctor's sonic screwdriver fell from his hand and his jaw dropped slightly: a howling Wigglesworth's clothes ripped off his now-furry skin; his eyes, now gold and cinnabar, flaring wildly.
With a laugh, the Doctor picked up his sonic and crossed his arms, chuckling.
"Well, string my buzuq and call me a werewolf, that's the strangest thing I've seen in a long time. Goodbye, Thaddeus. I hope to see you soon," said the Time Lord, closing the TARDIS door. And with the most wonderful sound, the big blue box began to disappear.
With the TARDIS' departure, the room fell silent – save for the fireplace and growling of Thaddeus T. Wigglesworth, werewolf. Soon, he too fell silent with sleep, with moonlight and fire the only sources of light and sound left in the inn room.