Happy holidays, cruisedirector! -- A Merry Muggle Christmas [HP/Dr. Who]
Title: A Merry Muggle Christmas
Author: torn_eledhwen
Recipient: cruisedirector
Fandom: Harry Potter/Doctor Who
Characters or Pairing: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, the Fourth Doctor, Sarah-Jane Smith
Rating: G
Summary: It's Christmas in Hogsmeade, but there's a couple of odd strangers in the pub ...
Notes: Happy holidays, cruisedirector! Here's a slightly crazy little crossover which grew on me after your requests. I couldn't resist it.
A Merry Muggle Christmas
“Frog?” asked Harry, holding the bag out to Ron and Hermione. They both took one, and, munching, the trio wandered down the main street of Hogsmeade. The pavement was crunchy with snow underfoot and he was grateful for his red-and-yellow scarf wrapped snugly around his neck.
“I wish I could get these at home,” Hermione mused.
Ron bit the leg off his frog. “Muggles would hate them. They'd be terrified.”
“Of frogs?” asked Harry.
“Chocolate that hops,” said Ron, sagely. “It's perfectly normal, of course, but, y'know, Muggles ...”
Hermione dumped a handful of snow down his neck.
By common consent, after that, they headed to the Three Broomsticks for some butterbeer. The pub was full of students enjoying the day off, wizards and witches pausing in their Christmas shopping, and a couple of teachers gossiping over their drinks. Harry, Ron and Hermione got their butterbeers and elbowed their way to an empty table, where they dumped their bags, shed their coats and settled down.
“So, what colour jumper do you think your mum will knit you this year?” Harry asked Ron, through his first swallow of butterbeer.
“Never mind that!” said Hermione, breathless. “Look! Over there! In the corner!”
Harry and Ron both turned round to follow her gaze. “Is that ... are they Muggles?” asked Ron, amazed.
“They don't look very Muggle-ish,” Harry said, frowning, but he had to admit there was something not very wizardly about the odd couple in the corner either. They were definitely strangers to Hogsmeade, and were behaving just like tourists in London - looking around with frank interest. The girl was a few years older than Harry, Ron and Hermione, while her companion was older still and wearing a scarf draped three times around his neck and trailing down to the floor.
“That is a truly brilliant scarf,” Ron said, noticing it.
“I'm sure they're Muggles,” said Hermione. “But what are they doing here?”
The man seemed to be talking ten to the dozen - at, rather than to, his companion. But she was listening avidly to whatever he was saying.
Hermione stood up. “Anyone fancy something to eat? Crisps?”
“You've just had a frog,” said Ron.
She raised an eyebrow at him and went to the bar, passing by the pair of Muggles on the way and on the way back. Plonking a packet of crisps on the table, she sat down again with a triumphant grin.
Harry broke into the crisps. “So?” he asked, as Hermione was clearly itching to say something.
“They seem to be sightseeing,” Hermione said. “The girl was asking the man why they'd come here, and he said, 'for some local colour'. And he was talking about magic as if he knew what it was, but as if it was ... well, science.”
“What's science?” Ron questioned, his mouth full of crisps.
“It's a Muggle thing,” said Hermione. “It's how they do things like invent cars, and electricity.”
“We used to do it at school,” Harry added. “Sort of.”
They drank their butterbeer and kept an eye on the Muggle pair, who were watching everything going on in the pub and the usual assortment of customers with keen interest. But time was passing, and Hermione eventually declared it was time to head back to Hogwarts.
As the three of them left the Three Broomsticks, buttoning up coats and pulling on hats against the cold, they realised the man in the long scarf and his friend had followed them. In a short time they had caught up, the girl hurrying beside her long-legged companion.
“Merry Christmas!” said the man, cheerfully, showing a lot of teeth.
“Happy Christmas,” Harry returned, exchanging glances with Hermione.
The girl nudged the man. “Doctor, you said you'd ask them.”
“You're the journalist,” he returned.
“All right, then.” She turned to Hermione. “The Doctor here says you're all wizards, and can do magic. Is he right?”
The man sighed. “What I actually said, Sarah, is that there seems to be a rare gene present that enables a certain proportion of the human race to be able to manipulate atoms and energy in an unusual way. You call it magic. I call it genetics.”
Hermione frowned. “I've never heard it described that way before.”
“The same gene also seems to prevent the understanding of simple genetics,” added the Doctor.
“I understand genetics perfectly,” said Hermione, clearly affronted.
“She does,” Harry said.
“I don't,” said Ron. “What is he talking about?”
“He's trying to explain magic for Muggles,” Hermione said. “Though really I think he doesn't understand it himself and is just being complicated for the sake of it.”
The girl smiled, delighted. “Have you met him before? You might have done, without realising it, you know. He does that all the time. I'm Sarah-Jane Smith. Can you do some magic?”
“We've got to get back to school,” said Hermione.
“Just one little spell?” Sarah-Jane Smith asked. “Please? Because it's Christmas?”
Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other. Harry rather felt that one little spell wouldn't hurt, and also that this odd duo were more, somehow, than they seemed to be. He got out his wand, quelled Hermione's exclamation of distress by shaking his head at her, and said, “Lumos!”
Sarah-Jane Smith seemed thrilled with the spark of light, bright in the fading winter evening, on the end of his wand. Even the Doctor leaned forward to examine it, as it winked out. “Fascinating!” he said.
Tapping her watch, Hermione fidgeted. Harry let the light die and put his wand away. “We've got to go,” he said. “Sorry.”
“No, that was brilliant!” said Sarah-Jane Smith. “Thanks!”
“How are you getting back to wherever you came from?” asked Ron. “'Cos, y'know, we don't get much traffic from outside in Hogsmeade.”
The Doctor pulled an oddly-shaped key from his pocket. “Where we came from? That's not the question, young man. The question is, where we're going next.” He looked down at Sarah-Jane Smith. “Where do you fancy, Sarah?”
“Somewhere warm, after this,” she said.
“I know just the place.” The Doctor stopped walking, next to a tall blue box that Harry could have sworn was not there when they came into the village. “Here we are. Well, lovely to meet you, thanks for the magic, and have a wonderful Christmas.” He grinned at them again, opened the door of the box, deftly lifting his scarf out of his way, and vanished inside.
Sarah-Jane Smith paused. “Thanks. And do have a good holiday, won't you?” She followed the Doctor into the box.
Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other, and then found their own scarves blown about by a sudden wind. With a groaning noise, the box vanished into thin air.
“Muggles?” said Ron.
“Maybe not,” said Hermione, thoughtfully. “Maybe something ... else.” She looked at her watch again. “We'd better hurry. We're going to be late for tea.”
So they hurried, back to Hogwarts, mince pies and a roaring fire. But the last thing Harry thought of before he drifted off to sleep that night was the strange sound of the blue box disappearing.
Author: torn_eledhwen
Recipient: cruisedirector
Fandom: Harry Potter/Doctor Who
Characters or Pairing: Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, the Fourth Doctor, Sarah-Jane Smith
Rating: G
Summary: It's Christmas in Hogsmeade, but there's a couple of odd strangers in the pub ...
Notes: Happy holidays, cruisedirector! Here's a slightly crazy little crossover which grew on me after your requests. I couldn't resist it.
A Merry Muggle Christmas
“Frog?” asked Harry, holding the bag out to Ron and Hermione. They both took one, and, munching, the trio wandered down the main street of Hogsmeade. The pavement was crunchy with snow underfoot and he was grateful for his red-and-yellow scarf wrapped snugly around his neck.
“I wish I could get these at home,” Hermione mused.
Ron bit the leg off his frog. “Muggles would hate them. They'd be terrified.”
“Of frogs?” asked Harry.
“Chocolate that hops,” said Ron, sagely. “It's perfectly normal, of course, but, y'know, Muggles ...”
Hermione dumped a handful of snow down his neck.
By common consent, after that, they headed to the Three Broomsticks for some butterbeer. The pub was full of students enjoying the day off, wizards and witches pausing in their Christmas shopping, and a couple of teachers gossiping over their drinks. Harry, Ron and Hermione got their butterbeers and elbowed their way to an empty table, where they dumped their bags, shed their coats and settled down.
“So, what colour jumper do you think your mum will knit you this year?” Harry asked Ron, through his first swallow of butterbeer.
“Never mind that!” said Hermione, breathless. “Look! Over there! In the corner!”
Harry and Ron both turned round to follow her gaze. “Is that ... are they Muggles?” asked Ron, amazed.
“They don't look very Muggle-ish,” Harry said, frowning, but he had to admit there was something not very wizardly about the odd couple in the corner either. They were definitely strangers to Hogsmeade, and were behaving just like tourists in London - looking around with frank interest. The girl was a few years older than Harry, Ron and Hermione, while her companion was older still and wearing a scarf draped three times around his neck and trailing down to the floor.
“That is a truly brilliant scarf,” Ron said, noticing it.
“I'm sure they're Muggles,” said Hermione. “But what are they doing here?”
The man seemed to be talking ten to the dozen - at, rather than to, his companion. But she was listening avidly to whatever he was saying.
Hermione stood up. “Anyone fancy something to eat? Crisps?”
“You've just had a frog,” said Ron.
She raised an eyebrow at him and went to the bar, passing by the pair of Muggles on the way and on the way back. Plonking a packet of crisps on the table, she sat down again with a triumphant grin.
Harry broke into the crisps. “So?” he asked, as Hermione was clearly itching to say something.
“They seem to be sightseeing,” Hermione said. “The girl was asking the man why they'd come here, and he said, 'for some local colour'. And he was talking about magic as if he knew what it was, but as if it was ... well, science.”
“What's science?” Ron questioned, his mouth full of crisps.
“It's a Muggle thing,” said Hermione. “It's how they do things like invent cars, and electricity.”
“We used to do it at school,” Harry added. “Sort of.”
They drank their butterbeer and kept an eye on the Muggle pair, who were watching everything going on in the pub and the usual assortment of customers with keen interest. But time was passing, and Hermione eventually declared it was time to head back to Hogwarts.
As the three of them left the Three Broomsticks, buttoning up coats and pulling on hats against the cold, they realised the man in the long scarf and his friend had followed them. In a short time they had caught up, the girl hurrying beside her long-legged companion.
“Merry Christmas!” said the man, cheerfully, showing a lot of teeth.
“Happy Christmas,” Harry returned, exchanging glances with Hermione.
The girl nudged the man. “Doctor, you said you'd ask them.”
“You're the journalist,” he returned.
“All right, then.” She turned to Hermione. “The Doctor here says you're all wizards, and can do magic. Is he right?”
The man sighed. “What I actually said, Sarah, is that there seems to be a rare gene present that enables a certain proportion of the human race to be able to manipulate atoms and energy in an unusual way. You call it magic. I call it genetics.”
Hermione frowned. “I've never heard it described that way before.”
“The same gene also seems to prevent the understanding of simple genetics,” added the Doctor.
“I understand genetics perfectly,” said Hermione, clearly affronted.
“She does,” Harry said.
“I don't,” said Ron. “What is he talking about?”
“He's trying to explain magic for Muggles,” Hermione said. “Though really I think he doesn't understand it himself and is just being complicated for the sake of it.”
The girl smiled, delighted. “Have you met him before? You might have done, without realising it, you know. He does that all the time. I'm Sarah-Jane Smith. Can you do some magic?”
“We've got to get back to school,” said Hermione.
“Just one little spell?” Sarah-Jane Smith asked. “Please? Because it's Christmas?”
Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other. Harry rather felt that one little spell wouldn't hurt, and also that this odd duo were more, somehow, than they seemed to be. He got out his wand, quelled Hermione's exclamation of distress by shaking his head at her, and said, “Lumos!”
Sarah-Jane Smith seemed thrilled with the spark of light, bright in the fading winter evening, on the end of his wand. Even the Doctor leaned forward to examine it, as it winked out. “Fascinating!” he said.
Tapping her watch, Hermione fidgeted. Harry let the light die and put his wand away. “We've got to go,” he said. “Sorry.”
“No, that was brilliant!” said Sarah-Jane Smith. “Thanks!”
“How are you getting back to wherever you came from?” asked Ron. “'Cos, y'know, we don't get much traffic from outside in Hogsmeade.”
The Doctor pulled an oddly-shaped key from his pocket. “Where we came from? That's not the question, young man. The question is, where we're going next.” He looked down at Sarah-Jane Smith. “Where do you fancy, Sarah?”
“Somewhere warm, after this,” she said.
“I know just the place.” The Doctor stopped walking, next to a tall blue box that Harry could have sworn was not there when they came into the village. “Here we are. Well, lovely to meet you, thanks for the magic, and have a wonderful Christmas.” He grinned at them again, opened the door of the box, deftly lifting his scarf out of his way, and vanished inside.
Sarah-Jane Smith paused. “Thanks. And do have a good holiday, won't you?” She followed the Doctor into the box.
Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at each other, and then found their own scarves blown about by a sudden wind. With a groaning noise, the box vanished into thin air.
“Muggles?” said Ron.
“Maybe not,” said Hermione, thoughtfully. “Maybe something ... else.” She looked at her watch again. “We'd better hurry. We're going to be late for tea.”
So they hurried, back to Hogwarts, mince pies and a roaring fire. But the last thing Harry thought of before he drifted off to sleep that night was the strange sound of the blue box disappearing.