Fandom post, you say?

[monsieurprewett]

Hallo out there, name's Prewett.
I'll be a gent and give these a cut, don't let that stop you having a peek at them.

Comments

[prongsykins]

FABIAN PREWETT!!!!!

...you have copies of those photos????

THE FIRST ONE IS YOU AND ME!!! FABIANNNN!!!!!

I worship you.

[monsieurprewett]

Of course!

Had a touch of dead for thirty-odd years, but I've got that out of my system and have since been touring the new, mad world. There are more demons than I remember there being last go-rounds.

[prongsykins]

HOW INTERESTING. I was dead for around seventeen.

YOU MEAN THE GREEN ONE???? I talked to him once. There are all sorts of strange people about here.

[monsieurprewett]

You as well? Joined up, then? Dropped out with full honors I should hope?

Him and the lot at that carry-oakey pub.

[prongsykins]

Ah. No. I was actually dead.

Interesting.

[monsieurprewett]

Well I've just said that, haven't I? Pay attention, lad!

Some of them are. Others are just giant bogeythings. It's well worth a trip to Diagon alley and see for yourself.

[prongsykins]

YOU'RE CONFUSING ME, FABIAN, PREWETT. In that case, yes. Dropped out with full honours.

Is that so? I prefer the Three Broomsticks to the Leaky Cauldron, honestly. Don't get to Diagon Alley all that often.

[monsieurprewett]

Oy! I'll have none of your lip, manslave. Of course you did, there's a lad.

No, no, the Leaky Cauldron is a hole. There's a pub called Caritas, not actually in the alley but nearby. That'll be the place to look. Ask Harmony, she'll be on about it for days. Fair snog, though, if you haven't married your head girl yet.

[prongsykins]

YES SIR, SORRY SIR. Why, thank you. My son defeated You-Know-Who, you know.

Ah. I see. And I have married her, we've got two sons now, actually.

[monsieurprewett]

That so? Ah, brilliant. He'll be little Harry I'm sure. The mollysprog told me all about him. Bright lad, good work.

Ha! Married the carrothead? She really had you? Fantastic. A pistol, that one, a real lady. Don't be a tosser, now. Look after those boys, the world needs more quidditch players.

[prongsykins]

Yes! My son Harry! He's brilliant. THANKS.

I did! She's also brilliant. I still have trouble believing she actually agreed to marry me, but here we are. Because of the whole being dead for seventeen years thing, Harry's actually eighteen or something nowadays. Or he was? And then now he's older? I've no idea, this place is generally confusing. And then And Andrew- that's our youngest- he's seven weeks old, today, actually! Harry turned out to be a brilliant Seeker. We've high hopes for Andrew. He's a bit little to be playing quidditch just yet, but I'm sure he'll take to the sport like Harry and I did.

[monsieurprewett]

Have a seeker already, do you?
Aim for a beater, then. Twelve years, what do you say?
As for the timelines? Shove the timelines. They don't matter. We're none of us dead here anymore, and there are plenty sprogs to go around.
All is well.

[prongsykins]

I do! And Andrew did a lot of kicking while Lily was pregnant, we suspect he might make a fine beater. Twelve years!

Oh, I don't care a think for the timelines. It's all much too confusing. I try not to think about it. I got a second chance, and I'm taking it for what it's worth.

It is, isn't it.

[monsieurprewett]

Of course he will, he just needs a bat. Better leave the broom and the bludgers for a bit later.

[prongsykins]

Oh, we've already gotten him a broom.

[monsieurprewett]

Hah. A toy broom, at that age? All these dozens of nephews and I've never bought a boy his first fast broom. Think I'll adopt one just for.