Characters: Jack Harkness, Rose Tyler, James Potter and co., Lily Evans
Genre: Crossover, Fluff, Humour, Romance,
Rating: PG for flirting and random stuff
Warnings: Anyone who cannot stand to see either Harry Potter or Doctor Who messed with had best stay clear. Marauder!era Harry Potter, so a lot of my Hogwarts is guesswork.
The Doctor didn’t know why Rose was so upset. It wasn’t like it was his fault.
Well, okay, so he had promised to take her to that big official Harry Potter final book party thing she had been so keen on. And he had promised her a monster free evening all-for-herself-and-him-as-a-not-couple-p
But is still wasn’t his fault that the Carrionites had mistaken all the robes and magic talk for an offensive strike force.
Nor was it his fault that they’d been forced to run around all over the bookstore to avoid said Carrionites, thus removing any possibility of Rose sneaking back in at a later date while their past selves’ back’s were turned.
In short, he had absolutely nothing to feel guilty about.
And if Jack didn’t stop glaring at him, the Doctor refused to be responsible for his actions.
“It wasn’t my fault,” he said, still looking fixedly at the console.
“Right.” Jack sounded about a sincere as a politician.
“I mean it!” the Doctor looked up for a moment, then his eyes skittered sideways.
“Sure.” The Doctor looked upwards again to see Jack raise his eyebrow in a gesture that couldn’t possibly be accusingly, since it hadn’t been the Doctor’s fault.
“You can’t be blamed for the aliens landing right when you where trying to give Rose a nice time out.”
“That’s right,” the Doctor agreed emphatically.
“Just like it wasn’t your fault in medieval England. Or Justicia. Or Bulgaria. Or Septari.”
“The Doctor nodded along. “Exactly!”
“Or in twenty-first century Cardiff,” Jack continued. “Or fifteenth century Cardiff. Or twenty-eighth century Cardiff –”
“Oi!” the Doctor shot him a nettled look. “It’s not like I planned for any of those to happen!”
“Maybe not,” Jack conceded. “But that doesn’t mean Rose hasn’t got a right to be upset when she can’t even go shoe shopping without being attacked and/or kidnapped by a ravaging alien.”
The Doctor hesitated. “Is she upset?” he asked, trying not to sound worried, and failing. Miserably.
Jack shrugged. “Not with you so much as the universe –I don’t think the library will ever be quite the same again. But she was saying something about going back to her mum’s for a day of normality,” he added helpfully. “Girls tend to do that when things go badly.”
The worry in the Doctor’s stomach clenched itself into something smaller, harder and far more forceful. Anything but Jackie . . .
“Right!” he announced briskly. “Get Rose for me, would you? Tell her to wear one of the robes on the fifth tier of the wardrobe –you’d best to the same yourself.”
Jack looked at him dubiously, and the Doctor clapped his hands impatiently. “Alonse!”
* * * * * *
Rose peered out the TARDIS doors, eyes sparkling. She had pulled her hair up into a knot of top of her head, and the robe the Doctor had requested she wear was deep black, and shone with the dull gleam that only Very Expensive Fabric tends to use.
“Where are we?” she asked eagerly, looking around at a fairly ordinary green field. Then she took in the castle in the distance, and her eyes widened.
“It’s . . . huge !” she breathed.
Jack stepped out from behind her and whistled.
“Now, that is some castle,” he ran the eyes of a Time Agent over the structure. “Can’t say I recognise the period, though. It’s very aged –but the style is more advanced than anything medieval . . .”
“There’s a good reason for that,” the Doctor’s voice echoed from the console room as he pressed the last few buttons, locking the TARDIS’ temporal position. He bounced out into the sunlight, still wearing his usual pin-striped suit and worn brown duster. “We’re somewhere muggle eyes have never seen before.”
Rose stared at him in disbelief, her eyes widening.
“We’re . . . no, wait, this is too mad . . . you’re telling me we’re at Hogwarts?!”
The Doctor beamed, extremely proud of himself.
Rose looked over the castle with an ego-flattering awe.
“Pity I can’t do magic or anything,” she said wistfully. Then thinking of the Doctor’s feelings, she added hastily, “Not that I mind or anything –this is brilliant!”
“Ah, thank you for reminding me.” The Doctor looked down at her, and grinned as he produced a long, slim wooden rod from behind his back.
Rose stared, then finally looked up at the Doctor.
“A wand?” she asked incredulously.
The Doctor handed it to her and gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Sort of. It’s made from the same wood as the slightly psychic paper comes from, so it interprets the telepathic impulses and converts them –”
“Doctor,” Rose interrupted, but she was grinning broadly. “Baby words for the stupid apes, remember?”
The Doctor beamed back, thrilled at having got it right. “It senses what you want to happen, and makes it happen.”
“Like magic?” Jack asked, smiling slightly as he made a thumbs up gesture behind Rose’s back at the Doctor.
“Exactly like magic,” the Doctor agreed. “Only the wood doesn’t tend to last very long after it’s been cut, unfortunately. You’ve got about twenty-four hours before it dies completely.”
“So, until then,” Rose said slowly, “I’m a witch?”
The Doctor nodded, and a massive grin spread over Rose’s face.
“Oh, this is gonna be good.”
“Come on,” the Doctor said with an expansive gesture. “Let’s go meet Harry Potter.”
* * * * *
“So, you’re the famous James Potter then?” Rose asked. The Doctor had gotten the date wrong. Of course he had. But since it meant she got to meet an older, less emo version of Harry, she couldn’t complain.
“That’s me,” he held out his hand, winking broadly. “So what is a lovely lady like yourself doing back at Hogwarts?”
Rose shrugged. “My mate and Dumbledore go way back. He wanted to talk.” Which wasn’t really a lie. The moment Professor Albus Dumbledore had seen the Doctor, his complexion had gone from pale to ashen, and he had practically dragged the Time Lord into his office.
James looked impressed. “Well, a friend of Dumbledore’s . . .” he began.
“Is someone you can squeeze extra for credit for Transfigurations?” Rose cut in with a grin.
James tried to look guilty, but his eyes just kept sparkling. “Guilty as charged.”
Rose batted her eyelashes. She knew he was a year younger than her, and she knew his heart was gone on Lily Evans, but she might as well enjoy herself.
As if on cue, a silvery laugh rang over the lake. James looked over, and Rose watched James. A small group of girls where sitting down under a tree, a slight blonde, someone with a mass of untidy brown hair –and a girl-woman with auburn locks in a slightly more decorous style. She was the one who had laughed, judging by James’ face.
He looked back at Rose. “Would you like to go for a walk?” he suggested, as though the idea had just come to him. “The lake’s beautiful this time of the day –you can see miles down when the water’s clear.”
“Sure,” Rose agreed. “And you can take me over to that group of girls and make Lily jealous.”
Now that got a reaction. James jumped as though he’d been stung, and Rose couldn’t help grinning.
“Don’t worry –sounds like a great idea, actually. She’s a lovely girl.”
James didn’t seem able to believe his luck. “You don’t . . . mind?” he asked dubiously.
Rose gave him a smile that bit the tip of her tongue. “Nah, I’ve done the same thing before. And goodness knows if I thought it’d work, I’d try it on my mate.”
“Aaah.” James looked instantly understanding. “How about this? You help me with Lily, and I’ll stop by your friend . . .” he paused, looking at Rose.
“The Doctor,” Rose supplied helpfully. “Don’t ask.”
“All right, the Doctor,” James said obligingly, “and see if we can’t get a reaction out of him.”
Rose nodded, grinning. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
James offered her his arm. “I feel like just before I got on a broom for the first time,” he confided.
Rose took his arm. “Just try not to sound so cocky,” she advised. “Find me a guy with an ego to stand on, I’ll find you a dozen girls who want to push him off.”
“Right.” They began to walk towards the girls, in a wide, circuitous route. “So, do you want to hear about my last quidditch match?”
Rose winced. “Oh yeah, and one other thing?”
* * * * * *
“Well, Doctor?” asked Dumbledore patiently. “What is it this time? Sontarans, Rutans, or just some more of those pepper pots of yours?”
“Oh no, nothing like that,” the Doctor reassured him, nodding to a painting of a very distinguished gentleman as he rode through the frame. “Fawkes is looking well,” he added, catching sight of the phoenix in its cage. It gave a fluting music note that seemed to hover on the air, eyeing the Doctor thoughtfully.
“Never mind Fawkes,” Dumbledore said impatiently. “Every time you have come here, Doctor –and I say this with the greatest possible respect –you’ve managed to catalyse a catastrophe of some sort.”
“Hey, now that’s not fair!” the Doctor objected. “What about when I saved you lot from the Gelth?”
“The greenhouse blew up,” Dumbledore reminded him. “Peeves was throwing glass shards at the students for weeks afterwards.”
“Stopped you all turning into zombies though, didn’t I?” the Doctor looked sulky. “And if it weren’t for me, you’d still be living in 1914, remember?”
“Dreadful things, those angels,” Dumbledore muttered. “Oh, I know, I know,” he added hastily, seeing the look on the Doctor’s face, “we’re grateful, honestly, but . . .”
“Don’t worry,” the Doctor interrupted. “I’m just here to show Rose the Hogwarts Academy. There’s nothing sinister afoot.”
“Don’t be too sure of that,” Dumbledore seemed to have caught sight of something –he pointed out his window. Following his finger, the Doctor saw a crowd of at least half a dozen boys, –men really –clustered together, looking out at everyone else with what was definitely a sinister air.
“Severus and his friends,” said Dumbledore quietly. “All young, all ambitious, and all far too interested in the dark arts.”
The Doctor sighed. There were times when he really hated knowing the future. “You think he’ll go to Voldemort?”
“I hope not,” Dumbledore looked very sober, “I’ve tried to guide them, but those who do not want to be led pay little heed to the warnings of older heads.” He sighed. “I hope not –but yes, I think he will. And most of those boys with him.”
The Doctor shifted uneasily, and Dumbledore smiled slightly. “Don’t worry, Doctor, I shan’t ask you to reveal any of Time’s secrets,” he said, still looking tired. “Sometimes, I think knowing must be a far greater burden than not knowing.”
“Speaking of which, have you filled the Divination post yet?” the Doctor asked, glad of the chance to change the subject.
Dumbledore recovered his amiable expression. “I tried asking the centaurs,” he winced theatrically, eyes twinkling. “But as I expected, they were rather . . .”
“Unenthusiastic?” the Doctor suggested, grinning. “Poor old Albus.”
Dumbledore smiled. “I have put a few wheels in motion, but they will take a while to come in play. For now, though . . .” he shrugged. “I doubt we need a divinations professor to tell what looms on the horizon.”
It didn’t need to be said, but the Doctor said it anyway. “War.”
Dumbledore nodded. “Those fools at the Ministry refuse to believe Tom Riddle could ever be a threat. Slugthorn’s golden boy? The darling prodigy of Hogwarts? They laugh behind their hands, and humour me . . .” he looked slightly angry now –even the half-moon spectacles had an annoyed glint to them, “And all the while Tom Marvolio Riddle is gaining funds, and supporters, and power.”
The Doctor looked pained. “No one who understands war wants to believe it stands at their threshold,” he pointed out fairly. “My people were renown throughout the universe as the wisest and mightiest race in creation, and they refused to believe in a war that had already begun.”
Dumbledore looked up sharply. “And we both know how that ended, don’t we?” he demanded.
The Doctor didn’t flinch, but his eyes darkened as he met Dumbledore’s gaze.
The professor sighed. “Forgive me old friend, that was unworthy of me. Voldemort is not the Daleks –not by a long shot.”
The cold look in the Doctor’s eyes thawed a little. “You’re worried about your students.”
Dumbledore waved a hand. “They’re just the wrong age for a war –all idealistic, patriotic, and convinced of their own invincibility.”
The Doctor thought of James Potter and his to-be wife, and felt guilt drive an icicle through one of his hearts. He could save them, the thought rose in his mind, he could stop the needless deaths . . .
“I wish . . .” he started to say, then stopped.
Dumbledore raised and eyebrow. “What do you wish?”
“I wish . . . oh, I don’t know,” the Doctor waved a hand helplessly. “I wish that people weren’t so stupid. That fighting wasn’t the solution to everything.”
“You and I have seen too much of the world,” Dumbledore said tiredly, “to expect either.”“No,” the Doctor agreed. “But we can hope.”