Characters: Rabastan Lestrange and Harold Potter Setting: London, Monday Mid-Morning Content: A bit of swearing is to be expected. Summary: Someone, (Harold Harry) is such a part pooper.
Can we pause to discuss how bloody wonderful time travel is?
Everyone always goes on about how one must follow the 'rules' must never</fiinterfere>fun.
The air smelt better in the '40s, the firewhiskey was stronger, the world was a better place. Oh sure, there was that whole muggle nonsense going on, but that was the muggles- and Rabastan was so much beyond that. Here a sickle bought as much as five galleons, and a galleon was a life's savings.
Lucky for Rab of course, that the old bint had nearly a dozen in her posession before she died.
Here, now a man could live like a king, and livng like one was exactly what he had in mind. It was hot, humid in London today, even so early in the morning, but that was the worst of his concerns. There was a pretty girl behind the counter of one of the shops, and if Rab had his way about him, she'd be taking a rather extra long lunch... .... yes. The forties was a wonderful place.
With a whistle on his lips, the old woman's wand in his pocket and the promise of a shag in his future- it was with a grin that Rabastan left the quill shop- heading... somewhere. Hell if he knew, or even cared.