Large PrintHandheldAudioRating
Twisting The Hellmouth Crossing Over Awards - Results
Rules for Challenges

Ancient and Moste Noble

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking

Summary: The war in wizarding Britain is over and Hermione receives some interesting news

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Harry Potter > Non-BtVS/AtS Stories > Theme: ComedyfeekhFR1537,5492379,54015 Sep 093 Jan 10No

Chapter Three: So what exactly did I get?

A/N: Okay, this is slightly weird. First of all it is a collection of snippets instead of a real chapter. It is supposed to be disconnected; although they do happen in order.

Second, as I was writing this, I realised that I had lifted dialogue from movies. And no, not the Harry Potter movies, although that would be logical, this being a Harry Potter story after all. No this dialogue is from two other films, both of which I enjoy very much, although the second snippet of movie talk is from a movie that is a bit of a guilty pleasure of mine. Not that kind of movie! Get your mind out of the gutter.

Anyway first snippet is from National Treasure, the infinitely superior first one by the way. And the second one… well I admit to nothing and if you happen to recognise then… well there is really nothing I could do to stop you is there? Just remember that I would like to keep what little coolness cred I have.

Apart from that we have an odd collection of references, to SM:TV live, which I easily admit to religiously watching when I was at uni. Who says university is for learning? And I love Ant and Dec, they’re just so cute you want to hug them and cuddle them and *clears throat* anyway… where was I?

Right, along with Ant and Dec comes Pokemon, also referenced here. Some Russian folk stories which I like reading. Kudos to you if you get the reference, although I was a bit heavy-handed with the hints, so maybe only a little smidgen of kudos to you if you get it. Oh, oh, mustn’t forget Chevy Chase (and his modern life almost clone Ryan Reynolds who has no bearing on this story whatsoever, but should be mentioned anywhere and everywhere just because).

The office building in Laramie is not a reference to the Magnificent Seven, unless you want it to be and are willing to write what happens when Harry and Hermione come to inspect the premises.

Chapter Three: So what exactly did I get?

“I have a quidditch pitch in Antarctica. What am I supposed to do with a quidditch pitch in Antarctica?“

“Huh, that’s weird.“ Harry replied without looking up from his own papers. “Is it all snow?“

“How should I know, Harry?” Hermione snapped, more than a little exasperated. “Of the two of us, which one is the quidditch nut?”


“I said of the two of us, Harry.”

“Ah. Thought I heard you say that. Maybe it is a little like the different Pokémon Arenas, Hermione. So there’s grass, snow, maybe stone.”

“Have you been watching Ant and Dec again?”

“And Cat Dealey. Don’t forget her.”

“Yeah, okay. And Cat. You know that show is aimed at kids, right?”

Harry smirked a little. “I’m trying to relive my childhood? Or get an early start on university life. Choose your pick.”

“Fine. That still leaves me with a quidditch arena in Antarctica. How would I even get there?”

“I have no idea.”

The two friends lapsed into silence as they continued going through their holdings. The goblins had been kind enough to deliver the relevant documents to Hermione’s house. It had been a bit like that scene in Santa Clause when the Naughty or Nice list appears. Boxes and boxes and boxes of parchment, leather bound books, vellum and Hermione swore up and down one of the crates at the back held stone tablets.

Looking at Harry’s dejected expression, Hermione relented.

“Okay Harry, why don’t we go to that piece of land you have in the Lake District in a few hours and we’ll have a Pokémon battle.”

“And how are we gonna manage that?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Are we magicians or are we magicians? I’ll even let you have Pikachu.”

Harry brightened considerably. “Deal.”

“Now let’s get back to these boxes.”

Her friend mock saluted. “Yes, mein Herr.”

“And stop with that atrocious fake German accent.”


“Let’s recap.”

“Please, no! It’s taken us hours and hours, the summary list alone runs to dozens of pages, my fingers hurt, my throat is dry and I don’t wanna! You can’t make me.”

“Stop being such a baby, Hermione. I thought you loved this kind of stuff.”

“That was before the filing system from hell. And that’s me being nice. Calling this mess a filing system is an insult to filing systems everywhere.”

“That’s it Hermione, let it all out.” Harry tried to say this with a straight face and failed miserably.

“Yeah, yeah, yack it up.”

“Have you been watching Chevy Chase movies again?”

“Oh, shut up.”


“I see your office building in Laramie and raise you a three-stilted house in Russia.”

“Three-stilted, Harry? How does that even stand?”

“I don’t know. Must do somehow. See here?” He handed over the relevant documents and pointed halfway down the page.

“Your translation spell is fading, Harry.” Hermione pointed out before recasting it perfectly. Then again she had had a lot of practice in the last couple of days. Her brow furrowed.

“It doesn’t say three-stilted. It says three-legged. As in a house with three chicken legs.”

“Does that mean it walks on its own?” Harry asked, perking up slightly. “Cause a house that could move on its own would be kinda cool. Don’t like the neighbourhood? Just make your house get up and move.”

“That description sounds kinda familiar.” Hermione mused. “It says here the house includes a pestle and mortar, which is a weird thing to list in the contents list and that the whole thing was brought into the family as a dowry.”

“Who does it say it belonged to, Hermione?”

“Um, let me just – weird name – Yagana Potter the Eccentric.”

“You’re right, that is weird. Does that mean I win this round?”

“If you must.”

“Yes, I most definitely must.”


“You know, I feel like we should be inspecting these places, Harry.” Hermione said from where she was lolling about on the lounger, completely unable to lift another finger, let alone her head in order to look at her friend.

“Yeah, we probably should.” Harry agreed, making no effort to actually get moving.”

“It’s practically our duty. I mean I doubt Sirius had the time to get up to speed. Sorry, Harry.”

“ ‘S fine, Hermione. And you’re right; we should be inspecting them or something. I mean, mine have been lying around for a decade and change with no supervision.”

“So we really should be doing something about all this.”

Again, neither of them could quite muster up the energy to follow their words with deeds.

After a few minutes, Harry grinned. “Can we start with Grimmauld Place? At least we know that that one has been cleaned out a bit, when Mrs. Weasley was getting it ready to be the new headquarters before my personal hero put a stop to the whole Voldeshmort thing.

“Why did I just know you would want to start there?” Hermione giggled, before swinging her legs round to sit up straight, or at least a lot straighter than she had been before.

“I suppose we could, but how are we going to get there? Neither of us have our apparition license.”

“Hm, that’s true. Maybe we could take the train.” Harry mused.

“Do you know what part of London Grimmauld Place is in? Cause I sure don’t.”

Harry stared at her long enough for Hermione to get huffy.

“Quit staring at me!”

“Just wondering. So this is what it feels like.”

“What what feels like?”

“Ssh, enjoying the moment here.”

“Harry! I swear to Merlin, if you don’t tell me right this minute – “

“Oh, calm down, Hermione. And you shouldn’t really use Merlin’s name in vain.”

“Who says I was doing it in vain, I fully intend to back up my promises with actions, starting with that mop on your head you call hair. A vague disclaimer is nobody’s friend.”

“Hush! Savouring the moment here.”

“You’ve got nerve. Fine. Savour away. Give me a call when you’ve decided to let me know what is rattling around in that over-haired noggin of yours.”

“Over-haired? Is that even a word?”

“Harry.” Hermione’s voice had dropped to a warning growl.

“Oh, all right. Why don’t we use the Point me spell?”

His friend stared at him.

“Is that what you were savouring?”

“Thinking of a solution before you could? Yes. Yes, I was.”

“There’s only one problem with that, My Lord Harry.”

“And what is that, My Lady Hermione?”

“Grimmauld Place is unplottable. Point me spell won’t work.”

“Huh, hadn’t thought of that.”


“This is boring, Hermione!” Harry exclaimed much later. “I thought we would be having a Pokémon battle. You promised me a Pokémon battle and that was hours ago.”

“Well, that was before I realised that we don’t actually have a way of getting to your piece of land in the Lake District. Or do you have your apparition licence? Cause I certainly don’t.”

“Hadn’t thought of that,” Harry admitted quietly, thoughts going a mile a minute.


“AH! Don’t do that, Harry!” Hermione snapped as his sudden scream made her jump. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry Hermione.” Harry mumbled, trying and failing a little to sound contrite.

“Please don’t sulk, Harry. What did you mean to do by screaming Dobby’s name?”

“First off, I didn’t scream and secondly the way you say that sounds so dirty.”

“Still don’t know why you were shouting his name, though.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Honestly Hermione, I thought you fulfilled the genius position in our little ménage a trois?”

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Hermione stated deadpan. “I just don’t see you that way.”

“Uh, what?” Harry uttered, confused by the apparent change in topic. “See me what way?”

“Never mind. So what is my genius intellect supposed to instantly recognise from you screaming for Dobby, who I would like to add hasn’t exactly popped in after you yelled. Are you losing your touch?”

“Ugh, that’s just nasty, Hermione. I thought that he could house elf portal thingy us there.”

“House-elf portal thingy?” Hermione repeated incredulously.

“Well they have to move around somehow, don’t you think. When he came to my house he was constantly popping in and out, so there has to be some way for them to do that. It is not like they can invisibly follow their masters around on the off chance that they are needed. Seems a bit like a waste of time. So I figured that they had some method of instantaneous transport, that allows them to port anywhere they need to be.” Harry defended himself vehemently.

“Wow, that is really well thought out, Harry. And you thought of all that in the split second before calling for Dobby, who incidentally still hasn’t popped in.”

Harry had the grace to flush and admit: “Well no not really, I just threw that together at the spur of the moment. If you can’t dazzle them with brilliance, then-“

“- baffle them with bullshit.” Hermione finished for him. “Nice use of the triple-pointer word there, by the way.”

“Thank you, I try.”

All was silent for a moment.

“I’m still bored, Hermione and we have no way to get to the place where you shall be soundly defeated in the Pokémon league.”

“Defeated? Quite optimistic you are today, aren’t you?”

“Let me try something else.” He took out his wand and laid it in the palm of his hand.

“Point Me!”

The wand hovered slightly above his hand, swirled around a few times and then pointed directly at the kitchen fridge.

“You hungry?” Hermione asked, more than a little confused. Why didn’t he just go to the fridge and get himself something. It wasn’t like he couldn’t perfectly well see it from where he was sitting. Her parent’s house wasn’t that big.

“No. Well, yes. But that’s not why I did the point me spell. It is showing the way to the land in the Lake District.”

“Where we still don’t have any way of getting there.”

“We do. The bike!”

“We don’t have a bike.”

“Yes we do, my godfather’s bike!”

“You’re godfather’s bike?” Hermione echoed incredulously. “That atrocious monster of a machine, which you don’t have a licence for and which incidentally can FLY!”

“You don’t have to shout.” Harry said primly. “My other ear is the slightly deaf one.”

Hermione stared at him incredulously. “What?”

Harry shifted. “That was the side Ron was sitting on at the Quidditch World Cup. He was screaming so loud, my ear still rings a little. Must have gotten that from his mother.”

“Why didn’t you tell Mrs. Pomphrey. She would have fixed you right up.”

“She gets all disapproving when I come in to the infirmary. Like I do all the stuff on purpose that happens to me.”

“Well, to be fair, it sort of does happen on purpose. I mean you didn’t have to attack the troll to save me, and you didn’t have to go after the stone, and you didn’t have to go after the basilisk, and you didn’t have to go after a rabid dog.”

“Yes, I did and anyway, that is completely beside the point. She just goes all funny and hovering and starts muttering about the poor child, so abused by everything and everybody. It’s annoying.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, knowing full well that her friend, despite having got more used to it over the years, still had a problem with people invading his personal space without so much as a by your leave.

“You don’t know how to ride that bike, Harry. And I am not getting on it with someone who has no idea how it works.”

“I don’t need to know how it works!” Harry insisted. “And anyway, me not having any experience with the thing is not entirely true. Sirius took me out on it once or twice and may or may not have let me have a go on the odd occasion.”

“May or may not?” Hermione repeated what she considered the most pertinent part of Harry’s previous words.

“Well, that depends on whatever makes you less mad. And it is not like he had a choice. I unpacked the puppy dog’s eyes of doom.”

Hermione stared at him. “You tried to finagle your way around your godfather using whining and puppy eyes?”

“Hey, I never admitted to any whining!” Harry protested.

“That’s beside the point and any practiced user of the puppy eyes of doom can tell you that the judicious application of slight whining can hasten a positive outcome by about 12,61%. Or have you swatted faster than you can blink.”

Harry stared at her with an open mouth.

“What? It is in the standard weaponry kit of every self-respecting child.”

“So, does that mean, we can use the bike?” Harry asked. “It has a permanent disillusion charm on it and you can’t fall off even if you try and I will totally stick to the speed limit andontheground.” He whispered the last words, hoping Hermione hadn’t heard. He knew she was afraid of heights and if he told her that the motorcycle could fly she would never be persuaded to get on and he wanted to get to the Lake District sometime this holiday thank you very much.


“If I NEVER get on that bike with you again, Harry James Potter, then it will still be too early!” Hermione hissed as she gingerly slid from the pillion seat behind Harry. Her legs were wobbling a little to be sure, but strong enough to carry her a minimum of twenty paces away, just in case Harry decided to drag her back on the machine from hell. She could have sworn that it burst into flames at one point, but her eyes had screwed shut so tight, all she saw was stars.

“Where did you say he got it from?” she mumbled, fighting the urge to sink to the ground and do a very good impressions of the pope.

“I didn’t.” Harry answered. “I don’t really know where he got it from, he just said something about a poker game and that is was this or the horse and he just plan refused to have a horse called Binky. Not manly enough, apparently.”

“God, Harry those poor cows.” Hermione moaned as flashes came back to her from their haphazard trip.

“Which one?” came the bland question.

“All of them. The one with the hat and then the – not to mention when you – and then it – and oh sweet Merlin it was horrible!”

“I still maintain that that beast shouldn’t have been standing there in the first place. Well, the second one anyway.”

“It was in it’s barn, Harry. In the barn! Behind closed barn doors!! And have I mentioned that I DON’T LIKE FLYING!!!”

“There’s no need to shout, Hermione.” Harry chastised her mildly. He thought it had been quite fun. Granted that one herd of cows were probably scared milkless for a while, but nothing that some time and maybe some Mozart would cure.

Hermione sighed. “Fine, it’s done. Now let’s get on with it. I have to wipe the floor.”

She pulled her wand from it’s place, twirled it once or twice and then shouted. “Pikachu, I choose you!”

“Hey, no fair. You said I could have him.”

“You snooze you lose, Harry. Now get a move on. Oh and by the way, next time? I drive.”


P.S.: Incidentally, on rereading this, for some reason I hear Shawn Spencer's voice in my head whenever I write Harry. Let me just state that I have only watched the wonderful funnyness of Psych since I got it for Christmas and this was written way before then. Which might make you ask why I didn't get off my lazy bum and post it, so I will just stop there, okay.

The End?

You have reached the end of "Ancient and Moste Noble" – so far. This story is incomplete and the last chapter was posted on 3 Jan 10.

StoryReviewsStatisticsRelated StoriesTracking