29 Omake: Drunk Noah did things, a lot of things

As consciousness slowly comes to me, I open my eyes to the dimly lit room.

At first everything is blurry, but as I squint, and wet my dry mouth with thick saliva, it slowly clears up and comes into focus. Of course, I immediately regret it as with the clarity come sudden pain.

It felt like my brain was trying to swell past the confines of my skull and, now that I was aware again, my bodies screams for water were driving nails into my stomach. The only thing I could really do was moan pathetically, which only succeeds in making my stomach lurch and gurgle. But still, even with my current condition I manage to push my face off the table it was planted on and, after clumsily wiping the drool off my face, look around the room.

"Uugh… wher da fughs?" I eventually managed to slur out, pain flaring through my head as I tried to understand the surroundings. The room I found myself in was not my room. Instead it was, what looked like, one of the many unused classrooms in Hogwart.

'What looked like' because I was fairly certain that the unused classrooms did not have every inch of their walls covered in papers of what appeared to be blueprints, flowcharts and other graphs… which seemed oddly familiar now that I focused on them.

*Creeak*

My head immediately snapped toward the sound, something I immediately regretted when it sent flashing stars of pain across my vision and sent it back into the blurry state it was previously.

"Oh, you're awake already… but I wanted to give you this right after you woke up," I blink as a wheat yellow blur, the source of the familiar distant and dreamy voice, comes into focus, "Oh well, here you go."

"I've just woken up anyways," I reassure with a scratchy voice, accepting the bottle pressed into my hand, "what's this?"

"That's good. It works best if you've just woke up, which you have," Luna nodded with a absent smile on her face.

"That's great, but what is it?" I asked with a strained smile, my head still throbbing.

"Oh, it's a hangover cure. You said you were 'gonna have a hangover when you woke up, so I asked daddy for the one he used to use after mummy…" she trailed off, the distant smile on her face dimming.

"Thank you, Luna," I interjected, stopping her from dwelling on her home life.

Though her words did stir a couple of memories in my mind. Specifically, vague memories of deciding to celebrate my second seventeenth (equivalent to eighteen in magical Britain) birthday with a drink and deciding to distill my own, magical, alcohol because normal ones didn't affect me anymore. Though memories further than that point were harder to recollect, and brought more pain, and so, instead of wasting time on it, I just took a shot from the potion Luna gave me.

Only to spit it out the second the taste hit my tongue and, after I stopped coughing out my lungs, turn to the smiling girl next to me, "Luna… why does it taste like bleach."

"You figured out the secret ingredient!" the genuine cheer in her voice was only matched by the incredulity I felt, "daddy said it's his own recipe. He made it when he heard muggles used it to clean things."

I just stare at her, "Luna, bleach is highly poisonous. Just because magicals can survive and digest better than muggles doesn't change that."

Though this did explains a lot about her father sudden shift in behaviour after the loss of his wife.

"Oh, that's not good then. I'll have to tell daddy to stop using it now," she said, seemingly unperturbed by the revelation, "but at least it fixed your hangover."

I paused at that, taking a moment to focus and notice that I indeed no longer had a hangover, "it still doesn't make drinking it alright!"

"Okay," again I pause, this time at the stumped and somewhat speechless at the obviously insincere acceptance.

Instead of dwelling on it however, I just sighed and moved… and froze as I cast the 'suus ephemeris' charm to see what things I'd missed from my timetable, "Luna… why does my journal charm say that I've missed a weeks' worth of things after my birthday?"

"I assume that it's because your birthday was a week ago," the carefree response only caused my stomach to sink further, "or maybe you found a rare one-of-a-kind time turner and went a month into the future. Ohh! Maybe you created a magical clone that took over your life which then felt so guilty that it commit suicide after a week and released you. I mean that would explain why you were still around."

Oddly enough her outlandish 'theories' actually managed to calm me, especially with how I could find little to know signs of damage or tampering with my mind nor were any of my backups and defences activated. Considering that it'd be near impossible for even Nicklaus Flamel himself to bypass all those defences, it was more than likely that my sudden timeskip, which I refuse to believe was caused by alcohol, was harmless. Meaning that I could first go and fill my ravenous stomach before I investigated it. But first…

"Thank you, Luna," I stop the, still talking, blonde before she gave another outlandish theory, "but let's go get some food before we check on why I'm missing a week of my life, okay?"

"I am feeling peckish and they do have vanilla custard for breakfast today. If only there was something else today," she mimed stroking her non-existent beard, much to my amusement.

Getting up, ignoring the numerous pops and cracks that sounded across my body, I opened the door for her, "I'll share three of my magic cookies and that's it. Don't want you to become fat after all."

That seemed to break through the musing facade she put up, along with her unusual dreamy expression, and got me an unamused look from her as she walked past me and through the door, "how rude, I'll have you that a growing lady like me doesn't gain weight."

Following behind her, and noting that we were on the first floor, I snorted, "ohhh, sorry then. It seems that my memories about someone gaining four kilograms af-"

"I don't need lightening charms to stand on wooden floors," her voice still had that dreamy quality, along with a hint of sharpness, but underneath it the embarrassment was obvious.

"It's all muscle," I flex my arm with a grin, before sobering up again, "but seriously, those really aren't good for you. You should, at most, be eating seven of those a week."

"I know, you don't need to tell me that," she pouted while turning away from me, though with my sharp hearing I picked up the words she uttered under her breath, "and you don't need to treat me like a child. I'm going to be seventeen soon too."

That I pretended not to hear, not wanting to get into that argument again, leading to the rest of the, short, trip to the main hall being spent in relative silence. Once there the two of us found ourselves at the tale end of the breakfast feast and so quickly sat down to eat, with Luna quietly getting three of my magical cookies (made from ingredients from the enhanced animals and crops in my personal briefcase farm).

*boooom*

Of course, because it had been too peaceful for the last hour, there is a massive explosion that swung open the massive doors of the main hall, miraculously missing every student and sending smoke everywhere.

Now normally, in this situation I'd already have sent a dozen spells and curses in the general direction of the explosion, maybe even send one of MK.IV implosion grenades. That's what I'd do normally, which I didn't do this time.

Why? Because, with my enhanced eyes, I could see through the smoke clearly and thus I was stuck trying to process what I saw. Because, standing there in the doorway, was a large figure I never expected to see, a figure that should, and could, not exist.

"Potter!" Skeletor shouts, skull capped staff in hand and the hood covering his skeletal face fluttering, "I have come to take my rightful place as Master, of the universe!"

"That shall never happen Voldemort! By the power of Grayskull!" the deafening sound of thunder fills the hall and I slowly turn towards the Gryffindor table to look at the, now incredibly buff, figure of the boy-who-lived, holding a familiar sword to the ceiling, "I have the power!"

I watched as he sent a lightning bolt at Hedwig and the pristine white owl grew to twice the size of a tiger and was covered with an armour with a saddle attached to it. I watched as Harry, now a seven foot behemoth of a man, jumped onto Hedwig and the two began battling Skele-Vomdemort.

I continued to watch as the fight raged on, something that everyone in the hall seemed to be doing, unable to move as my mind processed the sudden influx of memories coming back.

I had definitely made that sword.

The vague memories of putting traits from various beings into the sword, and creating the mechanism to temporarily gain them, slowly came to me. Then came the memories of creating the resurrection ritual to turn someone into a muscular skeleton man and reducing their hostility to all but the holder of the sword while also giving them extreme bad luck. Finally came the, barely remembered and vague, memories of making fake tombs and forging ancient documents to create a backstory and guiding people to it.

I had made both Dumbledore and Voldemort believe that the 'power he knows not' from the prophecy was the power of Grayskull, while making Voldemort a non-threat… and I had done it on the first day of being drunk on my magic birthday cocktail.

I turn to the blonde next to me, who was busy nibbling on the cookie like a squirrel, "you knew about this, didn't you?"

She looked at me with wide, innocent eyes while slowly finishing the last of the cookie, "whatever do you mean Noah?"

I didn't believe it for a second, but I had some vague hope that she wasn't going to be petty, "Luna… what else did I do while drunk?"

"How would I know? I'm just a chubby kid who can't look after their own diet," the hope inside me shrivelled into nothingness.

Turning back to my meal, of eggs and toast, I began to slowly eat again, ignoring the fight still going on in the background.

I swear I am never getting drunk again. Ever.