Chapter 3 Mr. Black's Cooking Class

Disclaimer: The kitchen is a dangerous place, be careful when you cook and watch out for penguins.

"Here we are," Luna enthused. "Bulgaria, now all we gotta do is find those Veela so we can get them to tell us what Mr. Black did with them."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed. "Then . . . wait, why do we want to learn about what Mr. Black did to a group of Veela? How is that going to help us find Harry?"

"Hmmmm?" Luna looked blank, "aren't we reporters looking for our next big scoop?"

"No, we're two girls looking for Mr. Black so that he can tell us where to find Harry Potter."

"Oh . . . right," Luna agreed. "Let's go find those Veela so that we can find Mr. Black, then we'll seduce the location of Harry out of him and write a book about it."

"No seduction," Hermione said firmly. "It's too dangerous."

"Maybe just a little danger?" Luna asked hopefully.

"No," Hermione snarled. "What was that you just mumbled?" Hermione asked sharply.

"What was what who just what?" Luna said innocently.

"Grrrr," Hermione had to remind herself that Luna would be useful in her hunt . . . again . . . for the tenth time . . . that day.

"You really need to learn to relax," Luna said, oblivious to the danger. "It's not good for you to be so tense all the time . . . I know, maybe those Veela can help you ease the tension."

"No"

"Then maybe Mr. Black can . . ."

"Drop it," Hermione snapped.

"Oh look at all the towns folk," Luna shouted. "Hello towns folk."

"Wha . . ." For the first time Hermione noticed that her little scene with Luna was being observed. "Hello everyone," Hermione said with a nervous chuckle. "I was wondering if any of you knew where I could find Mr. Black?"

"Right behind you," one of the old women replied.

Hermione whirled around to find herself staring at . . . a statue. "What's this?" Hermione asked flatly.

"Mr. Black," the old woman replied. "Patron of fertility, protector of marriage."

"Protector of Marriage?" Hermione prompted.

"If those Veela are busy with him then they have no time for our husbands," another woman explained.

"Riiiight," Hermione agreed. "We were actually looking for the actual Mr. Black, you haven't seen him have you?"

"Not for a few months," an old shopkeeper replied. "But you might want to go up the road to the Veela sanctuary, one of them might be able to tell you where to find him."

"Thanks," Hermione replied. "Come on Luna."

"Ok," Luna agreed quickly. "We're off to see the Veela . . ."

"No singing," Hermione commanded.

"Awwwww," Luna sulked. "How about humming?"

"No"

"Whistling?"

"No"

"Playing a musical instrument?"

"Do you have any musical instruments?" Hermione asked wearily.

"Noooooo," Luna replied with an innocent smile, butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

"No anyway," Hermione replied with a fake grin.

"River dancing?"

"No"

"Tap dancing?"

"No"

And so it went on till they reached the Veela sanctuary . . . four hours later . . .

"Ok," Luna agreed. "I won't do any of those things."

"Good," Hermione said with thinly disguised relief. "What I don't understand is why Mr. Black is seen as some sort of fertility god in that village."

"It's fairly common to have death and rebirth linked," Luna explained. "I'd have thought you'd have been aware of that."

"I am," Hermione agreed. "But the figure of rebirth is commonly female and many times it's the same figure in a different aspect."

"True," Luna replied slowly. "On the other hand Mr. Black is believed to have . . . kept company with a large number of Veela, that may be enough to convince them."

"Things like that don't just crop up overnight," Hermione said. "They have to have time to develop."

"If you say so," Luna said with a noncommittal shrug.

"Good," Hermione said in relief. "Let me do the talking."

"What talking?" Luna asked.

"When we talk to the Veela," Hermione replied.

"What about sign language?" Luna asked, "can I do that?"

"Why don't you just forget what I just said," Hermione suggested.

"Ok," Luna agreed.

"Now, let's get things started." Hermione walked up to the large house and knocked on the door.

"Ello?" A platinum haired woman answered the door, "ow may I help you?"

"Have you seen Mr. Black?" Hermione got right down to business.

"Quite a bit of him," the Veela agreed with a silly grin. "Why?"

"I mean recently," Hermione prompted. "In the last few days maybe?"

"No," the Veela replied sadly. "But if you see im, tell im that we miss im."

"I will," Hermione agreed.

"We would be willing to pay a hansom sum for the privilege of his company," another Veela offered.

"I'll tell you where you might be able to find him if you answer a question," Luna offered with a grin.

"What do you want to know?" Several Veela stared at Luna intently.

"What did you do with Mr. Black?" Luna asked quickly.

"Many things," one Veela replied.

"Ee is very skilled," another added.

"Very helpful," another agreed.

"A man among men, now tell us where to find him." The last Veela demanded.

"He might not be there," Luna began. "But he does have an ancient evil fortress down by Antarctica."

"Thank you," one of the Veela replied. "Now if you will excuse us, we must be packing."

"Luna," Hermione asked calmly. "If you knew about Mr. Black's island, why didn't we just go there first?"

"Oh it's because I don't think he's there right now," Luna replied. "And we've already got Tonks searching there . . . let's go to Prague."

"Will that help us find Harry or Mr. Black?"

"They have good beer," Luna offered. "We could use that as bait for a trap."

"Let's just go back to town and plan our next destination there . . . and get some headache potions . . . and some antacids."

"Not feeling well?" Luna asked sympathetically, "I know just the thing to help you relax."

IIIIIIIIII

Harry stepped up to the podium and looked out at his class. "I'm told that many of you know who I am and for those that don't, my name is Mr. Black."

The students gasped when they realized the identity of their mysterious instructor. In the back of the room, one hardened Auror fainted and another began crying . . . let's just say that many of the recruits attracted by the Fudge administration weren't of the highest quality and leave it at that.

"Alright," Harry said after everything had calmed down. "Today I'm going to be teaching you how to make an omelet." Silently, nearly every person in the class began using their impressive intellects in an attempt to decipher the hidden meaning behind Mr. Black's seemingly innocent comments. "The first thing you have to know about making an Atlantean omelet is that you make it without breaking any eggs."

"Excuse me," one of the Aurors called out. "But may I ask where you learned to make Atlantean omelet?"

"From a chap named Myrrden or was it Myrridin . . . I guess it doesn't matter," Harry began with a smile. "The guy wasn't much of a wizard but he was one hell of a cook . . . any other questions?" The room went silent as everyone digested the information they'd just received. "Ok, now the way you do this without breaking the shell is . . ."

The class went on for three hours and Harry explained every stage of the process. The looks of confusion warmed his heart and he couldn't wait to hear what they made of things.

" . . . and this is the last stage." Harry began his conclusion, "this it the time to add anything that might suit you and it's ready to serve." As he looked over the sea of confused faces it was only by mustering every bit of self control, every piece of willpower, Harry managed to hold in his laughter. "Any questions?"

The students shook their heads dumbly and began to shuffle out the door. Harry smiled to himself, it was a good thing Henchgirl was recording this because he intended to watch it a dozen times. Everyone needed to see something funny every now and again.

IIIIIIIIII

"Ooooh Remus," Tonks called out. "Wanna play little red riding hood."

"I'd rather not," Remus replied with as much dignity as he was able to muster. "I still say I'm too old for you."

"And I still say you're not," Tonks replied. "How about this . . . I've been very naughty, punish me Professor."

"Can't we just cuddle?" Remus offered, "I'd rather take things slow so you don't have a chance to do something that you might later regret."

"That'll just give you more time to think of reasons why we shouldn't be together," Tonks replied. "I'd rather not give that to you and I'm not going to give up till you see things my way."

Remus took a deep breath, looked like it was going to be another long night.

IIIIIIIIII

After class, a man in a trench coat quietly separated himself from the crowd . . . along with everyone else and went to find a secluded corner to report. Once he'd found a sufficiently isolated location, it was easy due to the fact that the architect had included several in his plans. The man pulled off his shoe and began whispering into it. "This is secret agent eighty six calling control, come in control."

"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times." The voice that replied sounded more than a bit upset. "You are not agent eighty six and we are not control."

"I am now and so are you," the man replied smugly. "I had a little talk with the Professor and he thought my ideas sounded great."

"What?" The voice screamed in shock, "you told Black's insane scientist about that muggle series you're obsessed with?"

"I did, it was nice to talk to someone that appreciates Mel's genius. He even designed several gadgets for me," the man agreed.

"For the love of god just tell me that you didn't get him to build you a cone," the voice pleaded.

"Afraid I can't do that chief," the man replied with a grin. "But I think it's time we stopped this idle chit chat and got on with my report then to bore you with the details of our new names."

"Go on," the voice said in defeat.

"I attended my first class," eighty six began. "And was surprised to see it being taught by Mr. Black himself."

"What did he teach," the Voice demanded.

"How to make an omelet," eighty six replied.

"An omelet?"

"Yes, an omelet," eighty six agreed. "I'm beginning to suspect the Mr. Black might also appreciate the greats."

"All he taught was how to make an omelet?"

"Without breaking any eggs," eighty six replied. "It's easy once you've got the trick down."

"I wonder what he was trying to tell us?" The voice mused.

"I don't know," eighty six got back to business. "But I did think to record everything that happened, I'll send it along when you're ready."

Several strange sounds came through the connection before the voice replied, "go ahead."

IIIIIIIIII

"I think we should go to Transylvania next," Luna said. "It's the home of the Count, one of Mr. Black's best friends. If any one knows where to find Mr. Black it would be him."

"Agreed," Hermione replied. "But I think we should wait till we can bring Remus with us, he's a werewolf and an expert on how to deal with dark creatures. His presence could be vital to the success of the next stage of the mission."

"Are you sure you don't want me to give you a massage?" Luna asked suddenly, "I'm very good at it and you look so tense."

"Positive," Hermione replied quickly. "Thank you."

IIIIIIIIII

"Alright," the Chief sighed. "Ninety nine, I want you to find out why Mr. Black's decided to stop being the terror that flaps in the night in favor of becoming a cooking instructor. There has got to be some hidden message that he's trying to get across."

"Ninety nine?" The woman asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You were right," the Chief explained. "It was a mistake to allow Max to go somewhere that he could influence others with his insanity, one of Mr. Black's people loves his ideas for new code names."

"I'm sorry sir," ninety nine said with a wince. "But you can't say I didn't warn you."

"Here are the recordings," the Chief said. "Do what ever you have to, just figure out what Black was telling us."

"Yes sir," the woman agreed. "I'll get my team on it right away."

IIIIIIIIII

Harry, Henchgirl, and the Professor were killing themselves with laughter as they watched the confused students report to their superiors. "Get a load of this one," Harry pointed to a screen showing a young English Auror. "Check out the look on her face."

"This was the best idea ever," Henchgirl agreed. "What do you want to teach them next?"

"I don't know," Harry replied between laughs. "How to weave baskets?"

AN: As always with thanks to my group, without which several parts of this fic would not exist. I've been working on a couple new projects, one of which may be posted on soon. The other, well I don't know when that one will be ready for the public.

OMAKE by Steve2

"Harry?"

Harry's eyes began to focus, but it was hard as they did not want to cooperate. As is, the last thing he wanted was to come back to the waking world.

"Harry? You all right there?" Henchgirl asked again, pouring herself some coffee. Black, naturally.

"Grumpflztsh," Harry muttered, pointing to the cup.

Henchgirl quickly got the gist of what he wanted and gave him the cup, pouring more in another mug for herself.

"Morning, sleepyhead. Rough night?" she asked in a chipper voice. Then added with a slight sarcastic overtone, "'Course not so sure it can be rough since we don't have any veela on board." An old issue of the Quibbler was open on the table.

"Huh? Veela? There's veela here? If they ask for me, I'm not here! I am not going to play any more of their marathon games again!"

"Harry, calm down. I'm just kidding. You have bad dreams again?" Henchgirl asked, concerned.

Harry took another swallow of hot, blistering hot, hot coffee, coughed a few times, wiped away the tears of pain in his eyes for drinking something that hot so quickly and said, "Nah. Not bad dreams. Good dreams. Or at least one good dream. I didn't want to wake up this morning."

"Oh? Good dreams you say? Care to share with the rest of the class?" Henchgirl asked with a grin.

"Well, I'm not sure you'd appreciate the humour in it…" Harry began to hedge.

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that," Henchgirl suggested, motioning him to sit at the table and spill.

Harry sat and got settled. After a minute or so of thinking, he started, "It's the same dream I've had each night for the past week. I'm in Diagon Alley. Not too many people around. It's nearing closing time, the sun's just about to set. I'm not sure what I'm doing there…

IIIIIIIIII

Harry looked around Diagon Alley. The shops had just started to wheel in their awnings and pull in anything that wasn't nailed down. Magically or otherwise. How the hell had he gotten here? he asked himself. Seeing a very familiar travel shop, he knew it was time to get answers.

He started off towards the shop and quickly fell over. Looking down… er… sideways now that he was on the ground, he saw a cute little bunny. Strange, it didn't run off from him. It simply munched away on a discarded apple. The rabbit was a little bit bigger than his hand but didn't weigh all that much when Harry picked it up. He stroked its coat a few times and then carried it to the shop. Maybe he'd get around to beating the shopkeeper – after he got some bunny food.

"Ah, Mr. Black. So very good to see you again," the aged shopkeeper smiled at his arrival.

"Okay, what's the deal this time?" Harry demanded, still stroking the adorable brown and white bunny.

"Huh? Wuzzat?" the shopkeeper answered in his best true innocent voice.

"Why'd you bring me back here? Who else do I have to kill to get you out of my life?"

"Mr. Black, I didn't bring you here at all."

"Then why am I back in your store?" Harry really, really wanted to slap this guy.

IIIIIIIIII

"I thought you said this was a good dream?" Henchgirl asked.

"It is," Harry agreed. "Just you wait until I get to the good part."

IIIIIIIIII

The shopkeeper must have sensed his imminent beating and quite carefully said, "If I had to hazard a guess as to why you here, I'd have to say it was due to that Plot Bunny you have in your hands."

"What?" That threw the beating of the shopkeeper off. Harry looked down at the innocent, cute bunny in his hands.

"Plot Bunny. You do know what they are, don't you? No? They're fairly common. Most wizards don't even know of them because they do not affect them at all. Basically, these are bunnies that facilitate a person's life."

"Huh? Wuzzat?" Harry tried to come to grasp with the cute widdle bunny in his hands. That or to try and keep it from peeing on him.

"Think of it this way: have you ever felt like your purpose was over? Or that there was something you needed to do, that you wanted to do but knew that it had to wait until a later date? A Plot Bunny can help facilitate turning that sense of purposelessness into having a purpose."

"How?" Harry was actually intrigued.

"Sometimes they speed up time for the individual, or move you through time and space altogether. In most cases they move you to where you need to be. It's really up to the wizard's power. And before you ask, no, most wizards do not use them as they are not powerful enough to affect a Plot Bunny at all. It takes a lot of power to energize a Plot Bunny.

"So tell me, Mr. Black, are you feeling a little… purposeless these days?"

"Well… yes. I guess so."

"Is there something you feel you need to do?"

"Well… I'm glad that old Voldemort is gone, but sometimes I feel like he got off too easy, you know? Like if I had my way that wanker would pay more for what he's done…"

And with that Harry disappeared from reality…

…only to reappear in front of a familiar looking shopkeeper. "Good to meet you, Mr. Black," he said. "I take it your travels have gone well?"

"What just happened?" Harry immediately went on guard. Something was off.

"I am guessing you have traveled to your intended purpose. Don't you feel something familiar?" At Harry's blank look, the shopkeeper pointed to his forehead.

His scar! He could feel Voldemort again. The cretin was alive! Harry looked at the shopkeeper who was readying a portkey. "How…" he started.

"You traveled to an alternate reality if I had to guess. Fortunately there was an available Plot Bunny to help out. I take it you want to right some things?"

With a feral grin in place, Mr. Black took the portkey and said, "See you soon. Activate."

Harry vanished from the shop only to reappear in a throne room with a lot of still-living death munchers groveling at the feet of a right arse.

"Wormtail? I thought my 6:30 appointment was to meet some new recruits and lynch a muggle family. Did you inform me wrong?" old lizard-breath eyed his minion evilly.

"…n… no, master. This must be an intruder. Do you wish me to dispatch him?"

Voldemort looked at the newcomer. "Perhaps. Tell me, stranger, why have you come into my most holy sanctorum?"

Harry looked around, ignoring his mortal enemy. He saw something that lifted his spirits. Today was a GOOD day after all. "Hey, is that Bellatrix and the LeStrange brothers over there? Hi guys! Acme! Acme, acme!"

Bellatrix looked at the strange man curiously. "Do you want me to torture him into insanity, my lord?" she asked, tapping her wand into the palm of her left hand.

"No. He appears to be there already. Tell me your name, stranger, before we begin our games with you."

"They call me…" Harry started but stopped as a monstrous anvil landed on Bellatrix's head, causing it and the rest of her shoulders, heck – the entire chest cavity for that matter – to suddenly go south for the foreseeable future (so to speak). In other words – she got schmushed real good.

"Wha…?" Voldemort started only to have both LeStrange brothers copy the fate of Bellatrix.

"…Mr. Black," Harry finished, smiling as he took out his camera and snapped an Instant picture of the grisly scene. The camera floated for a moment and then vanished only to reappear again a second later. The picture shunted out of the feeder which would take a few minutes to automatically magically develop. Later Harry would see the entire anvil scene on the three LeStranges play over and over. He really had to hand it to the Professor for creating this latest invention. Neville was going to enjoy his next birthday present. He might even frame it and put it on a wall somewhere. Ah, good times.

"So you have come to join me?" Voldemort asked hopefully while sliding his wand out and getting ready to do battle.

"Nope. Sorry. Just came by to say 'Explosivo Castrado!'"

Wand out, Voldemort tried to block the spell but was a tad too slow. As such, his nether regions kind of… exploded… and not in a good way.

Harry was a bit bummed at not being able to see the thrashing, moaning, and groaning that Tommy-boy was engaged in as he had to take care of a few dozen death eaters, which as his good luck had it, did hear his name and quickly dropped their wands and surrendered. But it was always a good idea to incarcerate them before they found their mob mentality again and tried to stab him in the back.

Shortly, the two dozen now stupefied death munchers were taken care of and Harry focused his attention on the primary reason he was there. "How's it hangin', Tom? Oops, sorry. That was kind of crass of me, wasn't it?"

"…argh… I can't believe you did this. You bastard. What did I ever do to you?" Voldemort grimaced as he tried to cauterize the wound himself only to miss and scorch a knee.

Harry then spent another ten minutes finding inventive ways to torment Voldemort (mostly by calling him Tom since that bothered him so much – what a cry baby). He then killed him like before and even though Wormtail had fled (again), he knew it was only a matter of time before he collected that particular rat. And he wanted to enjoy the hunt.

"Return," Harry commanded and he was again in the Travel shop.

"Welcome back, Mr. Black. How do you feel now?"

"Better. That was fun. I'll have to do it again sometime. Well, I guess I'd better get back to my original reality. Where did that rabbit get to?"

Harry looked around the shop for a few minutes before finding the bunny near the children's section of shop where international gags were sold. Chuckling, Harry picked up the bunny and said, "Silly rabbit. Tricks are for kids."

IIIIIIIIII

"…and then I started to wake up," Harry concluded.

Henchgirl was grinning and chuckling at the image of anvils falling on death eater heads.

Harry heard a noise from the doorway and looked over his shoulder to see the Professor standing there, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Plot Bunny you say. And you've had this dream multiple times. Yes, I think it could work…" he muttered, before leaving.

Henchgirl's expression turned thoughtful as well. She looked at Harry with a calculating gaze.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Harry," Henchgirl started, "you do know that Plot Bunnies exist, right?

End – or is it?