Disclaimer: I own absolutely none of the characters or settings to be found within.
A/N: I have no idea why I decided that it would be a good idea to crossover Good Omens, Harry Potter, and Discworld in the same fanfic. All I know is that it came whilst I was standing on a platform in a Greater Manchester train station - make what you will of this. If questioned I think that I'll plead insanity.
Navigating ones way through L-Space was, in itself, a difficult enough task. Navigating ones way through L-Space with an irritable and impatient demon in tow however was twice as difficult and five times more infuriating.
"I can't believe you'd rather go to this blessed book club of yours than come to that new French place," complained Crowley, as he looked disdainfully at the never-ending row of shelves to his right.
"Really dear boy, it's hardly as if I'm making you tag along," said Aziraphale, feeling utterly exasperated. "In fact I distinctly remember trying to dissuade you from it... Oh and do put that book down. I did tell you what could happen if you start moving things about."
"Look, are we nearly there yet, because I'm pretty certain we've been walking down this row for at least an hour."
"I told you. The normal rules of space and time don't apply here. Now if I can just check our position relative to where we want go." Aziraphale removed something vaguely resembling a plastic compass from his jacket pocket and glanced at the display. "Oh bother, we should have turned right at The Beginners Guide to Eldritch Lace Making. It looks like we'll have to carry on until Training Your Labrador/Werewolf Hybrid: Seventh Edition and..."
Crowley and Aziraphale turned to see a large orang-utan - not that there was really any other kind of orang-utan - standing behind them.
"Ah, hello there," said Aziraphale, delighted to see another familiar face.
"Oook." said The Librarian by way of greeting.
"Are you coming along as well?" asked Aziraphale.
"Oook," replied The Librarian.
Crowley looked acutely puzzled as to why the angel was attempting to conduct a polite conversation with what appeared to be three hundred pounds of orange fur.
"Really, that's wonderful," said Aziraphale smiling. "This way Crowley. The Librarian knows a short cut."
Crowley gaped at the angel as though he'd gone completely insane. "Aziraphale, why are we taking direction from a sodding monkey. I mean this just takes the..."
Three hundred pounds of orange fur launched itself in the demon's direction.
"What the... Ohshitohshitahhhgetthefuckoff..."
"Oh dear," said Aziraphale, wincing.
At Hogwarts Academy for Witchcraft and Wizardry a slightly less vigorous difference of opinion was taking place in the Griffindor common room.
"Look. I already told you I can't go to Hogsmead with you both today," said Hermione.
"But why not," demanded Harry "We know that Madam Puddifoot's Tearoom was built on the sight of The Viper's Nest, which in turn was built on the sight of an ancient centaur burial ground. If we can get into the cellar we might be able to find some clues."
"Clues as to what exactly?"
"Clues as to what Voldemort's devious plan for this year is going to be."
"Harry you've lost me."
"Look Hermione, each year Voldemort hatches an evil plan to try and kill me, right?"
"Well this year I'm not just going to wait and see what he's going to do next. This year I'm going to be pro-active. Find out what he's plotting before he even plots it. The time has come for Harry Potter to take charge of his destiny."
"Harry are you sure you're all right. You haven't been experimenting with any controlled substances have you?"
"He's been acting like this ever since he got back from his aunts house," muttered Ron, shaking his head.
"Look, neither of you understand. There was a day in the holidays when Aunt Petunia was having the local councillor round for lunch, and she told me to leave the house until he'd gone. I didn't have any money so I decided to sit in the train station waiting room for a few hours. It was pretty boring until I met a woman."
"Erm, Harry where exactly is this story going?" asked a mildly uncomfortable looking Ron.
"Let me finish," said Harry. "I met a woman called Bridget Jones. She works for a television company. Anyway, she'd just missed the one fifteen to Lower Tadfield - she was supposed to be interviewing the chairman of the residents association about youth crime or something - and we got talking. I told her that I felt as though I just wasn't in control of my life, and she gave me a book. It called Putting Yourself in the Drivers Seat."
"But I though you had to be seventeen to drive muggle cars," said Ron, looking confused.
"No it's a self help book. It tells you how to take charge of your life. The first chapter's on coping with adversity. It says you should identify problems and deal with them before they spin out of control."
"Harry you shouldn't believe everything you read in self help manuals," said Hermione, sighing. "Anyway they don't tend to be written with people being hunted by megalomaniac dark wizards in mind."
"The authors notes specifically say that with a little flexibility the principals of personal betterment can be applied to any situation. Anyway it wouldn't do any harm to go and look in Madam Puddifoot's cellar."
"We could go next week instead," said Hermione, deciding to let the matter drop for now. "It's just that I've already made plans."
"What plans?" asked Ron, sounding slightly indignant that she might want to do something that didn't involve breaking into a teashop's cellar with him and Harry.
"Book club. It's my turn to host the weekly meeting and discussion."
"I thought that you said you couldn't find enough students interested in starting one?" said Ron.
"Well... The other members aren't exactly Hogwarts students."
"What do you mean? Who else could they be?"
"I don't suppose you've ever heard of L-Space?"
"L-Space. But that's just a myth."
"No Ron it's not. I was in the restricted section a few weeks ago and I sort of... well, bumped into some people."
"What kind of people?"
"Well one was an orang-utan and the other turned out to be an angel."
Ron stared at Hermione, and then at Harry. "Mental. You've both gone completely mental."
"If you don't believe me you can come along. This weeks book's Hogwarts: A History."
By the time that Crowley, Aziraphale and The Librarian reached the Hogwarts library hostilities had finally ceased. The Librarian had stopped trying to tear Crowley limb from limb, and Crowley had, after much prompting, turned The Librarian's fur back from day-glo green to it's usual shade of orange.
"Ah, here we are," said Aziraphale, patting his pockets. "Oh dear I think I've left Miss Granger's directions to The Room of Requirement at home. I don't think I can remember where it is."
"Oh well, looks like book clubs off for this week. What a shame. Never mind, I know this great new bar that's just opened in..."
"You do. Then lead on."
"I can't believe that you've been leading a double life for the last two months," said Ron, as the trio neared The Room of Requirement.
"Ron, I haven't been leading a double life. I've just been talking about books. Last week we did The Picture of Dorian Gray, and before that we did Achmed the I Just Get These Headaches Book of Humourous Cat Stories."
"And each week you've got people travelling here. What if... what if one of them wanted to kill Harry. What if one of them was You Know Who in disguise."
"I'm not inviting You Know Who to the book club Ron," said Hermione, exasperated. "If he knew how to travel through L-Space he'd do it whether there was a book club or not. So if you're going to use that argument you might as well suggest that the whole library be removed."
Ron thought about this for a few seconds. "If that's what it takes to protect Harry then so be it."
Hermione shot him a withering glance, and pushed open the door to the Room of Requirement. It was currently done out in the style of the kind of dilapidated school hall most often employed for book society meetings. There were several plastic chairs organised into a semi-circle and a tray of plastic cups filled with orange squash on a makeshift plyboard table.
"Dobby! What are you doing here?" asked a surprised sounding Harry as he spotted the House Elf sweeping one corner of the room.
"Hello Harry Potter," said Dobby, waving cheerfully. "Dobby is here for today's book club."
"I thought that he needed a wider range of interests. You know, other than just socks," said Hermione.
"Who else is coming?" asked Harry.
"This week it's just me, Dobby, Nearly Headless Nick, The Grey Lady, The Librarian, and Mr. Aziraphale. Sometimes Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel drop in, but they said that they wouldn't be able to make it this week - something about defending Arda from the shadow. I can't seem to interest any of the students for some reason."
"Wonder why that is?" muttered Ron.
"I've only got one spare copy of Hogwarts: A History, so you'll both have to share. Oh and I hope you don't mind the ghosts looking over your shoulders. The ectoplasmic edition hasn't come out yet."
As if on cue Nearly Headless Nick and The Grey Lady drifted through the wall.
"… so then the Bloody Baron threatened to … Hello Hermione. I didn't realise that you were bringing Harry and Ronald along. Well, the more the merrier, that's what I say," said Nearly Headless Nick. "Have you met Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley yet Elizabeth?"
"We haven't been formally introduced," said The Grey Lady, Smiling.
"Well, Lady Elizabeth may I introduce you to Harry Potter, Harry Potter may I…"
The door swung open. An angel, a demon, and an orang-utan walked in.
"… and really my dear, tempting those poor first year Hufflepuffs into stealing the answers to the herbology test. I thought you promised to behave."
"That wasn't me, well mostly not me. It was hardly as if they needed any prompting. I just let them know where the keys were. Anyway, don't think that I didn't see you encouraging that Slytherin girl to help that Griffindor boy with his homework when you thought I wasn't looking."
"Oh, that's right, take his side why don't you."
"Crowley, you're being thoroughly childish… Miss Granger, how delightful to see you again. And these must be the two friends you were telling me about."
"You've been talking about us behind our backs?" said Ron indignantly.
"Nothing bad I assure you, Mr… Weasley is it?"
"Yeah, Ron Weasley."
"And this must be Mr. Potter."
"Aziraphale… Oh dear what's wrong?"
Heads turned to face The Grey Lady, who was staring open mouthed at Crowley.
"But I thought… I thought you were dead…" The normally dignified Ravenclaw ghost proceeded to let out a hysterical wail, burst into inconsolable spectral tears, and flew from the room.
A stunned Nearly Headless Nick looked on in concern. "I think I should probably go and make sure she's all right," he mumbled, before gliding after her.
"What on earth was that about," demanded Aziraphale.
"Don't have a clue. Never seen her before in my life" said Crowley, rather too hurriedly.
"Oh all right, we might have met a few times, in the fourteenth century."
"What did you do to the poor thing?"
"Nothing really. I think that was the problem. She was starting to get a bit… you know, attached… Look I was hardly expecting to see her again was I?"
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself."
"I am a demon."
"I told you this would happen," shouted Ron, going for his wand. "You Know Who's sent a demon after Harry."
"Oh please you don't seriously think that I'd sub-contract myself out to that twa…"
"I mean err," Crowley searched for some appropriate non-expletive. "That twit of a dark lord."
After fifteen minutes of Aziraphale trying to convince Ron that Crowley had no interest whatsoever removing Harry Potter from the land of the living, and Ron casting a series of completely impotent hexes in Crowley's general direction, things had calmed down enough for the actual book discussion to commence.
"Dobby enjoyed this book very much," enthused the oddly dressed House Elf. "The part on the Hogwarts founders was very interesting, but Dobby thought that it should have told us more about what kind of socks they were wearing at the time."
"Oh yes, think that the chapter of the various backgrounds of the founders was particularly well written," said Hermione, valiantly trying to ignore the exaggerated snoring noises Ron was making.
"Oook," assented The Librarian.
"Yeah, just a pity that it's the sanitised version," said Crowley dismissively.
"What do you mean 'the sanitised version'?" asked Hermione.
"Crowley I don't think that this is the best time…"
"Well there's Slytherin for a start. A psychotic fairy dust junky if ever I met one. Number one patron of most of the seedier taverns in Hogsmead."
"Haven't I always said he was a loon," said Ron triumphantly.
"Then there's Ravenclaw," continued Crowley. "Let's just say they didn't call her 'Whiplash Rowena' for nothing."
"Crowley I really don't think that this is appropriate in the least."
"What I'm only telling the truth, I thought that your side was all for that sort of thing. Anyway, where was I. Oh yes, Helga Hufflepuff, sweetest woman you could hope to meet. Terrible gambling habit though. Lost count of the number of times Hogwarts almost went into receivership due to her 'little problem', as they called it."
"What about Griffindor," asked Harry, keen to know more about the noble wizard, idolised by all of the students placed the house that he had founded. As the corners of Crowley's mouth turned into a smirk however he began to rethink the wisdom of the question.
"Godric Griffindor, where do you start? Well there was the usual insider trading on the potions market, but everyone was doing it back then. After that there was the time that he started stockpiling flying carpets in Griffindor Tower in an attempt to drive up the market value."
"But why?" asked Harry.
"Oh was purely business. Hogwarts really started out as a front for GG Holdings, biggest logistics conglomerate that the magical world's ever seen. You see the taxes levied on large businesses at the time were about ten sickles out of every galleon, so Godric got the school up and running, got tax exempt status, and used most of floor-space to store the cheap foreign imports coming in from the continent."
"You mean to say that Hogwarts was really just a big warehouse?" said Hermione incredulously.
"In a word: yes. Didn't you ever wonder why there were so many large disused classrooms?"
"But how do you know all of this?"
"Who do you think found the loop holes and sorted out all of the necessary paperwork? Anyway you were talking about how well written you though the chapter on the Hogwarts Founders was."
Hermione stared at the floor for several seconds.
"You know what?" she said eventually. "I feel really disillusioned."
Ron and Harry murmured in agreement.
The Librarian Oooked sympathetically. He had seen many an Unseen Universities undergraduate experience similar feelings.
Had things gone on as they were the trio might have found themselves feeling apathetic and cynical enough to form Hogwarts first third-rate nu-metal act. Thankfully they were snapped out of their disenchantment by the sudden appearance of a blonde haired Slytherin prefect and his two henchmen at the door.
"Well, well, well, what is Potty plotting in here then," said Draco, laughing at his own joke. Crabbe and Goyle just looked confused.
"Not exactly Oscar Wilde are we?" muttered Aziraphale, shaking his head.
"Now come on angel, can't you see that the boy's spent all month trying to come up with a word that almost rhymes with potty," said Crowley.
"Oh and who might you be? And why are you calling him angel, are you gay or something?" demanded Draco, completely unaware that that he was now treading on ice a millimetre thick.
"The names Crowley. I refer to him as angel because his is an actual angel. Oh, and thanks but you're really a bit young for me to be honest."
Draco stared open mouthed, completely unable to come up with any halfway decent retort. "When… When my father finds out…"
"Malfoy, your dad's in Azkaban," said Ron, trying not to laugh.
"Malfoy?" said Crowley. "You mean that your dad's Lucius Malfoy, you're kidding me right?"
"That's his name," snapped Draco, who was gradually turning an interesting shade of red.
"Lucius Malfoy, as in Lucky Lucius the kinky Goblin fetishist."
"How the hell did… I mean, that's a lie," shouted Draco, as all colour suddenly drained from his face.
"Look. I was at the parties your parents had at the manor. I saw what goes on. Saw some things there I've never seen before, and after nigh on six thousand that's saying something."
"Denial is a terrible thing. Oh, and next time you write to your mother be sure to tell her that I said hi."
"What Mr. Crowley is saying is true," piped up the House Elf. "Poor Dobby saw many things that would make any respectable people blush."
Draco did not respond. He merely turned around, started running down the corridor, and began to scream. It was the desperate wailing of someone whose last shreds of self-delusion have just been mercilessly stripped away. Crabbe and Goyle merely stared after him.
"Call me oversensitive, but I think that he's a bit upset about something," said Goyle.
Crowley snapped his fingers. Four pairs of Professor Minerva McGonagall's bloomers were instantly transported to Draco Malfoy's Quidditch kit.
"Was that strictly necessary Crowley," said Aziraphale. "The boy's practically a child."
"Oh come on. Old enough to be an obnoxious brat, old enough to deal with the consequences."
Harry and Ron were rolling about on the floor with laughter. Dobby was smiling gleefully. Hermione was trying to stifle the giggles. The Librarian merely sat impassively in his chair, pondering the antics of the crazy Homo Sapiens.
"Oh no," said Hermione, suddenly sitting bolt upright. "Malfoy's probably on his way to fetch Snape right now."
"Oh bugger," said Ron. "We need go, right now."
Harry nodded. "Putting Yourself in The Driving Seat, says that one can only truly succeed by learning to be in the right place at the right time; and the right place and time is definitely not here and now."
"You two should go," said Hermione. "I'll catch up in a second."
"Are you sure?"
Harry and Ron hastily left the room.
"Dobby it's your turn to choose next weeks book," said Hermione.
"Dobby has already chosen which book to read for next week," he said beaming.
"Great, what is it?"
Dobby grinned and produced a very large hardback book from underneath one of the chairs.
"A Brief History of Hosiery," read Hermione, pulling a face. "Well if you're sure."
Aziraphale cleared his throat. "I afraid that I won't be able to make it next week."
"We could always change the day," said Hermione helpfully.
"That's quite all right, no need to go to any trouble on my account" said Aziraphale hastily. "I'll be busy all of next week. Cataloguing you see, clean forgot about it until just now."
"Oook," said The Librarian apologetically.
"Oh well, looks like it'll just be you and me Dobby," said Hermione, before quickly exiting The Room of Requirement. Dobby picked up his broom, and cheerfully resumed his sweeping duties.
"Oook?" asked The Librarian.
"No," said Crowley emphatically. "We're not going back through L-Space."
"Aziraphale, walking would be quicker, and has the added benefit of being unlikely to involve getting attacked by any prowling psychopathic grimoires. Anyway I've heard about this new place that's just opened in Hogsmead."
Suddenly the pair noticed a pale, greasy haired figure, standing in the doorway.
Professor Snape stared. A look of utter disbelief etched on his face.
"Anthony can it really be you… I thought that you were… dead."
"Oh bugger." Crowley snapped his fingers. Snape's expression instantly settled into one of benign vacancy. "Look Severus when you wake up in two… no better make that five minutes, you won't remember seeing anyone in this room. You came looking for Harry Potter but there was nobody in here… Oh, and when you get back to the Slytherin common room you'll decide to do an on-the-spot inspection of Draco Malfoy's Quidditch kit bag."
Aziraphale looked at Crowley and shook his head. "My dear, do I even want to know?"
"Probably not," said Crowley. "Now can we please go and get some lunch."