Year: Fifth Year (stand-in)
Category: Short Story
Prompt: Metal Bar
Those who helped, thank you.
Harry Potter strolled along a street in the outskirts of London. It was a backstreet, but he was hopefully heading towards the main street where he could catch a cab, or find some bush to Disapparate from. The street he was on now was fresh out of either of those. It was getting quite late, and he still had a long way to go before getting home, and god, he was tired.
Just then, he passed a pub. He had passed quite a few pubs, but this one caught his eye. Why? Well, it was called 'The Metal Bar.'
'What an odd name,' thought Harry as he stopped and looked at it. What did the name mean anyway? They played lots of heavy metal music? The owner was an Iron Man fanatic?
Not knowing what the name meant, Harry went in to see. Harry had always been the curious sort, and if he didn't find out why it was called what it was, it would bug him for the next month or so.
As Harry entered the bar, he saw why it might have been called the metal bar: the part people sat at, ordered drinks from, and had the barmaids behind it was made of metal. Harry laughed! What a clever name!
"Welcome to the Metal Bar, sir! Won't you stop for a drink?" the barmaid called to him. Harry froze: he had hoped he could get in and out without being seen!
"I'd love to, but I have really got to run," Harry said, sounding sincere.
"No, I insist you stay," the barmaid said.
Just then, Harry noticed on either side of him there was a person, holding a metal bar! The metal bar they held looked like it came off a wheelbarrow or something; but what was more important was the way they whacked the bar against their hands made Harry feel intimidated.
Harry gulped: there was no getting out of this one! "Alright," Harry said, stepping forward. He kept a good eye on the people holding the metal bars. But it didn't look like they were going to whack him now: in fact, they had put their weapons away.
"Good, sir! What would you like?" the barmaid exclaimed gleefully.
"White wine please," Harry answered.
"Yes sir!" she cried. Then she quickly fetched Harry his drink while Harry pulled his wallet out and found some money. It was then Harry noticed everyone in this pub had a metal bar. From what looked like part of some monkey bars to a great big crowbar. Harry suddenly felt very nervous.
"Here you go, sir! Ten pounds please!" the barmaid said, alerting Harry to the fact she had come back and was now expecting money.
"Wha? Oh yeah: here," Harry said, handing the barmaid a ten pound note. Then it occurred to him that that was a lot for a cheap glass of wine.
"Thanks a lot!" then she vanished.
What happened next was a blur to Harry. One moment he was sipping his wine, the next he somehow ended with all the people carrying metal bars, and they started dancing. It was more liking fighting with their weapons for the ones who were not Harry, but they still did some dance movements.
When Harry got out of the battle, he looked back and just stared: what was he seeing? Whatever it was, it surely could not be real. Right?
"HARRY! WAKE UP!" screeched the voice of Hermione in Harry's ear. Harry jumped up in surprise.
He glanced around to see Hermione and Ron standing next to him, fully clothed. He glanced outside to see it was fully light.
"What happened?" Harry asked, realising what he had just seen was a dream. Thank god.
"We have been trying to wake you up for hours!" Hermione cried, looking unimpressed.
"Yeah: Hermione was really mad, you know. She was about to whack you over the head with that metal bar thingy over there," Ron said, pointing to a crowbar leaning innocently against the wall. Harry shuddered at the realisation that could have been meant for him.
"Hurry up and get dressed, Harry," Hermione said shortly. Then she spun on her heel, grabbed the crowbar and stormed out of the room. Ron quickly glanced at Harry, then followed her out.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he stood up: he was glad he didn't have a metal bar used on him in his dream or reality!