A/N: This is the result of reading too many Lord of the Rings parodies in the marching band section. It got me to thinking, not LotR, but why not Harry Potter? So, here it is, my stupidest story ever, Mary Porter and the Musician's Metronome! I hope you find it funny.
Mary Porter and the Musician's Metronome
Chapter One: The Girl with Good Tempo
It was a fine summer evening indeed along the suburban street in an anonymous American town. Children played happily, having pillow fights and noisy sleepovers, while adults sat out on their porches enjoying a few quiet minutes drinking mudslides. The crickets chirped music that soared lazily around the heads of many and they enjoyed a nice snooze in the last rays of the dying sunlight. It was not a day that people would expect anything very important to happen, just another lazy evening in an on-going summer of humidity and heat.
After the sun had sunk its last rays, the night grew a bit darker and a few streetlights popped on, whilst a random jazz melody from a random saxophonist off the street swayed in the breeze. The people of Sunny Street drifted off into a dream world, the lovely tune of the instrument encompassing their very minds. Perhaps this melody was not as random as it might appear.
For, out in the street, a man with a leather jacket tongued his last sweet note on the saxophone, letting it hang in the air long after ending the tune. He then looked over to a woman dressed in a Raiders jersey and khakis. She had long, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and a rather severe look upon her face that sharply pierced the saxophonist's own face. She then grinned.
"That was lovely, Al. I think you may've been flat on the last note, however."
The man laughed, shaking his head. "What a surprise to see you here, Professor McGraveh!"
She nodded, and then a worried look crossed her face. "Headmaster, is it true?"
The man glanced at her curiously, and then smiled. "What, my dear Professor?"
"Is it… is it true that you-know-who has fled the U.S.? Is it true that Mary Porter stayed in time? Is it true that Lila and Jim are, are…" The poor Professor McGraveh could not utter the last few words. She burst into tears.
"Yes, dear girl. A few drumsticks were found near their home."
Professor McGraveh coughed.
"As for little Mary, well, she's on her way now, shall we say?"
"With whom?"
"The person I would most trust with my life! Hagrid, of course! I daresay he takes care of Instruments and Guard equipment well enough!"
"Yes, but… Hagrid?" She shook her head.
Just then a golf cart with a trailer carrying a set of tympanis and a marimba on it pulled onto Sunny Street. All the color drained out of Professor McGraveh's face.
"Hagrid took a Pit Equipment Cart??"
On top of the golf cart, a seven-foot man with large feet and a crude bundle of blankets sat upon the seat.
"Prof. Dynam'der, Prof. M'Grav'," said the man in acknowledgement.
"Hagrid, keep quiet! You know the Footiefans might hear us!!" hissed McGraveh rather nervously.
"Ah, so that'n be why you're wearin' a Rai'ers jersey, Prof.?"
"Yes! Quiet, Hagrid! Where is Mary?"
"Righ' 'ere, Prof. She fell asleep when we were driving through Plainburgsontonvillecity Town!" said Hagrid.
Hagrid sniffed and handed the little bundle to McGraveh, who handed it to Dynamidore.
"Little Mary will be safe here in the 'burbs. See you in ten years, little timekeeper. May music find its way into your soul."
Dynamidore lay the little bundle down on the steps of 27 Sunny Street, and lay an envelope with a sticker of an eighth note on it. Hagrid shed tears over the little bundle, and played a slow funeral march on the marimba on the golf cart. Dynamidore applauded Hagrid and McGraveh shook her head. Dynamidore and Hagrid got into the cart and McGraveh rode on the trailer by the tympanis.
"Now, let's go PARTY!" exclaimed Hagrid. Dynamidore banged one of the tympanis, and all of the residents of Sunny Street awoke from the enchanted saxophone snooze, wondering why they weren't in bed.
But on the stoop of 27 Sunny Street, little Mary Porter slept peacefully, not knowing that she had perfect timing at the age of one, not knowing that she was to be the greatest clarinetist ever, not knowing that she was anybody in anyway. She slept out the night, to be awoken by Mrs. Turkey's whoops from celebration of the Raiders victory that night. No, little Mary slept peacefully, an innocent little child with the blessing of musical harmony and grace.
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