"You are saying you will be unable to fill in for Lupin this full moon?"

"That is correct, sir." Snape answered through his teeth, voice in the usual dull monotone. He chose to stand instead of sit in the Headmaster's spacious office, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. Dumbledore smiled benignly at the Potions Master from his seat behind his oaken desk. "Won't you sit, Severus?"

"I had hoped this would be a brief meeting," Snape said, glancing out the office's tower window. "The Slytherin vs. Gryffindor Quidditch match is at noon."

"But of course," Dumbledore smiles, a twinkle in his piercing blue eyes. "It should prove to be a fascinating match, I'm sure."

"Yes, sir." Snape agrees, dark eyes roving once more to the window where robed figures flitted about on broomsticks, warming up for the oncoming match.

"But we still have the problem of what to do to replace Lupin," Dumbledore conjoins. The Potion Master's eyes instantly locked onto the Headmaster's at the mention of Lupin.

"None of the other Professors have availability on that day," Dumbledore muses, "Or the necessary qualifications."

Snape made no comment. A customary sneer lurked at the corner of his mouth.

"But we can always resolve this after the match," The Headmaster smiles. Thoughtfully, he added. "Sometimes these problems have a habit of resolving themselves…"

_()_

Flying the T.A.R.D.I.S. was no mean feat, especially while trying to eat a banana. The Doctor had one foot splayed out on the right side of the dashboard, and was frantically flipping switches and turning knobs with his free hand.

"C'mon," he said urgently, mouth full of banana. "C'mon, c'mon!"

The gold interior of the T.A.R.D.I.S. rippled with light, sparks springing from multiple sections of the dashboard. A resounding thud shook the entire control room.

"Must've hit a quantum deficiency in the time vortex," the Doctor explained quickly, lunging for a massive lever. He glanced over his shoulder, only to find his explanation went unheard. Donna had left him a while ago, and he was looking at empty space.

"Right then," he muttered to himself, finishing the rest of his banana and tossing the peel carelessly over his shoulder. The room was beginning to stabilize, and he stepped back proudly.

"Knew you'd fly straight," he addressed the T.A.R.D.I.S. affectionately. This little blue box was his companion now. He loved the little thing to pieces. Not literally, of course. The Doctor never did like that particular human euphemism.

With a perfunctory grin at the wonder that was his T.A.R.D.I.S., the Doctor pivoted and headed for the library. He could do with some books to brighten his day. Days were long with no companion by his side. Maybe he would crack open some Agatha Christie, or peruse some of Shakespeare's plays. He might have one of the Bard's originals lying around somewhere…did he leave it in the laboratory? That could turn nasty.

Head in the clouds more than usual, the Doctor failed to see a specific item on the floor. Something dastardly. Something deadly.

Something utterly and painfully yellow.

The tossed banana peel.

It didn't take long for his converses to slip and falter on the wretched thing. Long arms wind-milling frantically, the Doctor toppled backwards like a gangly puppet with its strings cut. His head slammed against the dashboard with a dull thump, and his long legs splayed out in a haphazard V.

The last thing to occur to him as he lay, head throbbing and staring at the rapidly fading banana peel, was how excruciatingly cliché this all was.

A banana peel?

He was actually pretty glad he didn't have a companion to see that…

_()_

Harry leaned forward on his broomstick, squinting as the wind surged around him. Thus far into the match, Gryffindor and Slytherin were neck and neck, at around forty points each. The day was gorgeous, one of the few golden autumn afternoons left before winter reigned. The stands were packed with teachers and students alike, and Hagrid had almost an entire row to himself as he cheered on Gryffindor in his colossal red and gold scarf. Harry could see Ron and Hermione from where they sat in the Gryffindor stands; it was never difficult to spot ginger Weasley hair.

Harry sped in a quick circuit around the Slytherin goalposts and zoomed low near the field, vying for the Snitch, but it was nowhere in sight. Nearing the Gryffindor goalposts, Harry was about to pull up when he heard a strange sound, almost like a low metallic siren. It increased in pitch and volume, and whispers and exclamations rustled through the stands.

Breaking sharply on his Nimbus 2000, Harry turned to face the sound. Surely Malfoy wasn't up to anything, couldn't be up to anything, in the middle of a Quidditch match.

What he saw was so strange he forgot about the ongoing match overhead. It was a worn blue Police Box, right in the very center of the Quidditch pitch. Curious, Harry edged his broomstick closer. Hadn't Police Boxes been used in the 1960s? It wasn't some sort of Portkey, was it?

"Harry!" Dumbledore called. The Headmaster was striding across the field towards the blue box, accompanied by the figures of Snape, Lupin, McGonagall, and Flitwick. He waved at Harry to get away from the mysterious apparition.

Madam Hooch blew her shrill whistle to call down the Quidditch players and Harry was soon joined by the rest of the Gryffindor team.

"Did you see it arrive? Just sort of faded in and out…."

"No apparating or disaparating within school grounds!"

"Reckon it's a prank?"

"Wasn't me. Was it you, Fred?"

"Nah. Bloody brilliant though."

"Do you think there's someone inside?" Harry asked his teammates quietly. An expectant hush fell as the Police Box doors began to open.