Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Harry Potter and the Dream Come True

Chapter Ten - How to Win a Girl (James's Way)

With Remus remaining at Grimmauld Place to ensure the twins didn't blow the house up or drive their mother insane, the next week passed with surprisingly few disturbances. Harry, Sirius, and James spent many happy hours playing Quidditch, helping Harry with his homework, and often just strolling around the grounds chatting about nothing in particular.

Come Sunday evening, Harry was peaceful and content with his life that he knew something troublesome had to happen soon. In Harry's experience, there was no such thing for him as having a normal life - and although Sirius and James worked hard to get this idea out of his head, Harry knew he was right. He was doomed to be the Boy-Who-Lived, or, more accurately, the Boy-Who-Had-Horribly-Unlucky-Things-Happen-To-Him-No-Matter-How-Hard-He-Tried-To-Avoid-Them.

Still, it was rather hard to think such depressing thoughts when you were curled up in a squishy armchair in front of a roaring fire with a mug of hot chocolate in hand. Taking another sip, Harry returned his concentration to his father, who was fondly recalling a childhood memory.

"... and so Snivellus says, 'You may be an egoistic prat, Potter, but I can still hex you from here to Saturn!' I, of course, couldn't take this lying down, so I drew my wand dramatically from its inscribed black leather holster (which has been in the family for generations), and uttered the insanely complex Incendio charm, which set Snape's greasy hair on fire!"

Harry felt the need to cut in at this point. "Dad, I learned the Incendio charm in, like, third year. It's about as insanely complex as Wingardium Leviosa is."

James waved off this comment. "Ignoring a certain someone who keeps interrupting me, I shall continue my grand tale. So, Snape is burning up nicely, and is screaming various profanities..."

As James rambled on, Sirius and Harry exchanged an amused glance. The man had been talking for the past hour - Sirius hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said James could talk the ear off a yak. And the scary part was, Harry was hanging on to his father's every word.

"And then who arrives on the scene but Lily!" James declared, but stopped short when he spoke his wife's name. He stared blankly off into space for a moment, looking vaguely confused, and more than a little saddened, before snapping out of his trance. Standing up abruptly, he grunted, "I'm going to bed now. Night," and swept off.

Harry shifted uneasily on his armchair as his father disappeared from the room. "I didn't know that he still mourned for mum," he murmured. Sirius shook his head.

"I had no idea that he did either. But then, we've both had over a decade to come to terms with Lily's death, whereas he's only had a week, not counting his time in hell."

The two sat quietly, each thinking their own thoughts, until Harry eventually broke the silence. "Well, I think that I'm going to turn in also. It's a tad early, but-"

Sirius scoffed. "A tad early? Harry, it's seven o'clock! I usually start dinner at that time! Why do you always turn in so early?"

The suspicion in his voice caused Harry to wince and turn away. He had been going to bed early every night in order to spend as much time as possible training with Decimare… but it wasn't like he could tell Sirius that. He still wasn't ready to tell anyone of his theft of the ancient sword. But how to deflect Sirius's question?

"Well, Sirius, I'm a teenage boy, and I need-"

Sirius suddenly grinned, and waved a hand to cut Harry off. "Oh! Of course! I should have known! Hormones and all that. Well, don't worry about it, kid, you can admit it to me. 'Wanking off', as they say, is a perfectly natural part of a man's life. You don't have to say any more."

Harry was shocked, and a little bit horrified. "No, wait! I do need to say more! I just need some space, you know, alone time! I'm not-"

Sirius cut him off again. "It's alright, Harry. I understand perfectly. Once you've been with as many ladies as I have, you'll feel more comfortable with your 'nighttime adventures'. Sweet dreams." He winked at Harry conspiratorially, and swept out of the room, robes swishing dramatically.

Harry was frozen to the spot. Of all the things he didn't need to know about Sirius, his sleeping with multiple women was at the top of the list. Harry stayed comfortably in a stunned stupor for about ten minutes, before he decided to pretend the conversation had never happened, and headed up to his room. Unfortunately, he ran into Sirius halfway there. Before he could say anything, perhaps denying his... nighttime adventures, Sirius spoke up.

"Hey, kid, you know I was kidding about before, right? It's none of my business what you do at night. I mean, for all I know, you spend your time secretly studying the evil art of potion brewing!"

Harry laughed softly, easing up the tension in the hall considerably.

"But seriously Harry, all joking aside, if you ever need help with anything, and I mean anything - well, unless that anything involves befriending Snivellus or anything equally sinister - you can come to me or your dad. We're your guardians for a reason, you know."

Harry smiled. "I'll do that. And, about that rather disturbing conversation we just had-"

Sirius winked. "It never happened. Anyway, good night, kid. Sweet dreams. Actually, more importantly, safe dreams. Have you had anymore visions lately?"

Harry sighed. "No, I haven't. Voldemort's completely stopped attacking people and holding meetings. It's like he wants to be invisible or something. I wonder if he's trying to convince the Ministry that he's not actually returned?"

"Do you know what? He may actually be doing that. It won't work, though. Not if Dumbledore has anything to say about it, anyway," said Sirius with a frown.

"Well, that's good news, I suppose. I mean, if we can't trust Dumbledore, who can we trust?"

"With the amount of things that man doesn't tell us, I'm not so sure we should trust him…" Sirius muttered.

"What was that?" Harry enquired in interest.

Sirius blinked. "Sorry?"

"You were muttering something about not trusting Dumbledore."

Sirius regarded him skeptically. "You need more sleep, kid. Just get a good night's rest. I'll see you in the morning."

"Sirius!" Harry bellowed after his godfather, who shifted to canine form and galloped up the hall, rounded the corner, and disappeared. "Damn," Harry swore, imagining the violent things he would do to Sirius when he got his hands on him. But as he entered his huge, luxurious room, Harry couldn't help but wonder whether or not he'd actually heard the mutter. Sirius was a very good actor - he could've just said that to confuse Harry.

I wouldn't put it past him, he grinned.

Harry eventually decided to store it in the file in his head reserved for "Random pieces of information that I'll probably never need, but may use eventually." The only other file in this folder was the vision of Pettigrew Harry had a week ago - the one about Pettigrew turning and running from the Dark Lord, in his possession some shield that Voldemort apparently wanted. It also mentioned another object the Dark Lord was after, but a thorough cross-examining by Harry had led him to discover that he still had absolutely no idea what the object was.

Sighing, Harry threw on the loose robe he'd taken to wearing whenever he trained with Decimare. It was a plain robe, tan, with no ornamentation whatsoever. Decimare had informed Harry that when he eventually mastered the art of sword fighting, he would gain the title of Blade Master, a title that had not been used for the past century (since swords were not really used too much past that point). Harry eagerly awaited that day, as the title would finally show the world that he had accomplished something by himself, rather than with luck or help from others.

With this encouraging thought in his mind, Harry set about warming up his muscles with some easy stretches Decimare had shown (or rather, told) him. Finished these, he burrowed his hand underneath the king-sized mattress, to emerge holding the beautiful black broadsword Decimare. The ornately carved snake coiled around the leather hilt hissed at him:

.:Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love being squished underneath a heavy mattress all day, but the scenery isn't exactly what I'd prefer-:.

"Stow it," Harry snapped. "You've become way too sarcastic for your own good. I should have never explained what sarcasm meant."

.:Nonsense, Master, I've known what sarcasm is ever since the day I was forged. You forget, my last master was Salazar Slytherin, and I dare you to find a more sarcastic man than him. I've just been out of practice:.

Harry sighed. Just what he needed: a sarcastic, slightly sadistic sword. What was the world coming to? "But you are now apparently back to your regular self, right?"

.:Precisely. Enough idle chatter. We shall begin with your blocking. You are still pathetically incompetent:.

'What did I do to have earned this?' Harry asked himself as he swung his sword furiously around, attempting to block the vicious attacks of an invisible, immaterial foe. Although Decimare claimed Harry was an incompetent idiot, Harry was certain that he'd improved in the past week, even if it was just a teensy bit. At least he had limited control over the sword when he swung it wildly (he'd only broken three lamps so far), and was also getting less and less exhausted after each session, although that was thanks to the two hours of exercising out by the lake he did every morning.

Surprisingly, after the first intrusion of Sirius and Remus on his exercising a week ago, Sirius had backed off, and had presumably advised James to allow his son the opportunity to have a few hours of "alone time" every morning. This surprising act of consideration from Sirius had completely baffled Harry, but whatever reason Sirius had come up with for granting Harry a few hours of peace, Harry was grateful for it.

A loud crash brought Harry's thoughts back to the present. A large potted plant lay on the floor in pieces, and Decimare was hissing furiously at him.

.:What are you doing? You cannot learn to fight if you have no focus! If you keep getting distracted, you will never survive! I'm teaching you meditation:. the snake decided firmly. .:Sit down, cross-legged, and close your eyes:.

Slightly confused, Harry did as he was told.

.:Now, I want you to clear your mind. Wipe all thoughts and emotions from it. You cannot find your center if random thoughts are crowding your brain:.

Sighing, Harry attempted to clear his mind. Unfortunately, the thought, "This is pointless" kept crossing his mind. After about ten minutes of Harry failing to clear his mind, Decimare hissed calmly:

.:We are going to continue doing this until you can find your center. You cannot fight until you find your inner self:.

Harry was just a bit annoyed by this. "That's insane! I need to learn sword fighting! That way I won't be so damn helpless every time a Death Eater thinks of a new way to injure me! How am I going to learn if I just sit here all day doing nothing?" Harry knew instantly that he'd gone too far.

.:Doing nothing? Is that what you think you're doing? Nothing? A true fighter cannot do anything if he can't concentrate! Imagine! You are fighting a Death Eater, let's say Macnair, and you are - although at this point in your training it is highly unlikely - winning. Suddenly, Voldemort materializes in front of you. What do you do:.

"Curse him?"

.:NO! If you attempt to curse the Dark Lord, do you think Macnair would just watch on in interest? Perhaps he would even sheath his sword, and maybe even conjure up some tea for the three of you to drink? Of course not! He would cut you down in an instant:.

Harry had to admit that the snake had a point.

.:Of course I have a point! So, you are going to sit down right now, and you are going to stay there until I say so:.

Seeing no other choice, Harry sighed and collapsed on the bed.

.:Clear your mind:. The snake lectured over and over, and Harry put all his effort into doing so. Eventually, the snake's hissing faded into the background, and Harry experienced nothingness for about half a second before he realized that he'd cleared his mind. This thought, of course, destroyed the nothingness, and brought Harry back to reality. Decimare was hissing happily.

.:I told you that you could do it if you tried! Even if it was only for a second, you now know what it feels like! Once you can clear your mind, millions of possibilities are open to you...:.

As Decimare hissed on and on excitedly, Harry slowly changed into his pajamas, reveling in his accomplishment. Climbing into bed, Harry grabbed the still babbling sword and shoved it under the mattress, ignoring its disgruntled hiss. It may be an intelligent, magical sword, but it was still just a sword, and for once Harry had shown that sword that he was capable of doing something, and was not worthless, as the snake constantly told him.

It may have been his exhaustion, or perhaps a result of his victory at clearing his mind, but whatever the reason, Harry slept peacefully that night.

As Harry entered the dining room the next morning, he knew immediately that something was wrong. This feeling was emphasized by the fact that Sirius was grinning madly, and James was beaming all out. Harry cautiously sat down and began eating, keeping his eyes on his guardians, who were eyeing him almost appraisingly. Finishing off his last bit of sausage, Harry almost started when Sirius spoke for the first time that morning.

"I'd say what he really needs is a new look," he declared, eyes focused on Harry, who squirmed uncomfortably.

"Definitely," James confirmed with a nod. "But what look are we going for? Remus was the 'good boy', you were the womanizer-"

"I was not!"

"Sure you weren't," he agreed patronizingly. "And I was the loveable boy next door."

"The loveable, extremely arrogant boy next door," Sirius added helpfully.

"I was just a kid back then! Cut me some slack!"

"Fine, fine. And Lily was… I mean…" Sirius trailed off uncertainly, watching his best friend for any signs of grief.

James sighed heavily. "Look, Padfoot, as much as I hate to admit it, Lily is dead, and no amount of grieving is going to bring her back. I am trying to come to terms with her death, and that means I've got to stop crying every time you mention her. Continue with what you were saying - if we don't look fondly back on good times, then what's the point of living?"

Who knew my dad was so wise? Harry thought with a considerable amount of awe.

Sirius grinned happily and thumped his bespectacled friend on the back, causing James to wince in pain. "So, as I was saying, Remus was the good boy, I was the… oh, fine, the womanizer, you were the boy next door, and Lily was the goody-two-shoes beauty queen. What has Harry got going for him?"

"Well, I'd say we work with what we've got. Harry's already got the Golden boy image going for him, as well as the famous Boy-Who-Lived look. The Golden boy image can be very enticing, if used properly."

"True enough. Harry, look at me." Harry, very confused, focused on Sirius. "Good. Pretend that I'm a girl, and I'm hitting on you." Adopting a high voice, Sirius squeaked out, "Hey Harry! I really like you, and I was wondering if we could be more than friends!"

Harry stood rooted to the spot. He had absolutely no experience with girls, save for an infatuation with Cho Chang that had ended a month back. The only two girls he really knew where Hermione and Ginny, and neither had come right out and expressed their affection for Harry (not that he expected them to, of course). Plus, it was rather difficult to really get into the situation when it was his Godfather propositioning him.

Sirius seemed satisfied with Harry's silence. "As you can see, James, the only thing Harry really needs is confidence."

"And a few good pick up lines," James added in cheerfully. "If he gets those, he'll be Hogwarts ladies' man before long."

Harry had finally deduced what was going on. "Wait a minute, are you trying to teach me how to pick up a girl or something?"

Sirius and James grinned.

"Excellent deduction, old chap," Sirius winked. "That is exactly what we are going to do. Time to work the old magic."

"Umm... old magic?" asked Harry in confusion.

James laughed. "When we first met Remus, he was a skinny little kid who was absurdly shy. Sirius here took it upon himself in fourth year to fix up his image, and ended up helping Remus earn the official Hogwarts title 'Cutest boy of 1974'."

Harry really had no idea what to say to this. He briefly considered resisting his guardians' plans, but immediately gave that up when he saw how happy Sirius and James seemed at the prospect. Any amount of discomfort on his part was worth it to see those two so cheerful. Giving a defeated sigh, Harry gathered up his courage and, wondering what he was getting himself into, announced, "Alright gentlemen, work your magic!"

"You'll definitely need to change your hair, Harry, and perhaps get your eyes fixed. Some new robes wouldn't go amiss either." Sirius had the teen up on a wooden stool in the center of a bare room that James refused to disclose the name or location of. Harry's unease had increased when his father had wrapped a blindfold around his head before leading him to what he termed the "Attitude Room".

James cleared his throat, calling everyone's attention to him. "Over the next week, I am going to teach you the rules of attracting women that the Potters have been using for centuries. They have never failed in getting a Potter the woman of his dreams. Are you ready?"

Harry pressed his eyes tightly shut. "No."

"Excellent!" James beamed. "The first, and most important, rule of the lot is that women love attitude. Got that? Attitude. Now, attitude ties in directly with your look, which we have decided is going to be the Golden Boy image. This means that your attitude is going to be an 'I can take on whatever life throws at me' attitude."

"The main idea is that you are primarily a good guy, but can handle yourself when things go wrong," Sirius continued. "This means that you need to be cool, confident, and polite. If you aren't polite, Harry, you turn from Golden Boy to Bad Boy. The bad guy is impolite; the good guy is courteous, and therefore everyone loves him. Got that?"

Harry eyed the two Marauders skeptically. "I'm not sure. You're saying that girls dig the 'good guy' image? Then why are all the girls at school constantly drooling over Draco Malfoy?"

James gave his son a conspiratorial look. "Although girls may be attracted to the Bad guy, Harry, it's the Good guy they take home."

"They take them home, alright. To bed, that is," Sirius added with a wink. Harry flushed a bright crimson, and glared at Sirius with every ounce of anger he could muster.

"Aha!" James bellowed. "That's another problem! Although the good guy is polite, they are never ashamed or embarrassed. They must be in control at all times, no matter what happens."

"But they still need to have morals," Sirius added. "Although ladies do love it when a man does something cruel and disturbing-"

"They do?" Harry asked skeptically.

James scoffed. "Of course not. They are disgusted, as any right-minded person would be. But morals are important, Harry, because without morals you turn into someone like Lucius Malfoy."

Harry shuddered. "Point taken. So, what's first?"

"Confidence, I think," Sirius decided. "Repeat after me. I AM HARRY POTTER!"

Harry stared at him. "Er… I am Harry Potter?"

James growled. "It's a statement, not a question. Say it with feeling."

"I AM HARRY POTTER!"

Sirius nodded approvingly. "Excellent. Now say, 'I AM A PERSON!"

Harry felt he could do nothing but play along. "I AM A PERSON!"

"What is the capital of Uruguay?" James demanded.

Harry stared blankly at him. "I have no idea. Why?"

Sirius shook his head. "You are confident now, Harry, remember? If you don't know, then say it!"

"I DON'T KNOW!"

"What are you doing!" James exclaimed, distraught.

"Being confident?" Harry guessed.

"Harry, son, you are the Good guy! Yelling is fine for our confidence exercises, but when you are trying to talk to a lady, you have to be slick."

"You have to be smooth," Sirius added helpfully. James glared at him.

"Aren't slick and smooth the same things in this context?" Harry wondered.

James growled. "Ignore Sirius. As I was saying, you've got to be slick, smooth, and under control. If a girl asks you something, and you shout I DON'T KNOW, she's not going to be very impressed, is she?"

"But I thought we were practicing being confidant."

"We are, but shouting is just to boost your confidence, kid. It isn't used in real life. So, let's try again. Be slick, be smooth. Pretend I'm some girl you want to hit on. What's the capital of Uruguay?"

Harry was fed up with this. They wanted slick and smooth? They'd get it. Channeling his inner Casanova, Harry reached a hand up and smoothed his hair back, gave his father a seductive smile and drawled, "Why do you want to know that, baby? Wouldn't you rather know if I'm free this Saturday night?" He ended off the performance by emitting a sexy chuckle (although he wasn't aware at the time that it was sexy).

Sirius and James gaped at him. Finally Sirius spluttered, "That was amazing! How come you don't do that all the time? If you'd been faced with a real girl, she'd be in your arms faster than a-"

"I was just joking, guys." Harry informed the two with a frown. "I wasn't serious. I would never talk to a girl like that. That's how Malfoy talks to girls."

"No, it's not!" James interjected immediately. "That's how confident guys talk to girls."

"Malfoy would probably say something more like: 'Come here, you heavenly beauty, so that I may ravish your body on this plush, antique carpet'," Sirius put in helpfully.

James glared at his friend. "It may seem like a joke now, but chicks dig a self-assured guy!"

"Especially if he's a Good guy who is polite and courteous" Sirius added. James sighed.

"I think we've already covered that point, Sirius."

"And who doesn't engage in disturbing and sadistic activities," Sirius concluded. He glowered. "Or so Mister Know-it-all here claims."

Harry was quite convinced that the pair of them were mad. "That's insane! If I spoke like that, all the girls would think I was some stuck up, arrogant prick!"

"That's why you have to prove them wrong by being kind and charming and all that jazz," Sirius reminded him.

"So I have to act like a complete fool, is that it?"

"When you are truly confidant with yourself, Harry, everything else will come naturally to you," James assured him. "Now, I think we need a course of action. Sirius?"

Sirius cleared his throat importantly. "In exactly one week your fifteenth birthday will arrive. At this point a grand party will be held at Grimmauld Place in your honor, a party which many females will be attending."

"We have one week to fix you up, Harry, and then we are turning you loose on that party. You are to flirt with every female you see. You will make us proud. You will not attempt to escape the room when I am talking to you!" James bellowed at Harry, who was edging towards the door.

"Are you mad? I'm not making a fool of myself in front of Hermione and the Weasleys! Imagine what Ron would say!"

"If you are good enough, you won't make a fool of yourself," Sirius reminded him.

Harry looked up at the two older men. They both had stern expressions on their faces, and seemed dead set on making Harry the ultimate ladies' man. Harry heaved another great sigh. Anything to make his guardians happy. "Alright. Transform me."

The first step in Harry's transformation was getting his now shoulder length hair tamed. Missy was delegated the task of fixing Harry's hair, a job which she accepted with great enthusiasm. Harry could therefore be found an hour later tied to a chair in the living room, eyeing Missy fearfully, who was holding a large pair of very sharp scissors, and was snipping them open and close menacingly.

Giving a war cry, Missy attacked Harry's hair viciously. Harry only had a brief second to wonder what exactly was with Missy and tying people to chairs, but before he could pursue the concept further, he cried out in pain.

"Oww! What are you doing?"

"Missy is fixing sir's hair. Missy asks sir to hold still, or sir could be injured. Not that Missy would injure sir, of course." Missy gave the bound boy a wicked grin. "Not intentionally, anyway."

Harry gulped as Missy again attacked him, and decided to just let her do her job.

Harry emerged half an hour later sporting a short, spiky look, which Missy said was the only style that would stay. Sirius, who was standing outside the door, looked him over once, smiled approvingly, and propelled him down the hall towards the Attitude Room, where James was waiting, fingering his wand impatiently.

"Sit down, and don't move," James instructed sternly. Waving his wand in an intricate pattern, James muttered a harsh sounding incantation, which contained a few choice words that led Harry to believe the spell he was casting wasn't entirely legal. A flash of blue totally obscured Harry's sight, and before he could close his eyes, another flash, this time red, burnt right through his retinas. Surprisingly enough, it didn't hurt at all. The only effect of the spell seemed to be that Harry was completely blind.

Harry stood up shakily and almost immediately toppled over, or at least he would have, had James not been there to steady him.

"That spell wasn't legal, was it?" Harry accused. "And how come I'm blind?" The reality of the situation suddenly sank in. "Oh my god! I'm blind!"

Sirius snickered. "The spell is an ancient… oh, alright, it's an illegal spell that corrects your vision. It's illegal because if it's done wrong, it blinds you totally. Many dark wizards used the spell to blind their enemies. Nasty spell, if done wrong."

Harry was panicking now. "And you did it correctly, right Dad?"

James chuckled. "Of course! It's me! And the blindness will pass. The spell is just resetting your eyesight."

Harry blinked, and found his vision returning. He wasn't very happy with his father or godfather, though. "And were you planning on mentioning that I could be blinded before or after you attempted to cast the spell?"

James sighed. "Harry, you have no faith in me."

Sirius grinned. "If you'd thought to ask us, we'd have answered you without hesitation."

"What! How could you-"

But Sirius and James were already halfway down the hall, guffawing loudly at the teen's plight. Harry grumbled a few choice words and trundled after them.

On July 30, the eve before Harry's birthday, he, Sirius, and James were doing a last minute run-through of his newly created attitude and image. Sirius was at the moment playing the role of a teenage girl, one who was not particularly interested in Harry. The convict-turned-schoolgirl seated himself daintily on the edge of the table, trying to appear as feminine as possible. This was the dress rehearsal. This was where James and Sirius discovered if their week of training had been successful.

Sirius heard the sound of footsteps, and attempted to appear as nonchalant as possible. With a dramatic swish of his black, designer robes, Harry James Potter swept into the room, a charming smile plastered on his face, looking for all the world like the Golden boy he was, yet one could sense that hidden, dangerous side lurking just below the wholesome surface.

His emerald green eyes were as bright as ever, especially without his thick glasses obscuring them. Harry's hair was spiked with streaks of a dark, dark blue, and everything about him, from the way he walked, to just his appearance in general, spoke volumes about his confidence and self assurance. Yes, Sirius thought proudly, he and James had worked their magic, and transformed the little Pronglet into a dark, charming young man.

Sirius pretended not to have noticed Harry, who chuckled softly and loomed up behind him. Sirius gasped in fake shock, and whirled around to find Harry watching him intently. It took all Sirius's self control not to laugh at the thought that his godson was hitting on him. Keep a straight face! he told himself sternly.

"Harry! What a surprise, seeing you in here!" Sirius squeaked, and to his relief found that Harry didn't laugh at the high voice, even though he probably found it very amusing. He could just imagine the boy walking up to the first gorgeous girl he saw, turning on the charm, and then collapsing in hysterics when it turned out the girl sounded like she'd just swallowed a helium balloon.

"What's surprising is that a beautiful thing like you is cooped up inside on a day like today. Shouldn't you be up in heaven with the other angels?"

Sirius stifled a groan at the corny line. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere? Other than here, I mean?" This was a good line that girls used all the time when they clearly weren't interested.

"The only place I want to be is where you are," Harry drawled, imitating Malfoy's confidant tone perfectly. He swept a hand arrogantly through his spiky locks.

Sirius couldn't take it anymore. He cracked up, rolling on the floor laughing hysterically. He could vaguely see Harry standing above him, looking at him uncertainly, but he just couldn't stop laughing.

"Well done, Harry," James congratulated, stepping into the room, and glaring at the still laughing Sirius. "For God's sake, Padfoot, would you get up?" He turned back to his son, and thumped him on the back.

"Excellent job. You handled everything perfectly. You'll have to adjust your technique for different types of girls, of course, but you did well nonetheless. Just remember - never show a girl any weaknesses. We are men - we must be strong!" James said this in such an arrogant tone that Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"Honestly, Dad, you are so stereotypical sometimes. Look at that Muggle man Bill Gates. He's not a body builder, but he's still got a huge fortune from using his brains, not his muscles. Besides, you're not exactly Arnold Schwarzenegger yourself," he added, eyeing his father's lean muscles, which, while certainly appealing in their own way, were clearly not a result of hours of bodybuilding.

Sirius smirked. "He's got you there, Prongs old buddy. But seriously, Harry, you were amazing! You probably would've earned a kiss if I hadn't cracked up. Not that I'd be the one kissing you, of course. You're all set for tomorrow, kid. You ready to go out there and get your girl?"

"If I knew who she was? I suppose."

Sirius frowned. "Harry…"

Harry grimaced. "I mean…" He smoothed out his robes and drawled, "I don't need to 'get' a girl, my friend. The women will find me, not me them."

Sirius laughed. "Perfect." With that, he and Harry swept out of the room, robes swishing in unison, ready to face whatever the next day had in store for them. This left James in the kitchen, watching his son go with a puzzled expression.

"Who on earth is Arnold Schwarzenegger?"