Vision

Harriet sat on an barren plain, but somehow it was not ugly or desolate, just an unnatural beauty. And the light was odd, very bright like sunlight on sand but the sky was dark and full of stars. And their silvery light reflected from the ground impossibly brightly, though it was not painful and there was even warmth from it, but it was not painfully intense, there was no closeness to the atmosphere and no oppressive sense of humidity.

She knew Luna was nearby but couldn't see her.

"Hello children," said a woman's deep and melodious voice.

"Hello Mother," said Luna.

Harriet looked around and could find neither speaker, just more dirt and rocks reflecting the silver light.

"Hello daughter, your natural mother bids me greet you with her love."

"Oh … thanks," said Luna.

"Now then, I must speak to your companion."

"Alright," said Luna, "Do you wish me to leave?"

"You may do as you think best, as is your wont."

"Yes, Mother."

"Now then little Master Shaper, you need not hide your true form from me, we all know who you are."

Harriet almost changed form, but then paused, "What form do you wish?"

"I don't care what form you take. Nor how you dress. I just want you to relax and be at peace, so that you can listen, I already said, we know who you are."

Luna giggled, "She means, 'fear not.'"

Luna's head appeared and she took off Harry's cloak. She spread it on the ground and sat down on it as she did sometimes. It was great for picnics in the snow because it was always warm. Actually that might explain why Luna wore it under her school robes during most of the winter.

Harriet moved to sit with her. On the black silver cloak on the white silver plain.

"Alright mother, I'm listening."

"No, you're memorising, I asked you to relax."

Harriet lay back and tried to relax more.

Harry could be more comfortable in this strange place… She changed, and somehow was in Harry's business suit, except it was black leather, perhaps dragon-hide.

Her wand was in one hand and his was in the other, one ready to fight protectively, and heal, the other to fight destructively or to create. Somehow … maybe she'd assigned them backwards.

Someday when it became important, she'd have to stage some kind of public trade with him.

"There you are," said the woman, "Now you're ready to listen."

And the ground beneath melted and was gone, and the cloak billowed up and expanded, leaving a dome of rippling black silver fabric encircling Luna and him.

He looked at Luna who seemed to be asleep. He opened his mouth to say something and realised it was all a dream.

He relaxed and lay back. The fabric seemed to hammock him in its folds, and he relaxed the rest of the way. The grey blackness spread aside letting in blinding light.

But it was not the silver blackness of the cloak that had moved aside, but the maroon blackness of his eyelids. Luna wasn't in her bedroll. He got up. Everyone else was in their place, Ann rolled over, "what time is it?"

"Don't know, Tempus."

"I thought you were wearing a watch now that we're playing muggle."

"2:20 A.M. and I'm in the middle of a huge magic tent."

"So… is it the moon making all that light? Hmm, yes I guess it should be just about full."

"I think it has something to do with camping in the open instead of in some conveniently located, heavily wooded cove or something somewhere."

"Yes, well," said Ann, and rolled over.

Harriet continued outside, and immediately resumed the shape and posture he'd found in the dream. It felt right. The right shape, just like the soul he'd seen in the mirror all those years ago had been the right attitude.

He saw Luna sitting on a nearby boulder, looking up at the setting moon.

"Hello, Harry," said Luna.

"Hello, Were you having trouble sleeping too?"

"Yes, She's bright enough to wake us, but still too far away to hear properly."

"Who?"

"Never mind," she said and without lowering her gaze she held out a hand to indicate he should sit near her and join her moon watching. As he he picked his way closer, she flinched and looked at him.

For a second her face showed worry about whatever he'd almost tripped over, but then she grinned, "You've met her too!"

"Met who?" said Harry.

Luna pointed up, "Artemis, of course."

Harry followed her pointing finger. "The moon?"

"The moon is just her steed … and wand."

"Um," said Harry.

"And your patronus animal."

"But my … Oh," said Harry, "Not a shield?"

"No," she said, "except when it's a deer. Right. Deer belong to Artemis also."

"Hmm," said Harry, "That's an interesting point."

"My tripod is a totem animal for the sun you know," said Luna.

"Your crow with three legs?" said Harry, "I had thought it just wasn't very distinct, I hadn't considered that maybe it wasn't a normal bird."

"Definitely not a normal bird," said Luna.

Petrels

In the late afternoon they approached a small crater, the air above it rippled as heated air rose from it.

"Alright stop," said Marcus, "Let me explain what is here, and how we should proceed: This is not a normal crater, though if there is another big eruption it may collapse or explode like any normal magma vent. This vent is special because it was created or at least greatly extended by magma petrels, who have been undermining this whole area and guiding hot air and steam up from the magma reservoirs below. Once they mature they can live in any warm or temperate weather, but the nests must stay very very hot for the eggs to hatch. If your eyes are excellent, and the sunlight is above average, sometimes you can look into these cavern mouths and see them building their nests of pumice and cinders. Or tending their nests by redirecting steam tunnels to them, or when the eruptions allow, sometimes they can be seen bringing hot cinders to lay directly above their buried eggs."

He took a deep breath before continuing, "The ground is unstable because of all the undermining they have done, we can either go around or we can tether ourselves to one another so that if the ground gives way below one of us, there is better chance of rescue before that member is suffocated or cooked to death."

"Should we put fireproofing on all our things before continuing?" said Ann.

"Not a bad idea," said Marcus, "But don't assume that it will also protect you, just because your clothes can't burn doesn't mean that they can't melt or that they will reflect the heat away from you. They will only seem to do so for a few seconds to a fraction of a second until they become saturated with heat, and then it might be slightly worse than if you had let them burn and therefore noticed the danger that much sooner."

"I understand," said Ann, "Come on Harriet lets give everyone— Harriet where?"

"Over there petting that black thing."

Marcus spun around. Indeed Harriet was several meters beyond him crouched near a gangly creature that was black as night and hissing like a teakettle almost ready to boil.

"Must you Harriet?" sighed Ann.

"It speaks Parceltongue, is it really a bird?"

"What? said Dietrich.

"Really?" said Moit. He shifted to his adder form and slithered forward. He was behind Marcus when he shifted so when he was spotted the guide yelled a warning to Harriet that a viper was approaching her from behind. But when he heard three voices of Parceltongue he seemed to resign himself to the situation.

Dietrich shifted also but Ann stepped forward and put a hand on his massive shoulder, "Don't, you're really heavy like that, remember what he said about the ground."

Dietrich nodded and crouched, but kept watching the scene unfold.

"How hot are you?" cooed Harriet and held her hand out as if to pet the creature. It stretched up to nuzzle her hand but when Harriet pulled her hand back, it spread its wings, showing off its shape and the subtle variation in its plumage of dull orange and dark dark grey.

Tunde took several steps back and hid behind a boulder.

Harriet hissed and the bird began circling her, seeming to sniff at her from all sides and examine her from all angles.

"What's it doing?" called Ann.

"Claims to be looking for its dream, says I smell similar but not the same," called Harriet, "Any bets whether it's looking for a human or not?"

Moit slithered closer and tried to talk to it, the bird approached him until he started to back away hissing.

Harriet put the flat of her hand between them and hissed at the bird some more. The bird looked up and after a moment seemed to change. Harriet reached down and picked it up. Then backtracked onto what was presumably firmer ground, it didn't have the inward slope, it was a few degrees cooler, and it had intermittent grass. She sat down on a boulder and placed the bird in her lap. Moit approached to a safe distance and resumed his conversation with the bird. Harriet on the other hand raise her eyes to Marcus, "it is not like a normal bird, I don't think it is even in my books of magical birds."

"They are very rare," said Marcus, "some people theorise that there is a bird for every elemental state, phoenixes for fire or stars, ice owls for water and ice, magma petrels for earth or metal. But almost all birds seem to have an affinity with the air, how would you tell which bird was the special embodiment of that element?"

"What do they eat?"

"No one knows. I mean, we know that they eat rocks or sand, and wood or charcoal," said Marcus, "But … not enough to survive, some theorise that they have magma flowing in their veins and that it is always replenished by teleportation to and from the earth's mantle. There are other theories even more strange."

"What happens if you cut one open?" said Moit.

Marcus blinked at him, "I'd like to see you try, it's insides are hot enough to melt your knife, it's skin is so … stony that it is said to stop the killing curse, don't expect any spell to work on it that doesn't work on stone or metal that is … both cold and molten."

"Weird," said Moit, "impervious little bugger."

"Can they teleport like phoenixes?" said Harriet.

"Perhaps," said Marcus, "I heard that they do seem able to affect the heat in furnaces a few rooms away."

"What do goblins think about them?" said Dietrich.

"Who knows what goblins think about anything?" said Marcus.

"Point," said Dietrich.

.

"Dietrich Matirni! Is that you? Fancy meeting you here," boomed a woman's voice from the trees to the left. A party of three emerged from the shadows.

"I say," said a man in what seemed it had once been a very expensive suit and robes. At the moment it seemed much the worse for wear, minus a dragon hide gauntlet and short cloak.

On his fist rode another magma petrel, "Headmaster Smith!" exclaimed Harriet at the same time that Dietrich said, "Professor Hovanesian."

The two looked at each other, then Dietrich continued, "This is my family, Glenda Matirni is my cousin, Harriet and Moit, are my sister and brother, Luna Lovegood is the fiance of … another of my cousins, You've met Tunde." A longer pause, "And this very informative young man is our guide Marcus."

"We've met," smiled Marcus, "The last one is my father."

"Ah, the highly recommended Mr. Paterculo," said Dietrich, "a pleasure to finally meet you also."

Mr. Paterculo raised an eyebrow at Marcus. Marcus said something unintelligible except it contained 'Martino' and 'portkey.'

Mr. Paterculo shrugged. Marcus explained something else at length, beginning to sound angry, Mr. Paterculo began to look impressed. Finally he nodded and replied with a calming gesture. Marcus nodded and stormed off into the trees.

"He seems a very passionate young man," observed Professor Hovanesian.

"There is a special bond that develops between a guide and the land he tries to introduce people to. Some people are more receptive to the introduction than others, these children must have done something to earn his respect. Which is not surprising since they also must have somehow earned the respect of an old friend of mine before they arrived at my lodge."

"Ah."

"If you'll excuse me I believe there is a tangential matter we must also discuss," he headed into the trees after his son.

Through the entire exchange, Mr. Smith seemed somewhat distracted by the bird on his fist. Eventually he looked up again, "Ah Miss Matirni, err Harriet," he said, "I see you're also making an acquaintance with the local wildlife."

"Err, yes sir."

"Has yours a name, mine is quite obstinately refusing everything I've offered so far."

"You might try stereotypical dragon names," said Harriet, "we're fairly sure its hisses are closer to Parceltongue than to goose hisses, And Marcus said something about their skin that reminded me of dragon hides."

"Ah!" said Headmaster Smith, "I've run out of mythological smiths and smith apprentices. Vulcan was of course already out."

"Oh, Yes, I see," said Harriet.

"So, what have you picked out for yours? Fancy having two of them at Hogwarts."

"Um," said Harriet, "That is … I have a familiar already, and this one seems confident that he doesn't belong to me, only that he's going to follow me around until he finds his special someone."

"Ah," said Headmaster Smith, "That does seem rather … more complicated than the normal way of things."

"Especially since Tunde seems to have an aversion for him," said Dietrich.

"Oh, does she," said Harriet looking around, "I'm sorry Tunde."

Mr. Paterculo and Marcus returned, "Marcus says that he and Martino both promised you my company for the rest of your stay in the park. But he has grown fond of you and requests to accompany you himself. Is that suitable to everyone?"

Dietrich and Ann both searched everyone's eyes and then agreed.

"Well I guess we'll be going," said Professor Hovanesian, "It will be good to see you all at school this fall."

"Yes, ma'am," said Moit and Ann and Dietrich and Luna.

Harriet nodded, but shot a puzzled glance at Luna.

"So," said Marcus when the adults were all out of sight, "are you all ready to tether up."

"I think we can go around," said Dietrich, "I think we've all had a close enough look at the magma petrels."

"Do you even fly?" said Harriet as they followed the longer trail that looped through the trees rather than cutting straight across among the nesting caves.

"I don't believe so," said Marcus, "unless you call the burrowing they do through dirt and gravel flying."

"Hmm," said Harriet, "I hate to think what you'd do to everything stored under my bed if you fall asleep and forget to keep your skin cool."

"You're just naturally assuming that he wants to sleep there?" said Ann.

"If he's a burrower, it's where Chocolate and Nutmeg preferred to nest."

"And they are?"

Tom and my lab kittens, Harriet almost said, but she stopped herself in time, Marcus wasn't happy about Moit killing a poisonous snake, he wouldn't be happy about animal testing either. And Harriet wanted to begin her explanations of Tom to Ann in private with plenty of time for questions and note taking."They are two kneazles that a friend and I took care of for a while," said Harriet, "Ann, Do you know occlumency?"

"Apropos of nothing," said Ann, "No, I don't. I read some instructions once, and it seemed the exact opposite of what I try to do with my mind."

"How so?" said Harriet.

"It seemed to be about building walls between groups of knowledge so that one compartment can believe something to be true that another compartment has proof is a lie."

"Hmm."

"If necessary, I fold my lies into truths by tagging them with a limiting perspective such as, 'Augustus Nott has the mistaken idea that he is God, and everyone exists to serve him.' Or 'At the moment, and when observed from where I stand, the sky is blue to the south and grey to the northeast,'"

"You're saying that by being the director not an actress, you can know more and better, rather than know less on purpose only so that no one can steal your knowledge."

"Right," said Ann, "On the other hand, I routinely read history and anthropology texts of the era of various plays I put on, and I have sometimes wondered if someone reading my mind, and who does not manage knowledge the way I do, would come away believing that there really were hyped up titans on Mount Olympus or that the world actually does rest on elephants, or float on turtles."

"I always figured the turtles were not literal but a figurative analogy for the plate tectonics that we believe today, but which had gotten warped as the actual science was forgotten," said Marcus, "or perhaps that it was once accurate science but generations of lay people translating the rumours they heard from their wise men left them with the words elephant and turtle, when the original wise men meant continents and plates. It's not like we think tectonics plates actually look like dinner plates."

"Hmm, interesting," said Ann.

"I don't want either of you to feel like I'm judging your choices, I just want to let you know because of your tone, I can't tell if it's defensive or judgemental, either way actually," said Dietrich, "What Harriet does in place of Occlumency is also somewhat unusual," said Dietrich.

"Oh?" said Ann, "How so?"

"Instead of building walls, she just vanishes everything that isn't part of the character she's playing at the moment. It may not be as secure, but I think most would find it disorienting enough that she has extra time to notice the invasion and start her counterattack."

"Hmm," said Ann, "sounds like an amusing thing to try to make a play about."

"Just bring enough brooms," said Dietrich.

Harriet placed her foot wrong and skidded a half a meter down hill, she and the birds on both her shoulders made sounds of annoyance. She put up a hand to steady the heavy one and found that it was the petrel rather than Hedwig.

"I swear you're half heavier than Hedwig even though you're only half as big."

"Does 'half as big' mean an eighth the volume?" said Moit.

"Yeah, that's what I meant," said Harriet, "does anyone know the average density of the un-leaden falcon."

Ann and Dietrich snickered.

"What's funny?" said Moit.

"The Maltese Falcon was a disappointing movie about disappointment, Never mind," said Harriet, "so whatever the petrel is made of should be more than 8 times denser, maybe … twelve times denser. Also I think both of them would object strongly to the traditional displacement test."

"Compared to a duck or a witch?" giggled Dietrich.

Harriet smirked and restrained her impulse to stick out her tongue.

"Whatever, can I hold him then?" said Moit.

"Sure," said Harriet, "No sacrificing him, I promised to help him find his other half."

"It's not like I could hurt him anyway," said Moit.

"Lead is about twelve times denser than water," said Marcus, "and since they don't fly I'd bet their bones don't try so hard to be hollow like other birds."

"So you really are heavier than lead," said Harriet with more amusement than ire.

"Who just knows the density of lead off the top of their head?" said Dietrich.

"My Aunt designs and builds stained glass windows," said Marcus, "You have to know how much lead you're using and how heavy it's going to be."

"Interesting," said Ann, "I've wondered about how that works."

"It's not that complicated," said Marcus, "Just very tedious to do it all. More tedious the bigger you make it and the more corners you add."

"With due respect to everyone involved," said Dietrich, "I think you're smarter than average."

"Possibly," said Marcus, "So … one of your forms is a dragon, and you can use it for legilimency?"

"Yes," said Dietrich, "Though I use that for listening to Tunde more than I use it for invading the minds of everyone around. Not that that doesn't stop me from noticing how … complex the minds around me seems to be."

"Hmm," said Marcus, "What are the … best and worst parts of being a shifter?"

"I can't say anything about other kinds of shape shifting," said Dietrich, "The best parts of skin walking, I mean besides the obvious convenience when the skills of one of your animals just happens to match the task at hand… I'd say the best part is the moments just before and after a change when you throw off the constraints of one way of thinking about the world and stretch out and then put on another perspective like an old familiar set of clothes. Probably like switching languages only stronger, same stretch, same pain, same nostalgia."

"Hmm," said Marcus, "and worst thing?"

"Hmm, either the dreams or the cramps," said Dietrich, "I find I must switch to each animal every day or two, to make sure that they've had their exercise."

"I see, what about the dreams?"

"You know how when you're asleep, you don't always know what your body is doing, or you sort of know but don't have enough context to interpret it properly, so your imagination does back flips to fill in a context that might make sense."

"Right."

"Well when your knowledge of possible contexts expands, your imagination has more to choose from when making things up."

"I've heard people with true familiars say similar things."

"Right," said Dietrich, "It's the same thing. Though they can also view the dreams of their familiar if it falls asleep first."

"Or view the waking activities of their familiar while they're asleep," said Harriet.

"Huh," said Dietrich, "I didn't notice that nearly so much, probably because neither of my familiars were nocturnal."

"That doesn't sound so bad, actually," said Marcus.

"It's not, most of the time," said Dietrich, "just choose your animals with care is all, and I try to put my exercises in the morning not right before bed."

"That makes sense," said Marcus.

"I guess I'd say the cramps are the worst part, (which is what you asked,) the dreams are the strangest part," said Dietrich, "what's hell is waking up from a wet dream and not knowing what gender or species you are, or whether you're really missing limbs or if you changed in your sleep, (which I've never had happen) or if you merely dreamed about being a different shape."

"Have you ever slept in one of your other shapes?" said Moit.

"Yes, just dragon once and lynx twice."

.

"So Moit," said Dietrich, "Have you tried tuning your magic to the Petrel's?"

"Yeah," said Moit, "I can't though, he's got a wider colour range than I can match in at least two directions, more power would help a lot in one direction, but I'm not sure it would help in the other. And anyway, the overtones stack up in a way that gives me a headache to get too close to."

"Yeah," said Dietrich, "I wondered about that, I was wondering if he's keeping himself cool to the touch with constant teleportation magic or something."

"Good grief how powerful do you think he is?"

"No idea," said Dietrich.

"If he can get hotter and colder at will, do you think he can get heavier or lighter at will?"

"Do you want me to ask?" said Dietrich.

"Please."

Dietrich concentrated, "his mind isn't exactly visible through all his magic."

"Do you want me to just use Parceltongue then?" said Harriet, she hissed and frowned at the answer, "He says he's not aware of what is this weight we speak of." She hissed some more, the bird levitated off of Moit's arm, flapped its arms and legs uselessly for about three seconds, then cratered to the ground. After a surprised moment it waddled out of its little hole, hissed, and flapped its wings against Moit's ankle.

"Ow, OK I'll carry you," said Moit, "stop hitting me."

"So they can fly after all, or not?" said Dietrich.

"They can levitate," said Harriet, "but they need a medium significantly more massive than air to make enough headway to please their sense of efficiency."

"So the rumour that 'flying' is the correct description of how they move through dirt or gravel is probably accurate," said Dietrich.

"Nice," said Harriet.

"You know," said Moit, "If he gets any bigger, you could use him to practice for shot put."

"Don't throw him again," said Harriet.

"I didn't mean throwing him," said Moit, "I mean, just carrying him around or well I guess launching them like falcons would only help a little if they can't fly, but you get the idea."

Harriet grumbled.

"Ever since you mentioned those kittens," said Moit, "I can't help think that Tom character might be interested to meet this little guy."

"Yeah," said Harriet, "He might, I figured I'd carry him through Catania a time or two, and through Diagon a time or two and the Hogwarts welcoming feast, and if that doesn't uncover his new friend, then he might have been mistaken that I'll be any help at all."

"Luna," said Moit, "Do you know who he should end up with?"

"Oh, he'll end up with Tom," said Luna.

"You could have said something," said Harriet.

"I didn't need to; You or Moit were going to figure it out the first time he smelled Harry's invisibility cloak, at the latest."

"Oh," said Harriet, "I could just go drop him off then."

"Yeah, but don't go, just use your ring to send him to Malfoy's."

"Do I need to send along a letter of introduction or anything?" said Harriet.

"Most people don't receive their familiar with a letter of introduction," said Luna, "I don't think it would be good for Tom, to be an exception."

"Fair enough," said Harriet, "Hmm."

"You can just instruct him to instruct Tom to send the ring back to my bracelet later," said Luna, "No, wait that usually doesn't work… sometimes he even eats it before Tom gets to it."

"Yeah," said Harriet, "Don't tell me all the possible things to try, tell me what actually works best."

"Does your ring have an option to turn something else into a single use portkey?"

"Oh, yeah, that sounds vaguely familiar," said Harriet, "I'll have to check my notes when we stop for the night."

"Would you mind checking now," said Moit, "he's kind of heavy."

"The exercise is good for you," said Luna, "Do you want me to transfigure a matching barbell for your other hand?"

Moit stared at her, then at the petrel.

"Yes, actually," said Moit.

Luna looked around then picked up a likely looking rock and tapped it with her wand and tossed him the result. He snatched it out of the air and hefted it, "pretty good match, I'm impressed, three and a half pounds?"

Luna shrugged, "one petrel."

Moit nodded and reapplied to the trail.

"I can't believe he fell for that," said Dietrich, "Also that he was doing all that complaining about three and a half pounds."

"You can't have it both ways," Moit called back over his shoulder, "She's right, I do miss horseback riding, walking isn't as thorough an exercise. And I'll complain about an off balance load all I want."

"OK, fair enough," said Dietrich.

"Don't worry," said Marcus, "The climb gets steeper when we ascend to the centre crater."

Tunde stamped her foot, but apparently didn't make any comment Dietrich thought helpful to repeat.

.

Interludes

"Mme Templet?"

"What is it Benat?"

"There is a old woman here looking through the discarded wands."

"That is allowed."

"She is wearing a baby on her back, it is odd."

"Does the child appear to be in any danger?"

"No, that's just it. It looks very secure, I think she could duel without shaking it loose. I … want to look closer but …"

"But you're shy talking to adults."

"Yes."

"Alright, I'll introduce you," said Madam Templet and led the way out of the back room into the school's public store.

There was indeed a woman sorting through the discarded wands. She did appear to be too old for the child to be her own. On the other hand she did have a wiriness that might imply tenacity and a hard life, rather than any kind of weakness or advanced age.

After taking in the scene for a moment Madam Templet steeled herself and approached, "Pardon me madam."

The woman turned quickly, half the wands in her off hand emitting sparks. But she didn't seem startled or annoyed, perhaps pleased to be noticed. Speaking of shy.

Madam Templet introduced herself and Benat. The woman called herself Ummah Bethaz—something which was either a lie, or she was very unused to talking, or both.

It didn't take much to get her talking, and she gained confidence with her rusty French after only and a few minutes. A few minutes more to get her interacting with Benat. And Benat to comprehend that she was merely human, in spite of being 'old' and carrying herself like a duellist mid duel.

She left them talking about the upcoming exchange trip to Ecosse.

Later she saw the receipt, the woman had bought two wands and an advanced etiquette book and another on letter templates. From the publications section she bought a monograph on the possible derivations of several Armenian ward schemes.

Two wands meant she was a duellist, and had been very down on her luck. The etiquette book, perhaps meant she was a refugee of some sort. No one was interested in Mr. Shabazian's ancient research, Mme Templet didn't think they'd ever sold any of his monographs except to one of his colleague who liked to be able to say he knew what all his coworkers had been doing. (And that he paid for other people's papers, why did they expect not to pay for his…)

.

"Good grief Harriet," said Parvati, "You've got a massive tan. Welcome back by the way."

"I know!" said Harriet, "I didn't have any idea I could get this dark, I didn't even notice at first, and now it's crazy."

"I think you're darker than me." Parvati held her arm up next to Harriet's, "Nope, I've been performing on horseback a bunch so I'm also a little darker than usual."

Harriet blinked, "I'm missing something obvious?"

"Oh," said Parvati and leaned closer, "a couple of the other riders pointed out that I was the only girl my age wearing riding clothes long enough to protect my elbows and knees. But that since I hadn't fallen for ever so long it might be less of a safety issue. Not counting new trick practice of course."

"Huh?"

"Most the grown ladies and most of the girls our size perform in leotards," said Parvati, "and most of the rest in leotards with spandex down just long enough to hide knee pads."

"Oh!" said Harriet, "Right, of course. Hence why you've also managed to collect a tan this summer."

"Now you've got it," said Parvati.

"So are you enough darker than your sister than everyone will be able to tell you apart?"

Parvati smirked, "Actually Padma has been performing with us too."

Harriet blinked, "Pull the other one, what's she been doing?"

Parvati eyes glittered as much as her teeth, "Mostly swung back and forth between my back and Neville's."

Harriet blinked, "Neville, heir of ancient and noble Longbottom…"

"Performed in our circus act, as a horse dancer and a Great Dane animagus."

"OH!" said Harriet, "Nice going Neville!"

Parvati's grin went much more normal, "Padma is a giant squirrel, and I'm a horse."

"Oh! That's … That's awesome!" said Harriet, "I want to see that! And you've made it into an act even? For the public or only all in the family, err for the circus?"

"It's more about motion, timing, and the comedy of the unexpected," said Parvati, "All our changes are behind a blind about the size of two upturned tables. We started out practising with a table standing on its end, but we've got a blind now that offers better curtain coverage and everyone is less likely to break an ankle on it since it doesn't have legs sticking out underfoot."

"Good plan," said Harriet.

"And since there's no magic visible, we can show it to mundanes, even if more than half of them leave questioning their assumptions about the meaning of space and volume and momentum."

Harriet grinned, "and that's all in good fun."

Now all of Parvati's triumphant grins were making perfect sense.

"I guess this is where you start having more to talk about with my brothers than with me."

"How's that?"

"They're both skin walkers now," said Harriet.

"What's that?"

"It's similar to being an animagus, but … in some countries it might be considered dark arts, either by the definition of 'secret family magic.' Or by the definition of, some of the rituals to learn it are dangerous enough or questionable enough that perhaps our local ministry wouldn't approve."

Parvati blinked, "I get the impression that our ministry tends to be very hands off, I get the feeling that if you're not hurting anyone you can do whatever you want, as long as you register your new capabilities with the correct office so that whenever they do get around to frowning upon your activities, or rescuing you from hostage takers, the hit wizards can go in with an accurate idea of the rules of the game."

"Huh," said Harriet, "That's an interesting perspective."

Parvati shrugged.

"And a more concise and self-consistent philosophy than I'd managed to ascribe to them," said Harriet.

Parvati shrugged.

"With that philosophy as a foundation I think I could write a letter to Harry's solicitors about making sure they are registered properly, and it take up one page instead of fifteen."

Parvati giggled, "Glad to be of service. Are they putting an act together?"

"I'm not sure," said Harriet, "Most of their forms are magical or poisonous, I don't know if a crowd would enjoy it. Or if they'd vacillate between screaming in terror for anyone was in the cage with such a creature, or that anyone had dared to cage and transport such a creature to start with. Basically, you should probably ask them."

"Oh," Parvati sighed, "Oh well."

"On the other hand I wouldn't be surprised if Tunde would put together some kind of water and trapeze act. If she can get working papers."

"Why wouldn't she… which one is Tunde."

"She's an orphan or refugee from somewhere east of grandpa's ranch. And now she's sworn into the family as Dietrich's arms woman."

"Which is freaking archaic?"

"Yes."

"But maybe not as archaic as the sponsorship laws around here?"

"Maybe," said Harriet.

Parvati nodded as if to signify that everything had been sorted into its correct stereotypes, and therefore the world was simple enough to live in again, and the topic could change to something else.

"So," said Harriet, "In a similar vein, I think Moit is going to temporarily hire himself out to be something similar for … one of our cousins, in order to get into the same magic school as Dietrich, at something vaguely like 40% off, and a year early."

Parvati smirked, "good going… Not that I'd have wanted to go a year younger… I mean I'd have wanted to go, but I don't think current me could want younger me to have gone. Even with spimming, keeping up with homework is very difficult."

Harriet blinked and raised an eyebrow, "You … I guess you would have figured out about spimming by now."

Parvati smirked.

"You were the first to figure out about Padma and the crown, too. Weren't you?"

Parvati nodded, "and Hermione and spimming, though obviously not the first about that. And about the Weasleys' refreshment and broom smuggling operation, and about … Well I guess I'll keep the rest of that under my hat."

Harriet smiled, "good point. It's not good to spread things around that no one wants spread around. But… if you want to teach me … any black market euphemisms you've figured out I'm all ears."

"Not sure about black market euphemisms, but other euphemisms," said Parvati, "Hogsmeade weekend, means—"

"Date."

"Astronomy tower."

"I know that one."

"And neither of us want to say it, fine."

"Pepper up?"

"Does it mean anything other than pepper up?"

"It can also mean wit sharpening solution."

"Ooh," said Harriet, "Interesting."

"There are at least three euphemisms that all mean Felix Felicis except that some of them can also mean any of about seven love potions, or four perfumes, or/and one seems to sometimes mean just an invitation for a casual stroll by the astronomy tower."

Harriet's mouth was stuck in the open position for a couple seconds, "I'd only worked about half of that out. Knowing that there was subtext didn't exactly help me figure out what the full meaning was… and we might not be talking about the same euphemisms."

Parvati shrugged, "The girls I hang out with are more about presenting a consistently positive image, rather than actively selling it… or trying to buy or steal or whatever you'd call it. Not sure that won't change later. Neville's got issues but not saying what he means isn't one of them."

"That's nice," said Harriet, and kept her mouth shut. She couldn't say anything about Luna. Luna might say what she meant, but that wasn't the same thing as being able to understand her the same day or even week that she said it. Also she wasn't sure enough of the state of Parvati's friendship with Neville to be able to compare accurately with Luna's publicly acknowledged relationship with Lord Potter, or the informal spill over with Harriet Matirni.

"Anyway," said Parvati, "There's lots more, but black market cant is not what I'm primarily focusing on learning."

"Ditto," said Harriet.

"In other news," said Parvati after a moment, "Neville is helping Dad teach me sword and staff fighting, with the obvious caveat that both weapons are sometimes enchanted and sometimes crafted to be a secondary spell foci. So … there are muggle duelling forms and magical duelling forms that expect one to take advantage of, or actively avoid momentary advantages of distance."

"Sounds familiar," said Harriet, "not something I expected to try my hand at, but … I can imagine it suiting your father's temperament. I hadn't considered that you and Neville might also pick it up."

"Apparently Mum and Dad met practising staff, Mum because it is a sub-discipline of trishula, and Dad because it was part of a martial arts competition his friends pushed him into entering. Anyway, Dad says Mom is excellent, but she won't practice staff with me because she prefers to keep her form with trishula exactly perfect."

"Trishula is that trident shaped bayonet thing that she grabs off the wall in emergencies that appear might turn violent?"

"Yes," said Parvati, "if you see her grab that and the staff as well, assume war not mere violence. Neither are … practice weapons in her hands."

"Fair enough," said Harriet.

"Neville … has had significant training in both staff and sword, apparently it was an exercise regimen that was controlled enough that his Grandmother could condone and hire tutors without fearing for his life. And he could put his whole focus into and forget the rest of his problems for an hour or two at a time."

"Hmm, alright."

"And now his Dad is back, and it's something they can do together, without Neville's shaky magic or his father's shaky hands being too blatant."

"Oh," said Harriet, an expression of pity fighting for control of her features.

Parvati growled, "you took that entirely the wrong way. It is something Neville is good at because it was an escape. It is something his father was good at long ago because of some kind of sense of duty or something. Now it is something, perhaps the only thing so far, they can do together. So suddenly Neville realises he actually enjoys it, instead of just … 'dislikes it least' among the activities his relatives pushed him into."

"Oh," said Harriet, "fair enough."

"And now that it is a 'good thing,' he wants to share it with me. And since Mum and Dad are mildly proficient at related disciplines they don't mind me learning, or spending time with Neville at it."

"Ah," said Harriet, "Now I get it." She grinned.

Parvati nodded, "good, how is the Luna getting on with Harry?"

Harriet shrugged, "I find the experience very different and yet more believable, and actually cute, in people I know, than I ever found in plays in which it supposedly happened."

Parvati nodded, "As in 'The Portrait of Dorian Grey'?"

She frowned, "You mean the actress he seduces?" Harriet shuddered, "Maybe, I hope nothing so disturbing, though perhaps if I ever try to act Romeo or Juliet again I shall be uncomfortably aware that I am merely acting. Or maybe I'll act better having a more direct group of memories to imitate, not sure."

Parvati shrugged, "What about Tunde and Moit?"

"Don't say that like … first of all it's Tunde and Dietrich, second of all it's not romantic."

"I didn't say it was romantic," said Parvati, "also who says it's not?"

"Dietrich says it's not, and Tunde doesn't disagree."

Parvati shrugged, "never mind, so what's up with them?"

"I don't know, ask them yourself."

"Fine," said Parvati.

.

"Hello Harry," said Luna.

"Hello Luna," said Harry, "I stopped by Malfoy Manor and found this letter had been left for me. I won't pretend I don't expect you to already know what's in it."

Luna smiled gently, "We should accept Lord Black's invitation, but … request that our curse breaking tutor accompany us, if teaching us some remedial curse breaking is part of the adventures that Lord Black has planned for our visit."

Harry blinked several times. "That sounds very reasonable, but … Um I didn't realise that we— … who is this curse breaking tutor that we're taking with us?"

"Tom Riddle of course."

"Oh."

.

Spell fire sizzled past far overhead, which annoyed Mrs. Hunter mildly. But it might be considered to go with the territory, and it was better in any case to continue with her morning constitutional. Almost a minute later she dodged to the side and drew her wand before realising that the thing her instincts were trying to protect her from was a running duel between five pupils. They were past her and not sending anything else at her before she had to decide whether to raise a wall or dig a hole and crawl into it, or whether to return fire, or all three.

Some of the five were managing wordless casts, all of whom were taunting each other mercilessly in their native languages, which weren't uniformly French.

Mrs. Hunter found herself amused and invigorated to notice how quickly she took in the battle, three on one, but with another trying to break it up, probably a nominal friend of the three.

But then the one seemed she probably outmatched any of the other four if they'd been alone.

In fact she might even be 'winning' if you measured in anything other than the fact that she was steadily retreating.

After a few more exchanges, Mrs. Hunter had identified the fighting style of each and even a bit about their preferred casting styles. Two of the three were intentionally using their non-dominant hand. The best one had at least one secondary casting foci, though no second wand was in evidence.

For two of the three, and perhaps for the lone fighter, it was still all in good fun. For the other one, and the self-appointed referee it was deadly serious business.

The little bold one stood up from behind his conjured wall and sent a variation on his usual spell chain at the lone fighter, who noticed and replied with a denser chain of slightly less violent hexes than she was sending at the other two. He dodged behind a newly raised earthworks just before his opponent's hexes flew through his erstwhile position, dismantled his previous wall, and spread untimely sleep across the whole volume of the space the wall had covered.

Mrs. Hunter grinned, the lone fighter outclassed most everyone she'd ever had the chance to duel with. And she was only a pupil.

And her opponents were almost competent to face her.

She let herself fall more deeply into her own battle tested hyper alertness. The better to appreciate artists at work.

The other two pushed harder and the lone fighter made another strategic retreat.

The show would be over soon.

Mrs. Hunter suppressed a sigh and adjusted her sash pack and the precious cargo it contained.

More spell fire flew overhead. The 'referee' had 'taken offence' for some reason and joined in again. The lone fighter … might have mistaken the reprimand as more insolence from her weakest opponent. The spell chain that came back was vicious but aimed high. High enough to miss both the referee and anyone else crouched behind conjured and improvised earthworks. Also high enough to sever a large tree limb and drop it across the path only yards away from where Mrs. Hunter's stood to observe, stood ready to dodge. The fact that she'd stood still to observe was her own fault. The fact that they were fighting in a nature area that was open to the public where they could endanger random passersby, especially her baby.

That was their fault.

The fact that they endangered her baby while she was there watching … was a level of stupidity that didn't bear thinking about.

Mrs. Hunter didn't even think about it. She ended the fight.

Stunning the three with their backs to her was a matter of a second of silent spell casting. The referee at least had turned to face her before she too fell. And the last one took a bit of trouble to chase down and levitate back to the others.

She roused them again without removing the bindings she'd put on them and when they'd all given their initial moan of shocked surprise she cleared her throat and reminded them that there were duelling pits set aside for this sort of behaviour. And that this was not the place.

They grumbled something about the rules for their use, not being appropriate for their skill level, nor did it represent anything like real battle terrain. (Which she didn't respond to because she believed it.) The section of woods they'd picked probably did a much better job of simulating that reality. Right down to a member of the endangered public rising up as a partisan … or was that two. She pointed out that fact, and at the tree limb that they'd almost dropped on her head.

The didn't seem suitably impressed.

"After I untie you," she said, "I want you each to come and try to move it off the path. Without magic."

Two of them scoffed in two different languages.

"I suspect," she said, "from the way the earth shook when it landed, that all four of you working together could not budge the heavy end. Which is the end that is lying across the path."

"The heavy end is the end I care about, being whipped soundly with a mass of twigs is merely annoying, or perhaps invigorating if you're a crazy Russian enjoying a visit to the sauna. Nor am I talking about the middle, while muggles routinely beat each other to death with cricket bats and similar atrocities, that also isn't as much of a concern to magicals. What I'm discussing is the 400 to 600 pound mass there."

"Mass is kilos," objected the incompetent referee in a mutter, "2.2lb per … makes about 280 kilos."

"I don't care how you measure it," said Mrs. Hunter, "I care that it is enough to turn a full grown wizard… or most of a troll into a mushy bag of shattered bone."

"You could have shielded," said one of the pair of competents.

"I could have shielded, I almost did," said Mrs. Hunter, "And I suspect that your worthy opponent could have shielded. That wasn't why I stopped your fun. I stopped your fun because you almost dropped it on my baby, who cannot yet shield. And if that doesn't convince you, let me point out that the three of you were so focused on your opponent that you would not have noticed it in time."

"I heard it falling," said the second competent, finally finding something to say, "But it was so far away I didn't worry about it."

"Fair enough," said Mrs. Hunter, "but can you explain why you neither dodged nor shielded from the stunner that hit you in the back?"

Her mouth shut with a click.

"Good," said Mrs. Hunter, "if that's settled, let me commend you all on your fine display of the skills you do possess. Once you've apologised for wanton endangerment of the public. I'll untie you. I expect you to clean up the messes you've left around, including moving that off the path and healing the tree a bit if that is possible. Then I want you to research how to work through proper channels to get access to a real duelling pit, with a real referee. You are correct, the regular pits here are for one-on-one, and in my opinion don't have enough obstacles to simulate true battlefield conditions. There are ways to schedule off times for other kinds of practice. And there are larger venues other places. Please continue to hone your skills, but also your prudence. It takes both to be a true asset to your community."

"Yes, Professor," they all said.

The rushed through apologies at various levels of acceptability.

She let them loose. And set the arm of the little one. He'd been hiding it well until he tried to budge the tree limb and forgot about the injury.

The three of them skedaddled, the referee moved off and lurked, perhaps she'd misread where the lines of friendship ran.

.

The lone fighter seemed to take a deeper interest in the well-being of the tree she'd injured. Or she was making a show of it, hoping for the others to be farther away before she spoke.

Finally she finished her ministrations and lowered herself to the ground with an inversion on the leash spell. Most uses of that spell counteract the momentum of the target, rather than the caster.

Mrs. Hunter nodded her respect for the improvised change.

She held out her hand.

"Fleur Delacour."

Mrs. Hunter shook her hand.

"Pleased to have a face and name to match to your signature style. I'm Mme. Ummah Bethazmaveth," said Mrs. Hunter.

"I'm not as good as all that," said mademoiselle Delacour, "What do you teach?"

Anything I feel like, which is not necessarily congruent with what my pupils choose to learn.

"At the moment I just tutor in defence," said Mrs. Hunter. I mean Mme. Bethazmaveth. "But that may change soon."

Mlle Delacour grinned, "I look forward to hearing how you've bested several of my peers who need to be taken down a few notches."

"Is this how community functions here at Beauxbatons?"

"There are several ways that some of them could improve, but they won't listen to me until I can prove my right to critique them in a duel."

"There is a certain logic to that view… but also to yours as well, often all we need to improve is to see ourselves in a pensieve. But without a pensieve it is often difficult truly see oneself."

A nod.

"Also those that I consider my peers are most of a year ahead of me…"

Mrs— Mme Bethazmaveth, grinned, "That does happen also. It is not necessarily their fault that they see the difference instead of the similarity." Contrariwise, I imagine too many of the people you meet are probably so aware of you as a sexual object they cannot totally comprehend you in a non-sexual context nor as a true agent in your own right.

And you are probably already hypersensitive to that fact and don't need me to mention it as I try to put myself into your shoes.

"And so I find you are also tutoring in defence, to whoever will actually listen?"

She made a face like she wasn't willing to have it put in those terms. But didn't have a better description of the truth. So instead she shrugged.

"I'll see you around," said Mme Bethazmaveth, and she walked away.

"Um," said Mlle Delacour, "what's your baby's name?"

"Her name is Victorix," she turned back to see what expression the name brought up. There was still time to change it.

"That is a big name," said Mlle Delacour, "may she grow into it."

"Thank you," said Mrs. Bethazmaveth, "May you never shrink to fit yours."

"Ah! But there are flowers, and then there are flowers," said the veela.

"And some eat cattle whole?"

She grinned, "And some whole hippopotami."

Mrs. Bethaz … Bethaz was a nice compromise, and left out the bit that would raise eyebrows in the 'politest' of societyMrs. Bethaz returned the grin and nodded, "I look forward to seeing you around."

{End Chapter 2}

A/N: Thanks to my Dad for the notification that some of the section breaks did not import into properly, they should all be corrected now.