The Latest Developments

Harry continued driving the cab during the summer following James' first year at Hogwarts. He tried to keep the number of shifts down to two or three a week. Charles noticed that Harry didn't complain if he didn't work at all for a week or two.

James had moved up one level in his football life. He didn't start every game as he had the summer before. It didn't bother him. As one of the youngest on the team he had expected as much. James trained on his own time, harder than ever, so he would be ready when he was told to get in the game.

Albus was tired of his local school. He thought he was ready to join his brother at Hogwarts and that any objective assessment would support his position. He provided a little acting-out over the summer. James found it entertaining, for the most part. Lily, suddenly old enough to have opinions, determined that Albus was an example of a boy being silly and confided to Iere that she wished Albus would just grow up. He would be going to Hogwarts when he was eleven, that was the way it had always been and in Lily's view, Albus ought to learn to be more accepting in these matters.

Iere told Lily that she had a fine and discerning mind and that she would undoubtedly go far with such talents.

James did apologize to Iere for his use of a word that was not very polite, then neglecting to give her a definition. Iere laughed and laughed when James enlightened her with a description of dingleberries. She assured James that she had used the word only once and the result was some very effective communication. Furthermore, James had nothing to be sorry for because it was Iere who used a word without knowing its definition, just because it sounded comical to her. It was a valuable lesson, Iere said, and she wouldn't be making that mistake a second time.

The summer passed, sometimes in lazy days with bursts of activity punctuated by recovery periods lounging in shade with lemonade or iced tea. Other days were frantic throughout, two football matches (Albus was every bit as enthusiastic as James) possibly followed by an al fresco dinner at the Burrow or an outing to the Leaky Cauldron with Ron and Hermione and the Granger-Weasley children, Rose and Hugo.

Accepting invitations meant extending hospitality in return. Harry kept track and tried to invite the Potters' hosts back within ten days, two weeks at the latest. James began to function as an informal social secretary for Harry, reminding him when it was time to plan an event. He was very efficient about getting Iere onto the guest lists. Iere liked that very much and made sure James got a short note of appreciation a few days after each get-together.

By the end of the summer, Iere was established in the Potter social circle, the 'one' to James plus-one, as he was hers. As the new school term approached, James coped by training harder in August than he ever had. His coaches took note of his physical development and ferocity in practice.

"Elbows, Potter!"

"Sir?"

"That will get you a card," said the coach. "Do it in practice and you'll do it in a match. The real game is mental as much as physical. You won't score a goal from the sideline."

The defender James had been battling bent over at the waist, dabbing at his lower lip with his fingertips. There wasn't any blood and James found the histrionics lacking. James tried to take the coaching to heart. He kept working when he was off the pitch. He ran and lifted weights every day. Harry kept an eye on the schoolbooks. If they didn't make an appearance on a particular day, he'd let it go, just as long as they were visible and open the day after.

Left to himself, James might have foregone magical education after his first year. Iere had the wisdom to formulate the counter-argument and sell it to her audience of one.

"We can't move into the muggle world and live there, James," said Iere. "We have family and responsibilities here."

"When I work my way up…" James began.

"Oh, I know you're going to win cups and get caps and all of it," said Iere. "Then you'll retire and do what? Polish your trophies? You will have things to do, for the Potters. Harry will need you to step forward, at some point, Albus and Lily as well."

"I can do that with a mundane education," James replied.

"Really?" asked Iere. "Can I function without magical help? I've been given some holdings, as you're aware. There is a seat in the Wizengamot that goes with my title. It needs a shrewd and loyal nominee. Uncle Theo won't do it forever. He has bigger fish to fry."

"I'm an athlete," said James.

"You are a wizard, James, who is good at sports," answered Iere. "Go back this term and think like a wizard. Play quidditch. Pick a magical subject and work at it. Next spring, if you decide you are done with magic, you and I will talk, and re-assess."

James was back at Hogwarts before the full meaning of Iere's private chat sank in.

Merlin! She would reassess. Did James the striker with World Cup dreams not fit Iere's needs? James' period of reflection ended when he grasped the implications. If she reassessed, the assessment might conclude she had no use for a non-magical partner. Then James' dreams of athletic success and a happy, stable home life would go unfulfilled.

James was unnaturally quiet on the Hogwarts Express, thought his friends. He barely spoke, lost in some internal world of his own. James didn't think he was lost in a world of his own. He still smelled the sage at Owl Cottage, even though Iere didn't burn sage. James had deep memories associated with sage. Grandma Molly burned sage and had forever, back to when Harry and Ginny and toddler James were all there was to the Potters. James recalled reading somewhere that every experience is recorded, even memories from infancy. James smelled sage, thought of his father's arms around him and smiled at his mother across Grandmother Molly's table.

James enjoyed the beginning of term feast and the sorting ceremony. That was a surprise and quite a pleasant one. He'd expected to be miserable, missing Iere. Something about Iere's pep talk/counseling session brought about an outlook adjustment. She was quite clear about foreseeing a need for a magical husband, given her adult responsibilities. Therefore, James resolved to do his best to give her one. He would work at his studies and try out for quidditch, as Iere had so advised.

James did three things on the first full day back at Hogwarts.

He sent an arrival note to Iere, including thanks for her wise counsel. He spoke to the Slytherin quidditch captain and signed up for tryouts. He then went to his desk in the Slytherin boys' dormitory and attacked his pile of textbooks.

"James," Harry's note began the following week. "The headmistress wrote me about something completely unrelated but included mention of the positive things she has heard about your academic work. I realize term has barely begun but that is still quite welcome news. Please keep it up."

James considered himself a bit of a cynic and immune to buttering-up but he folded the note over and slid it under his desk blotter. He thought he would probably throw it away later. Probably.

Quidditch was a revelation. James had been playing in the Weasleys' all-ages matches for years. The adults had taken a little off their usual game when youngsters were playing. A hard check for an adult could mean falling off the broom for a child.

Flying with players closer to his age, even if he was the youngest in the air, changed the character of the game. James drew on his game sense from football, following players from both sides, dodging bludgers and chasers.

Slytherin's seeker was a seventh-year witch with two years of quidditch experience. She was around five feet tall, perhaps one hundred pounds. On a Firebolt, she was acknowledged to be the fastest flyer in the school. James had watched her from the stands during first year. The witch, Putney, James wasn't sure if that was her first or surname, had only one weakness—overflying the snitch when it made a quick course change.

"Where do you want to play?" asked Slytherin's captain at James' first practice.

"Where do you need me?" asked James.

"Grab a bat," said the captain. "There is always work for a decent beater."

Burrow games with children didn't include bludgers or beaters. George Weasley had taken James up a few times and showed him the basic technique, decomplicating things by using only one bludger. James' first time hitting a bludger flying at game speed was a revelation. After the first contact, James thought his arm was destroyed. The bat contacted the bludger at an unfortunate angle, sending a very painful shock from James' wrist up past his elbow. The second wasn't much better. James' still-vibrating hand nearly lost the bat.

The third time, James hit the bludger squarely. He used little muscle, trying for contact and deflection. The bludger seemed to fly from his bat, taking off on a long, curving path out and away from the action.

After his success on the third try, James reduced the power behind his swings and tried for a solid contact. He learned quickly. Timing was crucial. One needed total confidence in one's seat on the broomstick. Perhaps most important, a beater had to keep eye contact with the bludger all the way to the bat. There was also the positive reinforcement in the action itself, so much like the satisfaction James the Striker took in putting the ball past the keeper and into the back of the net.

"Potter," said the Slytherin captain as the team milled around the changing room.

James looked up, crossing the room at the captain's summons.

"Everyone!"

The Slytherins looked around at the commotion, the mindless post-practice jabber going silent.

"Here you go," said the captain, tossing a green robe and jersey to James.

The cheers went up, variations of 'Sssssss!' and 'Woo-HOO!'

They had progressed to "POT-ter! POT-ter!" when the contents of the drink cooler came down over James' head and shoulders.

Everyone shook hands with the new, soaking-wet teammate before the captain produced a wand and a very effective drying and warming charm.

James took a short note up to the Owlery after dinner that evening.

"Iere—"

James wrote.

"Today we had Slytherin quidditch tryouts and I made the team. Playing here is a LOT different than playing with everyone at the Burrow. We practice with real bludgers, for one thing, so everyone has to pay attention. I am a beater. I have to keep the bludgers away from the Slytherins so I try to get to where the bludger is going to be, then knock it out of there. Playing feels a lot like playing striker, except for the flying.

Anyway, thank-you for the encouragement. You always say exactly the right thing.

Best,

James"

Iere sat in the cozy living room at Owl Cottage, reading her letter aloud.

"Kind of thought you might like it if you just tried it," she said.

"Mm-hmm," she heard.

Iere looked at the obsidian Daphne. Her eyes lingered on the shiny black face before moving on to the right hand, raised, the wand frozen in position.

"Patience," Iere said, standing. "Nox."

James trained all through the school year to stay in shape for his summer league football. He was taking Iere's words to heart. Word got around that he had someone special, although she didn't attend Hogwarts. The young witches who might have made distractions of themselves looked elsewhere for companionship. That left James free to focus on his magical studies, except for quidditch practices and games.

"I enjoyed that," James said to his potions partner as they cleaned up after successfully brewing a common wart-removing potion.

"Glad to hear it," said the young wizard, a Ravenclaw from a magical village near Glasgow. "We have seven more months to go. It would be a shame to be miserable all that time."

"Yup. Life's too short," said James.

"What did you say about a connection to potions?" asked Hart, the Ravenclaw.

"A Potter developed Sleakeasy, for your hair?" said James.

"Oh, we keep you in business, then," said Hart. "The whole family uses it, although Mum and my sister will never admit it."

James walked out of the classroom laughing and shaking his head. Something about the way Hart said things struck James as funny. He resolved, again, to engage Harry in conversation and get the whole story of Sleakeasy from him.

Harry mentioned once that his grandfather or great-grandfather, James wasn't sure which, had developed the popular hair potion formula in an effort to tame the wilder expressions of the Potter wizards' hair. It was an offhand observation and James wanted to revisit it when he got the chance. The potion worked for many people, male and female, though not the Potters, necessarily. James had not analyzed why he enjoyed potions but did formulate a proto-theory that an affinity for potions lurked in the Potter wizards.

Harry attended every Slytherin quidditch match that fall. He even sat in the Slytherin stands, unless it was a Slytherin-Gryffindor contest. The Gryffindors had a pre-game ritual that required former players in attendance to wait for the team outside the changing rooms, clapping, cheering and slapping hands as the team made its way to the pitch. Harry couldn't bring himself to leave the Gryffindor team, cross the pitch and sit with Slytherin.

"Any other match…" said Harry.

"It's fine, dad, really," said James.

"I just can't do it," Harry went on. "Someday…"

"The shoe will be on MY foot and I'll have to have this talk…" said James.

"Exactly!" said Harry. "How's the sandwich?"

Harry was treating at the Three Broomsticks, trying to calm his conscience after sitting with Gryffindor. He had kept his demeanor strictly neutral while silently cheering each Gryffindor goal. The game ended when the Slytherin seeker beat her Gryffindor rival to the snitch, though, and the one-hundred-fifty points was decisive. That actually made Harry feel a little better, for reasons he couldn't understand.

"Great," said James.

"You had a good game," Harry observed, offering a little more olive branch.

"Thanks," said James. "Hit everything I needed to. A couple of them didn't go where I thought they would."

"I don't know much about the inner game, for beaters," Harry said. "I left that to your uncles. They went insane out there."

James laughed at the description.

"Oh, that reminds me, heard anything form Mum?"

"An owl post, day before yesterday," said Harry. He tilted his mug up and drained the last swallow of butterbeer. "Several Harpies were selected for an international friendly and they asked for Ginny as a coach. It's her first one so she's thrilled. I'm happy for her."

"You aren't, like, pissed off at her?" James asked.

"No, why should I be?" asked Harry. "I bear no ill will. Something I recommend you try for, if that wasn't obvious before."

"Why not?" James demanded. "She dumped you and left you with us."

"I think, James, it is because she was thoughtful enough to give me, and your grandparents, you three before she decided to follow her dream. I was angry at the time, of course, and I really didn't like it when it seemed like she was using you for publicity. Children ought to be exempt from that. You're getting some now, legitimately. How do you like it?"

"Pffft," James blew out his breath. "One sentence, twice this year."

"Pretty complimentary sentences," said Harry, thus giving away that he was scouring the Prophet's quidditch columns for references to his son.

James studied his sandwich.

"They were," he admitted. James wanted a change of subject.

"How is Albus?"

"Great," said Harry. "He handles his school work, although his heart really isn't in it. He wants to be here. I think he actually believes you are up here getting away with all kinds of nonsense and he is missing out."

"Lily is the same as always," Harry went on. "Does her lessons. Her real subject matter is Iere, with a bit of your Grandma Molly thrown in."

"Girly," James observed.

"A natural," Harry agreed.

James was silent. Harry thought he knew why.

"I appreciate Iere's interest in Lily, of course," said Harry.

"That's nice," said James. He leaned over his plate, keeping his voice down.

"Wish she was here," he muttered.

"I'm sure she wishes the same," said Harry. "She seems to know her own mind."

"She does, doesn't she?" James said, smiling across the table. "And not just hers."

Harry took a moment to formulate his next sentences, varying the word order while he thought about nuance and metalanguage.

"Her unique gifts have their own requirements, if the people close to her want to keep her safe. The fewer people who know, the better for Iere. Magical boarding school reveals everyone's essence, if memory serves."

James stiffened. He was familiar with those very thoughts, having had them himself.

"True. Even if she could wave a wand, Hogwarts wouldn't be for her," he said.

Harry was surprised and secretly very pleased with James' observation. Harry had made a choice to live a quiet life, as free from publicity as he could manage. He had several reasons. Harry tired of the spotlight he'd lived in since his eleventh birthday. Becoming a cabman solved that problem. He also wanted his children to have a choice. If they chose to live public lives, that was fine with him. If they chose a life outside the limelight, Harry thought they had every right to pursue it; that he had an obligation to keep that option open; that the choice should be theirs and not a publication's.

Harry observed James carefully through the rest of the year. When summer came, James still made sure Iere got invited to the Potters' events, so Harry seized the chance to observe them both. He came to conclude the two had something beyond compatible personalities. Harry didn't know if it was time to think about a physical attraction. He hoped not. At thirteen and fifteen, James and Iere had plenty of years ahead of them for that sort of thing. He formed a theory that a symbiosis existed between the two, something they were both parties to, although still unaware of.

Albus and Scorpius had their eleventh birthdays. At the end of summer they commenced their first years at Hogwarts as James began his third.

Astoria, the attentive hostess, saw Iere almost daily. When Draco worked late or went from the gallery directly to a performance, Iere would have Astoria over to Owl Cottage for a meal and an evening of conversation. Iere appreciated Astoria's interest. She missed Daphne's love and companionship but she didn't forget how much she had learned by being around Daphne for everyday life. Iere couldn't mature under Daphne's guidance and tutelage and she would not be going to Hogwarts. Astoria filled much of the space with free-ranging chats over homemade suppers and tea.

Astoria invited Harry and Lily to dinner at Jasper Farm at least monthly. Iere was always present. Lily's evenings at the farm began to follow a pattern. Lily would take Iere into the living room for a catching-up conversation covering all of news since their last encounter. When they were called to dinner, Lily chose a seat based on Iere's location. Sometimes it was next to her mentor, sometimes directly across the table. Lily didn't indulge in a lot of table talk. Instead, she watched Iere, closely, noting details such as how Iere held a fork or her posture or how much of a gap she maintained between herself and the table.

One spring evening, when the Potters were guests at Jasper Farm, the entire group went outside to stimulate digestion with a stroll through the flower fields.

"Any word from Hogwarts?" Draco asked Harry.

"I believe they are ready for a break," Harry answered.

Draco laughed.

"Really? You could decipher that, embedded in a lot of dross?" asked Draco.

"Not at all," answered Harry. "No deciphering necessary. How's Scorpius?"

"Scorpius, well…" Draco began before looking over at Astoria.

"I think Scorpius considered himself liberated from the moment he boarded the Hogwarts Express," said Astoria. "He likes the academics, tolerates the food and really craved a community. Then there's Albus."

"Yeah, Albus," said Harry. "Tolerates the academics, indifferent to food, out of James' shadow. He does write nice things about James and quidditch. Odd."

Astoria was watching Iere and Lily and seemed, to Harry, to be trying to allow them to put a little distance between themselves and the adults.

"Can I change the subject?" Astoria asked.

"Of course," said Harry. He glanced at Draco and thought he saw him exchange a look with Astoria.

"Iere could use some advice," Astoria began. "Business advice. She has the Nott estate and a little inheritance from Daphne, the goblins manage most of it but now and then ask for a decision…"

"What about Theo?" Harry asked. "He has a business, or businesses."

"True," said Draco, "And Theo is very busy. Travels a lot. He's very good about the seat on the Wizengamot and consulting before votes and so on, but he doesn't have the time or attention to do any more."

"Does Iere plan to take any exams when she's eligible? That would be about three years from now, wouldn't it?" asked Harry. "Then she could go on to business or economics if she chose."

"We've discussed that," said Astoria. "She is interested. This is more for right now. Some of the topics you had to learn for your…your cab. Business."

It was obvious to Harry that Astoria was aware, as James was, that Harry wasn't only a cab driver. He wondered how much she knew and with whom she had been gossiping.

"It's okay," said Harry.

"What is?" Astoria asked.

"You don't have to dance around," said Harry. "I have some interests. It sounds like you think Iere would be well-served to learn a bit about how that kind of business works."

"Exactly," said Draco and Astoria, almost as if they had been rehearsing together.

"Fine," said Harry. "I'll get in touch and we'll coordinate a couple of hours next week."

There was one week left in the spring term when Harry and Lily called on Iere at Owl Cottage. Like many old dwellings that had been inhabited by wizards and witches for a century or more, the homesite was saturated with magic. Iere wasn't a witch. She couldn't cast a spell or brew a potion if it required stirring by wand or an incantation, but her fireplace was connected to the floo network. If she had floo powder she could make a floo call or get herself to Jasper Farm and back.

Harry and Lily floo'd to Owl Cottage, exiting the living room fireplace. The first thing the saw was the obsidian Daphne. Harry stopped, frozen, while his consciousness caught up to the emotion. Willing himself to move, Harry turned to greet Iere.

Lily let out a whoop, followed by, "Daphne!"

She took three steps and threw her arms around the late Daphne's obsidian remains.

"Careful," Harry said, softly. "Kind of delicate."

Lily looked at Harry, then up at Daphne's face. He thought Lily had a reply ready but she just smiled.

"So, your first business meeting?" asked Harry.

"Other than down at Gringotts with Auntie," said Iere. "Some of it is kind of confusing."

"Do you have any paperwork? Statements? Communications from the bank?" asked Harry.

"Right here," said Iere, picking up a fat file folder from a wooden secretary.

Harry thought she was at a loss for next steps.

"Kitchen table," Harry suggested. "Always the best place. Room to spread out."

"Before we begin," Harry began.