Years of Struggle
Year of Discovery
Platform Nine and Three-Quarters vibrated in anticipation. The Hogwarts Express was expected to pull in to the platform momentarily, disgorging its cargo of returning Hogwarts students and all of their impedimenta. Parents and friends had come from miles around to fetch their scholars and bring them home for the summer.
Harry came with Lily and Iere. They met Draco on the platform, Astoria staying at Jasper Farm to keep an eye on meal preparation. Everyone understood Astoria needed more rest than most people and was probably napping. Iere had even explained it all to Lily, who was very diplomatic and never gave away anything confidential.
Harry was standing with the others, watching the train creep into its place alongside the platform when Ginny Weasley arrived.
"Hello, Harry," she said, followed by acknowledgments.
"Draco, Iere and Lily! You look lovely, sweetie. Nice polo! Did you realize those are Gryffindor colors?"
"Thanks, Mum," said Lily. "Thank-you. Yes, I knew about the Gryffindor colors."
Lily looked at Iere and back. The polo came from WHOOSH, a bit of marketing Iere thought up for her new line of junior sizes for the younger witch. The younger witch becomes the teen, who becomes the twenty-something, who becomes the young mother witch with a child or two or three. Iere thought a coordinated line of witches' sportswear might be capable of capturing the attention of witches of ten and hold it until they were thirty or more.
Ginny must have known about WHOOSH. The boutique had gotten three inches in Witch Weekly's May First issue. Of course she didn't let on so Lily and Iere kept their own counsel.
Ginny turned her attention back to the train. Harry judged her attention distracted sufficiently to allow a quick bit of eye contact with Lily in the company of a shrug of his shoulders.
He tried to convey, 'I'm as surprised as you,' although he didn't know if the message got through.
James, Albus and Scorpius must have formed up on the train. Iere spotted James before anyone else and the three were a package as they worked their way through the crowd. Handshakes and welcomes brought a full minute of confusion, then James and Albus turned to Ginny.
"Mum," they said, nearly in unison.
"James, Albus," said Ginny as she gave them each a hug. "Just came to welcome you back and hand these out."
Ginny slipped her hand into an inside pocket of her cloak and removed two envelopes. She handed one to each of her sons.
"Season tickets," she explained. "Congratulations on a successful year. Here."
Ginny's hand went back inside the cloak and she brought out some additional envelopes, not as fat as the first two. Scorpius, Iere and Draco each got one.
"Not season passes but…Anyway, Scorpius, well done. Come see the Harpies. We have some Slytherins playing."
Lily got a quick hug and cheek bump before Ginny worked the rest of the crowd, handshakes all 'round. Then she was gone. Judging from her course she was headed for the apparition spot just the other side of one of the barriers.
Harry cleared his throat.
"All right, then," he grinned. "Put the tickets in a secure place and we're off."
Just as soon as he got his brood home, Harry contained himself enough to oversee the unpacking of trunks and the commending of the laundry to Bennie. Then he convened the Potters in the living room, when he judged the chores were well-enough completed to permit indulging in a small, family ceremony.
"Lily, as you know, your brothers play quidditch at Hogwarts. Their team was very good this year. It was acknowledged to be in the championship chase from the first game of the season, as a matter of fact."
James and Albus sensed where Harry was going and started grinning.
"I was able to attend the final game of the season, against the always-troublesome Gryffindor side, and witnessed your brothers playing every minute of the game. I believe you sportsmen were given a memento to take home?"
The young wizards sprang to their feet and ran up, then straight back down the stairs.
"Put them up," Harry said with a wave at the mantlepiece.
Lily cheered them on as her brothers put their miniature Hogwarts Quidditch Cups on the mantle.
"Lily, you have champions for brothers," Harry said, adding some quiet claps from his own hands to Lily's smacksmacksmacksmack!
Harry dispensed handshakes and Lily followed up with a kiss to her brothers' cheeks.
Dinner was grilled hamburgers and a green salad. Everyone made sure they were clear of visible magical artifacts and ate together at the picnic table in the back yard.
"Next September we'll have you up there with us, Lily," said James. "What do you think of that?"
"It's fine, I suppose," Lily answered. "Everyone in the family went there. It will make Dad happy if I 'Learn to control your magic, Lily, before you try something big and it gets away from you.'"
Lily mugged all through her mocking quote of Harry's admonitions. Her brothers knew what she was talking about. He had done it to both of them.
Harry chewed his burger and looked around the table.
"You guys are like…" he began, then stopped.
"What will you do when we're all gone, Dad," Albus asked. There was genuine concern in Albus' voice.
"I have some projects in mind," Harry said.
"Tell them," said Lily.
"What?" Harry asked.
"What you told me, the day we went, you know, with Iere," Lily replied.
"Oh, that," said Harry. "Okay. I wasn't going to get out ahead of myself but why not? I've been thinking about moving to the country place. The manor, where we've gone for picnics. Remember? Haven't been this year, I know. Close this place out. Sell it, probably."
The silence was almost tactile. Even the chewing stopped.
"I guess…" James began.
"We've always lived here," said Albus. "I guess I thought we always would."
"There's no rush," Harry assured them. "There is work to be done out there. The reason I wanted to stay with this place was to give everyone a chance to stay out of the way. You know how it can be. All of the craziness has died down. I'm no longer newsworthy just because I learned to tie my own shoes. The last few times we've gone somewhere, some magical public place with Ron and Hermione or Neville and Hannah, no one paid attention. You will be at home three months of the year. This place has served its purpose."
James, Albus and Lily thought over what Harry had said, looking at the old house versus the manor from this angle and that.
"And," Lily added, "We can have horses in the country."
"And a pitch," said James.
"What kind?" asked Albus.
"Both, I guess," James replied. "Is there room?"
"If my magic is strong enough," Harry replied.
It took nearly two weeks, owing to the conflicting schedules of football players, a cab driver and some must-do social obligations, but Harry managed to organize a family outing to Potter Manor. The principal, recent use of the manor had been to host fair weather picnics. James and Albus' mental floor plans did not concern young men's rooms as much as where the bathrooms were located.
"Lily?" Harry began, as the party exited the floo in the library, "Will you be our guide one more time?"
Thrilled to have the responsibility, Lily built on her experience, leading the way from room to room and demonstrating any magical curiosities or features. Harry let her go. James and Albus were having a good time, letting Lily be the authority on Potter Manor.
Harry pulled out a kitchen drawer that was stuffed with all manner of things. Among the balls of string, stray pieces of chalk and a big lump of beeswax, Harry found a local map. He extracted it from the drawer and began unfolding it, laying the map out on the kitchen table.
"Here we are, this is the house," Harry began. "These are fields, attached to the manor but rented to the people who actually grow crops. This line is the perimeter of the grounds around the house. This piece here isn't rented and no one has done anything with it for years. It could be an old pasture, gone fallow. We can take a look at it as a possible horse habitat."
Picking up the map, Harry led the way back outdoors. The group worked its way around the house, stopping here and there to compare what they were seeing to the map.
"If you want two full sides, I'm not sure we'd have room for a regulation pitch," Harry told James and Albus. "On the other hand, there could be a way to put some magic into it, to make it expandable. Maybe."
Summer began in earnest, revolving around football, grilling and lawn care. Harry started making notes about projects he wanted to fund to get Potter Manor shined up and ready for occupation. The schedule was demanding, with James and Albus both playing soccer. Harry looked forward to driving for Charles, even though he might only be needed once a week or every two weeks. The to-and-fro about London, drawing on his romance with The Knowledge to take his fares to their destinations in the most efficient way possible, was still mentally restful and stimulating all at once.
That would have seemed a contradiction to some people. Harry, though, enjoyed driving. Unlike many wizards he had been exposed to cars from an early age. They didn't intimidate him. He liked the physical act of driving. He enjoyed most of his customers. He liked solving the brain teasers that were part of driving in London.
For example: Driving on a one-way street headed south, Harry noticed a pedestrian who just appeared beneath a streetlight. The man waved him over to the curb and asked to go to an address north of their location. Harry knew the next cross street did not have an intersection with a north-bound street and would require he follow a meandering course, getting there eventually, although not very efficiently. He also knew that he could turn the opposite direction, which would seem to be going out of his way, but diverting two blocks then making a three-quarters circle of the third, he could reach an entrance to a motorway and a quick trip the few miles north to the neighborhood the fare wanted.
"I'll go around just a bit and get us a much more direct route," Harry said as he looked back at his passenger in his rearview mirror.
"You're the expert," said the man.
Harry looked in the mirror. He knew he should be seeing something he wasn't. The man had been standing on the curbing, nearly into the street. He had a beige coat draped across an arm and a felt hat, a fedora, pushed to the back of his head. The two clothing items seemed a little out of place for the middle of summer.
"Here we are, sir," Harry said as he pulled up in front of a house not unlike his own.
"Can you take these?" asked the man. He reached across the seat back, a gold coin held between his finger and thumb.
"Ah, that is, don't recognize that, sir, so afraid not," Harry said. "Cash or credit."
"Sure?" the man asked.
"Positive," said Harry.
"Right, then, here you go," said the fare, handing Harry a credit card.
The card was issued by a large and well-known muggle bank but it had a letter 'G' inside an escutcheon in the upper left corner. Harry carried a card just like it in his wallet. The G stood for Gringotts.
Harry thought about the strange fare for the rest of his shift. When he was done, he drove home and parked in his driveway. His friend Charles, who owned the cab, would come in the morning and pick it up along with the bank bag that held the night's cash receipts.
Bennie the elf had left a pot of tea on the counter, along with a note card upon which he had written in black crayon: TEA. Harry smiled as he poured a cup and cast a heating charm. The tea tasted like it was freshly-made. House elf magic, Harry thought.
He normally allowed the children to decide when they wanted to get up during the summer. James and Albus were on the threshold of adulthood and Lily wasn't a late sleeper. Harry needed everyone though, so he knocked on doors and summoned the family to breakfast for a bit of planning.
"I need to take a meeting this morning," Harry began. "Maybe two. No carnage when I get back, right?"
Albus and James assured Harry, speaking solely for themselves, that they knew how to behave but they couldn't speak for their brother. Lily blinked but refrained from rolling her eyes.
Harry's first stop was the Leaky Cauldron where he had a few minutes of private conversation with Neville Longbottom.
"The guy had auror written all over him, just not on the job. Maybe he's retired and free-lances? I don't know. It wouldn't have stuck at all if he hadn't tried to give me the galleon," Harry said.
"That is weird," Neville agreed. "If he was a wizard, alone, no luggage needing transport, no muggle girlfriend, why would he need a cab?"
"Yep," said Harry.
"If he knew he'd be taking a cab, why would he try to pay an ordinary cabman with a galleon? I wonder if he would have demanded change?"
Harry started to laugh. He tried to do the mental math, subtracting the fare from the value of a galleon at the current exchange rate, then gave up.
"You know, Neville, I think I should have tried that. Didn't we have a lesson on avoiding this situation at school?"
"Probably," Neville answered. "Maybe a Muggle Studies class. Is there a regulation for that? A penalty for accepting galleons in exchange for a mundane debt?"
"We use our Gringotts cards and that amounts to the same although the transaction takes place at some interface. I've never known where that is," said Harry.
"Giving you a galleon, then a Gringotts card," Neville mused. "You were meant to see him as a wizard. At least that is my working hypothesis."
"So it seems to me, after a good night's rest," said Harry. "Well, I'm going to see if Blaise is in. It would be useful to know if someone is hiring the firm we use. If they aren't, maybe I'll see if one of ours can make some discreet inquiries."
It only took one exchange by floo call and Blaise Zabini was assured the private investigators their firm used was not involved in anything related to Harry.
"Odd," said Harry.
"Odd," Blaise concurred. "Remember where you dropped him off?"
Harry did, as a matter of fact. He had a good memory for those things. Harry quoted the address, which Blaise took down.
"I propose we give them a day's work. It's business. You're a principal here so anything that smells funny is of interest to the partners. I'll do the request, in the company name, and yours won't be anywhere near," Blaise said.
"Sounds reasonable," said Harry. "Let me know when the invoice arrives. You and Neville don't have to pay for this."
"So accommodating, Harry," laughed Blaise.
Without further business to keep him in London, Harry was back in the suburbs minutes later. He was pleased to find the carnage was minimal, not rising to the level of a challenge for the skills of a good house elf. Harry had thought he would sit down, collect his thoughts and make some notes on Potter Manor.
"Dad?"
"James?" answered Harry.
"You should know, Mum came by," said James.
"Did she?" asked Harry. "Whatever for?"
"She wouldn't say but she seemed a bit put out that you weren't here," James answered.
"Okay, thanks," Harry said. "If it's important I expect I'll hear from her."
Harry thought about the odd events for the rest of the day and on into the evening. They seemed to be saying they wanted him to make the connections between them, pull the cord through them one by one, until they made a coherent string of pearls that told a story. It was frustrating. Harry failed to get the sorting right. Each time he thought he had the plot it slipped away.
Since she left to coach with the Harpies and live with Dean Thomas, Ginny had gone weeks, sometimes more than a month, without calling to check on the children. Harry knew he and Ginny were different. He grew up without a family. His Hogwarts contingent was his surrogate. Ginny grew up the youngest of seven. Rightly or wrongly, Ginny could not achieve the feeling that she made her mark within the Weasley family. Even if Molly Weasley doted on her only daughter, which she did, Ginny was always stressed by the cacophony around the Burrow. She found her peace flying a broom. She stood out as a chaser. People recognized her.
Unlike a good many divorced people, Harry didn't work his failed marriage over and over in his mind. A man and a woman who weren't suited for each other had three children before they figured it out. That was fine, as far as Harry was concerned. He kept the family and Ginny pursued her dream.
Except.
All of a sudden Ginny came alive. Showing up on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters with season passes. Taking an interest in Lily's friends.
Harry went through close to a full pot of tea before he resolved to back away and wait for events to develop. There was too little information to do anything effective anyway.
There was plenty of very high-quality junior football to watch, meals to plan, a shift or two in the cab every week and the long list of Potter Manor projects.
Harry talked over the results of his request for a discreet inquiry into whomever lived in the house where he had dropped his mystery fare. The investigators established that the occupants could not be Harry's passenger. They were muggles, to begin with, so they wouldn't have access to either galleons or a Gringotts credit card. Harry did ponder two related questions. Who? And why?
Harry felt obliged to bring his partners up to date.
"I don't know if she wants something from me or what, but it does have a Ginny-esque atmosphere," Harry began. "If you guys want some distance…"
"Shut up, Potter," Neville nearly shouted.
Blaise nodded agreement.
"Neville's right, Harry," he said. "What would Ginny be after? Money? She has no idea what to demand and she wouldn't be able to get to the real numbers anyway. Children don't interest her, or Dean, it appears. At least they don't have any of their own and she hasn't spent a lot of time with the ones she's got. Can you talk to Arthur and Molly?"
"Yeah, they're great," Harry said.
"Make a discreet inquiry," Neville suggested. "Invite yourself and the family to the Burrow for Sunday dinner."
Harry smiled. Of course! Hunger satiated, the children happily caroming about, conversation would proceed, wherever it would.
Harry thought over the steps he would follow to get around to his discreet inquiry. All the planning was unnecessary, as it turned out. Providence determined the Potters would be joined at the Burrow by the Granger-Weasleys. Ron, as usual, was a font of undifferentiated facts and factoids, while Hermione was in the role of rational reporter.
The after-dinner quidditch match was an all-comers affair. Even so, the veterans were, at a minimum, fifteen years past their prime. Ron and Harry lasted a little over an hour with the students before landing for some iced tea and conversation.
Harry looked around. James, Albus, Hugo and Rose were still flying and tossing a quaffle. Lily was inside with Arthur and Molly. Now was his chance.
"Some weird stuff is going around…"
"You too?" said Ron and Hermione together.
"What…?" Harry came back.
"You first," said Hermione. She had her thinking face on, the same one Harry knew from innumerable lectures and library study sessions.
"Well, Ginny," Harry said. "She couldn't come to the final quidditch match of the season, the one her sons played in, the one that decided the winner if the Quidditch Cup, then she basically arrested me when I came to pick up Lily, followed us home and demanded I minimize her contact with Iere. She got wound up and I had to ask her to go home and talk to me when she could be civil. Then she showed up at King's Cross when the Hogwarts Express came in, with quidditch tickets. Harpies, of course. Season passes for James and Albus, for the championship, I guess."
"Then I had this weird fare, in the cab. Tried to pay with a galleon. Put a bit of a point on it, too. Was I sure I couldn't take it? He paid with a card, eventually. It had the 'G' up in the corner. Something about him said auror but he didn't seem quite right for that. Oh, he had me drop him at an address, outside London proper. It wasn't his."
"How d'you know that?" Ron asked.
"What you'd call a discreet inquiry," Harry said. "It's a muggle family. Look like straight arrows."
Ron and Hermione looked back and forth.
"You go," said Ron.
Hermione sighed. Of course.
"Ginny has been experiencing some of that," said Hermione. "Odd requests for interviews. Obscure writers proposing profiles in unusual publications. She lets the Harpies publicity shop handle them. The team people don't think they're actual journalists."
"But someone is doing research, for something," said Ron.
"That wouldn't involve Ginny and the out-of-character things," Harry said. "No connection I can see. At the moment. Wonder what those were all about?"
"Getting a little maternal, as the children grow up?" suggested Hermione.
Harry had to stifle a laugh.
"You're maternal, Hermione," he said. "You two stayed together and made it work. The Potters—ehh, not so much."
It was Ron's turn to laugh.
"You should have seen some of the…"
"Shut UP, Ronald," ordered Hermione, before she, too, turned her head to send her snicker toward the garden.
"Well, we will just leave you in your blissful ignorance, Harry," said Ron, although he did reach across to Hermione and give her hand a squeeze.
"So that's it? Sounds like someone MAY be researching a tell-all?"
"Who knows?" asked Hermione. "Five years ago, I think, I was reported to be in a torrid extramarital with a powerful member of the Wizengamot."
"Then I got my revenge with a secret Riviera getaway with an actress," Ron continued.
"Artist," Hermione corrected her husband. "It goes in cycles. Maybe it's just your turn, or Ginny's."
"Or both," added Harry, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the stubble on his chin.
"Any business concerns?" asked Ron. "Tax man? Hostile takeover moves?"
"No, nothing," said Harry. "It's steady. We grow along with the economy. We're not publicly traded. I don't know why we could come to the attention of the fast money types."
Harry thought some more. Hermione knew the Harry-Neville-Blaise enterprise was growing considerably faster than the overall economy but didn't contradict.
"Maybe that's all it is," he said. "Pulp fiction. Ginny's probably the subject. I don't even do anything worth writing about. Anymore, that is."
Ron and Hermione looked at one another. Ron snorted, quietly.
"There's someone's lede, right there," said Hermione. "Hero of the Wizarding Nation practically homeless: Found driving muggle taxi."
"Naw, I'll stick with the Ginny theory," Harry said. "Sports journalism. Harpies coach, often spoken of as head coach here or there, blah-blah. Good for a slow news day."
Harry leaned back and watched the quidditch players. Rose wasn't the best Weasley flyer ever to climb on a broom, but she wasn't the worst, either. Harry wondered why she hadn't played at Hogwarts.
The onset of serious darkness eventually put an end to the quidditch, which was really more an extended game of catch played from brooms. Harry collected James and Albus and went to add Lily while everyone thanked Arthur and Molly for a perfect early summer afternoon at the Burrow.
Harry hadn't chosen to share it with anyone, so he could change his mind at will, but he had come to a decision on the course of his future employment and domicile. He had wrung all the therapy out of the cab that he was going to get. Harry would tell Charles that he was retiring from driving. Once free, he would devote full time to his partnership. With a little bit of luck and self-discipline, he wouldn't become so annoying to his partners that they bought him out and showed him the door.
He would offer Ginny the right of first refusal on what was once their joint domicile. If she didn't want it, Harry would list it. Then he would move the Potters to Potter Manor and start researching ponies.
Harry resolved to stop working the puzzle. He wasn't getting anywhere and if he became obsessed, he would find it hard to sleep.
Charles and Harry met at the cabman's shelter in Russell Square for tea and a sandwich. Harry didn't know how he would react to telling Charles he was ready to give up driving. He had a well-founded fear that he would break down when the moment came. He needn't have worried. Much as he had enjoyed his post-war vocation, inside he was ready to walk away.
"So you're retiring?" Charles asked.
"It's time," Harry said. "It's been great. London, the fares, driving around in all of this, the tea in the shelters…I think it may have saved my life."
It was Charles' turn to get a little emotional.
"Harry, I owe you," he began.
"Don't start," said Harry. "This is what we do. Master something new and start bringing the next generation along."
"I know," Charles conceded. "It's that…"
He looked around. The only other person present was the man behind the counter, who was occupied pushing a sandwich and a drink through the window to an outside customer.
"My family didn't know what to do with me," said Charles. "I don't have any relatives who are plumbers or electricians. No one to teach me a trade. University never appealed to me. I could have ended up pushing a broom and polishing floors."
"There you go, then," said Harry. "Your vocation. Find another young Charles and show him how to become a cabman."
Harry had already settled up but he pushed a few coins across the counter anyway.
"Harold, what?" asked the counterman.
"You and the wife, a pint each," Harry said, waving and walking out the door.
"Wonder if they drink?" Harry asked Charles when they got outside.
"Give you a lift home?" Charles asked.
"I think I'd like to find my own way," said Harry. He really didn't know how he planned to get back.
"Suit yourself," said Charles. "Harry? Don't be a stranger, okay? I really count on…"
"What? You know everything I know," Harry said. "I couldn't have imagined a better student. I'm very proud of you and what we accomplished together."
"Oh, I might have some business questions, sometime," Charles answered.
"That you might," said Harry. "Feel free. This isn't abandonment. Believe me, I know abandonment."
Harry had been open, somewhat, with Charles. He had told him about Ginny and Dean and Ginny's career choices. Charles, a squib, had grown up in magical London. He got the nuance.
"I know," Charles said, snickering a little as he extended his hand.
Charles started the cab and pulled out into traffic, leaving Harry to his thoughts, as well as the journey home. Harry walked for a bit, thinking. He didn't have a destination. The children were home, James and Albus once again pledged to avoid carnage. Lily didn't possess a need to create carnage, at least not yet. Still, his business with Charles was complete and Harry knew he ought not waste too much time soaking up London.
The children were in the back yard when Harry materialized behind the garden shed. Lily sat at the table, drawing horses in a sketchbook, Albus was in goal before their backyard net, leaving James to investigate the meaning of the 'pop' from the shed.
"Dad," James said.
"How do you know?" asked Harry.
"Good question," James answered.
"I could be polyjuiced," Harry said. "Someone who wants to carry out some perfidious scheme could have gotten a hair from the cab and polyjuiced themselves."
"It's him, James," Lily called across the lawn. "He's the only one who would try to teach you a lesson out here."
Harry looked at Lily, elbows splayed as she held her page down in a bit of breeze, never interrupting her sketching.
"Sure?" asked Harry.
"Yep," Lily said without looking up.
"How?" Harry pressed on.
"I know your aura," Lily said, finally raising her head. "Those don't change with polyjuice."
"Can you see auras?" asked Albus. "How? Since when? Really? Can you teach me?"
"I don't know. Forever. Yes. I can try," Lily answered, returning to her work and not looking up.
Noticing his lesson in personal security had been hijacked, Harry moved on.
"Lunch?"
"Peanut butter and jelly," Albus said.
Albus had never gotten his fill of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He made PB and J sandwiches his meal suggestion of choice. Harry looked at James and Lily.
"Same," James said, adding a shrug of the shoulders. "Less bother."
"I had a pasty and a small salad," Lily said. She had a very smug, eleven-year-old look on her face. "Bennie."
"Hmm…" Harry began. "I'm a bit peckish. I wonder if Bennie could come up with some strawberry shortcake."
The strawberry shortcake performed as Harry anticipated and minutes later he had the Potters convened around the kitchen table.
"Listen, please, I have something serious to say," Harry began. The spooning of strawberries slowed, nearly to a stop.
"I don't want everyone to get all upset, but there have been some odd things happening. A fare tried to pay me with a galleon last week. I don't know why he thought he could. He paid with a credit card when I turned him down. One of the Gringotts cards like we have."
"Weird," said James.
"Uh-huh," Albus concurred.
"Your aunt and uncle said Ginny has been getting some requests for interviews," Harry went on. "There have been some questions about the legitimacy of the requestors. Whether they were really journalists, whether their publications were real."
"Crap," said Albus, looking at James.
"What?" asked Harry.
"We got letters, after we won the championship," said Albus. "Someone sent us a list of questions."
"They said they were going to write an article for Teen Witch," said James.
"James didn't answer, but I did, before I talked to him," said Albus.
Harry tried hard not to sound too serious.
"Do you remember what they wanted to know?"
"Just a bunch of everyday stuff," said Albus. "What did I like to eat, what were my interests outside of quidditch, did I have a girlfriend, or a hobby?"
Harry looked over at James.
"You didn't respond?"
"I throw all of that stuff away," said James.
"All…stuff?" Harry said.
"Yeah, fan stuff," said James. "Witches, wizards. Can I send a photo? Can they get an autograph?"
"I had no idea," said Harry.
"They didn't send you autograph requests? I thought you had a fan club," said James.
"I didn't have a fan club! Who told you that?" Harry demanded with a laugh.
"Astoria," said Albus. "She said Draco was always talking about 'Potter and his fan club' when you were all in school."
"Astoria is generally reliable," said Harry. "Maybe there was one and I wasn't told."
"Well, anyway, it would be a good idea to keep throwing all of that stuff away, for now, at least until we find out what all the commotion is about. There must be someone behind all of this. I doubt it is genuine fans."
Albus looked disappointed.
"What?" asked Harry.
"Did I do something wrong?" Albus asked.
"No. At least I don't think so," said Harry. "If an article shows up in Teen Witch, we'll know it was legitimate. If there are more requests or the kinds of questions changes, we can ask around, see if something similar is happening to our friends."
The strawberry shortcake continued to work its own magic on the Potters, adding a few grains of sand to their great beach of family solidarity.
"James?" said Albus when he finished and put his spoon down. He signaled 'Backyard' with his head.
"In a minute," said James. He looked at Lily, who looked back. She sucked the last strawberry juice from her spoon, snickering around it. Lily got up.
"You're keeper," she said, leading Albus out the back door.
"Well," said Harry. Something was up, something he hoped was not occluded carnage.
"Dad, I love Iere," James began, then paused.
"Fine," said Harry.
"I've achieved my majority and I want to get married. To her."
"Okay," Harry began. "You're a little young but okay. Have you talked to Iere about this? Does she want to marry you?"
"We've talked. It sounds like she does."
"If you don't mind an observation from an old person, James, the consent of your desired mate is the fundamental factor," Harry said. "Everything else comes after that, under our system. Unless you are subject to a contract of some sort and that doesn't apply in this case."
"I want to ask her but we haven't come right out and said it yet," James replied.
"I see," said Harry. "What you might want to do, if you believe you harbor a genuine love in your heart for Iere, is talk to her in private and tell her how you feel. Traditionally, the other party then returns your declaration of love, or declines to. Then you both know where you stand. Ideally. Misapprehensions can happen as you have personally witnessed, but those are largely outside our control."
Harry waited while James pondered.
"I need to talk to Iere," James said after a bit.
"You do," said Harry. "In private."
"I wonder if she is home."
"You know how to use the floo," said Harry. "Call Owl Farm and see. Invite yourself over. Politely. If she declines, wait for another opportunity."
There was a 'whoosh' from the living room, followed by unintelligible voices, followed by, "I'm going," and another whoosh.
It was Harry's turn to ponder.
'What have I done?' he thought.