He awoke to a shouting otter.

'Harry James Potter!' cried Hermione's voice, 'Have you completely lost your mind? I can't believe you went on a date with a Travers—do you have a death wish? Merlin, she's probably with you right now! If you're even still alive ... oh my god, I'll be right over.'

Disorientated, Harry sat up and saw that it was half seven in the morning. At least I slept well, he thought. He shuffled to the bathroom and was brushing his teeth when someone pounded on the bedroom door.

'Harry! Are you all right? Oh my god, if anything happened to you ...'

'Come in!' he called, but apparently she didn't hear him through his mouthful of toothpaste, because the door flew open and she stormed inside and cried 'Protego!' before surveying the bedroom.

Harry spat his toothpaste into the sink and said, 'Hermione, I'm fine. And no one else is here.'

'Thank Merlin you're all right!' she exclaimed, and she ran over to give him a hug.

'Ow! Could you drop the Shield Charm?' he said, rubbing his nose.

'Sorry!' She cancelled the protection barrier and threw her arms around him, which was slightly awkward as Harry was only wearing boxer shorts. 'What happened? I can't believe you went out with a Travers—I saw the photograph in the Prophet just now.'

'Do you need breakfast?' he asked, walking into his wardrobe and closing the door.

'Er, if that's all right. I'm actually quite hungry—I went to an early Spinning class.'

Harry was mystified but decided to postpone his question. 'I met her last week—she asked for my autograph after the radio broadcast. She was rather forward, and of course I assumed it was a trap, but I decided to give her a chance.' Hermione snorted derisively, and he said, 'Yes, because she's pretty. I'm only human. Anyway, we met in public, and I insisted she answer questions under Veritaserum before we even ordered drinks.'

'And did she?'

'Yes, willingly. I'd prepared a list of questions and was going to ask for her approval first, but she didn't even look at them and told me to ask whatever I wanted. And she passed with flying colours.' He had emerged from the closet in his workout clothes, and they started walking downstairs.

'Why on earth would she want to go out with you?' said Hermione. 'I'm sorry, that came out wrong. Surely she had an ulterior motive for going after you of all people.'

'Yes, she wants to disqualify herself from marrying a proper pure-blood. Running around with me is the fastest way to do it.'

Hermione eyes grew large. 'She wants you to ruin her! This is like something out of Austen ... she's even called Lydia! Are you going to lure her to Gretna Green with promises of marriage?'

'I don't know what you're talking about,' said Harry irritably. 'I'm not meeting my tutor until tonight.'

'That's wonderful,' she said approvingly. 'But back to Miss Travers ... Have you ruined her yet? Why isn't she here now?'

'My instinct is to say that's none of your business, but I suppose she wants it as public as possible. No, I haven't ruined her yet. She was more than willing, but it's her first time and I don't want to rush anything.'

'I can't believe it … you're a gentleman even while ruining a girl!'

'I feel a certain responsibility to do the job properly. I'm not certain I've ever been anyone's first before—Ginny wouldn't say.'

'But aren't you afraid of reprisals? She must have suitors, even with her surname.'

'Apparently having a convicted Death Eater in the family isn't an impediment among the Sacred Twenty-Eight. And yes, she has other suitors but she says they're too scared of me to attack.'

'What about duels? One of them could challenge you.'

'I'm not worried,' he said, thinking of Light magic.

Hermione seemed unconvinced. 'They'd probably know Dark curses,' she said. 'And you don't have the Elder Wand anymore.' She looked as if she were going to say something else but stopped herself.

'And I'm not a particularly powerful wizard,' he finished. 'Yes, I know that. But I have another advantage.' He took a deep breath and said, 'I've been experiencing accidental Light magic.'

Her eyes shot open. 'Accidental Light magic? Are you sure? I've only read bits and pieces about it—apparently it's quite rare.'

'Yes, I spoke with Alistair about it on Monday. It started in Paris, and I found a book in the Black library that describes it perfectly.'

She insisted on seeing the book, but they were already in the kitchen so Harry Summoned it. 'Defence Against the Light Arts,' she read. 'Jacobus Filch?'

'His grandfather, according to Alistair. Read the introduction.'

Hermione's jaw dropped as she read the first few pages, and then Harry showed her the section on the hallmarks of the Light wizard. He watched her carefully, anticipating her reaction.

'So that's your extenuating circumstance!' she cried. 'And here I thought it was just an overcorrection from years of being downtrodden. And your age, of course.'

'Those might also be true,' admitted Harry. 'It's not clear when the Light magic began manifesting—I only started glowing on Saturday.'

'In public?' she asked.

'In the Sainte Chapelle.'

'Oh, Harry!' she exclaimed. 'You've become such an aesthete! I can't get over it.'

'What is that?' he asked. 'Clearly it's not the same as an athlete.'

'No, but they both come from ancient Greek. It means someone with a deep appreciation for beauty.'

'Isn't that everyone?' he asked. 'Surely I'm not more shallow than most people. Or am I?'

'No, it's not like that. It's an ability to see beauty even where others mightn't. But when something—or someone—is objectively beautiful, like a Gothic cathedral, you might be more sensitive than most.'

They'd begun eating the hot breakfast Kreacher had prepared. 'I don't know whether being an aesthete is connected to Light magic or not, but Alistair is trying to find me a teacher, so hopefully they'll be able to tell me.'

She dropped her fork. 'You're going to study Light magic from a teacher? May I join you?'

Harry laughed and said, 'You must really miss school! Is that why you're learning spinning, whatever that is?'

'It's an exercise class at the leisure centre near my parents' house. Lucinda Bellamy convinced me that wizards are too idle and I'll be old before my time if I don't exercise, so I go there several times a week.'

'And you want to keep up with Ryan,' he smirked.

'Please, may I study Light magic with you? I don't know if I'll be able to experience it, but even the theoretical side sounds fascinating.'

'I can't imagine it's as rare as all that,' said Harry. 'But yes, of course, I'd be happy for you to join me. Alistair told me to give him a week to find a teacher, and if that doesn't work I'll ask Dumbledore's portrait, although Alistair was sceptical he'd know of anyone.'

'Interesting. But back to Lydia Travers ... why doesn't she want to marry a pure-blood and all that?'

Harry conveyed what she'd told him, how she didn't want to end up like her sister and would much rather live without constraints. He also told Hermione about Lydia's unscheduled inheritance, and the role he'd inadvertently played by Imperiusing her Death Eater uncle.

'So if we hadn't diverted Travers from his original purpose that morning at Gringotts, Lydia would be financially dependent on her family and couldn't risk offending them. But this way she's free to rebel and start a new life?'

'Exactly.'

Hermione scowled. 'And it didn't occur to her to get a job and support herself like most young magicals do?'

'I doubt it,' replied Harry. 'She said her sister doesn't work either.'

'And why exactly are you interested in her? You've no shortage of attractive witches throwing themselves at you.'

'That's true,' he admitted. 'But I like the drama of it. I rather enjoyed creating a scandal with my robes on Wednesday. And I've learnt a lot from her already ... did you know about portkey brothels?'

Hermione was outraged when he told her. 'Talk about hypocrisy! Wizards are encouraged to sleep with prostitutes—I'm sorry, filles de joie—but if a young witch explores her sexuality in a consensual relationship, she's ruined and liable to be cast from her family.'

'Don't get angry at me, I didn't make the rules.'

'No, you just benefit from them,' snapped Hermione. 'Imagine it if had been the Girl Who Lived, and she started experiencing accidental Light magic and shagging everyone within a ten-foot radius.'

'Oi!'

'I'm sorry. But you see my point.'

'I suppose you're right. But maybe Lydia can help change attitudes.'

'What, as a feminist role model?' scoffed Hermione. But her expression softened. 'I suppose she could become a twenty-first century Madame de Staël, or one of the other French salon hostesses, and expose the hypocrisy of the current system. And I can't think of a better way for her to make a name for herself than by having a public affair with Harry Potter,' she mused. 'But how do you feel about that? You realise she's using you.'

'Of course she's using me. But I'm getting something out of it as well. Besides the obvious, of course.'

'You mean revenge? The Prophet suggested that, but I didn't read the entire article because I was so worried about you.'

'I suppose I should look at it.' He reached for the newspaper and unrolled it. 'We're not on the cover?' he said, disappointed.

'Oh, the tragedy! It's probably because you'd already worn those robes. Do you need me to perform a Cheering Charm?'

'Very funny. No, I'm upset for Lydia—she was counting on it appearing on the front page.'

'Alas, it's only in the gossip column. But it's the leading item, and there's a lot of text.'

She opened the newspaper to a large photograph of Harry and Lydia, which he had to admit revealed shockingly strong alchemy between them. He was no expert in body language, but he could see from the photo how powerfully he'd been attracted to her. And she was looking at him with an air of amused ownership, and desire as well.

'No wonder you were worried,' he said. 'I look like I was Love Potioned.'

'That was my first thought, but I knew your ring would protect you.'

The item read:

Barely a day after his rebuke from the lords of the Wizengamot, Harry Potter, 19, laid claim to Lydia Travers, 18, granddaughter of Lord Magnus Travers and great-niece to notorious Death Eater Ursinus Travers. The young couple, who enjoyed dinner last night at Café Wellington in Diagon Alley, appeared smitten with each other on what they claimed was a first date.

Potter, dressed in white robes he'd worn previously, was 'mesmerised' by Miss Travers's beauty, according to onlookers, and in their eagerness to leave they skipped the final course. However, Miss Travers very kindly spoke to our reporter and described her deep admiration for her escort.

'I know I oughtn't be in public with Harry, or anywhere else for that matter, but I find him utterly irresistible. I was raised to appreciate greatness, and nobody can argue that Harry isn't one of the greatest wizards living. I look forward to learning the full breadth of his abilities,' she said.

Potter's undeniable attraction to the aristocratic Miss Travers already explains his decision to woo her, but she holds another appeal as well: she represents the old, Dark families who have long tried to thwart him. And what sweeter revenge could Potter want, than to hear his own name moaned through the rosy lips of someone raised to scorn him.

Adding insult to injury, Potter's public declaration that he won't propose marriage to anyone for two more years removes any doubt of his motives in escorting her, and Miss Travers appears to have no illusions on the topic. 'Yes, I know he has no intention of getting married,' she confirmed. And when asked whether they had been intimate, she said, 'Not yet, but ask me again tomorrow.'

Chudley Cannons watchers will be eager to know whether Potter performs at full capacity on Friday, and whether the demands of his private life mightn't jeopardise his performance against the Wimbourne Wasps on Saturday. In the meantime, we wish the young couple much bliss in spite of their radically different backgrounds.

'Your new friend isn't very subtle,' observed Hermione. 'She did everything but offer you her knickers then and there.'

'I don't collect knickers,' said Harry absently. 'That's something Voldemort would have done.'

'Maybe you should start. Is there a Light version of a Horcrux?'

He ignored her and said, 'I can't say I like the final paragraph, which implies I'm shirking my responsibilities to the team. Rita knew about Tuesday morning, you know. Apparently the witch I met on Monday is selling her story to some publication or other.'

'You mean a tell-all?' she gasped. Harry couldn't decide whether Hermione looked outraged or fascinated.

'Yes, Rita said there was a bounty. How do people even find out about these things?' he asked. 'Never mind, I should go to practice early. I don't want anyone thinking I didn't get enough sleep—thank Merlin I didn't have any nightmares.'

Hermione's face fell. 'You still have nightmares?'

'Er, sometimes,' he lied. 'Not often.'

They finished eating, and Hermione said, 'Next time warn me when you do something like that. I was really terrified for you.'

'I did warn you, on Wednesday night. I said I was taking precautions.'

'You're right, I forgot. But even so, don't frighten me like that!'

'Yes, Mum,' he said, and she scowled at him. 'Oh dear, I can only imagine how Mrs Weasley reacted to the article. Should I send Prongs to reassure her?'

'That might be a bit much, but I'll send my otter.'

Harry arrived at practice half an hour early and spent the first ten minutes flying aggressively. When he landed, Tuttle was there. 'Burning off frustration, Potter?'

'No, I'm fine. And I got plenty of sleep—she was out the fireplace by ten o'clock—and I only had a glass of wine. I'm just sorry the fans might think I've been shirking.'

'I can think of a good way to prove you aren't,' she said.

Harry smiled. 'Fly like a madman?'

'Yes. Showing up early is good too—it saved me the trouble of preparing another tirade.'

'You prepare them?' asked Harry. 'They always sound so spontaneous.'

'There's a method to my madness. And Bagman trained me.'

'What was that like, flying with him? I got to know him years later, when he tried to fix the Triwizard Tournament, and he didn't strike me as very disciplined.'

'He wasn't—I drove him like a demon for years. I can't count the number of times I had to dump cold water on him and Hover his drenched arse out of bed, no matter what he was in the middle of doing.' Harry's eyes shot open, and she said, 'He pitched a fit every time, but he never warded his flat against me. We were the best in the league, and I didn't mind letting him have the spotlight. It was always Bagman and Tuttle, and not the other way around, which was fine with me.'

'He was lucky to have you,' said Harry. 'He doesn't make the best choices on his own.'

'You don't know the half of it,' she muttered, but Harry corrected her.

'I know he was tried after the First Wizarding War, for passing information to Rookwood.'

Tuttle rolled her eyes. 'The daft bugger. He thought Rookwood was his mate and looking out for him—he didn't realise he was a bloody Death Eater.'

'I've been fooled by Death Eaters in disguise,' admitted Harry.

'You were fourteen and he was disguised as an Auror!' she snapped, referring to when Barty Crouch junior had impersonated Alastor Moody for an entire school year. 'No, you're not likely to fall for someone offering you a job.'

Harry could guess what she'd left unsaid. 'But I could be fooled by a witch? Don't worry, I questioned her under Veritaserum before dinner, and I'm able to communicate telepathically with my house-elf at a distance. I was perfectly safe.'

'That's a relief. Don't forget your Auror training entirely.'

'I won't. And by the way, thanks for taking on Owen as Seeker coach. I know I strong-armed Darius a bit.'

'More than a bit,' she chuckled. 'But it's a good role for Barrowmaker. And I didn't want to lose him either—you might have noticed I kept him around years longer than I should have done.'

'Yeah, I wondered about that. Not that I'm complaining, of course—I'd probably be zero for five without him.'

'You weren't bad when you arrived,' she said. 'You might have even got the job the usual way, on account of your flying.'

'That's a relief. I'm sorry you were stuck with me, without even getting a vote.'

'I was furious. Darius promised he'd let me evaluate you properly, and then I get back from lunch and find out he'd already hired you, based on two minutes with a Launcher. I didn't trust his judgment one bit—he'd have hired you regardless, because of the effect you'd have on sales. And when Lara said you were good I assumed she was star-struck.'

'And then you thought I just wanted to muck about on a broomstick and get my wand polished,' recalled Harry.

'Was I wrong?'

'No. The most fun I'd ever had in my life was playing Quidditch, and I realised I wanted more of it. When I told Kingsley Shacklebolt I was leaving the Ministry, I described my life until then as "all vegetables and no pudding."'

Tuttle laughed out loud. 'It's a good thing I didn't know about that at the time. I only had my suspicions.'

'I knew I'd work hard, and Ron would kill me if I didn't take the team seriously. But Merlin, I needed a break! You know now what my life was like.'

'The final year of the war ...' she began.

'It was far worse than you realise. It's classified, or else I'd tell you, but it was a living nightmare. People think it was hard because we spent months in a tent eating mushrooms, but that was the easy part.' He shook his head in disgust. 'Dark magic is the worst. I can't tell you how much good it's doing me to be on a broomstick all day.'

'I'm glad to hear that,' said Tuttle. 'You have a lot of distractions—I'm glad flying isn't just another one.'

'It's not. Flying is essential—the faster the better.'

Harry's teammates were starting to gather around the benches, and Tuttle said, 'Go put your broomstick away. Shall I take the piss this morning, in front of the team?'

'Be my guest,' he said before running back to the building.

When he returned, Tuttle entertained the team with some good-natured ribbing. 'I hope you'll all console Potter, who's heartbroken about not getting onto the cover of the Prophet this morning.'

'Nobody wants to see you in the same old robes, Snitchbottom,' said Janet. 'Do we need to take up a collection and buy you something new?'

'It'll need wider sleeves,' observed Renée, 'to allow easy access to his Dark Mark.'

'If Harry has a Dark Mark, I doubt it's on his arm,' said Suresh.

Harry's jaw dropped. 'That's the most horrifying concept I've heard all week!'

'Ten laps, now!' barked Tuttle, and they all started running.

Janet caught up with Harry before he had a chance to sprint ahead. 'So, did you deflower her yet?'

'Not on a school night,' he said primly. 'I'll wait until after the match tomorrow.'

'Interesting—you don't normally kiss and tell.'

'She wants me to, if you hadn't noticed. She's tired of being a pure-blood princess.'

'Yes, I found it tiresome as well,' drawled Janet. 'So she's using you?'

'You make that sound like a bad thing.'

'Not at all. Ron split a side when he saw the item this morning—he told me to congratulate you for sticking it to old Travers like that.'

'He wasn't worried I'd been lured into a trap?'

'No, he has more faith in you than that. But what are you going to do about the robes?' she asked. 'Your fans demand variety.'

'Every magical tailor in Britain owled me this week to offer me robes at cost. I thought I'd choose some tomorrow, if there's time after the match.'

'Will you bring your new friend with you? She's bound to know a lot about Death Eater robes. I'm sorry, Harry Potter robes,' she corrected.

'Thank you. And yes, I'll bring Lydia with me. She's keen to be seen with me in public.'

'Just don't get killed. At least not before we train the new reserve.'

'Cheers,' he said before running off.

He worked hard all day in practice, knowing the mysterious 'team observers' were probably watching. Monday night was a one-time occurrence, he thought. The Cannons come first. And that afternoon he had his final practice match against Owen, which was bittersweet.

'I'm going to miss you,' said Harry sentimentally. 'But I'll never forget you—I've arranged for Kreacher to mount your head on my stairwell.'

'What?' exclaimed Owen, bewildered.

'Oh, I mustn't have told you about that,' he said before explaining how Grimmauld Place had been decorated with house-elf trophies when he'd first arrived. 'I think they're still in the attic—Kreacher couldn't bear to part with them.'

'For the love of Merlin, don't let my daughters see them. They'll have nightmares for weeks.'

'Unlike my godson, who'd probably just impersonate them. Do you think your daughters would enjoy playing with a baby sometime?'

'He's a Metamorphmagus, right? Yes, they'd love it, but they'd almost certainly provoke him to tears.'

'He cries regardless, sooner or later. I can't imagine how I'll survive being a parent when it's my turn.'

'You'll manage,' said Owen. 'And I'll teach you my patented wandless Volume-Dampening Charm.'

Harry practised some new manoeuvres during the match, but Owen didn't bother following him. 'You don't want one final Bludgering, for old time's sake?' asked Harry.

'No, thanks—I'll settle for the Snitch.'

To everyone's delight, Owen caught the Snitch that afternoon, and when they landed Lara poured champagne, and Gary made a toast.

'I'd like to congratulate Barrowmaker on a truly crap career as a league Seeker,' he began, causing Owen to laugh uproariously. 'I mean, you were good for a few minutes there, but then you nodded off on your broomstick and were crushed between two well-meaning Bludgers who were just minding their own business. I wasn't playing, of course, but I had a great view from the skybenches, and I only regret that I wasn't mercenary enough to sell my Omnioculars to the highest bidder.

'But now, you're beginning a new career as a coach, which means you'll need to learn a raft of new rude words. Have you considered visiting Scotland? I recommend the Hog's Head Inn—one evening there should supply you with a rich new vocabulary for telling Potter what a waste of space he is.'

Harry laughed and gave Gary a two-finger salute. 'But seriously, you've been a first-rate Cannon and I'm speaking for all of us when I say how glad I am you're not going anywhere. To Owen Barrowmaker!' he cried, and everyone cheered and drank.

Other toasts were made, and eventually it was Harry's turn. 'When the war ended, and I finally had the opportunity to experience this strange thing called a "normal life,"' he began, using his fingers to indicate inverted commas, 'I often wondered whether I'd even be able to relate to people who hadn't experienced what I had. Where would I find people who could understand what it was like to persevere against insurmountable odds day after day, year after year, with essentially no hope of success, and to experience one crushing defeat after another?

'But then I discovered a remarkable group of individuals called the Chudley Cannons, and it turned out they knew exactly what that was like. They too had experienced dashed hopes, heartbreaking losses, and above all, cruel mockery. "These are my people!" I thought. "This is my family."

'I've been fortunate to meet a lot of people in the wizarding world who have treated me like family, but until I met Owen Barrowmaker, I didn't have what truly felt like an elder brother. Maybe it's because he was stuck listening to me for hours on end—which probably explains why he's retiring—but I feel closer to him than I would ever have thought possible with someone who hadn't fought beside me.

'Darius can tell you, I did everything but threaten to quit if they didn't find a way to keep Owen around. And I'm thrilled I was able to manipulate him so thoroughly—it seems I learnt something from Voldemort after all. So please join me as I drink another sip of champagne in honour of the Cannons' new Seeker coach, my brother, Owen Barrowmaker. Cheers!'

Harry drank the last of his champagne and hugged Owen. 'You realise this is all premature,' said Owen. 'Harry might be ejected tomorrow, and I'll have to clean up after him again.'

'Don't even think about it, Potter,' warned Tuttle. 'I'll curse your fists off if you lose your temper like that.'

'Fortunately Harry doesn't need either hand to operate his wand,' said Janet, prompting more laughter.

After the impromptu celebration, Harry showered and went home to Grimmauld Place. He dutifully signed photographs and responded to fan mail until half past six, when he went to the formal reception hall to greet the wizard he hoped would be his new tutor.

Right on time, a tall, thin man emerged from the fireplace. His hair was streaked with grey, and four parallel scars raked his neck and jaw. 'Welcome,' said Harry, 'please come in. May I offer you anything before dinner?'

'No, thank you. Mr Potter, it's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Simon Longclaw.'

'Please, call me Harry.'

'Then you must call me Simon.'

Harry led the way to the library upstairs. 'I'm so glad you were able to come to dinner on short notice. I'm a bit impetuous, and once I get an idea in my head I'm unable to drop it. Did they show you the letter I wrote, explaining why I'm looking for a tutor?'

'Yes, and I commend your impulse to learn more about the world. Most wizards your age are relieved not to be in school any longer, so it's impressive you're choosing education for its own sake.'

'I can't say I have a stellar educational record. I didn't actually finish school, and I hope I never have to sit my N.E.W.T.s, But I'd like to be more familiar with literature, and art, and architecture, and all the rest. I feel ignorant a lot of the time, and I'm hoping to remedy that.'

Simon's eyes widened as they entered the library, and he moved automatically towards the shelves. 'Certainly you have a lot of resources here in the house,' he began, until he started reading the titles. 'Sweet Merlin! I thought all copies of the Encyclopaedia Maleficarum were destroyed by Fiendfyre in the eighteenth century!' He backed away and crossed his forearms protectively in front of him.

'Welcome to the Black family library,' said Harry. 'I honestly have no idea what to do with all these books. I'm certain they could be useful in combatting the Dark Arts, but I don't know how to prevent them from falling into the wrong hands.'

'That's a valid concern,' said Simon, still looking at the shelves. 'And I see some useful books on wizarding culture, but I suspect there's nothing written by Muggles or pertaining to Muggle culture.'

'There might be a few cookbooks,' suggested Harry, 'but possibly of the cannibal variety.'

'To Serve Man,' quoted Simon, and Harry looked blankly at him. 'It's a line from an old American television show called The Twilight Zone,' he explained. 'A race of aliens comes to Earth, and they appear to have solutions to all our problems. But some people are suspicious of their motives, and a cryptographer—someone who breaks codes—is brought in to translate a book the aliens left behind. Everyone is relieved when the title turns out to be "To Serve Man," which sounds noble, but at the last minute, when the cryptographer is boarding a spaceship to go live on their planet, his assistant runs in and cries, "It's a cookbook!"'

Harry chuckled and asked, 'Would most Muggles be familiar with that reference?'

'A fair number, yes. Even those who never saw the episode, which was broadcast in the early sixties, I think.'

'See, this is exactly the type of thing I'd like to know about. I met a Muggle a few weeks ago and she literally thought I might be a space alien, for how little I knew about popular culture.'

'Did you have to Obliviate her?' asked Simon.

'Er, no. She came up with her own theory that I was a Light Faerie, which is apparently a thing in Muggle literature. Urban fantasy, she called it. It was far enough from the truth that I let her believe it.'

Simon laughed out loud. 'Yes, I'm familiar with the genre—it's an entertaining mix of good guesses about magical culture and complete rubbish.'

'That's what it sounded like. But I don't know any classical literature either. I attended Muggle school through the age of ten, and after that I went to Hogwarts. My relations weren't intellectual, so we didn't have a lot of books around the house, and when I was there during the summers I wasn't permitted a library card.'

'The library didn't allow you to have a card?' asked Simon, surprised.

'I needed a parent or guardian signature,' said Harry, and Simon nodded.

'Have you seen many films?'

'Not in the cinema, but a lot on the telly. My cousin watched them, and as long as his mates weren't over I was usually allowed to watch as well. But they were mainly crap. "Rambo" and so forth.'

'Not very edifying,' agreed Simon. 'What types were your favourites?'

'I liked adventure stories. Saving the world—that kind of thing. And history, like the Greeks and Romans, or King Arthur. I didn't like romance movies, but that's probably because I was a kid. And I liked "Star Wars" and "Raiders of the Lost Ark." Fortunately Dudley liked those as well, so I got to see them more than once.'

'And you haven't read many books about subjects other than magic?'

'Not really. I liked reading in school when I was little—I usually stayed in the library during recess—but again, it was only until I was ten so it wasn't exactly great literature.'

'You have a good vocabulary,' said Simon. 'I reviewed some of your interviews this morning.'

'Not the thestral diatribe, I hope.'

'Oh yes. If nothing else, it demonstrated you have a quick mind and a way with words.'

'And a foul temper,' said Harry. 'But yes, I have a good vocabulary, mostly thanks to Hermione. My friend, Hermione Granger.'

'Of course. And you're fortunate, because that means you can start with good literature instead of working your way up. Not that there's anything wrong with literature for adolescents, and of course that's part of the culture as well. Did you ever read the Narnia books?'

'Yes, I actually read those! Most of them, anyway—I think the school was missing a couple. But wasn't the witch the villain?'

'She was. You'll find that in a lot of Muggle literature—I think it's from the collective memory, originating before the Statute of Secrecy.'

Kreacher appeared in the library with a loud crack, which startled Simon. 'Master, dinner is ready. Would Master prefer to eat in the kitchen or dining room?'

'The dining room, please, and thank you.' Crack!

'Sorry about that,' said Harry, leading Simon out of the room. 'My life is distinctly weird, and the house-elf is part of it.'

Based on the other werewolves Harry had known, he'd assumed Simon would like red meat, slightly undercooked. 'Is this all right?' he asked, when they sat at the table.

'It looks ideal. I'm obviously not the first werewolf you've met.'

'No, one of my father's best friends was a werewolf, and he was like family to me. He was also one of the only good Defence professors I had at Hogwarts, so I'm probably predisposed to liking werewolf teachers.'

'Yes, I remember when it came out that Albus Dumbledore had hired a werewolf. That was before I was infected, and I remember vehemently agreeing that he shouldn't have been allowed near children. An opinion I later regretted, of course.'

'I can't understand the prejudice against werewolves,' said Harry. 'Particularly now that Wolfsbane is more widely available.'

'Honestly, as someone who was bit by a werewolf, I understand the prejudice completely. It was a savage and deliberate attack. But obviously not all werewolves are like that—in fact hardly any of us are—so I'm glad FLOOF is providing certification for compliant werewolves like myself.'

'Have you always had access to Wolfsbane?' asked Harry.

'All but one time,' he said. 'Not long after I was infected. I didn't hurt anyone, but it was ... difficult.'

'I should introduce you to Padfoot. My father and his mates became Animagi to keep Moony company—their werewolf friend. Sirius Black became a large dog, and his portrait is in the entrance hall. My father became a stag, Prongs.'

'That was remarkably kind of them,' said Simon. 'I'm certain it made all the difference.'

'I think so, and I'm glad to hear you say that. My father was apparently an arrogant prat until only a few years before he died, so it's good to remember he had some redeeming qualities as well.'

'People are almost never all good or all bad,' observed Simon. 'Unfortunately a lot of films and books portray people as one-dimensional, but great literature and films are usually more nuanced than that.'

Harry's thoughts drifted to Snape. 'I've known people I thought were entirely evil, but they turned out to be more complicated than that. And finding out they'd had a good motivation all along didn't erase everything else they'd done, or continued to do.' He sighed and said, 'I suppose nothing's that simple.'

'No, but there's beauty in the complexity. A character who's perfectly good is usually also perfectly boring. And sometimes a messy novel that's not perfectly structured is more compelling than one that's technically flawless.'

'Or women,' said Harry. 'Sorry, I'm nineteen ... but sometimes a woman with what might be considered a flaw, like a crooked nose or funny ears, is more attractive than someone you can't find fault with.'

'Yes, definitely. Sometimes it's the flaw that sets off the perfection.'

'It's like the peeling wallpaper in the house,' said Harry. 'Kreacher has been fixing it, but he's also preserved the option to unfix it. And I definitely like it both ways.'

They continued talking through the meal, with Simon drawing out Harry's interests. 'What about music?' he asked. 'Are you familiar with much popular music?'

'Not anymore. I knew some growing up, but I never had tapes or anything. And of course I haven't a stereo system, because there's no electricity in the house.'

'What about a record player?'

'I think there's one in the attic, but I haven't any records.'

'They're not as easy to buy as they once were—Muggle records—because everyone's switched to compact discs. But you can still find them in charity shops, and used record stores. I could loan you some so you can discover what you like.'

'Cheers, I'd appreciate that.'

'Do you think you'd enjoy classical music, or opera?' asked Simon.

'I honestly couldn't say.'

'It might be worth taking you to the London Symphony Orchestra, to see whether you like it. There's nothing like a live performance in a first-rate concert hall.'

Harry realised there might be a problem. 'Er, I should tell you about something. I probably shouldn't attend a concert or anything in an enclosed dark space anytime soon. I've lately been experiencing accidental Light magic, which means I sometimes start glowing spontaneously.'

'Accidental Light magic?' asked Simon. 'I'm ashamed to say I've never heard of such a thing. The only Light magic I know is the Patronus Charm.'

'Yes, apparently it's not well known. But I found a book about it in the library here, and it explains perfectly what's happening to me.' Harry told Simon what he'd learnt, minus the part about increased libido.

'Fascinating. I hope you'll tell me more about it as you learn more. And I'm glad you told me—I can choose our excursions accordingly. Do you think you'd be all right at the cinema?'

'I think so, as long as the film's not too beautiful or heart-wrenching.'

Simon laughed. 'I'm sure there are plenty that'll work, but we'll leave "The Umbrellas of Cherbourg" off the list for now.'

'Oh, there's one film I'm curious to see. I can't remember the title, but it has the line "We'll always have Paris." Do you know it?'

'"Casablanca,"' he said. 'It's a classic, and it's shown at repertory cinemas regularly. It occurs to me you should also see "The Rocky Horror Picture Show," but that's usually shown late at night on weekends.'

'I can't do a late show on a Friday night, if I have a match the next day, but Saturdays would work. I might want to bring a date, though.'

'Of course, that's fine. Perhaps I would as well.'

They resolved to meet regularly on Fridays at six, which would give them time to visit a museum or see a film before Harry needed to turn in, and Simon agreed to send over a stack of books and records.

'I should warn you that next Friday is the night after the full moon, so I won't be very energetic.'

'Would you rather skip next Friday and start in a fortnight?' asked Harry. 'Or I could meet you that Sunday evening.'

'No, I always appreciate company after a full moon, and watching a film would suit my energy level.'

After dinner, Harry led Simon to the entrance hall and introduced him to Padfoot, who sniffed eagerly at the front of the canvas and wagged his tail. 'I think he recognises your werewolf scent,' observed Harry.

'Remarkable … I must say, it would be great fun to tussle with a large dog in wolf form. I'm certain it made a huge difference to your father's friend, particularly before Wolfsbane was available.'

'It did, and I think he suffered terribly after my father was gone and while Sirius was in Azkaban. Fortunately things improved towards the end of his life, in spite of the war. He married and had a son, although he died soon after.'

'He had a son?' exclaimed Simon.

'Yes, my godson, Teddy.'

'And he's not ...'

'No, he's quite normal. Except that he's a Metamorphmagus, but that comes from his mother.'

'Fascinating. There's very little information about whether werewolves can safely father children.'

'I could introduce you if you like,' said Harry. 'I've been trying to spend more time with him.'

'If his mother wouldn't mind, I'd like that very much,' replied Simon.

'Unfortunately his mother died too, but he's being raised by his grandmother, Andromeda Tonks. And I'm certain she'd be happy to meet you.'

'Ideally it would be near the full moon, when my senses are most acute. I'm curious whether he has any subtle wolf traits.'

'Depending on his mood he might look like a wolf cub,' said Harry, 'but that's from his Metamorphmagus side.'

They shook hands at the fireplace. 'It's been a pleasure to meet you, Harry, and I look forward to working together. So many wizards dismiss Muggle culture, even thought it's perfectly splendid and very much linked to our own magical culture. It'll be a privilege to share it with you.'

After Simon left, Harry went upstairs to prepare for bed. It wasn't terribly late, but he could never predict when a nightmare would interrupt his sleep, so he wanted to turn in early.

There was a tapping at the window, and although it was dark out he could tell it wasn't an owl. He opened the window and to his mild horror discovered it was a bat, with a letter attached to its leg.

He removed the letter and was relieved when the bat flew away. The envelope was black with silver writing, and Harry couldn't help laughing.

My dear Harry,

I'm pleased to report that my enquiries regarding the Light Arts have borne fruit, and that I've identified an excellent teacher here in England. Her name is Davina Hampton, and she spent decades abroad studying with various Light masters. I exchanged correspondence with her (by owl, of course—I thought you'd enjoy my little joke) and she's amenable to taking on a student should you meet her requirements.

I didn't reveal your identity, but I would be glad to host a private meeting a week from Sunday, at eight o'clock p.m. Please confirm whether you can attend, although I advise you to rearrange your schedule around her if at all possible.

Yours sincerely,
Alistair

Harry was pleased, not only that Alistair had found him a teacher, but also that he wouldn't have to talk to Dumbledore's portrait. Although he'd now told a handful of people about his accidental Light magic, it still felt very personal, and he didn't like the idea of every portrait in Hogwarts knowing about it.

He owled Alistair a brief reply, confirming the Sunday meeting and asking whether Hermione might accompany him. I suppose that means I can't visit the arena afterwards, he mused, but he suspected he might have his hands full with Lydia for the foreseeable future.

This should be interesting, he thought with anticipation, as he extinguished the light.