Not wanting a repeat of his sleep-deprived night from the week before, Harry insisted they go to bed early. Lydia protested and used some of her new skills to keep him awake, with considerable success, but at half past eleven he pointed out that the sooner she went to sleep, the sooner she'd see Rita Skeeter's article about her in the Prophet.
'You're right,' she said, curling into his arms. 'And it's lovely just lying next to you. This is how Esme and I used to sleep before she changed.'
Lydia awoke the next morning before he did, and she startled him awake by summoning Kammy into the room. 'Kammy, I want my usual breakfast, and the Prophet as soon as it arrives,' she ordered.
'Yes, Miss Lydia,' replied the elf with a curtsey. 'And what would Mr Harry Potter like for breakfast?'
He rubbed his eyes. 'You're very kind to offer, but I'll have Kreacher prepare something,' he said, not wanting to start the day with unnecessary drama. He wordlessly asked Kreacher for breakfast in bed and spent several minutes consoling him over Kammy's presence, with a promise to make it up to him later.
Lydia's meal arrived first, on a polished silver tray Kammy must have borrowed from Lydia's parents' house, and with flowers of unknown origin. Harry's arrived moments later on the usual pewter with a flower arrangement resembling Lydia's, only larger and more elaborate. They each had a copy of the Daily Prophet, which they unrolled simultaneously.
'I'm on the cover and you aren't!' she cried triumphantly, before pausing to examine the photograph. 'What do you think?' she asked, sounding less confident than before.
It was a remarkable picture, he thought. In the space of ten seconds she alternates between girlish innocence and womanly allure. 'It'll win you heaps of admirers,' he said sincerely. 'You'll have no trouble replacing me when the time comes.'
She didn't reply and was soon engrossed in the article, which was titled, 'Lydia Travers: Portrait of a Free Spirit.'
The article described Lydia's background as a pedigreed young pure-blood who'd already rejected two marriage proposals. At the time she thought she simply didn't fancy the young men, but later she realised the problem ran deeper. The article said:
'I didn't want that life,' explained Lydia. 'I dislike the Dark Arts, and I don't care to practice them. The wizarding world is so much larger than the one I grew up in, and I wanted to join it.'
To the cloistered Miss Travers, one wizard in particular embodied this forbidden world: Harry Potter. 'He does whatever he likes and wears whatever catches his eye, and it's perfect. All my life I'd been told he was thick and just Dumbledore's puppet, but now I realise he's brilliant. Brave and brilliant.'
In a plan worthy of Salazar Slytherin, Lydia masterminded her escape. 'I needed a clean break, something that couldn't be ignored or covered up. Obviously I could have found some other wizard to deflower me, but I was raised to demand the best, and clearly that was Harry.'
The article went on to describe how Harry had required her to answer questions under Veritaserum:
'I was thrilled when he suggested it, and I wouldn't have respected him otherwise. He offered to show me his questions in advance, so I could approve them, but I was ready to surrender.'
And surrender she did, just two nights later, 'I wanted him that first night, but he insisted we wait. Really, he was a complete gentleman—he never tried to get me drunk, and he insisted we go slowly. He kept asking whether it was what I wanted, and he did everything to ensure the experience was perfect.'
Our readers are undoubtedly eager to learn the details of Lydia's perfect initiation into womanhood, but she refused to reveal them. 'It was everything I could have hoped, and nobody's business but our own. It would be the height of vulgarity to talk to a reporter about it.'
Harry chuckled at Lydia's preemptive strike against Vera, whose story was likely to be published soon. The article continued:
But what of Lydia's family, and her future? 'I don't need their gold,' she said defiantly. Already in possession of a significant fortune, Lydia is free to live independently and choose a husband only for love. 'I was raised to be someone's wife, but I want to learn who I am first. I want to attend parties—and throw them—and mingle with people I'd never have met otherwise. I no longer believe what I've been taught about blood purity, and I'm keen to explore the wider world.'
Wizarding society will surely benefit from such a vibrant young hostess. Lydia's beauty alone will draw acolytes, but her refined wit and engaging personality ensure that admission to her 'salon' will be a prized invitation indeed.
'I want to bring people together, just as Harry does. I'll ward my flat against harmful curses and invite anyone who's interesting, regardless of their affiliation. Naturally I'll insist on elegant dress, either wizard or Muggle, and only the best conversation. I've already endured a lifetime of tedious conversations about ancestry and how much gold someone has—if anyone talks like that at my salon they'll be Silenced, myself included.'
Lydia plans to issue a standing invitation to Harry, even after their affair ends. 'He's simply fascinating, and everyone should meet him, people from Dark families in particular. They'll discover the same thing I did: that they've heard mostly lies about him, and that he's actually remarkably clever. And I want witches to get to know him as well—to discover what they've probably been missing.'
Although she won't miss her family's gold, Lydia expressed sadness that her bid for freedom might affect her familial relationships. 'I love my family, and it breaks my heart that we might be estranged from now on. But I'd have been ever so unhappy in my assigned role, and I only hope they'll accept me as I am. My door will always be open to them, and my heart as well.'
In her concluding statement, Rita wrote:
Lydia Travers is, above all, a passionate young woman. Is her passion a gift of nature, or was it the product of her upbringing and her milieu? In either case, what right do we or her family have to condemn her for following it? She would have been wrong—cruel even—to accept the marriage proposal of a sincere young wizard, knowing her heart compelled her elsewhere. We therefore congratulate Lydia for knowing herself so well at such a young age, and for decisively taking control of her own destiny.
Harry was impressed. 'I take it back,' he told her, after reading the article. 'You're a Slytherin through and through.'
She smiled mischievously. 'I remembered what Andromeda said about burning bridges with her family ... now they'll be the ones who look bad if they won't receive me.'
'Will you invite Esme and Charles to your salon?'
'Of course. I'll be curious to see how long it takes for them to give in, because they will. I hope you'll be there when it happens.'
He rose from bed and started getting dressed. 'What are your plans for the day?'
'I need to find a flat. I'm picturing something very specific, so it won't be easy, but I'll use the same estate agent Esme and Charles used.' She got out of bed and draped herself around him. 'When will you be home?'
'It depends on how long this afternoon's practice match lasts, or whether we even have one without Owen. And then tonight at eight I'll attend Seeker's night out, with all the other league Seekers.'
'May I come?'
'I don't think so—nobody brought a partner last time.' She scowled, and he added, 'But we can have dinner together first, and I'll be back by ten.'
She kissed him goodbye, and he Apparated to the Cannons facility. He'd decided to make a habit of arriving a half-hour early when he was known to have an overnight guest, to reassure both Tuttle and the mysterious team observers that he wasn't shirking.
'Good morning, Harry,' said Lara. 'You're looking surprisingly well rested.'
"The team is my first priority,' he replied, and then he noticed her sign indicating how many days since he'd been on the cover of the Prophet. 'One? Not zero?' he asked, disappointed.
'You weren't in the headline or the photograph,' replied Lara firmly.
'But I was all over the article.'
'That's neither here nor there. You'll just have to try to be more newsworthy—do you have anything planned this week?'
'No, just the radio broadcast and perhaps a night or two out with Lydia. She's staying at my house until she can find a flat.'
'That doesn't sound like front page material. But perhaps it's for the best—you don't want to become overexposed. People will grow tired of you.'
'I'm amazed they aren't already. Merlin knows I am,' he replied. 'I should drop in on Mrs Thwip—please make sure Tuttle knows I'm here and not shirking.'
He walked down the corridor to Mrs Thwip's office, and she greeted him with her usual stony glare. 'Good morning, Mr Potter.'
'Good morning, Mrs Thwip. I've a stack of new letters and signed photographs,' he said, handing them to her.
'I'm pleased you found the time. You may be interested to learn you have a new category of hate mail.'
'Oh dear. About Lydia, I assume?'
'Correct. Apparently you set a team one-day record for Howlers—fortunately they were destroyed by the wards. I should note that you also have a new category of fan mail.'
'Also about Lydia?' he asked.
'Correct. Would you like to see an example?'
'No, that's quite all right.' He paused and then added, 'I certainly don't expect you to approve of my behaviour, but am I at risk of being sacked, on moral grounds?'
It night have been Harry's imagination, but Mrs Thwip's expression seemed to soften momentarily. 'Not yet. From what I understand, you didn't deceive or coerce the young witch. You didn't lead her down the garden path, as it were.'
'No, I would never do that.'
'Then it's not my concern, nor should it affect my willingness to work for you. But if I ever hear something to the contrary, and you can't refute it to my satisfaction, I will tender my resignation.'
'And hopefully curse me while you're at it,' he said.
She nodded. 'That's a promise, Mr Potter.'
When he returned to the front room he was hailed by Owen. 'Oh good, you're here—I was hoping to talk to you before the trials start.'
'Those are today?' asked Harry.
'Yes. We invited a dozen Seekers to try out, and you'll meet the final two or three tomorrow afternoon. But let's find a place to talk—I want to hear more about Saturday's match.'
They walked to the benches outside and sat down. 'I can hardly describe it,' began Harry. 'Just after the match started, I felt a new kind of powerful energy. At first I thought it was accidental Light magic, but I wasn't glowing. And then I was acting almost entirely on instinct.'
'Is that why you didn't follow Wither's feints?' asked Owen.
'Yeah, I just knew the Snitch wasn't there. But Merlin, the things I said to him! Will you be at Seekers' night out tonight? I'm afraid he'll repeat some of them, and I could use an ally.'
'I hadn't planned to attend, since I'm not technically a Seeker anymore, but several of them insisted. It's at the Lost Legion, by the way—in a private room.'
'Oh, that's much nicer than last time—I could even wear robes.'
'You could,' chuckled Owen. 'Flowers even. What sort of things did you say, during the match?'
'I was unbelievably arrogant,' confessed Harry. 'Far worse than I've been in practice with you. And I wasn't even saying it on purpose—it all just flew out of my mouth automatically.'
'Interesting,' replied Owen. 'And what happened when you caught the Snitch?'
'I hadn't decided to feint, and if I had done, that's not the direction I'd have flown.'
'Interesting. I assumed you'd spotted the Snitch, but I couldn't see it. Admittedly the visibility wasn't the best, but I saw it right before you caught it.'
'And that's when I saw it as well.' He paused a moment. 'And there's more ... everything slowed down as I was feinting. I remember Janet in particular—it was like she was in slow motion.'
Owen nodded. 'Everything you're describing is consistent with a powerful state of concentration, combined with broad awareness. I assume it didn't feel like Omnioculars?'
'No, not at all. So that was just concentration and not magic?'
'The line gets blurry at a certain point, but yes. I think it was just concentration.'
'That's a relief,' admitted Harry. 'I'd hate to be accused of cheating.'
'I don't see how you could be. Do you know whether you can repeat it?'
'I have no idea. Like I said, it wasn't anything I was doing—it just happened.'
'It was probably a convergence of factors. The stadium full of fans, for example, and maybe what was happening in your personal life.'
'You mean that I was about to deflower a pure-blood princess?'
'Well, yes,' replied Owen. 'There had to be something very primal about ... conquering someone who represents the forces that tried to destroy you.'
'I can't say I like the word "conquer"—it makes me sound like a rapist or something. Believe me, it was her choice.'
'Of course, I know that. But I'm speaking metaphorically.'
'You're right, and I get it. I just wanted to make sure there wasn't any misunderstanding.' He sighed and said, 'So there's probably no way to repeat it. At least not the exact same way.'
'Probably not,' said Owen. 'But if it happened after only six matches, I'm sure it'll happen again. Have you found a Light magic teacher yet?'
'Yes, Alistair did, but I won't meet her until Sunday, and it's up to her whether she wants to teach me. Who knows—she might not approve of my private life. I don't think we can blame it all on accidental Light magic.'
'No, probably not,' said Owen, chuckling.
Harry wished him luck with the Seeker trials, and Owen returned to the building. Tuttle, however, emerged to deliver her Monday morning lecture.
'We've won our last six matches, which you should be proud of, but don't think for a minute that means we're guaranteed to win the next one. You need to work harder than ever and ignore the distractions,' she said, eyeing Harry. 'We're playing the Tornados, in Tutshill, and they're a quirky opponent. Their Chasers are inconsistent but their Beaters are fantastic. And Wainwright, their Seeker, is nearly as good a spotter as Barrowmaker was.'
'And Potter,' interjected Janet. 'I saw him up close on Saturday—that was completely mental.'
'You should have heard the fans at the Spyglass,' added Darren. 'Some of them insisted the Snitch didn't appear until about a second before Harry grabbed it.'
'Maybe so,' said Tuttle, 'but that was Saturday, and we've a new match ahead of us. So forget about it and get to work—ten laps.'
Everyone started running, and Tuttle left to attend the Seeker trials. Instead of sprinting ahead, Harry joined Darren.
'I completely forgot to visit the Spyglass on Saturday,' he admitted. 'Were the fans upset?'
'Not at all, Snitchbottom—everyone knew why you were missing and they thought it was hilarious. In fact, they made a lot of toasts in your honour.'
'About Lydia you mean?'
'Yeah. Mostly involving your cannon ... they got a bit repetitive, to be honest.'
'And how are you? Are you still seeing Romilda?'
'Sweet Merlin, yes. I'm counting the seconds until she boards the Hogwarts Express ... usually I'd have changed the wards on my flat by now, but there didn't seem any point with an obvious end date in sight.'
'Don't tell me this is your longest relationship!'
'Let me think,' replied Darren. 'I met her at your party—that was the thirty-first, right? Yes, my longest ever.'
'Impressive. By the way, I'm throwing another party on Saturday, which means you can end things where they began.'
'Are you serious? That's fantastic! Who are you inviting this time?'
'That's a good question ... Isla Preston wanted me to invite all the teams, but if I invite reserves and allow everyone to bring a guest, that's nearly twice as many people as I invited last time.'
'And you're worried it'll be too expensive?' asked Darren. 'All the portkeys?'
'I'm skipping the portkeys. I'll just get everyone's names and add them to the Floo wards for the night. But I'm concerned I won't have enough space.'
'Nonsense! By the end of your last party, everyone was either on the roof or in one of your guest rooms, which we've determined are infinite, right? And you still have the library, which is also huge.'
'Kreacher could shrink the table,' Harry mused. 'And I suppose he could block off the bookcases. Mind you, I won't have an army of house-elves this time—just Kreacher and Lydia's house-elf, Kammy.'
'Of course she has a house-elf,' sniggered Darren. 'Are you certain you won't marry her? She sounds like a good fit.'
'Yes, I'm certain. Her family tried to bribe us, but we turned them down.' He described what happened, which resulted in Darren laughing so hard that he got a cramp and had to stop running briefly.
'I want to know more about this Ministry post they had in mind for you,' he said once he'd caught his breath and was able to run again. 'Something with the Department of Magical Games and Sports, you think?'
'I don't know, our negotiations didn't get that far. Lydia's brother-in-law is the Deputy Director of the Department of Magical Equipment Control, which sounds impressive but apparently it's not much work. He has a secretary, though, and an expense account.'
'An expense account?' exclaimed Darren. 'That's a bloody scandal!'
'It's not large, according to Lydia. He mostly uses it at the newsagent's, to buy magazines and mints.'
'I see. Do you suppose you'd get a similar job?'
'I couldn't say,' replied Harry. 'I never sat my N.E.W.T.s, so my post might not be so prestigious. And my in-laws would probably still hate me, so I'm certain they'd line up something embarrassing, like Assistant Undersecretary of the Ghoul Task Force.'
'Yes, that sounds like a good match for your experience. Do ghouls ever need Disarming?'
'Good question. Do they even have arms?'
'You might never find out, now that you've rejected their offer,' observed Darren. 'I hope you won't come to regret it.'
'You mean in ten years when I'm driving the Knight Bus?'
'Is that your plan?'
'It is. Owen and I have spent hours discussing it. Merlin, I'll miss flying against him every day!'
The morning proceeded as usual, and at lunch Harry's teammates agreed with Darren that Grimmauld Place could accommodate all the Quidditch teams and their guests.
'But how will you handle the gender imbalance?' asked Suresh. 'I won't complain, certainly, but the other blokes might.'
'I've given this some thought,' began Harry, which prompted laughter. 'No, not for my own benefit—I'll have Lydia, remember? But I can ask everyone to bring either their own partner or someone of whichever gender they fancy. That should balance out the numbers pretty well.'
'Good thinking,' said Ryan. 'Is Hermione my plus one, or is she a friend of the house?'
'Friend of the house. Same with Ron.'
Ryan offered to bring his stereo, but Harry refused and instead asked for help choosing a stereo system. 'But I'd love if you could take charge of the music.'
'Done,' said Ryan. 'And will you hold court again?'
'Not if I can help it. I'd like to actually dance this time, now that I'll have a partner who's willing to be seen with me.'
'Just lay off the firewhisky,' said Gary, 'and if anyone starts asking you nosy questions, kick them out.'
That afternoon Harry flew the practice match against a trainer named Bruce, who was a particularly aggressive flyer. Nobody was surprised when Harry caught the Snitch, but he was more tired than usual after so many wild feints. 'That was brilliant,' he told Bruce. 'I loved playing against Owen, but I hope they pick a first-rate flyer this time around.'
'Believe me, that's what Tuttle wants,' said Bruce. 'And you'll get a vote as well.'
After showering, Harry returned home, and he was disappointed to find that Lydia hadn't yet returned. But he took the opportunity to talk to Kreacher, who was still upset about Kammy's presence.
'It shouldn't be for more than a week,' said Harry. 'And you'll be in charge of the party this weekend, just like last time.'
'Kreacher won't allow the Kammy to help,' he said defiantly.
'Yes you will,' insisted Harry. 'We'll have nearly twice as many guests as last time, and I won't permit you to do it all by yourself.'
'Is Master punishing Kreacher?'
'I don't know,' said Harry cautiously. 'Am I?'
'It would be a grave punishment indeed, to have to work with the Kammy all week.'
'I suppose we'll just have to see how you behave,' said Harry. 'You may need to allow Kammy to cook dinner sometimes, particularly if that's what Lydia wants. But I'll definitely have you make pizza one night, since I'm certain she's never eaten it before.'
Kreacher grudgingly assented and said, 'Master's werewolf brought Master a present this afternoon.'
'A present?' replied Harry. 'Oh, was it a pile of books and records?'
'Yes, Master. Does Master require the record player?'
'Yes, please.'
Crack! Kreacher Disapparated and returned seconds later with a record player that could only have belonged to Sirius. It was covered with stickers, and Harry had trouble believing that Walburga or even Regulus had ever been a Sex Pistols fan.
'Are there any records in the attic?' asked Harry. 'I hadn't thought so, but perhaps I missed them.'
'Yes, Master. Kreacher will fetch them.' Crack!
He returned with a wooden box, covered with more band stickers, but when Harry removed the lid his face fell. 'These records are broken.'
'Yes, Master,' said Kreacher brightly. 'Mistress broke them.'
Harry sighed. 'You can't repair them, can you? They're in bits—I doubt any wizard could fix them.'
Kreacher concentrated a moment, and Harry was impressed to see the small black shards reassemble into unbroken discs. 'Well done!' he exclaimed, and he placed one onto the turntable.
The result was unfortunate—a cacophony of pops and scratches drowned out what might originally have been good music. 'Thanks anyway,' said Harry. 'It was a good effort. You can just Vanish them, or I can.'
Kreacher Vanished them, leaving Harry with the pile of records Simon had delivered. A lot of these band names are familiar, he thought. He decided to start with a David Bowie album, which had a photograph of the singer lounging on a chaise wearing an outfit that looked like a cross between wizarding robes and a woman's dress.
Harry was in the sitting room, so he lay down on his favourite sofa and listened to the music as he relaxed. This is good, he thought. I wonder if my parents liked this kind of music.
Because the record player was magical, it automatically turned the album over when it reached the end of the first side, and further experimentation revealed that Harry could stack multiple records for uninterrupted play. Thanks, Sirius! he thought fondly.
Eventually Lydia returned home and found him there. 'What music is this?' she asked, looking at the records. 'I don't recognise any of these bands.'
'They're Muggle records. My tutor Simon sent them over—I want to learn more about popular culture.'
'Muggle records?' she exclaimed. 'I don't think I've heard any Muggle music, at least not on purpose.'
'I'm certain you'll love it—it's much better than wizarding popular music. They've a much larger talent pool than we do.'
'All right,' she said. 'I suppose what you're listening to now isn't bad. Who is this?'
'Squeeze. I vaguely remember them, from before I went to Hogwarts.'
'It's catchy,' she said. 'I like it.'
'How was your day?' he asked. 'Did you talk to the estate agent?'
'Yes, but I didn't see anything I liked. Everything was either too bland or too dreary.'
'My house is dreary,' he countered, but she shook her head.
'Your house suits you. Not because you're dreary, of course—because you have dark hair.'
'I fail to see the connection.'
'I have fair hair,' she said. 'My bedroom at home is light and cheerful, which flatters my complexion. But here I look sallow.'
'Trust me, you look lovely. But if you'll be happier somewhere with more natural light, you should wait for something better. Does the estate agent have more places to show you.'
'Yes, but they're not in London.'
'Why does it need to be in London? Location doesn't matter, as long as you're on a primary Floo path.'
'Who ever heard of a salon in Birmingham?' she countered. 'The very idea!'
'But surely there are other cities. What about that factory complex in Manchester?'
'Manchester?' she exclaimed. 'I'm a Travers!'
'You're a disgraced Travers,' he said, and she swatted him. 'But what's wrong with Manchester? I liked it there.'
'I suppose it's not bad. But people might think I couldn't do any better than that.'
'And so what if they do? You said you admire how I do what I want without worrying what people think.'
'But that's you. You haven't been disinherited—you're Lord Black.'
'Lordships are bollocks. And besides, whatever you choose would automatically become fashionable.'
She lit up. 'You're right, it would be! Oh Harry, you're brilliant.'
'No, I'm not—Hermione is. You'll meet her tomorrow night, you know.'
'Hermione Granger?'
'Yes, we seem to have got into the habit of eating dinner together before my radio broadcast.'
'And she won't mind if I'm here?'
'No, of course not,' said Harry, not at all certain whether that were true. 'And I want you to meet her—she's like a sister to me, and she's saved my life more times than I can count.'
'Will Ryan Bellamy come over as well?'
'Not normally, but we can invite him if you like.'
'Yes, I don't want her to feel like a third wheel.'
Harry started laughing. 'There's no risk of that with Hermione. And besides, I was a third wheel with her and Ron for ages.'
'So that's true? I was certain you and she had a history, or that she at least fancied you.'
'No, there's never been anything between us, and I'm sure she's never fancied me. It was always Ron, and then she and Ryan fell head over heels for each other.'
'I can certainly understand Ryan Bellamy's appeal, but why on earth did she prefer Ron Weasley to you? Was she a blood purist back then?'
Harry laughed again and said, 'Not at all. I don't know, we've just always felt like brother and sister, ever since we first became friends. You'll see when you meet her.'
Kammy prepared dinner that night, while Kreacher worked on applying more wallpaper throughout the house. Lydia had concurred with Hermione's opinions on the wallpaper, although she too liked the peacock feather pattern in the bedroom. 'Of course it's sybaritic,' she said, 'but why shouldn't it be?'
'Thank you! I think I deserve at least some aspects of the portkey brothel experience.'
The meal Kammy prepared was more fussy than Kreacher's usual fare, but Harry had to admit it was good. Lydia was appalled, however, that he didn't own the appropriate cutlery.
'How can you entertain without fish forks, or salad knives? And your pudding spoons are just tea spoons!'
'Everything valuable was stolen during the war,' he explained. 'And it doesn't matter—I have more than enough cutlery for the way I entertain, and none of my friends care.'
'Really? Your friends don't mind?'
'We fought a war together—they definitely don't mind. And my Quidditch mates don't care either. We just have a lot of fun ... you'll see.'
She pouted again when he said she couldn't accompany him to Seekers' night out, but he suspected she was only doing it for attention. And why not? he thought. He was unable to resist her pouts, and he always consoled her with a long kiss.
'I'll miss you,' she said, 'but I'll look through the books your tutor left, and listen to music. I should probably learn about Muggle culture as well, for shock value if nothing else.'
He travelled by Floo to the Lost Legion and was once again dazzled by the classical Roman architecture. The host directed him to the private room where the Seekers were gathered, and Harry entered. Roughly a half-dozen had already arrived, and he laughed when he saw that Phil Routledge was wearing his Cannons jersey.
'I was listening to the broadcast that night—to gather ammunition of course—and I split a side when they described what you were wearing,' said Phil. 'What the hell possessed you to do it?'
'I have no idea,' admitted Harry. 'I was at the Quidditch shop buying a toy broom for my godson, and a mad urge seized me. And they were out of Gilstrap's jersey, so what choice did I have?'
'You could have just worn robes like usual,' said Allie Hobbs, the Harpies Seeker. 'Flowers even.'
'You're just sore because he supported Routledge after you trounced him,' countered Isla Preston.
'Believe me, I don't need Potter's support. The Harpies are tied for first place now.'
'Yeah, because the Cannons beat Puddlemere and the Magpies,' said Preston. 'And everyone else lately ... bloody hell, Potter!'
'And sit down for heaven's sake,' exclaimed Phil. 'You're just looming over us.'
'Nobody's accused me of looming before,' said Harry, taking a seat next to Phil.
It turned out Phil wasn't the only Seeker to follow Harry's lead: Trevor Underhill had worn Carl Wainwright's jersey at a recent press conference, Selden Puttick had worn Sarah Trent's number at an autograph session, and Julian Barnwistle surprised his own fans by wearing his opponent's jersey immediately after defeating him.
'But only Routledge was willing to wear your jersey, Potter,' said Preston. 'It's bright orange, after all.'
Friendly conversation flowed, and more Seekers arrived, including Jerome Wither and Owen.
'Wither, I'm glad you're here—I wanted to apologise again for the match on Saturday.'
Underhill laughed. 'Potter, you don't need to apologise for winning.'
'Maybe he should,' suggested Phil. Imitating Harry, he said, 'Voldemort, I'm glad you're here—I wanted to apologise again for completely destroying you.'
'He's not apologising for winning,' said Wither. 'He's apologising for being the most egotistical prat ever to fly above a pitch.'
'Worse than when I played you?' asked Preston.
'Much worse,' admitted Harry. 'I have no idea what happened—it was some kind of fugue state.'
'You caught the Snitch,' said Phil. 'Say whatever you like ... all's fair.'
'That depends,' said Sheppard. 'Wither, did you want to punch Potter?'
'No, but I'm tempted to save it as a Pensieve memory so I can blackmail him after I retire.'
'You have to tell us what he said,' said one of the Seekers Harry hadn't previously met. That must be Ekantika Singh from the Wigtown Wanderers, he thought.
Wither looked at Harry, who shook his head and sighed. 'Go ahead. Might as well get it over with before Gilstrap arrives.'
'Now you've done it,' said Owen. 'He's bound to walk in any second now,' and the door opened.
'Gilstrap, have a seat,' said Hobbs. 'You've arrived just in time to hear Wither's recap of Potter's taunts on Saturday.'
'Perfect,' replied Gilstrap, sitting far from Harry and filling his glass. 'What did the Chosen One have to say?'
'I didn't claim my father had been tortured,' muttered Harry.
'All's fair above the pitch,' said Gilstrap coolly. 'And you had your revenge.'
'So did Barrowmaker,' added Underhill. 'Speaking of which, congratulations on your new coaching position. You're an inspiration to all of us.'
'You mean finding a job that doesn't involve a desk?' replied Owen.
'Exactly.' Underhill raised his glass and said, 'To Owen Barrowmaker ... the worst best Seeker in the league. Or maybe the best worst Seeker—I'm not sure.' Everyone drank and cheered.
'All right, Wither,' said Hobbs. 'Spill it.'
Wither looked at Harry again, who shrugged. Wither took a swig from his pint glass and said, 'Where do I even begin? He covered so many subjects. There was a whole prophecy theme, and everything you'd want to know about slaying a Basilisk. Did you know Potter was only twelve when he slew the Basilisk? He mentioned that more than once.'
Harry turned beet red and held his head in his palm. 'I was in a fugue state. I wasn't saying any of it consciously.'
'So this was uncensored Potter?' said Singh. 'Fantastic, continue.'
'Do you want to hear the sex stuff first?' asked Wither, and everyone assented loudly. 'Of course you do ... "So Wither, is your girlfriend in the stands? If so, which one of the banners propositioning me is she holding?"'
'That's nothing,' scoffed Wainwright. 'I use that one every week.'
'He was just getting started,' said Wither, before imitating Harry again. '"I'm certain she's thought about shagging me—every other witch in England has. And the funny part is they don't know the half of it ... all my partners have told me I'm the best they've ever had, which makes me wonder just what the other wizards are offering. Are you sure you're satisfying her? I'm guessing not."'
There were hoots, and Owen actually spit out his beer from laughing. 'I can't say Harry's gone quite that far in practice, but it's still within an order of magnitude of what I've heard. What else have you got?'
Wither said, 'Sticking with the procreation theme, he said, "I'm expected to have at least two sons, but Merlin help them—it won't be easy growing up in my shadow. The good news is I won't have trouble fathering them."'
Mortified, Harry wanted to crawl under the table, but he stayed where he was. 'I'm sorry,' he began, but Isla Preston interrupted him.
'He has a point. He's a starting Seeker, and he defeated Voldemort.'
'And a Basilisk,' interjected Barnwistle.
'When he was twelve,' said three people simultaneously.
'I'm sorry, son,' said Phil, imitating Harry again and addressing an invisible child. 'I understand you're having trouble with your Charms homework, and your crush doesn't fancy you back, but when I was your age I had to fight a Basilisk. Can't you just man up like I did?'
'Kids, stop that fighting right now!' scolded Owen. 'Don't make me put the Elder Wand back together!'
'Are you implying I'd curse my children?' asked Harry.
'No, it's just a fantastic threat. You should really use it someday.'
'So Wither, what else do you have?' asked Wainwright.
'Here's a particular favourite: "What's it like not to be me? I suppose you're a starting Seeker, so that's something at least, but you've none of the rest of it."'
'Fugue state!' protested Harry. 'How would you like it if your most appalling inner thoughts popped out of your mouth?'
'For six wins in a row, I'd take it,' said Sheppard. 'Potter, I heard the Snitch didn't even appear until a second before you caught it.'
'No comment,' replied Harry.
Everyone was silent for a moment, until Puttick blurted, 'Bloody hell, how do we compete with that?'
'He's not invincible,' said Hobbs. 'Just because you lot haven't beaten him, it doesn't mean it can't be done.'
'I was just lucky against Preston,' admitted Harry. 'But can we change the topic?'
'I thought you were your favourite topic, Potter,' said Gilstrap. 'Wither, surely you have more tidbits to share. Wasn't there anything about his Death Eater girlfriend?'
'She's not a Death Eater,' snapped Harry.
'She came up,' said Wither, 'but I reckon I've shared enough. This is turning into a bloodbath, and that wasn't my intention. I'm sorry, Potter.'
'Don't worry about it,' he replied, and the conversation moved to other subjects. Harry took another long swig of beer and was quiet for a while. What would it be like to be normal? he wondered sadly.
'Did you ever hear back from Viktor Krum?' asked Preston. 'About changing the Quidditch rules?'
'Yeah, I ran into him in Paris. He thinks it's a good idea, and so do all the other Seekers he's talked to. Admittedly he's not optimistic, but that's Krum for you.'
'So what's next?' asked Sheppard.
'He said he'd owl me a list of all the supporters once he's gathered it, and we can go from there. He suggested publishing a joint statement in various Quidditch journals and seeing whether there's wider support.'
'That sounds promising,' said Preston.
'For a pipe dream,' scoffed Gilstrap.
Harry rolled his eyes and turned to speak directly with Carl Wainwright, whom Cho Chang had expressed interest in at Harry's party. 'I know someone who wants to meet you ... are you interested?'
'Can you be more specific?' replied Wainwright.
'Yes, sorry. I saw an old friend last month, and I reckon she fancies you. Should I invite her to the match and introduce you? And before you ask: yes, she's pretty.'
'She's not one of your cast-offs, is she?'
'Only in the loosest possible sense. Back in school I had a crush on her for about a year, and we finally clicked when I was fifteen, but it crashed and burned before we got things off the ground. And no, I never shagged her—not even close.'
'That's fortunate,' interjected Phil, 'because apparently Harry's the world's greatest lover. I'm certain he'd be a hard act to follow.'
'Your pure-blood sounded satisfied,' said Preston. 'Do you care to comment on her "perfect initiation into womanhood?"'
'No, that would be the height of vulgarity,' said Owen, smirking. 'I'm sorry, Harry, but your life is too funny sometimes. It was painful not flying against you this afternoon, with all this new material.'
'In answer to your question, Potter—yes, invite her to the match. Just make sure she's not wearing Cannons orange.'
'No risk of that—she's a lifelong Tornados fan.'
Harry was quiet again after that, still brooding over the exchange with Gilstrap. He knew he should mention the party, but he was reluctant to make himself the centre of attention. Owen, however, kept looking at him questioningly and even mouthed the word party at one point. Harry just took another long sip of beer and motioned to Owen to announce it.
'Harry seems reluctant to make an announcement, so I'll make it for him,' began Owen.
'Please start it with "I, Harry James Potter,"' said Barnwistle.
'If you insist,' said Owen. 'I, Harry James Potter, wish to announce that I'm hosting a party this Saturday night for the entire Quidditch league, even though the Seekers incessantly take the piss out of me.'
'No way!' exclaimed Wither. 'Is he serious?'
'Yes,' replied Harry. 'Preston suggested it, and even though it'll be twice as many people as my last party I've decided to do it anyway.'
'Twice as many people?' asked Preston. 'Does that mean we can bring guests?'
Harry explained that everyone could bring one guest as long as they owled him their name by noon on Friday, in care of the Cannons. 'That way I can just add everyone to the Floo wards temporarily instead of mucking about with portkeys. And if you don't bring a partner, bring someone of the gender you fancy, to balance out the numbers.'
The reaction was colossal, and Routledge said, 'Nobody should miss this party. Cancel your previous engagements—the last party was truly epic. Harry, will there be music again?'
'Yes, but only two house-elves, so you'll need to fetch your own drinks. And for the love of Merlin, don't bring any gifts.'
'Am I invited?' asked Gilstrap.
'You're in the Quidditch league, aren't you?' said Harry dryly. 'Yes, you're invited. I'm not that petty.'
'I'm glad to hear it. Will Miss Travers be present as well?'
'Yes, although I don't think you're her type.'
'No, I don't require my dates to take Veritaserum,' said Gilstrap.
'That seems wise,' retorted Harry. 'You wouldn't want to find out what they really think of you.'
'Harry,' admonished Owen, 'you're not above the pitch.'
Harry was glaring at Gilstrap. 'Owen's right. Would you care to go flying sometime?'
'That's enough,' said Owen. 'Maybe it's time to check on your houseguest.'
'Good idea,' said Harry, rising from his chair and leaving a few coins to cover his share of the beer. 'I'll send a group invitation to all your teams tomorrow. Sorry to be a moody bastard, but I promise Saturday will be fun. See you then.'
Owen followed him out. 'Are you all right?' he asked.
'Bloody Gilstrap,' grumbled Harry. 'I thought I could handle him, but he pushes my buttons somehow. And it was mortifying hearing what I'd said to Wither.'
'I suppose it's a bit late to suggest you expand into awareness.'
'Oh right. That would have been clever—maybe next time.'
'Go home, Snitchbottom. Shag your pure-blood and get some sleep.'
'Yes, sir. What do I call you anyway, now that you're my coach?'
'Sir is good. Let's try that.'
'Whatever you say, gramps. See you tomorrow.'
Harry travelled home by Floo and emerged in the formal reception hall, not knowing where he'd find Lydia. But there was music playing in the next room, and his bad mood vanished when he saw her.
She was dancing wildly to a song he actually remembered—'Like a Prayer' by Madonna—and Padfoot was leaping in time with the music. 'You're home!' she cried gleefully, and she immediately pulled him into a kiss. 'You have to dance with me, right now!'
'Oh god yes,' he said, wrapping himself around her.
'Not like that,' she insisted. 'We have to dance like Muggles, all over the place.'
'Trust me, Muggles dance this way too,' he replied, putting one leg between hers.
'Oh!' she exclaimed. 'Surely not in public.'
'Yes, at nightclubs. And at my last party, but Helena kept hiding from me until the end.' He pulled her close and added, 'You won't hide from me, right?'
'No, I already told you I wouldn't. We can dance all night if you like.'
'Not all night, but yes, I would love that,' he said. 'Oh, Lydia ... you're brilliant. I can't tell you how glad I am you're here.'
'Are you drunk?' she asked, laughing.
'No, I just had two pints, which I admit is a lot for me. But Seekers' night out was a bit dreadful, and I'm awfully glad to be home. I missed you.'
'I missed you too,' she said. 'But I love this record! You were right—Muggle music is much better than wizarding music. I can't believe the lyrics, though!'
Harry laughed and told her what he remembered about Madonna. 'You should see pictures of her. Or music videos, although I have no idea how we'd watch them. I saw a few growing up, and they were ... memorable.'
Lydia was simultaneously horrified and fascinated. 'Did her family cast her out? Is that why she has to dance in her undergarments, to make up for her lost inheritance?'
Harry did his best to explain how much money Muggle pop stars earned, translating the amounts into Galleons, and Lydia's jaw dropped. 'That's even more lucrative than piracy!' she exclaimed. 'But we should dance, and then go upstairs. Or bring the record player to your bedroom and listen in there. Or both ... let's do both!'
He obliged Lydia by dancing with her for a while, which he realised was exactly what he needed after his tense evening. And upstairs she introduced him to another album she'd discovered. 'I think he's also American,' she said, 'and the lyrics are even more shocking than Madonna's, but it's brilliant. His name's Prince and the album's called "Purple Rain."'
They listened to it twice in a row. I can't think of a more enjoyable way to learn about Muggle culture, he thought during a brief moment of distraction. And afterwards he curled around her as she fell asleep, and fortunately his bright glow didn't disturb her.
