'Are you fucking kidding me?' exclaimed Tuttle. 'Potter teleported?'
'Only a couple of feet, but yeah,' said Owen, handing his Omnioculars to her. 'It's easiest to see in slow motion.'
Tuttle watched the recording several times, shaking her head in disbelief. 'Potter, did you feel anything?'
'Er, it's hard to say,' he said, his glow dimming. 'The Snitch was so erratic, and we kept turning. It was all happening so fast.'
'Your turns looked good,' said Bruce, who was still looking through his own Omnioculars. 'Not jumpy at all.'
'I felt the kick,' said Harry, 'but it just flowed through me—I didn't resist it.'
'What do you mean by the "kick?"' asked Ryan.
'I used to hate the Firebolt Ultra because it was so jumpy. The acceleration was fast, but there was no fluidity. The tweaks Bruce taught me smoothed it out, for the most part, but I still felt them sometimes, so I set an intention not to resist when it happened.'
Ryan looked puzzled. 'What about the Light magic? Did that happen on its own, or was it deliberate?'
'I had an instinct to increase it, just before I caught the Snitch. Is that when I teleported?'
'Yes,' said Owen. 'Gemma was inches from catching it, but you outstripped her at the last second.'
'Bruce, do you know anything about the charms they're using at Firebolt? Specifically to add that kick?' asked Ryan.
Bruce shook his head. 'No, it's a trade secret, and only Randolph Spudmore himself can share it. It's protected with something similar to a Fidelius Charm, which means his workers are magically prevented from leaking it.'
'Do you think it involves Light magic?' asked Ryan.
'I hadn't even heard of Light magic until a couple of weeks ago,' admitted Bruce. 'You'd have to ask Spudmore.'
'Where does that leave us?' asked Harry, who was back to normal.
'I have no fucking idea,' replied Tuttle. 'Bruce, do you reckon it's a rules violation?'
'I'll consult the rule books, but I wouldn't risk it. The Firebolt Ultra could be banned, and Harry could be punished for knowingly using an illegally charmed broomstick.'
'So I should switch back to the Silver Arrow?'
Tuttle nodded. 'Yeah, for now. And tomorrow see if you can make it happen again, just in case it doesn't have anything to do with the Firebolt.'
'All right,' said Harry uncertainly. 'I can ask my Light Arts teacher as well—I'm seeing her tonight.'
Tuttle gave her notes for the match, and the trainers led the players through their stretches. Harry was in a fog the entire time, his body responding mechanically to the trainers' instructions.
Janet approached him as they walked back to the building. 'How long has it been since your last wand-polishing? Not since Thursday, right?'
'That's right. Are you suggesting that had an effect?'
'No, I'm just grasping at straws. Furthermore, Ron was convinced you went straight to Penumbra after dinner last night, and I wanted to prove him wrong.'
'I'm not sure if I'll ever go back to Penumbra, other than to see Alistair.'
'What? Why not?'
'It's a bit tawdry, don't you think?'
'Of course it's tawdry! What's your point?'
'I think I'd rather get to know a girl first, to see if we have anything in common.'
'So it's no longer enough to have interlocking parts?'
'No, I've discovered I like conversation as well, at least during breaks and afterwards,' said Harry. 'I'll probably fall in love with her regardless, so I might as well start with someone I like.'
After showering, Harry went home to Grimmauld Place and wrote a series of letters. The first was to Alex, asking her to dinner. The second was to Blaise Zabini, asking to learn more about the business he was planning to start, since Harry had decided to identify investment opportunities less dubious than the condom scheme.
He used his old stationery for the third letter, suspecting that Draco wouldn't appreciate seeing the Prongs watermark. And he'll enjoy sneering at how common it is, thought Harry with amusement. Without providing details, he said there was a complication regarding his early release, and that they needed to discuss it in person.
After eating a dinner prepared by Kreacher, who enthusiastically described just how horrible the Red Lady had been, Harry went to the reception hall to await Hermione and Davina. Hermione was first to arrive, and she immediately asked about Harry's meeting with Draco.
'It went remarkably well, believe it or not. Although Malfoy had his house-elf recreate the Veil in his study, and I had a full-blown panic attack.'
'He did what?!' cried Hermione, aghast. 'And you call that a good outcome?'
'Oddly, yes. Until that happened, Draco seemed to think the war hadn't affected me at all, and that only he was traumatised. He was a lot less hostile after seeing me fall apart.'
'He's lucky you didn't curse him!' exclaimed Hermione, still furious.
'He gave me a Calming Draught afterwards, which I desperately needed, so I wasn't particularly upset even though I should have been. I don't get the sense he did it to prove I was weak, but rather to confirm he wasn't alone.' After a pause, Harry added, 'He has nightmares too.'
'He deserves nightmares, for deliberately putting you through that! And then what happened?'
'Er, I gave him back his wand and agreed to try to reduce his sentence.'
Harry was relieved that Davina arrived before Hermione could fully respond. 'Welcome, and please come in,' he said.
'Thank you, it's good to see you both,' she replied, brushing the ashes from her clothes.
'How was your trip to the Continent?' asked Hermione.
'I'll tell you all about it, but let's sit down, shall we?'
Harry led them up to the library, and Davina perused the bookshelves with interest. 'This is a perfectly ghastly collection you have,' she said admiringly. 'Have you decided what to do with it?'
'I'd love to wipe it out of existence,' replied Harry, 'but I'm sure it could be useful for fighting Dark wizards.'
'Yes, that's the dilemma, isn't it? One hates to destroy scholarship of any kind, but so much of this is simply a blight upon humanity. And perhaps it could be useful somehow, although I'd hate the task of reading it.'
They sat at the table and Davina asked how they'd been. 'I practised what Harry taught me about meditation, but I can't say I got very far with it,' said Hermione. 'It was frustrating, actually. I had considered myself good at concentrating on a task, but when I tried resting my attention on the breath sensations, I was terribly distracted.'
'That's normal,' said Davina. 'The reason you're able to concentrate on tasks is because you find them interesting, so they naturally draw your attention. Which, if you think about it, says more about your curiosity and your determination than it does about your ability to maintain stable attention. But there's nothing particularly interesting about the breath, so now you're trying to train your attention to stay still without being drawn to a more interesting object.' Hermione sighed heavily, and Davina added, 'But you mustn't berate yourself. It's simply a matter of practice, and you've already begun.'
'But Harry says he gets distracted as well, yet he's a master Occlumens.'
'There's more than one way to master Occlumency, as he's proven, but that doesn't mean he shouldn't learn to stabilise his attention. Harry, how was your week?'
'Eventful, and a bit of a mixed bag,' he replied. 'In fact, I hardly know where to begin.'
'Are you still glowing?' asked Davina.
'I thought I was starting to get a handle on it, but today in particular it kept getting away from me. It used to happen gradually, which meant I could stop it, but now it hits me like a flood.' He described what had happened at lunch, when Janet threw water on him, and after he'd caught the Snitch.
Davina nodded and said, 'Yes, that's classic early Light magic, although not everyone experiences it that way, as you've seen. I assume you'd still like to go public?'
'Yes, and soon. I suspect I'll glow during Saturday's match against the Holyhead Harpies—my hands at the very least. With your leave, I'd like to owl Rita Skeeter straight away and have her publish on Sunday.'
'That's fine. I spoke with various people in the Light Arts community, and they agree the time is ripe for a resurgence.'
'What do you mean, the time is ripe?' asked Hermione.
'It's a complicated question, and it relates to how change occurs at the societal level. Sometimes change happens from the top down, but more often it arises from the grass roots, often from seemingly separate clusters of individuals who, in retrospect, were working in parallel. And even when change appears to come from the top, it nevertheless arose from below.'
Hermione was nodding but Harry was lost. 'I'm not sure I follow,' he said.
'Take Voldemort. On the surface, he was a powerfully charismatic wizard, and the two wars could never have happened without him. But he didn't arise in a vacuum—he was supported by numerous individuals who shared his beliefs, and without them he could never have gained power. And I'm not even talking about the inner-circle Death Eaters—I'm talking about hundreds or even thousands of wizards in Britain and beyond who were increasingly fixated on blood purity. Without them, a lone madman like Voldemort could never have seized power. In fact, he mightn't have existed in the first place.'
Harry was frowning. 'So Voldemort was influenced by those attitudes?'
'No, he was the manifestation of them,' said Davina. 'Without a critical mass of individuals holding those attitudes, Voldemort never would have formed that way. To say that Voldemort could have formed in a vacuum is like saying a pustule could form without skin.'
'That's a truly vile metaphor,' said Harry. 'But what does that have to do with the Light Arts making a comeback?'
'The attitudes that foster Light magic are collectively on the rise, supporting the emergence of high-profile, charismatic individuals who would promote or embody the Light Arts.'
Smirking, Hermione asked, 'Are you calling Harry a pustule?'
'Yes, and you as well. And according to my colleagues abroad, several other prominent witches and wizards are experiencing Light magic. Which has an amplifying effect, because you'll spark widespread interest in the Light Arts, thereby strengthening the underlying causes.'
'That's good, right?' said Harry.
'Yes, but in turn that causes another backlash, because not every individual is similarly inclined, and they'll feel threatened when Light magic becomes dominant.'
Harry's face fell. 'So we're just doomed to swing back and forth? Light magic will be popular for a while, and then we'll have another Voldemort?'
'I didn't say that,' replied Davina. 'You're forgetting we're all connected, and that we as individuals can influence the whole. In fact there's ultimately no difference.'
'Now you've lost me,' said Hermione. 'How can we as individuals prevent the pendulum from swinging all the way back?'
'Don't take this the wrong way,' said Davina gently, 'but Light wizards aren't all good, and Dark wizards aren't all evil. We're all a mix, and every one of us has parts that are just as warped and malignant as Voldemort. They're deeply buried perhaps, but they exist. And it's our job to find those parts of ourselves and integrate them. Heal them, even.'
Harry suddenly recalled what he'd seen in his vision of King's Cross Station. 'I saw it once. Voldemort's soul ... it was horrid. It was like a baby, only completely pitiful and revolting. I couldn't go near it.'
This time Davina was lost. 'How do you know it was Voldemort's soul?' she asked.
'Dumbledore said it was,' he replied, but Davina still looked sceptical.
Hermione looked at Harry pointedly and said, 'I think you have to tell her.'
'You're right. Davina, this is all completely classified. Can I trust you not to repeat it?'
She agreed, and Harry told her about Horcruxes, which she had never heard of. 'I'm familiar with soul magic,' she said, 'but only practices for healing souls, not breaking them.'
'There are practices for healing souls?' asked Hermione, fascinated.
'Yes, and thank goodness, because otherwise we'd be hindered by our previous mistakes and their effect on the soul. But it sounds like creating a Horcrux is the opposite—the practitioner deliberately breaks his soul by committing murder, and then performs a ritual to encase the soul shard where it can't be reabsorbed.' She shook her head in disgust and said, 'It's pure madness! You'd be better off gouging out your eyeballs and severing your wand hand. I gather Voldemort created a Horcrux?'
'Yes, when he was sixteen,' replied Harry. 'But that was only the first. Knowing that seven was a magically-powerful number, he deliberately made a total of six Horcruxes, dividing his soul into seven.'
Davina was aghast. 'He shattered his soul, deliberately?'
'Yes, because he was afraid to die,' said Hermione.
'I'd be afraid to die too, if I only had a splinter of a soul remaining,' exclaimed Davina. 'Harry, is that what you saw somehow?'
'Yes, but that's not the worst part. When Voldemort killed my parents and tried to kill me, he'd already made five Horcruxes, and his soul was so unstable that a piece broke off and latched onto mine. Right here,' he said, indicating his scar.
Davina's jaw dropped. 'You were a Horcrux? Since you were a baby?'
Harry nodded. 'Yes, until the day the war ended, when he struck me with a second Killing Curse. I learnt I was a Horcrux only an hour earlier, so I sacrificed my life to destroy the final piece. We'd been methodically finding and destroying Horcruxes for more than a year already. That's why we broke into Gringotts—to find one of them.'
'But how did you emerge whole?' asked Davina. 'Not only were your parents murdered, but you were raised without love. It was already a miracle you came out all right, but with a carbuncle on your soul?'
'Harry has a tremendously good heart,' began Hermione, but Harry interrupted her.
'My mother's protection, I suspect. When my mum sacrificed her life, it stayed in my blood as protection. That's why Dumbledore forced me to live with my aunt, to strengthen it.'
Davina scowled. 'He really should have consulted an expert! There were other ways to sustain the protection besides leaving you with your aunt.'
Harry sighed heavily and closed his eyes. 'So it wasn't necessary after all. I could have been adopted and raised by people who loved me.'
'Oh, Harry,' said Davina. 'That was insensitive of me—I apologise. I can't claim to fully understand them, but there are forces greater than Dumbledore that caused you to be stuck with your aunt and uncle. Dumbledore was the instrument, not the cause.'
'What kind of forces?' asked Harry in dismay. 'And what else do they have planned for me?'
'It's not like that—they aren't personal. Again, it has to do with how we're all interconnected, and our collective evolution. I know it's no consolation, but you said last week you'd experienced moments of complete acceptance, and a sense that everything was perfect.'
'Yes,' replied Harry. 'I can't say it's my natural state of mind, but the mere fact that it all happened as it did ... that makes it perfect somehow. Not necessarily pleasant, but perfect.'
'Exactly, well put. I'd challenge you to remember that, whenever you're angry at Dumbledore or anyone else who played a role in crafting some aspect of your reality.'
Harry felt sheepish, recalling how upset he'd been with Arthur Weasley the previous night. 'So I'm to forgive everyone who could have helped me, but didn't? Or, by extension, I'm to forgive the Dursleys for mistreating me in the first place?'
Before Davina could answer, Hermione said, 'But not everyone deserves forgiveness! And furthermore, that's implying we aren't responsible for our own bad behaviour, if it was all fundamentally perfect.'
'That's not what I said,' replied Davina. 'And there's a difference between remorse and blame.'
Hermione's eyes widened in understanding. 'So when it comes to our own bad behaviour, we should have appropriate remorse, but when it spills over into unproductive self-blame, we're better off recognising the deeper roots of that behaviour and its fundamental perfection?'
'Yes. But it's a knife's edge, because we tend to over-punish ourselves for certain things but then absolve ourselves of actions that demand genuine remorse.'
'Then how do we know?' asked Hermione with alarm. 'How do we not fool ourselves?'
'We ask for help. This is why it's essential to have peers—people who know us and can point our our blind spots. I don't know either of you well enough to serve that way, but I'm confident you can do it for each other.'
'Hermione will be glad to hold me accountable,' joked Harry. 'She's very well-organised and can manage vast quantities of data, which may be necessary in my case.'
'Yes, I reckon it will be,' said Hermione dryly, and Harry knew she was referring to how he'd cheated on Lydia.
'But we've strayed from our original topic,' said Davina, 'which was the bit of Voldemort's soul you saw. Where did you see it?'
'It was after the second Killing Curse, when I sacrificed my life so he'd destroy the Horcrux,' explained Harry. 'I didn't actually die, because Voldemort had taken my blood years earlier in the ritual to regain his body. He'd unwittingly kept my mother's sacrifice alive, which is how I survived.'
Davina shook her head in astonishment. 'Unbelievable. And in your vision you saw Dumbledore, and he identified the ... thing as Voldemort's soul?'
'Yes. Afterwards I urged Voldemort to generate feelings of remorse, but he wasn't interested.'
'No, not with a splinter of a soul. He wouldn't understand the concept.'
'Excuse me, Davina?' said Hermione. 'The whole reason Harry told you about Horcruxes was because you said we all have parts of ourselves that are as broken and repellent as the soul fragment Harry saw. How do we repair them?'
'Patience. And love, and honesty. And acceptance. Even Voldemort was acting from a place of suffering. That doesn't mean we excuse what he did, but we recognise the simple need that was driving him, and then generate compassion for that broken being.'
'His fear of death,' said Harry. 'He never forgave his mother for dying and leaving him in an orphanage.'
'Harry understood Voldemort better than anyone,' said Hermione. 'He experienced some of Voldemort's thoughts and actions first-hand.'
Davina paled. 'First-hand?'
'Yes,' replied Harry. 'He enjoyed torturing people—he found it intensely satisfying.'
'And how was it for you?' asked Davina.
'Ghastly. Nightmarish. And intensely satisfying. But it couldn't hold a candle to Light magic ... not even close.'
To Harry's surprise, Davina chuckled. 'That settles it then.'
'Settles what?' asked Hermione.
'For centuries there's been a debate between Light and Dark wizards about which practice was more pleasurable. Numerous practitioners have said that the Light Arts are far more satisfying, but Dark Arts proponents claim their opinion is invalid, because they only dabbled in Dark magic without ever mastering it.'
'But Harry experienced Voldemort's pleasure first-hand!' said Hermione excitedly. 'And no one could accuse Voldemort of not mastering the Dark Arts.'
'Exactly. So you've settled the argument once and for all. Although your experience is classified, which means no one will actually hear about it.'
'No, the last thing we want is to tell a bunch of Dark wizards about Horcruxes,' said Harry.
'It's a shame, though,' said Hermione. 'Not that we can't tell them about Horcruxes, but that they'll never believe Dark magic is inferior. It would be marvellous to lure them away from that path.'
'It is even possible?' asked Harry. 'I personally performed Dark magic twice—successfully, at least—and I feel lucky I wasn't irretrievably corrupted by it.'
'That was fortunate,' said Davina. 'I should point out that theoretically no one is beyond salvation, as long as they don't lock the pieces of their soul into separate prisons as Voldemort did. But the more someone practices Dark magic, the less capable they'll be of generating the necessary remorse.'
'Er, I have a question about that,' began Harry, realising this was a good time to ask about the incident with Draco's wand. He described how he'd asked the wand only to sow peace, and what had happened with Draco's Dark Mark.
'Good heavens!' exclaimed Davina. 'That could have gone wrong any number of ways!' After a silence, she said, 'I believe Jacobus Filch wrote about several Dark wizards who survived contact with a glowing Light wizard.'
'Yes,' said Hermione. 'They were no longer able to perform Dark magic afterwards, or much magic at all. But apparently they were much happier.'
'That's right. Harry, did you see Draco perform magic afterwards?'
'Yes, he cast a series of spells to test his wand—mostly charms and Transfiguration. The wand seemed to work perfectly for him.'
'Fascinating. Perhaps his magic survived because he only allowed a trickle into the wand as he held it,' mused Davina. 'Yes, that makes sense. You said his wand generated sparks, right?'
'Yes, just like when my wand first chose me, on my eleventh birthday.'
'That's literally the most simple, benign magic you can perform,' remarked Davina. 'But it was enough to serve as a conduit for the Light magic you'd loaded into the wand, which was drawn to his Dark Mark and literally wiped it away. With minimal collateral damage, apparently. Remarkable!'
'Do you reckon it wiped away all of his harmful intentions?' asked Harry, hoping it meant Draco could be trusted not to commit a crime during his early release period.
'I don't know. Did he seem changed?'
'Not really. He still insulted me, same as before I gave him the wand.'
'Then I suspect only his Mark was affected, and the specific harmful intentions that were bound up in its creation. Think of it as a lightning conductor on top of a house. The metal rod on top attracts the lightning, and then the electrical current is drawn through a wire harmlessly to the earth, instead of starting a fire or electrocuting someone.'
'So Draco's Dark Mark absorbed Harry's Light magic and was destroyed in the process?' prompted Hermione.
'Yes, and it prevented the rest of him from being harmed.'
'Am I at risk of harming anyone else with my Light magic?' asked Harry, concerned.
'Do you expect to transfer more wands?' asked Davina. Harry shook his head, and she said, 'Then don't worry. Unless someone is actively using Dark magic against you or someone near you, there's no risk. But I don't recommend trying to heal anyone else's Dark Mark, because it could go terribly wrong.'
Harry had more questions, but they still hadn't begun the lesson and he didn't want to waste time. Davina seemed to concur, and she taught each of them methods for training their Light magic. She showed Hermione several simple-looking charms, but with a specific instruction: 'I want you to cast them left-handed.'
Hermione switched her wand to her left hand, and she attempted the first charm. Nothing happened. 'Harry, can you do it?' she asked.
'I didn't ask Harry, I asked you,' said Davina. 'Try again.'
Hermione tried all three charms multiple times, with no success, and she looked near tears. 'Hermione, are you all right?' asked Harry. 'Davina, I don't think I've ever seen Hermione struggle this long with a charm.'
'I'm delighted to hear it,' replied Davina.
'Why?' asked Hermione. 'Surely this isn't a good sign.'
'Actually it is. We're trying to link your prior awakening experience to your magic, and we've identified the block. If you'd been able to cast the charms left-handed, we'd have to keep troubleshooting.'
'But I'm not getting anywhere,' grumbled Hermione.
'You've been practising for five minutes!' said Harry. 'Do you remember how long it took me to learn Summoning Charms?'
'Yes, but that was you!'
Harry burst out laughing, and Davina chuckled as well. 'I think we've identified a mental obstacle,' she said. 'You're strong magically, aren't you.'
'Perhaps,' mumbled Hermione, but Harry said, 'Yes, she's extremely powerful. We found that illegal potion for determining magical strength in the Black family Grimoire, and Hermione's flame nearly burnt a hole in the ceiling.'
'Harry's lying,' said Hermione. 'For one thing, he had nothing to do with the potion—I'm the one who was stupid enough to brew it. And furthermore, my flame didn't reach anywhere near the ceiling.'
'I was speaking figuratively, but it was very tall and bright,' he told Davina. 'And mine was only a bit above average.'
'All of this is good news,' said Davina reassuringly. 'Hermione, because your magic is so strong, you never needed to develop alternative pathways. Harry probably developed his without even realising it, back in school.'
'Even though I've never cast left-handed?' asked Harry.
'Correct. Now you should give it a try.'
Harry attempted the first of the charms using his left hand and was immediately successful. But Hermione looked even more disappointed. 'How do I even learn it? Normally when I'm learning a new charm, at least something happens on the first try. But I'm getting nothing at all, so I haven't anything to work with.'
'I apologise in advance for the maddening instruction, but you need to try less,' said Davina. 'You're accustomed to performing magic straight from a strongly-identified sense of "Hermione." But you need to relax that sense, and allow the charm to happen under its own power. These are simple charms, so you don't need all that strength to perform them. Just let them happen.'
Hermione closed her eyes a moment before trying again. She cast the first charm, and Harry saw a pinprick of light appear on the tip of her wand. 'Did you see that?' he exclaimed.
She hadn't, and so she cast the charm again and was careful to observe. 'You're right, there it is!'
'Well done,' said Davina. 'I think it's clear what you should practise this week. And now your turn, Harry. I want you to practise not glowing.'
'Er, that's what I've been trying. It doesn't entirely work.'
'No, right now. I want you to exaggerate whatever it is you do to clamp down on your Light magic, and then tell me where you feel it.'
Harry took a deep breath and imagined Light magic was about to arise, and then he immediately contracted the base of this throat to prevent it from growing. 'Right here,' he said, pointing.
'All right. Contract it harder.' It was uncomfortable, but he increased the pressure. 'Clamp down hard, as if you were trying to crush a rock in your fist, and then release it completely.'
He followed her instruction, and as soon as he let go he felt energy surge through his chest cavity. 'Why am I not glowing?' he asked.
'Because uncontrolled glowing comes from resistance, and you just released a tiny bit of resistance. The base of the throat is a major choke point for Light energy, so I'm not surprised you started there. But your job going forward is to identify the other areas of resistance, and to exaggerate and then release them.'
'How soon do you reckon until I stop glowing unintentionally?' he asked.
'That's anyone's guess. It might be a while, I'm afraid. Or not. But this practice will take you in the right direction.'
Hermione was still practising her charms, so Harry asked Davina about what happened with the Firebolt Ultra. 'Do you know whether Light magic would interfere with broomstick acceleration charms?'
'I have no idea. As you'll discover, Light magic is highly individual, and it requires a good deal of experimentation. You've already identified the next step, which is to try to replicate what happened using your old broomstick. And then once you've gone public with Light magic, you can try again with the new broomstick, and perhaps talk to the manufacturer.'
'Yes, thank you. And speaking of going public, are you still willing to talk to Rita Skeeter? If so, I'll give her your address.'
'If she agrees to represent Light magic accurately, I'd be glad to.'
'That's the idea,' replied Harry.
Davina rose from her chair and said, 'I think we've covered enough for one lesson. I'm certain we'll have a lot to discuss a week from tonight.'
'Undoubtedly,' said Harry, and he and Hermione led Davina to the fireplace.
After she left, Harry asked Hermione to stay, which didn't seem to surprise her. 'What do you want to talk about?' she asked as they walked to the sitting room.
'You can probably guess.'
'Yes, Ryan told me what happened with Lydia.'
'I know. But you don't know the whole story.'
'Like why you cheated on her? At least you aren't blaming the Light magic. Or are you?'
Harry sat down and said, 'No, I take full responsibility. Honestly, I'd prefer not to tell you what happened, but you'd figure it out eventually and I'd rather you hear it from me.'
Hermione settled into her usual armchair. 'All right. What happened?'
He took a deep breath and asked, 'Have you ever heard of a private wizarding club called Pratt's?'
She sniggered. 'Are you serious?' Harry nodded and she said, 'No.'
'I was invited to join last week. It's an exclusive, all-male club, for Hogwarts wizards only.'
'All-male? It's a portkey brothel!' she cried angrily. 'Shame on you!'
'It's not only a portkey brothel, but yes, you've jumped to the right conclusion.'
'How could you! No wonder Lydia won't see you anymore!'
'I know, it was unforgivable, and I'm not trying to excuse myself. But there's more to the story, and that's what I'd like to tell you.'
Hermione relaxed slightly but her scowl remained. 'I'm listening.'
He used his wand to open a drawer and summon the Pratt's invitation, which he hovered to Hermione. 'First, read the invitation.'
She read it and said, 'Is that true, about Dark and Light wizards mingling freely?'
'Yes. My grandfather wasn't a member, but other Potters were, and so were a lot of the Blacks. Furthermore, when I went there I was warmly greeted by Marcus Flint's father, who was one of the lords who voted against me, and I had a long and mostly civil conversation with Lydia's brother-in-law Charles.'
'Mostly civil?'
'He came close to calling my mother a Mudblood, but he stopped himself and apologised.'
Hermione rolled her eyes. 'How diplomatic! Were prostitutes there the whole time, or did they wander in and out?'
'No, our conversation was in England, at the Pratt's lounge. The brothel is down a corridor, in France.'
'Right, ley lines,' she said. 'I'll admit that's fascinating, but I'm sure I'll hear about it later.'
'You will,' he said sadly. 'When I showed Lydia the invitation, she told me that Pratt's membership is highly coveted, and that it's essential for anyone who wants to influence politics. But she also said I'd hate it. Her words were something like, "It's for rich and powerful wizards who want to become richer and more powerful."'
'Then why did you even visit?' asked Hermione. 'Oh right, the brothel.'
'No, I honestly had no intention of going,' said Harry. 'I mean really, why would I pay for sex when I had Lydia waiting for me?'
'I don't know. You tell me.'
Harry sighed. 'Lydia insisted I visit, so I could report back to her—the club and the brothel. But we had a clear understanding I wouldn't participate.'
'And yet you did,' scolded Hermione. 'How much did it cost?'
'It was free of charge. Blaise told me the women are permitted to waive the fee, as long as they're earning enough.'
'Blaise Zabini?' exclaimed Hermione. 'Why am I even surprised?'
'Yes, he's a member, or rather his current stepfather is. Before talking to Blaise, I thought I'd be able to visit the brothel but not go upstairs, which is what Lydia wanted. But Blaise said I'd have to be superhuman to resist, and he was right. I should never have gone.'
Hermione's expression changed. 'What do you mean, you'd have to be superhuman to resist?'
Harry closed his eyes for a moment. 'It was completely overwhelming. It smelled like a Love Potion, although there wasn't one. And the women were all so beautiful. Perhaps I can blame the Light magic, at least within that setting, but I should have known better than to go there after Blaise's warning.'
'That's true,' said Hermione. 'But Lydia insisted you go there, and naturally you were curious—I know I would have been. And really, didn't she know what those places are like?'
'Hang on, are you defending me?'
Hermione paused in surprise. 'I suppose I am. But what about the women? How do you know they weren't being coerced?'
'I asked Blaise about that, and he said they're examined regularly. Furthermore, the prices are astronomical, which means they can retire with a fortune after just a few years.'
'And they're in France,' observed Hermione, 'so they mightn't be scorned the way an English witch would be. Yes, I can see why a French witch would choose that career.'
'They certainly earn their Galleons, or Bezants, rather. Blaise said Crabbe and Goyle went there.'
Hermione shuddered. 'Mercy, what a thought!' She looked at Harry and asked, 'How did Lydia find out?'
'I turned up at her flat more than an hour late, with my robes buttoned wrong. But I would have told her regardless.'
Laughing, she said, 'Harry, you need to decide whether you're a scoundrel or not. I can't say I approve of cheating, particularly with prostitutes, but if you're going to make a habit of it you should be more careful.'
'No, I've resolved never to return. Brothels aren't for me.'
'Wasn't she any good at it then?' smirked Hermione.
'Believe me, that wasn't the problem. No, I won't return because I don't think it's good for me. The proprietor hinted I'd have free access, and I don't need that kind of temptation. It's better if I never walk down that corridor again.'
'How did that even work? You just walked down a corridor and you were in France?'
'More or less. There was a tugging sensation, similar to a portkey, but no spinning or flying. I don't recommend running, however.'
She sniggered again. 'I assume that was afterwards. But what about Pratt's? Are you going to become a member?'
'I wasn't going to, but George and Percy talked me into it.'
'Percy I can believe, but George?'
'They said it's the best way to advance the Light agenda. Percy was surprisingly candid and said that wizards like him represent the Light extreme at Pratt's, and that if I were to join I'd redefine the centre. He also said that if I turn down membership now, they'll never offer it again because of my Light magic. Not that they're specifically opposed to Light magic, but because it means they won't be able to control me, which is what they're currently hoping.'
'And who is "they?"'
'The Pratt's membership committee, I suppose. Which is basically the ruling elite, according to both Percy and Lydia.'
'And George thought you should join?'
'Yes, for the same reason Percy gave—that I'd be able to influence the Wizengamot.'
Hermione's eyebrows shot up. 'Goblin rights!'
'Yes. And equality in general. Which reminds me, Pratt's is warded.'
'Damn him!' cried Hermione. 'We really need to burn Phineas Nigellus's portrait.'
'We can't—he's sentient. But maybe I should hang it in a loo somewhere, or facing the rubbish bins.'
Hermione was quiet for a minute. 'Harry, I think this is a case where you're taking all the blame for something that wasn't entirely your fault. Lydia was naive to think you could go to a magically-enhanced brothel and not cheat on her.'
'She came to that conclusion as well, only she said she should have known better because of what a lecherous cad I am.'
'I can understand why she doesn't want to see you, but she shares fully in the blame.'
'No she doesn't,' argued Harry. 'Blaise warned me and I thought I was superhuman. After all, I've survived two Killing Curses!' he added sarcastically.
'You'd also spent a fortnight with Lydia, who worshipped the ground you walked on! She had an unrealistic image of you, and perhaps you bought into it. I know sometimes Ryan treats me that way, and it's a challenge.'
'Ryan has an unrealistic image of you?'
'Yes, sometimes. He's so grateful that I helped stop Voldemort that he'll excuse anything I did. He didn't judge me at all for lying to my parents, or for tricking Umbridge into provoking the centaurs. I haven't told him what I did to Marietta Edgecombe, but he'd probably approve of that as well.'
'Does he see me that way?' asked Harry. 'That's not the impression I get.'
'No, but he's not in love with you. And he's also convinced I was the mastermind, and that without me we'd still be living under Voldemort. Or not living, in your case.'
'He's not wrong. You saved my life more times than I can recall. We'd probably have been killed the night the Ministry fell if you hadn't packed everything in your beaded handbag and thought quickly.'
'And you saved me from the troll, and from the Dementors, and countless other times. And Ron was indispensable as well, and so were loads of other people. Davina's right—we're all completely interconnected.'
Harry nodded, and Draco Malfoy suddenly came to mind. 'I need your advice,' he said, and he told her about the legal requirement for securing Draco's early release.
'That would be a tremendous act of trust,' she said. 'Are you willing to do it?'
'Honestly, yes. Unreservedly. But is that just the Light magic, or my Gryffindor impulsiveness?'
'No,' she said cautiously. 'I learnt to trust your instincts during the war, and this is one of them. And you'd have a civil agreement from him, which gives him a strong incentive to stay out of trouble. But could you also require him not to replace his wand during the early release period?'
'That's a good idea,' said Harry. 'Although I don't know whether it retained any Light magic, or if the Light magic was exhausted by removing Draco's Dark Mark.'
'It's within your rights to ask. You'd be doing him an enormous favour.'
'I know. And I don't think he'd resent it, the way he does about my testimony, because I didn't really have anything to lose then. I'm not sure he realises it, but by the end of the visit yesterday I felt like we could become friends.'
'You could go to Pratt's together! Do you think he still has access, or was Lucius kicked out when he was sentenced to Azkaban?'
'That's a fine question.' Harry flopped back on the sofa and said, 'So you really don't think I'm a colossal sell-out for joining Pratt's, or a monster for cheating on Lydia?'
'No, I don't. And Ryan told me you've stopped taunting and that you're no longer cultivating arrogance. And I saw you with those Squibs—that was incredibly thoughtful. Honestly, I'm proud of you.'
Harry felt the release of tension he hadn't realised he'd been holding. 'Thanks, that means a lot to me. Arthur lectured me last night about how I've gone off the rails, and that I need an adult to set boundaries.'
'You have gone off the rails a bit, but you seem to find your way back, more or less.'
'Cheers. It helps having you around—I reckon you're my conscience.'
'Oh dear, that's a heavy responsibility. Shall I scold you for joining a club that both excludes and objectifies women?'
'Yes, frequently. You wouldn't believe the way Charles Selwyn talked about Lydia and her sister.'
'Did you protest?'
'Some, but not always. I tried not to encourage him, though.'
Kreacher suddenly appeared with a loud crack. 'Master's ravens have returned,' he announced, handing Harry two envelopes and then Disapparating loudly.
'Ravens?'
'They're jackdaws,' said Harry sheepishly. 'Which are basically small ravens, but I got them for a good price and they're great post birds.'
'Will this be the newest fashion?' she asked, smirking.
'Unlikely. They're choosy about where they'll live, so they don't work for for most people. But you'll like their names: Viola and Orsino.'
Hermione was delighted, and she automatically started reading over Harry's shoulder. He didn't mind that she saw the letter from Narcissa, inviting him to discuss Draco's release on Tuesday after practice, but he shooed her away when he opened Alex's letter.
'Oh, is this your newest love interest? The witches from the stands, perhaps?'
'Bloody Light magic,' he grumbled. 'No, I told Mrs Thwip to write back with my apologies, and that it was nothing personal. This is from someone I met last week. And no, not at the brothel.'
'I'll leave you to your correspondence,' she said, rising from her chair. 'I should leave anyway—I have an early Spinning class tomorrow.'
Harry saw her out through the kitchen fireplace, and he read the reply from Alex, accepting his dinner invitation for Wednesday night. He'd offered her the choice of a wizarding restaurant, a Muggle restaurant, or Grimmauld Place, and she chose the third option. Alex hadn't struck him as naive, and her reply mentioned how much she'd enjoy a private evening with him, which seemed unambiguous. That's one advantage of having a terrible reputation, he thought with satisfaction.
He then composed a letter to Rita Skeeter, proposing she interview him about his Light magic as soon as possible, and providing contact information for Davina and the Cannons publicity team. He posted the letter with Orsino, noting that Lysander hadn't yet returned from delivering the letter to Blaise. I'm glad I have three birds, he thought, even if two of them are pretentious.
Before going to sleep, Harry spent half an hour practising what Davina had taught him. To his surprise, several times when he released the muscle he was tensing, a painful memory arose. One involved Dudley deliberately crushing a small toy Harry had found in the park, and another was just an image of himself alone in his cupboard. He felt both anger and sadness as he released the constrictions, but then a hint of relief. Maybe I am seeing a Mind Healer, he mused, allowing himself to glow until bedtime.
