As predicted, the Battle of the Dandies made the cover of the Sunday Prophet, and it was even billed as such. The photo was uncropped and showed all four participants: Harry and Rocky glaring at each other in their finery, with Alex's preference for Rocky in plain view, and Lisa's amused disdain for Harry.
He was impressed by how much Lisa, a self-proclaimed commoner, looked like a Black of yore. She'll win plenty of admirers, he thought, noting her lustrous hair and alluringly hooded eyes. In fact, she looked almost haughty, but she occasionally cracked a smile, which revealed the young woman Harry had come to appreciate.
The article began:
Harry Potter locked horns on Saturday night with an American rival for the affections of his erstwhile girlfriend, Alexandra Barrington. And the battle had not one but two dimensions: romantic and sartorial. But unlike Potter's afternoon battle in Kenmare Stadium, where he decisively beat Aidan Kiely to the Snitch, he was not the clear victor last night.
To be sure, his bespoke Muggle suit raised eyebrows, and his lovely companion drew praise. But Potter was unmistakably spurned by Miss Barrington in favour of her fiancé, Richard Stefanik of Chicago, USA. And although Potter was in high spirits during their night out at Mistigri, a favoured restaurant of the young Seeker, he displayed flashes of heartbreak.
Potter informed the Prophet that he knew from the start about her prior entanglement. 'Alex told me about him at the beginning of our first date, and there's been no deception on any side. And as much as I fancy her, I have no intention of stealing her away from him, and I wish them all the best in their life together.'
His good will was evident in their dinner together. Eyewitnesses reported that Potter and his companions were occasionally boisterous but showed no sign of hostility, with only rare moments of awkwardness. Observers attributed this to the presence of Lisa Black, 18, fourth cousin to Potter through a recently-identified branch of the Black family. The two were clearly comfortable with each other, and onlookers described a moment of strong shared alchemy, but otherwise she seemed romantically uninterested in her roué cousin.
Although Potter conceded victory to Stefanik where Miss Barrington was concerned, their sartorial battle was hard-fought. Potter shocked fashion observers with his three-piece Muggle suit, custom-made by Benedict Thimble and worn without flowers. Daily Prophet fashion editor Xanthippe Codmopple expressed mixed feelings about Potter's bold choice.
'Potter's suit is smart, to be sure, and well-made, but that doesn't erase its fundamental flaw, which is that it's unambiguously Muggle. Were it not for Potter's accidental Light magic, he could travel incognito in Muggle districts and only attract notice for being unusually well-dressed. But Potter is no Muggle, and his choice of outfit suggests he's more interested in shock value than sartorial excellence.'
By contrast, industry observer Reginald Hem had only praise for Potter's newest look. 'He's an unapologetic dandy, and shock value is part of the equation. As long as the outfit is impeccable, which Potter's suit most certainly is, it meets his prior standard and, to my mind, further enshrines him as Britain's leading style icon.'
Nevertheless, his American rival shone in what Codmopple called 'Harry Potter robes, with a twist.' Citing small details like rounded shirt cuffs and square buttons, she praised Stefanik's outfit and declared him the victor. Hem acknowledged that Stefanik held his own but granted victory to Potter for 'superlative English tailoring' and 'sheer cheek.'
To Harry's dismay, Doctor Niffler was quoted several paragraphs down:
Noted Mind Healer Cassia Dexter was intrigued by the various elements of Potter's night out. 'Because of Harry's Light magic, buried aspects of his psyche are quickly rising to the surface. Consider first his decision to pursue a witch who already had a fiancé: he willingly invited the loss of a nurturing female, which allowed him to safely revisit the tragic loss of his mother. I don't wish to discount the importance of his father, but as an unweaned infant Harry was damaged far more by his mother's death. Miss Barrington gave him access to warm, soft breasts—albeit not as large as a nursing mother's—but he knew from the start he couldn't keep them. With this knowledge he was able to cultivate acceptance, granting a degree of resolution to his old pain.'
Dexter went on to analyse Potter's choice of companion. 'Lisa Black, who so resembles Harry's late godfather Sirius, not only represents Harry's wish to merge completely with his adopted family, but she also allows safe expression of his deeply repressed homosexual urges. Although he stated under Veritaserum that he's not primarily attracted to men, he nonetheless has some homosexual tendencies, as do we all. I've seen no evidence of an inappropriate relationship between Harry and his godfather, but I've long wondered about Sirius's attachment to Harry's father, James Potter. The two were best mates at Hogwarts, and their contemporaries uniformly describe Black's relative lack of interest in witches and his devotion to James. The physical component of his devotion may have remained unexpressed, but by adopting Harry and making him his heir, Sirius was able to imagine he'd fathered a child with his much-missed companion.
'Some might consider it a stretch to suggest that Harry has homosexual longings towards his late godfather,' continued Dexter, 'but as a near twin to James, Harry must have unconsciously detected Sirius's yearning. Similarly, Harry surely craved both emotional wholeness and sexual fulfilment as an adolescent, but circumstances forced him to bury his desires. Harry and Sirius, each stunted by tragedy, could only have longed for mutual comfort, but taboo—internal and external—kept them apart.'
Dexter's final remarks addressed the so-called Battle of the Dandies. 'With his bold fashion choices, Harry has decisively reclaimed masculine plumage, and the "battle" with his romantic rival was nothing less than a competition between preening peacocks. And I use the term with the utmost respect: Harry is in firm command of his powerful sexual energy, and naturally it would spill over to every aspect of his life, including outer display. His Quidditch feints in particular express procreative dominance, and his league rivals should fear his now-untapped power.'
Harry was utterly aghast. 'What gives that fucking cow the right to talk about me like that?' he cried aloud. 'We didn't even leave the restaurant until half ten! Did they wake her up to produce this huge pile of bollocks?'
He was determined to act. 'Kreacher!' he called angrily.
Crack! 'Yes, Master!'
'Is there any Howler stationery in the house? I don't have any, but maybe Walburga left some.'
'No, Master,' said Kreacher. 'Mistress never sent Howlers.'
'Really? I find that hard to believe,' said Harry, thinking of Sirius.
'Mistress considered Howlers both indiscreet and impersonal. Instead, Mistress sent Kreacher to retrieve the object of her ire.'
Harry blinked. 'Are you saying she had you abduct whoever she was angry at, so she could scold them in person?'
'Yes, Master.'
Tempting, thought Harry, imagining a disorientated Doctor Niffler. 'No,' he said aloud. 'I shouldn't react in anger. It's better if I wait.'
'Has someone wronged Master?' asked Kreacher, his eyes glinting fiercely.
'Er, just the usual,' he stammered, not wanting Kreacher to seek vengeance on his behalf. 'You may go.'
Kreacher bowed and disappeared with a loud crack, and Harry paused to consider his options. The radio, he thought. I need to let her have it on the radio. Lisa would be there, and Harry was certain she would be the perfect ally, particularly since she'd been dragged into the middle.
He was composing a letter to Lisa when an owl arrived, bearing a note from Rita:
Dearest Harry,
I'm as angry as you are right now! But first, let me apologise for not preventing this travesty. Timothy and I stole away on Friday evening to a secluded cabin, for a sort of writers' retreat, and I only returned to civilisation this morning.
You are undoubtedly contemplating your next move. Personally, I recommend you show Cassia Dexter just how dominant you are, preferably on the radio Tuesday night. She may be a beloved Mind Healer, but she needs to learn that nobody crosses Harry Potter-Black, who looked simply divine in that Muggle suit.
Yours devotedly,
Rita
Harry felt himself relax as he read it. He hadn't thought Rita was involved, but it was a relief to know she was on his side. I'd just as soon keep our unholy alliance intact.
After finishing the letter to Lisa, he went up to the owlery to dispatch it, instructing Orsino to await her reply. 'But don't hassle her,' he told the jackdaw. 'If she doesn't want to talk to me, that's fine too.'
Orsino flew off, and Harry went back downstairs to finish reading the Prophet. The Quidditch coverage was highly favourable, praising his win against Kiely in such foul weather. 'Potter has proven that his record with the Cannons is no fluke. His single-minded determination yesterday recalled the young man who never wavered in the years-long fight against You-Know-Who. It is no longer premature to suggest that Potter fly for England, and we defy anyone to argue against it.'
Harry could hardly believe what he'd read, and he was tempted to go talk to Ron about it. But Janet would kill him for interrupting them on a Sunday, so he set it aside for later.
Nevertheless, he kept thinking about the World Cup Final he'd attended in 1994. He imagined hearing his own name announced—'I give you Potter!'—and his heart swelled with pride. And as much as he loved his Cannons robes, he thrilled at the idea of wearing red robes for England and flying out with the top players in the league.
But there's no way I'd make it to the final, he realised in a belated surge of modesty. I'm only nineteen, and I'd be flying against people like Krum, who can use the Firebolt Ultra. Harry felt a renewed determination to master his Light magic, and he resolved to do whatever Davina advised that night.
He was replying to fan mail when a letter arrived from Andromeda:
Dear Harry,
I was sorry to read that shocking article in this morning's Prophet, but please know I don't consider you even slightly to blame. I am, however, curious about your relationship with Lisa Black, and I have another question as well. I know you're terribly busy, but perhaps you can find time for a Floo call if nothing else.
Yours affectionately,
Andromeda
Harry supposed her other question was about Simon, who had probably invited her to dinner. He was inclined to visit straight away, but he was waiting for Simon to turn up for his day of recovery. It wasn't clear when he'd arrive, since Simon couldn't predict when he'd be strong enough to Apparate, but Harry had instructed Kreacher to monitor the back garden and let him inside.
Not long after, a weary-looking Simon arrived. 'Welcome,' said Harry, standing from his writing table. 'What do you need?'
'Just a place to sit down,' he replied, collapsing into an armchair. 'Apparition is terribly hard this early in the day, but it'll be worth it to rest in comfort.'
Harry reflexively offered him tea, which Kreacher brought him. 'Are you sure you wouldn't rather lie down?'
'Not right away. In fact, I'd appreciate talking first, if it's no bother. Helps me adjust to being human again.'
Harry suspected Simon wasn't sufficiently alert for deep conversation, so he merely recounted his experience at the Irish pub.
'I should teach you about world history,' mumbled Simon. 'Specifically all the ways the English have caused harm. We're truly a ghastly people.'
'That's the impression I got. It was mortifying to learn about the Irish famine, and all I could do was hope the Evanses weren't illustrious enough to be at fault. That's my mum's family.'
'Do you know much about them?'
'Not really. But I doubt they were important, or else my aunt would have bragged about them.'
'I'm glad they weren't important,' said Simon. 'I've no use for the idea that greatness runs in families.'
Harry wasn't sure what Simon meant, so he waited for him to say more.
'You're great,' he continued. 'Not because of the Killing Curse ... that was just good luck, or bad luck, rather. But the way you withstood your childhood, the years at Hogwarts, and the fight against Voldemort. And now fame, and wealth, and no end of witches. You should be a monster—worse than myself—but instead you're looking after me on a Sunday morning.'
'Kreacher fetched the tea,' said Harry sheepishly. 'He's the one who'll look after you.'
'You offered it. And when I asked about Andromeda, you didn't show a hint of scorn that I'd suggested it. I've learnt to recognise it, you know.'
'Scorn?'
'Yes, and often from people I trusted. It's subtle sometimes, the flash of disgust. But my heightened senses always catch it—that's the werewolf's true curse. I can literally smell their revulsion.'
'And Andromeda didn't have it?'
'No. Not a whiff, and when my senses were most acute. She's beautiful, of course, but her simple acceptance was even lovelier.'
Simon's eyes kept closing, in spite of the tea, and Harry asked if he wanted to lie down.
'Yes, I think it's time,' he said, rising heavily from his chair. Harry led him to the room Kreacher had prepared, assisting him up the three flights of stairs. 'I can't thank you enough,' he mumbled as he lay down.
'Sleep well,' said Harry, closing the door behind him.
As he walked down to the reception hall, Harry realised how fond he'd grown of his tutor. I hope Andromeda gives him a chance, he thought, and he tossed a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace.
He recited her address and poked his head through. 'Andromeda?' he called. 'Are you there?'
She didn't reply, but he heard loud wails from Teddy in the next room, so he stepped through to offer assistance. Entering the lounge, he saw her attempting to soothe the screaming toddler; she tried restraining his long tail, but it whacked in all directions, and his hair rapidly cycled through all colours.
'Shh,' repeated Andromeda, bouncing him. 'There, there ... I know.'
'Are you all right?' asked Harry. 'Can I help?'
'Please,' she said wearily, handing Teddy over. 'He's cutting a tooth, and he's been crying on and off since yesterday.'
'Aren't there potions that help?' asked Harry over the baby's shrieks.
'There's a salve, but it doesn't work on Metamorphmagi,' she explained. 'In theory it numbs the pain, at least for most babies, but it doesn't play well with his magic. Dora had the same problem.'
'Does anything help?'
'Try to distract him. He loves being held up high, but he's got too heavy for me.'
Harry raised Teddy over his head, up and down like a barbell, and after half a minute the toddler's cries were replaced by laughter. 'Do I just keep going?' asked Harry.
'You can lie on your back if you like. He'll want to keep moving, though.'
'I assume you can't just Levitate him?'
'No, he wants contact,' said Andromeda. 'And attention of course. Pain is very upsetting to babies, because they don't understand it, so they need love more than anything.'
'When will he finish teething?'
'He may have another year yet.'
'Sweet Merlin! Another year?'
'It's not continuous. Just the occasional rough patch. The rest of the time he's the usual Teddy.'
Harry had seen enough of the usual Teddy to know that was no picnic. 'Do you get enough help?' he asked.
'Yes, he has a carer most weekdays until five, and another at the weekend for a few hours. But she's on holiday, and I didn't fancy training someone else. He's not like most babies, you know.'
'No. And that still leaves you with nights and all the other times you don't have help.'
'It does, but that's motherhood,' she sighed. 'When Dora was pregnant, everyone told me how much I'd love being a grandmother, because I could enjoy the baby and then hand him back to his parents and go home. But I suppose I'll have to wait for great-grandchildren for that to happen.'
'I'm sorry I'm not more help,' said Harry as he lay on the floor, still keeping Teddy aloft.
'You've been a tremendous help. I couldn't afford those carers without what you've given him. Although I feel sheepish using Teddy's inheritance to buy myself some peace and quiet.'
'Nonsense. I'm certain Sirius would approve, and I know I do,' he said. 'And I'm relieved you have one less thing to worry about.'
'So am I. And it's made my reconciliation with Narcissa possible. Before you provided for Teddy, I think Narcissa was wary of getting too close.'
'Draco said something similar—that Narcissa needn't worry you'll ask her for gold.'
'Sad to say, that's how most people see her. That's why her inner circle is so small, because everyone else wants something from her.'
'Yes ... Draco's said more than once, "Mustn't let commoners get too close. They always want something."'
She nodded. 'Our mother taught us that, although clearly I never learnt it. And I'm glad I didn't, or else I wouldn't have met Ted.'
'Technically he did want something,' said Harry without thinking, and Andromeda laughed.
'You're right, he did. But so did I.' She smiled in remembrance and was briefly silent. 'This brings me to my question, actually ... I received a letter yesterday from your tutor, Simon. He invited me to dinner.'
'I know. At least, I knew he wanted to.'
'Oh? Did he consult you?'
'He asked if I'd object, and of course I didn't. He also asked if I thought you'd accept.'
'What did you say?'
'I said I didn't know whether you'd be interested, but that I didn't think you'd hold his lycanthropy against him.' Harry saw no reason to mention Simon's living situation or financial status.
Andromeda, true to her upbringing, didn't reveal her thoughts. 'And what do you think of him?'
'I like him a lot. He's an ideal tutor, and I've learnt heaps from him already.' He paused and added, 'I'll admit he reminds me of Remus.'
'He reminded me a little of Remus as well,' she said. 'Not physically, other than his scars. But his demeanour, and his obvious intelligence.'
'Will you go out with him?' asked Harry hopefully.
'I don't know. I'd probably enjoy his company for an evening, but I can't see anything coming of it.'
'Why not? If you don't mind my asking.'
She sighed. 'I just can't imagine feeling as close to anyone as I did with Ted. We grew up together, and built our lives together. We raised a daughter—a difficult daughter—which tested and strengthened our relationship in so many ways. Compared to that, I don't see how another man could do more than scratch the surface of my life.'
'Some people remarry,' said Harry tentatively.
'I know they do, but others don't. And then there's Teddy, who has to be my primary focus for the next ten years, until he starts school.'
'Don't you think Teddy would like having more grown-ups around? I suspect Simon could lift him up pretty well—most of the month, anyway.'
Andromeda frowned. 'That's another thing ... his lycanthropy.'
Harry was surprised—had Simon misread her? 'Are you worried he's unsafe?' he asked.
'No, I'm sure he's fine. But Narcissa would never approve.'
'Narcissa?' exclaimed Harry. 'Why does that matter? She hardly approves of anyone.'
'I know, but she seems to approve of me now. Not my marriage, of course, but she can't claim we didn't produce magical offspring. Frankly, I missed having a sister, and I don't want to lose her again.'
'And you're sure she wouldn't understand?'
'How could she possibly? She's reluctant even to invite the new relations over, and none of them are werewolves.'
'That's true. But you're her sister, and she finally seems to appreciate you—need you, even. She couldn't have got through the Wizengamot thing without you.'
'Oddly, you and Draco have brought us closer.' After another silence, she said, 'I suppose there's no harm in dinner. I could always use more adult conversation, if nothing else.'
Harry stood up again, holding Teddy under one arm. 'I'm sure you'll have a good time.'
Andromeda's frown returned. 'But I'm not sure I can find someone to watch Teddy at night. Do you think Simon would be willing to eat here? Teddy should feel better in a day or two, and he usually sleeps a lot afterwards.'
'I'm sure that would be fine,' said Harry, knowing Simon wouldn't mind saving a few Galleons.
'I'll write to him now, since I mightn't get another opportunity with Teddy like this.'
Harry spun Teddy around to keep him entertained while Andromeda wrote a short note. 'Oh bother!' she exclaimed. 'My owl hasn't yet returned from your house. Would you mind posting it for me?'
He said he would, knowing he'd slip it under Simon's door instead. 'So about your letter this morning,' he prompted.
'Yes, what's going on with you and Lisa Black? She didn't seem interested last Sunday.'
'She's not, but that's fine. I'd rather have a cousin—and a friend.'
Andromeda looked relieved. 'I wouldn't have objected to your marrying her. In fact, there's a lot to be said for the match. You're both half-bloods, so you'd still have hybrid vigour, and she'd tie you closer to the family. But between your vow and everything else, you almost certainly wouldn't marry, which would have been awkward.'
'I agree. Alex and I ended on good terms, but Lydia and I didn't, and I'd hate for something like that to divide the family.'
'Certainly not. Although Narcissa has the opposite worry,' she said ominously.
'Oh?'
'Draco seems rather taken by Catherine White. He's seen her twice since the reunion.'
'Is he courting?' asked Harry. 'Not that I actually know what that entails.'
'I'd describe it more as the circling phase. But it's all been very appropriate so far: daytime, in public, and so forth. Chaperoned even.'
'Chaperoned! By whom?'
'Nitta. Disillusioned, of course.'
'By a house-elf!' exclaimed Harry. 'Couldn't Draco just order her to look the other way?'
'Normally, yes. But in this case, Narcissa issues a prior order, which Draco can't countermand.'
Harry tried and failed to imagine going on a date with Kreacher present. 'So what's Narcissa's concern?' asked Harry, suspecting what the answer might be.
'She's convinced Catherine's interest in Draco is mercenary.'
'I see her point, but I also saw them together, and Catherine seemed genuinely attracted to him.'
'I'm certain she was,' said Andromeda. 'The question is whether she'd fancy him if he weren't Draco Malfoy.'
Harry frowned. 'Then shouldn't I have the same concern? I don't have as much gold as Draco does, but it's probably enough to attract gold-diggers.'
'Yes, and it worries me. But your ego is less fragile than Draco's, so you're less vulnerable to flattery.'
'Three cheers for my oversized ego! I'm glad it's good for something.'
'It is, apparently.' Her expression softened and she said, 'But how are you doing? I know you were awfully fond of Alex.'
'I was,' he sighed. 'I still am, in fact, but I always knew this was coming. Sooner than I would have liked, but that seems to be a theme.'
She nodded. 'And what about that article? There wasn't a byline, but was Rita Skeeter involved?'
'No, she sent me an apology this morning, with a very convincing alibi. But I was tempted to send Doctor Niffler a Howler.'
After Harry explained who Doctor Niffler was, Andromeda said, 'I wouldn't think less of you for expressing your anger towards her. She seems to have forgotten you're a real person, and that it's completely inappropriate to speculate about you like that. And what she said about Alex and Lisa was unforgivable!'
'Unless Lisa changes her mind, she'll be on the radio with me this week, in conjunction with my name change. So we can both give Doctor Niffler a piece of our minds.'
Andromeda took a deep breath. 'And now I get to worry about two members of the family misbehaving in public, to say nothing of Walburga.'
'Relax—we can't possibly be worse than Sirius or Bellatrix.'
Teddy had finally begun running around, giving Harry a break. 'He seems better for the moment,' said Andromeda cautiously. 'With any luck, he'll wear himself out and sleep some more.'
They wrapped up their visit, and Harry returned to Grimmauld Place with Andromeda's letter, which he slid under Simon's door. He resumed replying to fan mail, which seemed never-ending, but he eventually finished. This might be the last time I sign my name as 'Harry Potter,' he thought, autographing the last photo.
'Bugger!' he cried aloud. 'I should have gone with Harry Black! It's shorter!'
'Yes, but what about your father?' asked Simon from behind him.
'You're awake!' said Harry. 'What time is it?'
'Three o'clock.'
'Blimey! I lost track of time ... which explains my headache. Are you hungry?'
'Ravenous, I'm afraid.'
Harry's face fell. 'Why didn't you call Kreacher?'
'I only just woke up, and I thought I'd reassure you I'm still alive, and that you don't have a corpse in your guest room.'
'No, but I have severed house-elf heads in the attic. Did you see the letter under the door?'
'I did. Was it your suggestion that she cook dinner?' asked Simon.
'No, that was her idea. There's no one to mind Teddy at night, although perhaps I should have offered.'
'It's quite all right. This way I can bring flowers, or a bottle of wine. Or both, even.'
'I don't recommend Prosecco,' said Harry, and Simon laughed.
'No, but I know some good Muggle wines that don't cost much.' After a silence, Simon asked, 'Is there anything else I should know in advance?'
Harry didn't want to betray any confidences, but he also didn't want Simon to expect too much from the evening. 'She misses her husband terribly,' he replied. 'I don't think she's dated since he died, and I'm not sure she ever intended to. But she could see that you're clever, and good at conversation, so I think that's what she expects from the evening.'
'Fair enough. I also don't have serious expectations, due to my circumstances, but dinner and conversation sound lovely.'
Do you need a house-elf chaperone? thought Harry with amusement. They called Kreacher and asked for whatever he could prepare the fastest. Simon went back to sleep after eating, and Harry spent the afternoon with a book.
Orsino returned with a letter from Lisa:
Dear Harry,
I thought I knew what to expect when I agreed to go out with you last night. 'Harry's not so bad,' I told myself. 'Just make him take three cold showers over the course of the evening and it'll be fine!' But how was I to know that your interest in me was because of a deeply buried urge to be molested by your godfather? In hindsight, I should have believed my friends who told me your rampant, age-appropriate heterosexuality was just a cover for your hidden desires.
I would therefore welcome the opportunity to join you on the radio this week and tell all wizarding Britain how naïve I was, and that my impression of you as a thoughtful, witty, and surprisingly modest young man was wrong from start to finish. I should add that I was embarrassed when you tried suckling Alex one last time at the table, and that either you or Rocky dropped a peacock feather outside.
Scornfully yours,
Lisa
Harry nearly applauded after reading it. I may have to pencil her in after Helena for my twenty-first birthday, he thought, because she's bloody brilliant. Although he was certain he'd see her only as a friend by then, same as Hermione. She's mostly a friend now, he knew, and he was glad they'd opted against romance.
He replied in kind:
Dear Lisa,
I'm relieved you're still willing to appear on the broadcast with me. But I have one small request: Could you come to dinner at Grimmauld Place first? And as long as you're here, you could try on some of my robes, in preparation for the party you insisted I host. And instead of having Kreacher transfigure the robes to fit you, perhaps he could transfigure you to fit the robes. And I could wear my old Gryffindor robes and eyeglasses, just for fun. And then we could go into Sirius's old room, and you could ply me with Firewhisky until we finally throw taboo to the wind and achieve mutual, sinful satisfaction.
Will six o'clock work?
Harry
After dispatching his letter with Viola, he returned downstairs to find Hermione. 'There you are,' she said. 'How are you doing? This morning's article was truly horrid!'
'It was,' he agreed. 'But Andromeda gave me permission to rip into Doctor Niffler on the radio this week, and Lisa will be there with me.'
'Your cousin!' exclaimed Hermione. 'Do you fancy her?'
'She's pretty, and I'm tempted, but we agreed we're better off as friends. You'll like her though, and she'll be at my next party.'
'Another dinner party?'
Harry took a deep breath. 'No, she convinced me to throw a drag party. And be sure to tell Ryan, since he's one of the people who wants me to do it.'
'You're just addicted to scandal, aren't you?'
It's my new middle name, he thought. 'No. I'm addicted to doing what sounds like fun, and not living in fear of what people think. Because even if I behave more or less appropriately, some cow like Doctor Niffler is going to spew a load of bollocks about it.'
'Don't call her a cow on the radio,' warned Hermione. 'That's sexist.'
'What about gobshite?'
Hermione thought for a moment. 'That's all right. Do you need help with the party?'
'Yes, I want people to sign a binding magical contract saying they won't tell anyone. So I thought you could reproduce what you did to the D.A. sign-up sheet. Er, only less permanent.'
She looked embarrassed, and Harry felt bad for reminding her what she'd done to Marietta Edgecombe. 'That's doable,' she said. 'What punishment are you picturing?'
'Darren suggested antlers for a month. And Janet suggested their teeth fall out, also for a month.'
'I can do antlers, but not the teeth.'
'Because it's not possible, or because it violates the daughter-of-dentists code?'
'The former. I can add something, but not take something away,' she explained. 'And to be safe we should limit it to a week, since I don't want to risk it being permanent.'
'All right,' said Harry. 'How large of antlers are you picturing?'
Her eyes gleamed wickedly. 'Prongs.'
'Fantastic. But how do we get everyone to sign the same contract? I assume you can't make a hundred copies.'
'No, but ...' She trailed off, and a guilty expression crossed her face. 'You could ask Kreacher to have everyone sign it. It would require a lot of Apparating, but he seems to tolerate it just fine.'
'Oh my god, he'd love that. But would you mind if I call it a punishment?'
Hermione sighed heavily. 'Go ahead. I hate to admit it, but he seems much happier since you started punishing him.'
'It might also be the Light magic. Did Ryan tell you about that?'
'Yes! And frankly, it's the only real good I've heard coming from a house-elf bond.'
'Do you really believe that, after all these years? Don't you remember how terrified all the Hogwarts house-elves were of clothes?'
'They were brainwashed! And don't you remember how happy Dobby was to be free?'
'I do remember, but he was an exception.'
'No, he was a proof of concept! Wizards like to say that house-elves need us to complete their magic, or some such rubbish, but Dobby proved that wasn't true.'
'He was still loyal,' countered Harry. 'And we were as good as bonded.'
Hermione's jaw dropped. 'Are you taking credit for Dobby's magic?'
'Of course not! Dobby saved our lives! All I'm saying is that you've never seen a house-elf who was completely independent of wizards.'
Hermione furrowed her brow and was silent for a moment. 'You're right,' she admitted, with more than a hint of surprise.
'I'm sorry, what just happened?' asked Harry. 'Did I actually out-logic you?'
'You did. And I'm embarrassed by how surprised I am—I thought I'd learnt humility after Ron broke up with me.'
'Maybe you did, but you've been with Ryan nearly the entire time since. He idealises you almost as much as Lydia idealised me.'
'He does, doesn't he? I wish I knew how to convince him I don't deserve more credit than you do for defeating Voldemort.'
'Don't expect help from me—you do deserve more credit.'
'No, I don't! Remember everything you had to do without us, like protecting the Philosopher's Stone, and slaying the Basilisk, and stopping Tom Riddle. And the Triwizard Tournament, and the fight at the graveyard. And the cave with Dumbledore, and–' She paused. 'And sacrificing your life.'
'You'd have done it too,' he said quietly.
'That doesn't matter. And besides, you were the one who taught me how to think quickly, and break rules that needed breaking. If it weren't for you, I'd probably have been on Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad.'
'Not bloody likely. And besides, I'm the Slytherin.'
Sniggering, she said, 'Will your Japanese underwear be embroidered with the Slytherin crest?'
'I'm doing North America too. And no.'
'I love it. In fact, I may need to invent a long-range Time-Turner just to go back and tell our younger selves.'
'They'd never believe it. Not in a million years.' He looked at his pocket watch. 'Are you hungry? I had a late lunch, but Kreacher can serve you now.'
'I am, thanks,' she replied, and they walked towards the kitchen. Kreacher greeted her delightedly and laid out several of her favourite dishes, which she started eating.
After a silence, she said, 'Harry, when I told you about seeing my grandparents, I left something out.'
Hermione had told him the previous Monday how she'd revealed her magic to her family. 'Oh? Did something go wrong?'
'No,' she began. 'But I learnt something ... surprising, and more than a little embarrassing.'
'Embarrassing? Are you willing to tell me?' he asked. 'Obviously I'm dead curious now, but I don't want you to feel uncomfortable.'
'No, it's all right.' She took a deep breath before continuing. 'I learnt where my magic came from.'
Harry's eyes shot open. 'Is one of your grandparents a Squib?'
'No, but my great-great-grandfather was. He used to tell my granddad stories about dragons and Quidditch, and so forth.'
'That's amazing!' he exclaimed. 'And I'm jealous! I doubt I'll ever know where my mum's magic came from.'
'You won't be jealous when you hear his surname.' She looked at her plate and said, 'Goyle.'
'Goyle!' cried Harry, and he immediately clamped his mouth shut.
'You're trying not to laugh, aren't you,' she said accusingly.
'Maybe. Are you sure it's the same family?'
'Yes. It was already clear from my granddad's description, but then I looked up the records at the Ministry. Greg Goyle and I are fourth cousins.'
'That's not so bad,' he said feebly.
'I was hoping for more distant. But apparently my great-great-grandfather and Greg's were brothers.'
'It's still pretty distant, or so everyone tells me.'
'Right, but it's a lot less mortifying to have Lisa Black as a fourth cousin than Greg Goyle.'
'I have two words for you: Dudley Dursley.'
Hermione chuckled. 'That's a good point.'
'And Bellatrix Lestrange,' he continued. 'And Walburga Black.'
'At least they were good-looking.'
'Excuse me, you're better-looking than I am! Clearly your Goyle blood didn't dominate. Except magically, of course.'
'It's funny, really. They were Dark wizards, and here I'm a Light witch. Although my granddad said his grandfather had a heart of gold.'
'No wonder he wasn't magical,' remarked Harry. 'He probably saw his family and unconsciously decided magic wasn't for him.'
'That seems unlikely, otherwise Sirius would have gone Squib as well.'
'Fair enough.' With a smirk, he asked, 'Are you going to change your name?'
'To Hermione Goyle?'
'Hermione Granger-Goyle. I hear hyphenation is the next big thing.'
'Oh my god, it probably is!'
After she ate, they went upstairs to greet Davina for their lesson. 'Thanks again for switching to Sunday this week,' said Harry. 'I could skip Seekers' Night Out if I needed to, but I'd rather not.'
'You warned me about the fourth Monday of the month,' replied Davina. 'So it's fine.'
'Still, you must be awfully busy now.'
'I am. But it's a good problem to have.'
They went to the library for their lesson, and she asked about their week. 'I'm lucky I can hide my Light magic,' said Hermione, 'because I'm useless at controlling it so far.'
'Can you call it up?' asked Davina.
'No, not like Harry can.'
Davina looked slyly at him. 'You mean to order drinks?'
'Yes, I know that was inappropriate,' he began, but Davina stopped him.
'No, it's perfect. This is how true mastery starts.' Harry looked at her sceptically, and she continued. 'If you're able to glow casually, at will, then you're clearly developing an inner facility for Light magic. This can only bode well for preventing unwanted manifestations. I had considerable trouble hiding mine for a long time, which caused problems.'
'How does yours manifest?' asked Hermione. 'I never asked.'
'It's evolved. It was originally triggered by strong emotions. Specifically pain, and loss. At least that's what I thought, until I found my first real teacher. But he helped me realise that it arose in response not to pain but to the power I was suppressing.'
Hermione looked lost, and Harry felt the same way. 'How do you mean?' he asked.
'You may recall that my first experience was the night I broke up with my first love. I felt as if I'd been forced by my family, when in hindsight it was entirely within my power to do as I pleased, and tell them to sod off. My experience was primarily pain, of course, but on a deeper level it was from suppressing my own power rather than asserting it.'
'Was there a physical manifestation?' asked Hermione.
'Not until my teacher helped me identify the real source. Until then, I only felt what could be described as bittersweet bliss.'
What a strange concept, thought Harry. 'What happened once you stopped suppressing your power, or when you at least realised what was going on?' he asked.
'It's probably easier to show you than describe it,' said Davina. 'Mind you, this is the more advanced version—it's taken decades to come this far, and I'm not done yet.' She closed her eyes a moment, and a subtle change overtook her.
It came on gradually. At first, she simply appeared more purposeful. But as time elapsed she seemed to come into sharper focus, with a sort of dynamism Harry realised other people lacked. For a moment she reminded him of Voldemort, only without his underlying thirst for power. She doesn't thirst for power, he thought with amazement. She is power.
The air seemed to crackle around her, and neither Harry or Hermione could look away. 'These are interesting times,' she said. 'For wizards and Muggles alike. It won't always be pleasant, particularly on the Muggle side, but love will prove stronger than hate.'
When she said 'love,' Harry began to glow, which caused Hermione to spark. 'How do I help?' asked Harry.
'You practice. And teach. And wait.'
'Wait?' asked Hermione. 'How long?'
'Until it's time. Don't worry—you'll keep busy. There's no end to the path. But there's a threshold, and it's getting closer.'
'What do you mean when you say it won't be pleasant for Muggles in particular? Are you a Seer?'
'No, I just notice trends, and I've learnt to spot emerging behaviour. It's getting easier for individual Muggles to cause great harm,' she declared. 'That's what people do when they're in pain, and they don't know how to express it: they cause harm. You've seen it in wizards, only we have wands.'
'Yes, everyone is armed with a deadly weapon,' said Hermione. 'And Muggles?'
'They have words, and weapons. And centuries upon centuries of suffering, often lacking basic necessities. And those who don't lack necessities—or even have a superabundance—are propelled by fear of losing what they have.'
'How do we stop this harm?' asked Hermione.
'We can't. But we can love, and identify our own pain, and our own hatred—the parts of us that would rather kill than be exposed. That's what Light magic is. Charms and Potions are merely an expression of it.'
Harry was beginning to feel overwhelmed. 'Alex ...' he said longingly.
Davina smiled, and her intense power eased. 'Women are your outlet.'
'Oh god, yes,' he exhaled.
'You really have been a model of restraint, all things considered.'
Remembering his conversation with Ron, he said, 'But I can't manage to keep witches around. And if I keep scaring them off, I'll be into triple figures by the time I'm twenty-one. I don't want that.'
'May I offer a suggestion?' asked Davina. 'It'll help with your accidental Light magic.'
'Yes, anything!'
She chuckled. 'You mightn't feel that way when you hear it.'
Bracing himself, he said, 'Just tell me.'
'A vow of celibacy.'
Hermione burst out laughing. 'That can't possibly work! For one thing, he's the head of two houses. But more importantly, he'll go out of his mind after a fortnight, if not sooner.'
Harry was silent with horror, and Davina continued. 'Don't worry, it's not permanent. In fact, I was going to suggest a fortnight.'
'But how would that make a difference?' he asked. 'Obviously I've gone a fortnight before, although not lately.'
'Did you take a vow?'
'Well, no. It was all circumstance.'
'That's the difference. When you take a vow—even a temporary one—it has a huge effect on the psyche. Which could make the difference as far as your accidental Light magic is concerned.'
Harry's glow had faded completely. 'Two weeks?'
'That's what a fortnight is,' said Davina dryly. 'Do you think you can handle it? I certainly won't force you.'
Grasping at straws, Harry asked, 'It's already been three days. Well, two and a half. Do those count?'
'No. It starts with the vow.'
I'd have to put off the party until after the vow is over, thought Harry. But that's all right—it'll take time to get everyone to sign the contract. 'Do you reckon I should take it now, or is it better to go out with a bang? Er, so to speak.'
'That's up to you,' she said. 'You could nip off to France right now and take the vow yourself in an hour.'
'I'd need more than an hour,' he said automatically, and both witches laughed. 'But no, not a prostitute. It's better if I start now.'
'Harry, are you sure?' asked Hermione. 'I'd have a hard time and, well, I'm not you.'
'I don't have a girlfriend, so it's not like I'd be disappointing anyone. But Davina, how will this help?'
'It'll force you to work with your excess energy, rather than just releasing it.'
The words 'releasing it' raised an alarming new question in Harry's mind. 'Oh my god, you mean total celibacy, don't you?'
'No charms for the single wizard,' smirked Hermione. 'Or Muggle methods.'
Harry closed his eyes. I went longer during the war, he recalled. Yes, but you had a Horcrux in your skull and another around your neck. 'Will you give me, er, coping methods that involve Light magic?'
'Yes,' replied Davina. 'But I think you know what to do already. When you feel a strong need, allow your Light magic to meet it, instead of looking for outside relief.'
He nodded. 'All right. Let's get this started. No time like the present.' Without intending to, he glanced at the clock.
Hermione laughed again. 'You just checked the time, didn't you?'
'I'd hate to accidentally break my vow by being imprecise.'
Davina showed him how to take the vow, which mostly involved clasping his hands and clearly stating his intention. Following her instructions, he took the vow for a fortnight.
'It'll end on Sunday, the tenth of October, at seven thirty-nine. And twelve seconds,' announced Hermione, looking at her wristwatch.
Davina looked pleased. 'Harry, I'm impressed. You're obviously committed to developing your Light magic.'
'And desperate to get through the accidental phase,' he admitted. 'You said yours got you into trouble. Do you mind saying what happened?'
She was silent before answering. 'Christopher, my late husband, used to describe what you saw as my "powerful aspect." But when it was new, it could be better described as "strident," or even "ferocious." To make matters worse, I was strongly convinced of my own viewpoint, which meant I burnt some bridges.'
'With your family?' asked Hermione.
'Yes. With my father in particular. Harry, I know you've met him, so you're aware of how ... attached he is to his viewpoint.'
'I noticed that,' he replied.
'When I announced I was marrying Christopher, my parents objected. But there was no chance they'd dissuade me, as they'd done years earlier, and I met their objections with pure fire. Not anger, but a much fiercer version of what you saw earlier. I might have been forgiven if I'd had magical offspring, but I didn't, and my attempts at reconciliation were rebuffed.'
Harry was unsure how to reply, so he was relieved when Hermione spoke. 'I'm so sorry,' she said. 'I almost lost my family, in a completely different way, and it was a terrible feeling.'
'It was hard, and I regret how uncompromising I was at the time. But what's done is done.'
Davina seemed disinclined to keep talking about it, so Harry posed an unrelated question. 'A friend told me yesterday about male yogis who deliberately cultivate their feminine side, in order to balance their energies. Have you heard of this, and does it relate to Light magic at all?'
She chuckled softly. 'Your friend was clever to mention it. Yes, it's a legitimate practice, although not a requirement. Are you inclined in that direction?'
'Not beyond what I'm already doing, with the way I dress. But my teammates want me to host a drag party, which I'll take pains to keep secret, and I'm wondering if the yogi thing would be a good excuse if people find out.'
Davina laughed out loud. 'Are you asking whether I'll tell the Prophet that dressing up in women's clothing is essential to your journey as a Light wizard?'
'Not exactly—I don't want to scare everyone else off learning it. But it would be nice if you provided counterpoint to the people who call me debauched.'
'I'd be glad to,' she replied. 'And I meant it earlier when I said you'd shown restraint. My first teacher—the one who helped me identify my powerful aspect—ended up taking advantage of some of his female students. Not me, thank heaven, but no small number of others. And even when his bad behaviour came to light—on top of everything, he was married—he argued that his Light magic made it a virtue.'
Hermione was aghast. 'Did his wife consider it a virtue?'
'No, she left him. And then he married one of his students, and cheated on her as well.'
'I cheated on Lydia.'
'That wasn't the same, and you know it,' snapped Hermione.
'It wasn't good,' he argued.
'But you've sworn off brothels!' she retorted, and Harry felt himself turn red.
'At Pratt's,' explained Hermione. 'Lydia insisted he go to the brothel and tell her about it, but not go upstairs. But this is Harry we're talking about, so obviously that didn't happen.'
'Can't you hear yourself?' he asked. 'In the same breath you're defending me and also saying I'm an out-of-control sex-addict!'
'Harry, I know about those places,' said Davina. 'There's no way you could have resisted once you entered—especially not with your Light magic.'
'I was warned,' he continued. 'But I thought I was superhuman and could resist.'
'You aren't superhuman. None of us are, nor ever shall be—not in this body. And no matter how far you go in your Light magic, there's always room for improvement, and humility is essential.'
Harry couldn't help smirking. 'That's why I keep Hermione around. She always puts me in my place.'
'Then keep her nearby. There's no greater asset in Light magic than a trusted peer. My teacher didn't have one, which is why he spun out of control. In fact, the main reason I went to the Continent a few weeks ago was to meet with my peers and discuss formalising the process. And just in time, because we've all been flooded with new students.'
'Because of Harry?' asked Hermione.
'In large part, yes. Harry's announcement spread quickly through the wizarding world, which led to other witches and wizards coming forward. Harry, this really is the best possible thing you could do with your fame.'
Harry, who was still recovering from Davina learning about his trip to the Boudoir, chose not to mention his underwear adverts. 'I'm glad if it helps,' he said uncomfortably.
Davina focussed on Hermione for the rest of the lesson, and although Harry paid attention he kept thinking about the vow he'd taken. Two weeks, he repeated inwardly. And not just sex—two weeks with no one to wake me from my nightmares, or eat breakfast in bed with.
I've survived worse, he reminded himself. And my teammates can take the piss, which will at least be funny. He made a mental note to ask his florist for more celibacy boutonnières, as he'd worn the night he shaved his head. And this will make a hell of an episode of Weasley's Wizard Wireless, he thought with amusement.
After Hermione and Davina left, Harry and Simon devoured a late dinner. 'I feel better than I normally do this soon after transforming, and I could probably go home,' admitted Simon. 'But I'm curious to see what difference spending the night will make.'
'I'm glad you'll stay, and as you can see it's no bother.'
Simon paused and added, 'I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable when I gushed over you this morning. I'm rather candid when I'm exhausted.'
'It's all right,' replied Harry, a little embarrassed.
'It must be a heavy burden, being crowned as a hero so young. But you seem determined not to rest on your laurels.'
'What would that even look like, resting on my laurels?'
'It certainly wouldn't involve playing Quidditch six days a week. I realise it's a glamorous job, but it requires strong discipline. No, resting on your laurels would involve a cushy post at the Ministry—not as an Auror—and peddling influence.'
'That sounds excruciating,' said Harry, thinking of Charles Selwyn. 'I'd probably need to drink just to get through the day. Have I mentioned how much I like flying?'
Simon laughed. 'I'm relieved you feel that way, and it bodes well for your future happiness. That and your drive to improve yourself. After all, there are a lot more exciting things you could do with your time than studying history and the humanities.'
Not for the next two weeks, thought Harry wryly. 'I appreciate the opportunity. And if it means I won't become a pathetic has-been, so much the better.'
When Harry retired that night, his bed looked even more enormous than usual. 'It'll just be you and me for the next two weeks,' he said to the bed. 'Unless I bring in one of the portraits.'
Actually, that's not a bad idea, he thought, and he called Kreacher. 'Could you find a severe-looking portrait and hang it in here? Maybe one of those old ladies who doesn't talk much but just scowls.'
'Yes, Master!' replied Kreacher, before disappearing with a loud crack. A minute later he returned with a frame containing a truly grim-looking witch. 'What do you want?' she said disapprovingly.
'I need a chaperone,' he explained. 'I've taken a temporary vow of celibacy, and it'll help to have someone keeping an eye on me. Are you willing?'
She glared at him. 'I won't have to watch any funny business?'
'No, that's the whole point. All I'll do in here is sleep, and get dressed.'
'All right,' she agreed.
'Thank you, I appreciate it. What's your name, by the way, and when were you alive?'
'I'm Banthora Black, and I died in 1810.'
'Were you born a Black, or did you marry into the family,' asked Harry, knowing that wasn't strictly an either-or question.
'I was born a Black, and I never married.'
Harry refrained from asking if she was a virgin, but he suspected she was. 'Thanks again for being willing to help.'
She nodded. 'I'll stand vigil, unless I fall asleep. But I'm a light sleeper, so don't think you'll get away with anything.'
'That's perfect. Good night, Miss Black.'
'Call me Banthora,' she said. 'You're Head of House, after all.'
'Then you must call me Harry.'
He turned off the lights before getting into bed, preferring not to have Banthora see him in his boxers. But she'll see them in the morning, he mused. And so will the entire wizarding world in a few months. He chuckled, supposing the words 'underwear model' and 'vow of celibacy' didn't normally go together, but little about his life made sense. So why should this be any different?
