All the next day, Harry kept thinking about Ron's reaction to his Slytherin guests, and whether he'd been too quick to forgive those who'd collaborated during the war.
'Janet, did you talk to Ron last night?' he asked as they walked to lunch.
'You mean after he barged in on Lord Black and his posh little friends?'
'Er, yeah. That was really bad timing. I'd never even had them to the house before, except for my parties.'
'Don't worry, it was good for him. He'd been fretting all weekend about the Auror thing, so he needed a nice rant to settle his nerves.'
'A nice rant? I thought we ended things on pretty good terms last night. He agreed to move in, after all.'
'I know that. But he still doesn't get why you always let people off the hook.'
Harry thought back to their school days and all the times Ron had held a grudge. For example, Ron didn't talk to Hermione for months when he believed Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers, and he was merciless when he thought Harry had deliberately entered the Triwizard Tournament.
'Do you think I'm too lenient?' he asked. 'Be honest.'
'Snitchbottom, when have I ever not been honest with you?' she said fondly. 'And yes, you're too lenient, at least by normal standards. But normal standards don't apply to you, and they never have done. So do what feels right, and don't let snarling gingers get you down.'
But Harry wasn't satisfied, and that afternoon he asked Gemma for her opinion. 'Yeah, it's kind of weird how easily you forgive people who were rooting for you to die,' she said.
'It wasn't personal, at least not for most people,' he argued. 'They just wanted the war to end.'
'And to establish a pure-blood hellscape,' she scowled. 'Maybe they weren't officially Death Eaters, but they were happy enough to see people like me deprived of our magic, or even killed.'
Harry sighed. 'You're right, of course. And I'm not asking you to forgive them. But I was outraged for years, and it was exhausting. Not to mention useless.'
'I get that, but remember, you set the tone. Honestly, I'm grateful you waited a year before pardoning everyone, because some of my classmates would have been even harder to deal with than they already were.'
'Do you mean classmates who supported the Ministry during the war?'
'Yeah. Even at East Kettleton there were a lot more half-bloods than Muggle-borns, which made us easier to scapegoat. And when you're at the bottom of the wizarding heap, it's a real kick to know you're still better than someone else.'
'Isn't it enough to have magic?' asked Harry. 'Not that I'm advocating feeling superior to Muggles, but why would they need to put down Muggle-borns as well?'
'Toffer, I don't think you get what it's like to be genuinely low-status,' she said, her tone surprisingly gentle. 'I mean yeah, maybe as a kid with your relations, but not once you found out you were magical.'
Harry considered her words. She's right. Even when everyone thought I was the heir of Slytherin, I was still important. And Umbridge wouldn't have targeted me if I'd been low-status—she'd just have ignored me.
'Fair enough,' he said. 'But when did I do this actual pardoning you're referring to? I don't recall doing that on the radio.'
'No, but you risked your own freedom for Draco Malfoy. And then you invited Lydia's sister and brother-in-law to your party, and I'm sure they rooted against you during the war.'
'They did. Are you saying people took that as proof that I've forgiven all collaborators? For all they know, Charles Selwyn apologised to me.'
'Did he?' asked Gemma pointedly.
'Well, no. And I didn't strictly invite them to the party—it was more of a favour to Lydia.'
'Another collaborator you've forgiven.'
She more than made it up to me, thought Harry, recalling her enthusiastic service during his 'Everything but the pelvis' phase. 'Yes, I definitely forgave her. And Lockhart too, more or less. But what would your classmates have done differently if I'd started forgiving people sooner?'
Instead of answering normally, she put on a thuggish voice. '"Oi, lighten up, Rees! Even Harry Potter says we should put the war behind us. Which is fortunate, since I'd only fuck you from behind anyway."'
'Did people really talk to you like that?' he exclaimed, horrified.
'Yeah, when I was made starting Seeker. They also said it was only because of my broom, which I'd sucked Muggle cock to pay for.'
'Wankers,' he scowled. 'I assume none of them play league Quidditch?'
'No. Obscure school, remember? But they weren't talented enough either.'
Still upset, Harry said, 'And what about kids still in school? Do you think they're getting bullied because I've let collaborators off the hook?'
'Yeah, I'm sure some of them are. And call me cynical, but I bet some of those wankers are amongst your biggest fans.'
Harry stared at her. 'But that makes no sense! How could someone simultaneously admire me and hassle Muggle-borns?'
'Are you Muggle-born?' she asked leadingly.
'No,' he replied, matching her tone. 'But my mother was.'
Gemma rolled her eyes. 'She gets a free pass for being hot. Also, she's dead, so she got what she deserved. Don't you remember what happened when it came out about your relations?'
With a sharp intake of air, he realised she was right. 'Oh my god. People who claimed to admire me thought it was all right to try to kill the Dursleys. And these are wizards we're talking about, so they don't even care whether it's logical or not.'
'And some people just like a winner,' said Gemma. 'That's why they sided with the Ministry and, by extension, with Voldemort. And now that you're on top, they're siding with you.'
Still horrified, Harry said, 'It would probably backfire if I went on the radio and told people not to be arseholes, right?'
'It would definitely backfire. People would just say you had a stick up your arse, or they'd blame Fiona and say she had you whipped.'
She does, thought Harry, but he knew Gemma wouldn't appreciate hearing it. 'So there's nothing I can do, then?'
'I hate to break it to you, Toffer, but you can't fix everything. And to be clear, it's fine if you want to forgive people and move on.'
'Even though that sets the tone?'
'Yeah, and sorry I gave you a hard time just now. British Muggle-borns are a million times better off thanks to you.' Shrugging, she added, 'And wankers are going to be wankers no matter what.'
He chuckled and said, 'That was oddly philosophical. Is that the Light magic talking?'
'Probably. Last night I started glowing while watching a greetings card advert. My brother Davy was merciless—I seriously hope Ron Weasley's flat works out.'
'Did you ask Janet about the smell?'
'Yeah, and it's inconclusive. She said it smells like Ron, like that's a good thing. So I may need to take you up on your Kreacher offer.'
When Harry got home that evening, there was a note from Ron saying he'd talked to Bode, and could he come by later. Harry replied via Prongs, but Ron didn't arrive until he and Hermione were partway through dinner.
'Much better,' said Ron, seeing them at the table. 'Did Harry tell you what happened last night?'
'That you walked in on his twelve-course dinner with Pansy and the gang?' said an amused Hermione.
'There weren't twelve courses!' said Harry. 'Though I'll admit there was enough cutlery. Daphne's, not mine.'
'It was freaky,' said Ron, taking a seat. 'Not only was Harry in full Slytherin mode, but I'd come straight from the Burrow, which is the polar opposite.'
'So, what happened with Bode?' asked Harry, keen to change the subject.
'Right, he wasn't thrilled. I talked to Kingsley first, and he wasn't thrilled either, but at least he understood. Bode, on the other hand, made a crack about how they'd waived our N.E.W.T. requirements, and that they'd never make that mistake again.'
'Oh, Ron! That's awful!' said Hermione.
'Yeah, not the highlight of my day,' he said, his ears pink. 'But things improved, and Kingsley suggested I spend my last two weeks with different teams in the Department, to get a sense of what they might need in the line of duty.'
'Two more weeks?' asked Harry, recalling his own quick escape.
'Yeah, not everyone gets to pull a Snape and flap off into the night,' said Ron with a chuckle.
'Which other teams will you shadow?' asked Hermione.
'All of them, including the Azkaban crew. I've been exempt up till now, and frankly I was hoping to keep it that way. But I should probably see what they're up against, in case George and Lee can help.'
'But you'll be recognised!'
'No, they'll give me a special amulet that maintains a glamour, which means I can do a full twelve-hour shift without anyone knowing who I am. So let me know if you want me to pass along any messages.'
'If you're there on a Wednesday, you might see Draco,' mused Harry.
'Brilliant, I'll keep that in mind.'
After Ron left, Harry asked Hermione the same question he'd asked Janet and Gemma earlier. 'Have I been too quick to forgive people who supported Voldemort?'
Hermione's brows drew together. 'That's really not for anyone else to decide. And as long as you don't insist people follow your lead, then it's no one's business but your own.'
'No one's business but my own?' he repeated sarcastically. 'What a concept!'
'Give it a rest, Underwear Boy,' she laughed. 'But seriously, it's not as if you issued a blanket pardon on the radio. All you've done is extend an olive branch to some of our classmates.'
'Right, but how do you feel about it? Thanks to me, you've had to socialise with people who literally wanted you dead, either for your parentage or your role in the war.'
She took a deep breath. 'Pansy Parkinson is a challenge. And so is Charles Selwyn.'
'Yeah, I honestly don't know what to make of him. We're on good terms at Pratt's, and he came to my drag party, but for all I know he'll be my arch-nemesis in the Wizengamot someday. Although I'm less worried about Selwyn than I am about people like Gemma's old classmates.' He told her what Gemma had said about low-status wizards who'd embraced blood-purist ideology.
'That's horrible, but it makes sense,' said Hermione. 'Consider those Snatchers who caught us—they were basically thugs, but working for Voldemort gave them a sense of belonging and shared glory.'
'I'd describe it as more of a power trip,' said Harry. 'Not to mention they were being paid.'
'True. And yes, I'm sure there are people like that amongst your fans. Not Snatchers, of course, but the sort of people who identify with whoever they perceive as a winner.'
'Brilliant. What an honour to be admired by them.'
They decided to ask Davina about forgiveness, and whether Harry was doing more harm than good in that regard. 'That depends,' said Davina. 'What is your goal?'
'To keep wizards alive,' said Harry automatically.
'All right. Take Charles Selwyn. What would happen if you gave him the cold shoulder?'
Harry thought for a moment. 'He'd find fault with me. He'd say I was a common half-blood who'd usurped House Black.'
'And why would he do that?' she prompted.
'To soothe his ego. He likes feeling superior, and if I rejected him he'd come up with a dozen reasons why I'm unworthy.'
'But mightn't he be doing that already?' asked Hermione. 'He's really a terrible snob, and he might just be using Harry.'
'So what if he is?' said Davina. 'And besides, what can he even get from Harry?'
'A rehabilitated image,' said Hermione. 'According to Lydia, the Prophet society pages ignored Esme and Charles for more than a year. But ever since they were photographed at Harry's party, they're getting coverage again. Which means they basically got away with collaborating.'
'They'd have got away with it regardless,' said Davina. 'Wizarding society is so biased towards the old families that only egregious crimes are punished.'
'Like Lucius Malfoy,' mused Harry. 'But in a way, people like Charles Selwyn are worse. Lucius at least had convictions, but Selwyn knew what the Death Eaters were doing and didn't care.'
'That's true, but we've already established that Charles Selwyn won't be punished. So, as long as wizarding society is stuck with him, is it better to get along with him or to create an enemy?'
'I suppose it's better to retain some influence over him. But it still boggles my mind that so many people supported Voldemort—people who should really have known better!'
'Harry, you're assuming people are rational,' said Davina firmly. 'We aren't. We're guided almost entirely by unconscious impulses, which cleverly masquerade as a thought process. You've been lucky enough to to cultivate selflessness, but most people haven't. And the only way to influence is by example, which can take a maddeningly long time. The fact that you've had such quick results is the exception, not the norm.'
He sighed, knowing she was right. 'I suppose Charles Selwyn barely knew any Muggle-borns. But what about my teammate Gemma's classmates? They knew exactly who was being harmed by Ministry policies, and what a load of bollocks it all was.'
'They were afraid,' said Davina. 'Which doesn't excuse their behaviour, but it's worth bearing in mind. And try to remember what things were like during the war. I lived abroad but I saw the Prophet, and it was wall-to-wall lies.'
'But the lies were so obvious,' argued Hermione. 'Shouldn't people have seen through them? We certainly did!'
'Hermione, don't forget how different one person's mind is to another's. You have exceptional critical thinking skills, for example. And Harry, you saw first-hand the events the Prophet insisted weren't true, so of course the lies were obvious. But not everyone is willing or able to assign the necessary cognitive resources to assessing the truth. And they'll almost always believe whatever makes them feel more comfortable.'
'So I should forgive them?' he asked. 'Or at least accept that they were mistaken, and move on?'
'That's entirely up to you. I trust your instincts, thanks to the foundation you've laid.'
'He really has good instincts,' noted Hermione.
'Just know that you can't speed up someone else's process of moving on. So if your friend Ron is uncomfortable with having Slytherins to dinner, and you want Ron to be happy living here, then you need to respect his feelings.'
'Of course,' said Harry absently, but Hermione interrupted.
'But what about personal responsibility?' she asked. 'Are you saying people who supported the Ministry aren't even to blame, since they were unable to work out the truth?'
'No, certainly not,' said Davina. 'They abetted grave injustice, which they had to be aware of on some level. We've spoken many times about the importance of integrating the darker parts of our own minds, and by supporting the Ministry these people did the opposite. Which makes forgiving them even more necessary.'
Harry was lost. 'I'm sorry, what?'
'Imagine you'd done something terribly wrong,' she said. 'So bad that you didn't even want to admit it to yourself, only everyone else knew you'd done it. Now imagine if people condemned you for it, and called you vile and sub-human. How would you react?'
'I'd probably feel even worse.'
'Would you?' she asked. 'Or would your ego kick in and try convincing you everyone else was wrong?'
'This is Harry we're talking about, so probably not,' said Hermione. 'Sorry, Harry—you're not actually as egotistical as you claim.'
'Fair enough,' said Davina. 'But for most people, that kind of censure provokes defiance. And instead of coming to terms with what they did wrong, they'll go through contortions to justify why it was right.'
Harry took a moment to think about it. 'So if I condemned Pansy Parkinson and Charles Selwyn, they'd be less likely to admit to themselves that they royally fucked up?'
'Yes. And practising Dark magic makes things worse.'
'Ugh, Dark magic!' groaned Harry. 'You mean because it helps people wall off their emotions? I talked to Narcissa Malfoy about that last week, and it made me even more convinced Light magic's the way to go.'
'It is,' said Davina. 'And yes, that's exactly the problem.'
'Right, then,' he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. 'Carry on.'
'Harry, there's no need for despair. Light ultimately wins, and always by example. So just keep doing what you're doing, and be patient.'
He knew she was right, and his frustration ebbed over the course of their lesson. The truth was he'd had fun with Pansy the night before, even though she was obnoxious at times. And he'd never have drawn an apology from her if he'd declared her a monster for abetting Umbridge and all the rest.
Next stop: Charles Selwyn, he thought, resolving to visit Pratt's later that week.
He saw Fiona the next evening, having been permitted to come over straight from practice. 'The cat's out of the bag,' she said in her letter, 'so he may as well get used to you.'
Indeed, Matthew was less hostile than before, and he even deigned to show Harry his toy Quidditch set. 'Which team do you want to be, red or black?' he asked, opening the large, painted box.
'Either is fine,' said Harry, relieved Matthew was willing to play with him.
'You should be black, since that's your name, and I'll be red.' He showed Harry how to put the pieces together, which took them a while, and he handed Harry a wooden pegboard labelled with the name of a pretend Quidditch team. 'The wand stuff is on the back,' he said.
Harry turned it over and read the brief instructions for refreshing the toy's magic. 'This seems straightforward,' he said, and he cast the provided charm. The stands came to life, and what used to be painted spectators turned into tiny people, waving banners and producing a sound that reminded Harry of radio static. 'Brilliant!' he said, genuinely impressed.
Matthew shrugged, clearly used to the magic, and told Harry how to play. 'First you have to roll the dice, to make the players. I'll go first.' He rolled a pair of ordinary dice atop his own pegboard, yielding an eight. 'Eight's only all right, but I have to play it, because that's the rule,' he said, and he placed a peg into a hole labelled 'Beater.' A drawing of a not-very-burly looking Beater appeared next to it. 'Your turn,' he said, handing Harry the dice.
Harry rolled a five and was secretly pleased, wanting Matthew to win. 'I'll make him a Chaser,' he announced, knowing Matthew wouldn't be fooled if he deliberately played badly. A drawing of a grey-haired, balding wizard appeared, and Matthew laughed.
'I don't think he'll be very good at it,' said Matthew, taking the dice.
'No, probably not. But hopefully the other two Chasers will be better.'
Matthew rolled a ten but took a moment to decide. 'I could use it for the Seeker,' he explained, 'but I still have more rolls and might do better.' After a bit more hesitation, he slid a peg into the hole labelled 'Keeper,' and a drawing of a lanky witch appeared.
Harry's next roll was an eleven. If he'd been playing to win, he'd have made it the Seeker, but he decided to use it on another Chaser. A grinning young man appeared on the pegboard, looking surprisingly like Darren, and Harry said, 'I need at least one good Chaser, to make up for the other one.'
They went back and forth, yielding reasonably-matched teams. Harry's Beaters were better, but Matthew had two strong Chasers to Harry's one. Matthew rolled an eleven for the Seeker, shouting 'Yes!' and a wiry-looking wizard appeared on the board. Harry's Seeker was only a nine, and although she was the right size she wore disquietingly thick glasses. But his Keeper looked good, and they were ready to start.
Matthew showed him the strategy section of the pegboard, which you could change as needed. 'But don't change it too often, or the players get confused,' he explained.
He placed a small box in the middle of the pitch, which Harry tapped with his wand. Four tiny balls flew out, including a vanishingly small Snitch, and the game was on. At first Harry was too dazzled by the gameplay to bother with strategy, and they laughed when his middle-aged Chaser missed an easy catch. He quickly realised, however, that the strategy pegs made a real difference, and the score climbed in Harry's favour.
It became clear that Matthew was selecting strategies at random, so Harry started explaining them. 'Your Chasers are better than mine,' he said, 'so you'll want a more aggressive formation, like the Broadmoor Sweep.' Matthew took his advice, and within minutes his team pulled ahead.
Thrilled, Matthew asked about other strategies, and Harry showed him the difference between two Beater patterns. 'This one's my least favourite,' he said, 'since it takes aim at the Seeker. But it's a good way to prevent them from catching the Snitch, since they'll be too busy dodging Bludgers.'
'But you're falling behind,' said Matthew, noticing how his own Chasers continued to profit from the lack of attention from Harry's Beaters.
'That's true, but you're only ahead by sixty, so I'll still win if my Seeker makes the catch.'
Harry knew Matthew was intelligent, but he wasn't prepared for the joy of watching him grasp a new concept. 'What does this strategy do?' asked Matthew, pointing at the pegboard. 'Hog-ton Gambit,' he read uncertainly.
'Houghton,' said Harry. 'Do you see that diagram underneath? That shows how the Chasers all fly at different heights, which increases the risk of an interception but makes them less vulnerable to Bludgers. My Chasers couldn't pull it off, but yours might, and if my Beaters were targeting your Chasers I'd recommend it.'
'Can you do that?' asked Matthew. 'I want to see it.'
Harry was happy to oblige, and Matthew watched intently as the players realigned. 'As a Seeker,' said Harry, 'my next move would be to fly through the middle, to interrupt their passes. But I don't know if my Seeker is a good enough flyer. Shall we try it out?'
Matthew nodded excitedly, and Harry saw Fiona beaming at them from the kitchen. He didn't notice, however, when she left the room, which meant he was doubly surprised when she returned with two guests.
Looking distinctly uncomfortable, Fiona announced, 'Matthew, Granny and Grandad are here.' Harry immediately stood and found himself facing what had to be Rob's parents.
'Mr Potter,' said Rob's father, and Harry wondered whether the line between his brows was always that deep.
'Please, call me Harry,' he said, shaking the proffered hand. 'And you must be Mr and Mrs Dunning. It's a pleasure to meet you.'
Mrs Dunning extended a hand, and she insisted Harry call them Gene and Charlotte, but her tone was more wary than welcoming.
They were clearly fond of their grandson, however, and Gene knelt for a closer look at the Quidditch match. 'Who's winning?' he asked.
'I am!' said Matthew. 'I have better Chasers, and my Seeker's really good, but Harry has better Beaters.' He rattled off what he'd learnt about strategy, and Gene seemed impressed.
'When I was your age, I just stuck the pegs in at random. So, well done!'
'Was this your set, then?' asked Harry, sitting down again.
'Yes, and my father's as well.'
'Brilliant. I only saw Muggle toys growing up, and nothing lasted this long.'
'No, I suppose not. But don't let us interrupt.'
To Harry's alarm, Gene and Charlotte watched in silence as he interacted with Matthew. 'Er, shall we try the Inverted Dash?' he asked Matthew, hoping to regain their prior rapport.
'How does that work?' asked the boy, and soon they were at ease again. Harry did his best to pretend he wasn't being scrutinised, and he was grateful he'd learnt to ignore hostile spectators.
The match continued, but Harry was dismayed when his bespectacled Seeker caught the Snitch before Matthew's Chasers had taken a sufficient lead. 'Oh dear, I didn't see that coming,' he exclaimed, hoping Rob's parents wouldn't think he'd won on purpose.
Matthew's disappointment was evident, and Harry attempted to salvage things by praising how much he'd learnt. 'You'd have won if you hadn't wanted to try all the strategies,' he said. 'Remember how you wanted to see the Bedford Squabble?'
'Oh, right. That really didn't work, but it looked funny. Can we play again?'
'No,' said Fiona, 'it's almost time for dinner.'
'Then can we play after dinner?' asked Matthew hopefully.
'Not tonight, it takes too long. But maybe next time.'
Harry disassembled the Quidditch set and put it back into the box, hoping he wasn't violating some Dunning tradition about how to do it. He also noticed that two more place settings had appeared on the table, and he regretted how easy it was to feed last-minute guests.
Where's Gamp's Law when you need it? he thought sourly, even though he owed his life to the ability to magically increase food. He took advantage of Gene and Charlotte's focus on Matthew and joined Fiona in the kitchen.
'I gather this was a surprise?' he asked quietly.
'Yes, but I should have seen it coming,' she scowled. 'Well done on the Quidditch match, by the way.'
'Cheers. You know I wasn't trying to win, right?'
'Yes, but it's fine that you did, and you cheered him up afterwards. Which means Charlotte will fault you for being too good with Matthew, thereby causing him to forget his own father and be crushed when you dump me.'
Harry protested vehemently, even though he knew she was joking. 'Do you have any last-minute advice for dinner?' he asked.
'Don't mention Dunning's,' she said, referring to the family-owned restaurant. 'They both know the only time you were there was with Lydia Travers.'
'Right. And I'm assuming I shouldn't mention Sorceress either?'
She laughed out loud. 'Better not to. Same with France. And you should probably avoid underwear entirely.'
'Shall I remove it, then?' he asked, glancing down.
'Stop it!' she laughed. 'Just be yourself. I'm sure you're useless at dissembling, so they might as well see how happy you make me. But if you get even slightly handsy, I'll curse you.'
'Understood. Save the groping for later.'
They gathered at the table, and for a while the conversation was innocuous, revolving mostly around Matthew. But he ate quickly, and before Fiona could protest, Charlotte produced an activity book for him to play with. 'Much better than grown-up conversation,' she said brightly, and Matthew scampered to the lounge.
Fiona reached for Harry's hand under the table, and he squeezed it reassuringly. 'So, Harry,' began Charlotte. 'It came as rather a surprise to learn you and Fiona were dating.'
'I'm sure it was,' said Harry. 'And I'm sorry you had to learn about it from the Daily Prophet.'
'That was my fault entirely,' said Fiona. 'Harry was the soul of discretion, but I surprised him at the portkey terminal.'
The soul of discretion? he thought doubtfully. Clearly she's as mad for me as I am for her.
Charlotte's expression was equally sceptical. 'And apparently you'd been dating several weeks by then. Which I realise is a long time for some people,' she said with a glance at Harry. 'But Fiona, I'd never have thought you'd lose your natural reticence so quickly. You used to be so reserved.'
Fiona looked down at the tablecloth. 'I realise it was out of character,' she said. 'And again, I'm sorry to drag you into it. But there's no in-between when you're dating Harry Potter—either no one knows, or everyone does. And I didn't want to hide it any longer.'
'That's understandable,' said Gene. 'And what's done is done. The question is what to do about it.'
Harry tried to hide his confusion, but Fiona didn't hide hers. 'What's that supposed to mean?' she asked. 'There's nothing to "do" about it. We're dating, and everyone knows it.'
'Of course. But what boundaries will you set? Harry, I realise you're not on the radio tonight, but do you expect to return?'
'Yes, almost certainly,' he said. 'It's been by far the best way to set the record straight.'
'With Veritaserum,' tutted Charlotte.
'I thought it was brilliant,' said Fiona. 'Here he's been accused of lying for years, and he was able to prove his sincerity beyond all doubt.'
'Yes, but he was only able to publicly take Veritaserum because his life is an open book. Harry, will it continue like that? Because if so, we need to consider the impact on Matthew.'
'I would never talk about Matthew on the radio!'
'Perhaps not,' said Charlotte, 'but I'm told radio hosts have started speculating about him, which is highly inappropriate.'
Fiona inhaled sharply. 'What did they say?'
'Nothing specific. But they joked about him having Harry as a stepdad, which seemed a bit premature. And I'm sure you can guess what they insinuated.'
Sighing, Harry said, 'I'm sorry, and I agree that's inappropriate. Would it help if I asked the Cannons publicity department to intervene?'
'It might,' said Charlotte. 'But that's just one example of your alarming overexposure.'
There was an awkward silence as everyone seemed to process the reference to Harry's adverts, intentional or no. 'We can't change the past,' said Gene hastily. 'But we were talking about the future and what steps Harry might take to lower his profile.'
'Fiona, is that what you want?' asked Harry.
She looked torn. 'Privacy would be nice,' she admitted. 'But you're a public figure, and you can't just disappear.'
'No, but he needn't be quite so public,' said Gene. 'The Quidditch season is nearly over, and this might be a good opportunity to ... recalibrate.'
'It's not a bad idea,' said Harry to Fiona. 'Remember what Nikki told me?' Addressing Rob's parents, he said, 'She's an American radio host, and she urged me to keep some of my life private.'
They nodded in approval. 'A worthy goal,' said Charlotte. 'But what are your plans for the off-season? Or haven't you any?'
Harry was offended by the suggestion he was just going to faff about all winter. I'm not a bloody Malfoy, he thought irritably. 'I do have plans, and I'm afraid some of them are public. For example, in January I'm attending the World Quidditch Conference to put forth a proposal to change the rules.'
'The conference rules?' asked Charlotte.
'Er, no,' said Harry, sensing disaster too late. 'The Quidditch rules.'
Gene in particular was aghast. 'You can't change Quidditch! It's hundreds of years old!'
'Yes, and for hundreds of years it's needed improving. And I'm hardly the only one to think so—scores of professional players have signed the petition, and the team owners have something similar.'
'Then why are you taking the lead? Can't you just sign the petition and be done with it?'
'Because they'd ignore us otherwise. Whereas my participation guarantees press coverage.'
Gene frowned. 'Forgive me, Harry, but you're too impatient. Perhaps things are different in the Muggle world, but in the wizarding world change happens slowly.'
'Except when it doesn't,' said Harry. 'During the war, change from the Ministry came at an alarming rate.'
'Yes, but it all changed back. It's like the current of a river, flowing steadily for centuries. There are sections with rapids, of course, and the flow might increase after a storm, but otherwise it's constant. Which mirrors magic itself, running richly through all of us.'
This is clearly a Dunning thing, thought Harry, recalling their obsession with water. 'I can appreciate that, since Light magic is similar. And I don't necessarily expect to change the Quidditch rules overnight. But I can set things in motion—the way you might toss a branch into a river—and maybe it'll get somewhere.'
Fiona smiled at him, but Charlotte looked worried. 'Is that your only plan for this winter?' she asked uncertainly.
'No,' said Harry, bracing himself again. 'I'll be attending to politics. Specifically, building alliances in the Wizengamot.'
Gene sighed heavily. 'I was afraid you'd say that. I realise you didn't choose Fiona for her surname, but your political activities will affect the entire family.'
Harry refrained from rolling his eyes. I'd offer her my surname, but I have this dratted vow, he thought irritably. 'Yes, but I'm sure you'll weather it,' he said. 'Fiona tells me the Dunnings have been apolitical for centuries.'
'We have been, and I highly recommend it. And no, it doesn't mean turning a blind eye to wrongdoing.'
'I know that,' said Harry. Fiona had told him how, during the war, the Dunnings had waived rent for their Muggle-born tenants, provided free food, and so forth. They didn't openly resist, however, and Harry suspected they embodied the extreme version of his own decision to join Pratt's and interact with Dark wizards. 'But I'll never be apolitical,' he told them. 'I've never had the choice.'
'Our son was political, and we lost him,' said Gene. 'Which is why we're concerned about the risk to Matthew and Fiona.'
'Gene, we already discussed this,' said Fiona. 'I have no concerns for Matthew's safety, nor mine. And no one's done more than Harry to make Britain safe again.'
The conversation petered out with a distinct air of agreeing to disagree, although no one said it out loud. Gene and Charlotte rejoined Matthew in the lounge and left soon after, with parting hugs for Fiona. 'You're looking well,' Charlotte told her, which Harry knew was the closest she'd come to expressing approval.
'Well, that could have gone worse,' said Fiona as they walked from the fireplace. 'Although they still don't like it.'
'They seem happy for you, at least.'
'Yes, but I'm sure they wish I'd found someone else.'
'Then I'm delighted to thwart them,' said Harry, drawing her into a kiss before they reached the lounge.
'As am I,' she said, kissing him back. When they finished, she said, 'See you in an hour?'
'Yes, the bedtime ritual,' he sighed. 'Should I say goodnight to him or just sneak into the parlour?'
'Say goodnight. I think he's warming up to you.'
Harry bade Matthew goodnight, then left the room so Fiona could focus on being a mum. He'd intended to reply to fan mail, but he realised this was a chance to listen to Weasley's Wizard Wireless, which he'd never actually heard except in person. He missed the beginning, though, and they were already mid-interview.
'Your publisher was kind enough to send us your memoir,' said Lee. 'Which is fortunate, since I definitely wasn't going to shell out for any more of your books. I still have them, you know.'
'You still have them?' exclaimed George. 'I used mine for target practice. My brother and I took turns launching them from Gryffindor Tower and cursing them mid-air.'
'A fitting end,' said Gilderoy Lockhart soberly. 'And I'm sorry for requiring you to buy all of them. That was truly shameless.'
Harry was torn between horror and glee—horror that they were interviewing Lockhart, and glee that they'd probably tear him to shreds.
'Right,' said George. 'But I have to say, you don't look all that embarrassed.'
'No, he really doesn't,' said Lee. 'Listeners, you can't see our guest's expression, but if you want to know what it looks like, just stand in front of a mirror for about an hour and practise looking contrite. I'm sure you'll get it.'
Remind me never to get on their bad side, thought Harry, amused.
'On the contrary, I needed far more than an hour's practice,' said Lockhart. 'Six years, in fact.'
'But weren't you mostly out of it? According to your memoir, you barely knew your name until sometime last year.'
'Yes, that's true.'
'What was that like?' asked George. 'Did you wake up one morning and suddenly it all came back? And yes, I know this is in your book, but I couldn't be arsed to read it.'
Lockhart chuckled, clearly trying to sound as if he were in on the joke. 'I didn't get my memories back overnight, but according to my Healers I crossed an important threshold a little over a year ago. Which actually did happen overnight, and it was rather dramatic, apparently.'
'Dramatic, you?' exclaimed Lee. 'No, you're having us on!'
'I'm only repeating what the Healers told me, since I was asleep at the time. They said I started convulsing, which triggered the wards, and the attending Healer put me in a Body-Bind. But I still moaned and displayed extreme emotions for nearly an hour before falling silent again.'
'What do they think happened?' asked George, sounding like an adult indulging a babbling child.
'My Healers never knew, but from then on I responded much better to Memory-Boosting Potions, which the Healers gave me daily to facilitate basic tasks. Cassia Dexter has a theory, though.'
'Oh? What does Doctor Niffler have to say?'
'She thinks I had a moral crisis that night, and that my convulsions were from a profound inner reckoning.'
'About what a fraud you were?' prompted George.
'Exactly!' said Lockhart, and someone rang a small bell, to Harry's bewilderment. 'My own magic was unwilling to assist with my recovery until I confronted my deep inner shame.'
'Which you conveniently did whilst unconscious,' said Lee. 'But what makes Cassia Dexter think it was a moral crisis, and not just a magical or physiological shift due to the passage of time?'
'Cassia sees almost everything in psychological terms. A professional bias, perhaps, but I'm in no position to judge, considering what a help she's been.'
'Yes, she seems to have played a major role in your release from custody. Although perhaps she was just dazzled by that smile of yours. Oh, look, there it is,' said Lee, and a bell rang again.
Harry laughed, realising they were ringing the bell whenever Lockhart smiled. 'Cassia is far too experienced a Mind Healer to succumb to mere charm,' he said, chuckling again.
'Yes, but this is Lockhart charm we're talking about,' said George. 'You of all people should know how powerful it is, seeing how you made us write an essay about it on our end-of-term exam.'
'As it happens, I still have mine,' announced Lee. He cleared his throat and read, 'Is personal charm essential to the practice of Defence, or is it merely a huge advantage? Provide at least three examples from the assigned texts, and discuss how someone who lacks personal charm might succeed in similar situations. Note that success is defined as surviving the threat without sustaining disfiguring injuries.'
'And that's why Mad-Eye Moody was crap at Defence,' said George. 'He left pieces of himself all over Britain, and probably on the Continent as well.'
'Excuse me, I think you're forgetting a certain earlike appendage you currently lack,' said Lee. 'By Lockhart's definition, you were also crap at Defence.'
Harry's heart sank, recalling the night George lost his ear, when Moody and Hedwig both died. I should tell Fiona about Hedwig, he thought sadly.
'I apologise for implying that,' said Lockhart, using the remorseful tone he'd adopted since leaving St Mungo's. 'And perhaps if I'd been a better teacher, you wouldn't have fallen victim to a Dark curse.'
'You shouldn't have been a teacher at all,' snapped George.
'To be fair, I'm pretty sure no one else applied,' said Lee. 'But George is right—you had no business teaching Defence.'
'You're absolutely right. Although in a sense I'm grateful I took the job, since it brought me where I am today.'
'Trapped in a small booth with Walburga Black?' said George, puzzled.
'Ha ha, no!' said Lockhart, and a bell rang again. 'I meant that I'm relieved to finally be living my authentic self, free from lies.'
'Right, free from lies,' said Lee, in a leading tone Harry knew well. 'As it happens, we still have some Veritaserum. Are you game?'
Harry had never realised how awkward a long silence sounds on the radio. 'Come on, Lockhart,' said George. 'Harry Potter did it.'
'Potter-Black,' said Lee. 'And Lockhart doesn't seem keen on the idea. Which I understand—at least Harry had warning, and we agreed on the questions in advance.'
'Too right,' said Lockhart, and Harry could easily imagine his nervous expression. 'Maybe next time?'
'You can count on it!' said George eagerly. Something tells me Lockhart will never be back on the show, thought Harry.
'Lockhart, could you say more about your authentic self? You mention it quite a lot in your memoir, and I'm sure our listeners want to know more.'
'Why yes, I'd love to say more. Back before my accident I was arguably the most envied wizard in Britain, but I was far less happy than I am now. That was the price of dishonesty, and I'm thrilled to be free of it.'
When Lockhart used the phrase 'most envied wizard in Britain,' Harry knew what was coming. And sure enough, Lee said, 'You seem to be suggesting people were wrong to envy you back then.'
'Yes and no,' said Lockhart. 'From the outside, yes, of course they envied me. After all, I was heroic, dashing, and rich. But there was an emptiness inside, and deep down I knew I was a fraud. Which just proves what a waste of time envy is, since the object almost never deserves it.'
'"Heroic, dashing, and rich,"' quoted Lee. 'That sounds awfully familiar—are you implying Harry Potter-Black is actually empty inside?'
'He does eat a lot,' said George. 'And I once saw him drain an entire bottle of butterbeer in one go.'
'All in one go?' exclaimed Lee. 'Oh my god, poor Harry! He's clearly concealing a gaping void beneath those robes of his.'
'You misunderstand me,' said Lockhart. 'I'm not calling Harry a fraud—not at all. I'm only saying there's more to him than just what you see.'
'Actually, we've seen quite a bit, thanks to his adverts,' said George. 'But I agree that envy is a useless emotion.'
'Hang on, did you and Lockhart just agree on something?' asked Lee.
'Sweet Merlin, I think we did! Lockhart, if you're smart you'll leave now before I start slagging you again.'
Lockhart laughed again, and someone rang the bell. 'That's the thing about truth, George. It transcends personal differences, and it can even bring enemies together, if both sides accept it.'
'Don't get ahead yourself, mate. We probably also agree that kittens are cute and chocolate is good, but I'm not ready to let you stay the night.'
'No, of course not,' said Lockhart, and the interview continued. Harry, too, was shocked to find himself agreeing with some of Lockhart's assertions, and if he hadn't known better he'd almost think Lockhart was sincere. Fiona, rescue me, he thought. Clearly I'm losing my mind.
'So, Professor, are you ready to meet Walburga?' asked Lee. 'I hear you have a thing for older witches.'
'Ha ha, I do indeed. An older witch is a like a fine wine—aged to perfection.'
'That describes Walburga to a tee.' Lee cleared his throat and said, 'Excuse me, Walburga. There's someone we'd like you to meet.'
Harry tensed—a leftover habit from his years with the portrait. 'Who is this?' she growled.
'Good evening, Mrs Black,' said Lockhart, in the seductive tones he'd used at the WORF gala. 'It's an absolute pleasure to meet you,' he said, and a bell rang.
'Filthy half-blood!' she cried. 'Close your leering mouth at once!'
'Come now, Walburga,' said George. 'Lockhart has the best smile in all England—not to mention that hair—and you're rejecting him for his blood status?'
'Smiles like that destroy bloodlines,' she said ominously. 'And he has the look of a seasoned bounder.'
'She's got you there, Lockhart,' said Lee. 'But give her your self-help spiel. I bet she'll like it.'
'You're right to describe me as a bounder,' said Lockhart earnestly. 'But you can't blame me for turning on the charm for such a beautiful witch.'
'Silence!' she cried, but Lockhart persisted.
'That's a lot of anger I'm hearing. Could you say more about that?'
'Now you've done it,' said George.
Walburga began shrieking, and Harry expected someone to silence her, but Lockhart said, 'No, Lee—wait.' In a louder voice, he said, 'Walburga, you're clearly in pain, and you've only just met me, so I'm probably not the cause.'
'Her son Sirius comes up a lot,' said Lee.
'Wretched cur! My greatest disappointment.'
'Perhaps, but that sounds like victim talk,' said Lockhart. 'Might I suggest reframing things a bit?'
'She's already in a frame,' said George.
'Begone, popinjay!' cried Walburga. 'I grow tired of your impertinence!'
'Mate, you're drowning,' said Lee. 'Quick, try one last smile.'
The bell rang again, and Lockhart said, 'You're a passionate woman, aren't you? And I'll bet you felt misunderstood while you were alive. Unappreciated, even.'
'My husband was too weak for me,' she snarled. 'There was only one man who could satisfy me, and I knew him only once.'
'Oh, really?' said George. 'Go on.'
If Harry had been in the booth he'd have urgently silenced her, but instead he sat helplessly in Fiona's parlour, nearly three hundred miles away.
'The Dark Lord, of course. One exhilarating night, long ago.'
There was a stunned silence, which even Lockhart didn't fill. 'Er, just how long ago, exactly?' asked George.
Not 1959, not 1959, repeated Harry, working backwards from Sirius's birthdate. Sirius was unmistakably a Black, of course, but so was Walburga, and Harry's horror was beyond words.
'I can't say precisely, but the boys were at school,' she said, and Harry nearly moaned with relief.
'And where was your husband?' asked George. 'Oh, Merlin—don't tell me he was there with you.'
'No, he was abroad. The Dark Lord orchestrated it, of course, since he'd long desired me.'
Still relieved that Voldemort wasn't Sirius's father, Harry was unprepared for the next question. 'Was this in your bedroom?' asked Lee.
'Yes, and the memories sustained me for the rest of my days. Our bodies intertwined ... his long, hard–'
'Bloody hell, no!' cried Lee, and Walburga was silent. 'I'm sorry, but there's a limit to what we'll broadcast on Weasley's Wizard Wireless, and that was it.'
George was laughing too hard to speak, and only after recovering did he say, 'Who's going to tell Harry?'
'That Voldemort had sex in his bed?' said Lee, also laughing. 'Good question. Should we send him a Patronus?'
Harry felt ill, and he barely heard the ensuing conversation, but no Patronus arrived. He caught the end of the interview, and George repeated the Veritaserum offer, which Lockhart acknowledged but otherwise evaded. The rest of the show consisted of comedy segments, and Harry was less agitated by the time Fiona returned.
'Did you manage to stay entertained?' she asked.
'Er, you could say that.' He still didn't want to think about Walburga's revelation, so he encouraged Fiona to do most of the talking.
She told him about her day, then said, 'I still can't get over how well you and Matthew got on tonight. You're surprisingly good with kids, and I loved how you explained the Quidditch strategies. He's very clever, and I think he feels frustrated when adults talk down to him.'
'I actually don't know how to talk to children,' admitted Harry. 'Other than Teddy, I haven't much experience.'
'Then keep doing what you're doing, and maybe we can stay at your house before too long.'
'Right, about that ... I learnt something appalling tonight on the radio.' He told her about the broadcast, and the horrible discovery that Voldemort and Walburga had shagged in his bed.
Fiona stifled a laugh. 'Oh my god, that's ghastly. Can you imagine?'
'I've been trying not to imagine it for the better part of an hour! What should I do?'
'What do you mean? You're not proposing getting rid of your bed, are you?'
Harry just stared at her. 'I can't sleep there! And surely you don't want to.'
'Well, not specifically. I mean, it's not exactly a draw. But you already knew Walburga used it, and god knows who else before her.'
'I suppose. But ... Voldemort. Having sex. In my bed. With Walburga.'
'You changed the linens, right?'
'Of course I changed the linens!' cried Harry. 'Well, Kreacher did.'
'So, what's the problem exactly? It was only one night.'
He was having trouble understanding why Fiona didn't share his horror. 'It's just ... I never pictured Voldemort that way.'
'What, shagging?'
He covered his ears. 'Gah, don't say it!'
She laughed and said, 'You really thought he was a virgin?'
'You never saw him!' cried Harry. 'I don't know what he looked like in 1972 or whenever it was, but he was positively creepy in the memory Dumbledore showed me from the fifties.' Harry described Voldemort's waxy appearance, his features distorted by Dark rituals, and Fiona shuddered.
'Still, you've said more than once that he was a master seducer,' she observed.
'That's true. And clearly he wanted something from Walburga, although I doubt it was intimacy.' Harry paused, then said, 'Gold, maybe, or some other kind of support for the cause. Or maybe he just wanted leverage over her.'
'Perhaps. And I doubt it was anything like what sex is for you, or for us.'
'No, impossible,' said Harry, shaking his head. 'He wasn't capable of that kind of trust. For him it could only have been about power.'
Fiona leaned against him. 'And you've never had that kind of sex. In each other's eyes, you're probably both virgins.'
'You may be right. And I've already overlooked any number of horrors that have probably happened in the house. What's one more?'
'Are you sure it was just one?' smirked Fiona. 'You managed six.'
'Why do you hate me?' he said, laughing. 'Are you trying to ruin the mood?'
'Definitely not!' She stood up and tugged his hand. 'Come on, let me ease you back into it. I promise that no Dark Lords have ever had sex here. Although there's been one Light Lord.'
'Don't call me that,' he said automatically, following her, and she laughed.
'Oh, I'll call you whatever I like. And you'll call me whatever you like, and then we'll stop talking entirely.' She lowered her voice as they climbed the staircase. 'And this weekend, we'll repeat the process in your huge, evil bed, and reclaim every last inch of it.'
'Mrs Dunning!'
They were upstairs, and she bypassed the bathroom and led him straight to her room. 'It'll be a big job, so we should really get started. And yes, I want you to glow. Because shagging a Light Lord is brilliant and I want the full experience.'
There was no more talk of Voldemort that night, and he surrendered entirely to his Light magic. Hours later she sent him away, with a promise to advance the schedule if things continued well with Matthew. 'I want to wake up with you,' she murmured, and her parting kiss warmed him the entire way home.
By morning he'd forgotten Walburga's revelation, but the Daily Prophet reminded him, with a box on the front page that said, 'Black Family Shocker!' Sighing, Harry turned to the gossip column to find Walburga's portrait overlaid with a heart-shaped drawing of Voldemort. The accompanying blurb was predictably lurid, and Harry dreaded Narcissa's reaction. I suppose I'll hear it tonight, he thought, since they were to have their first dancing lesson.
There was also praise for Lockhart's radio appearance: 'It took courage—yes, courage—for the disgraced former professor to appear on Weasley's Wizard Wireless, where he could only expect scorn. And the two hosts delivered: George Weasley was particularly harsh, but Lockhart bore the abuse with exceptional grace. The aspiring self-help guru demonstrated both humility and good humour, which bode well for his new career.'
Harry had decidedly mixed feelings about Lockhart's comeback. He still didn't trust him, and he found Lockhart's new guise as a would-be Mind Healer laughable. But he didn't relish the idea of Lockhart stuck in St Mungo's for the rest of his life, let alone Azkaban, and—Witch Weekly notwithstanding—Harry was confident he'd always be more popular.
When he arrived at practice, Lara asked how he'd taken the news about Walburga. 'It came as a shock,' he admitted. 'And Fiona had to talk me out of setting my bed on fire. But I think I'm past the worst of it.'
'Lee felt bad afterwards,' she told him. 'In hindsight, he wished he'd Silenced her, but George was egging her on. And it certainly made for good radio.'
'That it did, and tell Lee I'm fine. Narcissa Malfoy might kill me, but otherwise I'll get over it.'
As soon the other Cannons learnt Harry wasn't upset, the jokes started coming. 'Do you think they had breakfast in bed?' asked Janet.
'No, he was definitely the type to scarper,' said Gary. 'Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am.'
'Makes sense. I doubt he was a cuddler.'
'Probably not, but I'm sure he took his time,' said Suresh. 'Walburga made it sound like it was the sexual high point of her entire life, so I'm sure he put in some effort. Maybe even a ritual or two.'
'I do not want to ponder this,' said Harry. 'We cleansed the room of Dark magic, which means it never happened.'
'Don't take this the wrong way, Snitchbottom, but you sound like every kid when they realise their parents had sex,' said Janet.
'They weren't my parents,' he countered.
'No, but it's definitely horrifying, and you're clearly in denial.'
'I've moved past denial,' he insisted. 'This is the joking phase. And I'm joking it out of existence.'
'Well done,' said Renée. 'They just went upstairs and played Exploding Snap for a few hours.'
Darren grimaced. 'That's somehow more disturbing than picturing them having sex. Both of which I've done in Harry's bed, come to think of it.'
Ryan pointed out that people were likely to go to the shop and ask Walburga for details. 'Bugger, you're right!' said Harry. 'How do we prevent that?'
'Good question. For all we know, Sorceress is interviewing her as we speak,' said Gary. '"My night of sweet exhaustion with the Dark Lord. Walburga Black tells all!"'
There was a silence as everyone contemplated Gary's words, and Renée finally said, 'They'd never do that. No mainstream publication would glorify the Dark Arts that way.'
'Right, but what about a non-mainstream publication?' asked Harry.
'Blood Traitor wouldn't touch it,' said Suresh. 'Even without the Dark Arts, it's too hetero.'
'Busty and Bewitched?' asked Gary, but Darren shook his head.
'No, that one's for thirteen year-olds. Not officially, but in practice.'
Everyone looked at Janet. 'Oi! Why me?' she cried.
'Because you're you,' said Darren. 'No offence.'
She scowled. 'None taken.' After a pause, she said, 'Shit. Engorgio. They'd run it.'
'Engorgio?' said Renée. 'I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that.'
'Harry, you have to stop them,' said Ryan. 'Until someone can persuade Walburga not to talk about it, Lee and George have to suspend visits.'
'You're right,' said Harry. 'Patronus?'
Ryan nodded, and Harry sent the weirdest Patronus message of his life. Tuttle set them to running, and Harry was a bundle of nerves until George's response arrived.
'Not to worry,' said the glowing magpie. 'We realised the same thing, and Lee—who's a genius—told Walburga old Voldy was a half-blood. You can imagine her reaction, and frankly I felt lucky to only have one ear. But the good news is she's done talking.'
Relieved, Harry resumed running, and Gemma found him. 'How did Walburga even miss that?' she asked. 'She's never wrong about blood status.'
'No idea. All I can guess is that no one's ever tried to hide their blood status as much as Voldemort did.'
'Serves her right,' spat Gemma. 'The old cow.'
'Thank Merlin she's not sentient,' said Harry. 'Otherwise I couldn't in good conscience let them keep displaying her. It's a bit iffy as is.'
'Don't even think of taking her down! She's like balm to the soul of every Muggle-born.'
Narcissa, however, didn't see it that way. 'Harry, you have to destroy that portrait! It's an absolute travesty she's still on display.'
'No,' he said firmly. 'I've heard from too many people how much she's helped them.'
Her eyebrows drew together in irritation. 'You have a responsibility to protect the reputation of House Black,' said Narcissa. 'She's an embarrassment to us all.'
'How?' said Harry, meeting her gaze. 'Her opinions are her own, and they don't reflect on anyone but herself.'
With a huff of frustration, she said, 'You wouldn't understand.'
'I beg your pardon! What's that supposed to mean?'
She looked away for a moment before responding. 'You didn't grow up with a family,' she explained. 'You don't know what it's like to have people form their opinion of you based entirely on preconceived notions.'
'Are you joking? My whole life was dictated by people's preconceived notions! I was famous before I could talk, for something I didn't even do.'
'That's not what I meant,' she said coldly. 'When you got to Hogwarts, no one asked which kind of Black you were. Or Potter, rather.'
'Of course not! They were too busy gawking at my scar or making cracks about my dead parents.'
'But not your mad aunt.'
'They didn't even know my aunt!' he snapped, before realising what she meant.
'They knew mine!' she cried. 'And my great-grandfather, and several cousins. Not to mention my own sister, who was already showing signs of it.'
Harry didn't know how to reply, but his anger was gone. 'I'm sorry,' he began. 'You're so unlike them that I don't even make the connection.'
'Lucius's parents did—they didn't want him to marry me, for fear I'd pass it to our children. Draco seems free of it, though. He has his own vices, to be sure, but not that one. And you didn't get it either.'
Scion of a lesser branch, thought Harry. 'It doesn't need to define the family anymore,' he said gently.
'Then destroy her portrait. Didn't Sirius ask you to remake the family?'
'He did, but he was talking about the Dark Arts, not ... this.'
She let out a hollow laugh. 'He had it too, you know.'
Harry closed his eyes, remembering his godfather's darker moments. 'I know. But it didn't define him. And he made far better choices than Walburga did. And so did Regulus, eventually.'
'Poor Regulus,' she said, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. 'I asked Lucius to take him under his wing. And he did.'
'I'm sorry I never met him. He really should have been Head of House.'
'It's probably better this way,' she said sadly. 'It can skip a generation, after all.'
She refilled their tea and for a while they drank in silence. 'I'm sorry about Walburga,' he said. 'I'm not prepared to destroy her, but I can ask Lee and George to keep her off the air for a while.'
'That will have to do, I suppose.'
By the time she led him to the dance floor she'd regained her composure, and the dancing lesson began. There was no trace of her outburst, and Harry knew she was using Dark methods to subdue her emotions. Under her mild Compulsion Charm he was able to dance smoothly, and his arms and Light magic enveloped her.
