Joe's Note: I realize this might be alien to some of you because not many writers choose to do this… but I actually plan to have Harry get to know people before dating them, much less marrying them. Shocking, I know. That's why Illyria had such a large number of suggestions, so that Harry has options when it comes to finding someone he gets along with and wants to date. Granted most of them have a certain something in common, since Illyria knows what Harry likes… but they'll all be distinctly different as well, and it'll be up to Harry to figure out who he's most compatible with.
Dedications & Thanks: To Nicholas, Alexander, Howard, Alonsis2, Connor, MJ, Daniel, Christopher, Fablesrogue, Morgan, Janne, Eric, DireSquirrel, Joseph, Jason, mpop, RileyWestfall, bloodylord, Luke, Zachary, Marc, Ziryo, Elliot, Crusifikz70, Timothy, Leigh, Chris, George, Koby, Ken, Dimitria, William, Invernos, Paul, Pat, Joel, Kentucky Fried Dragon, Warren, Mitch, and Jess for sponsoring me on , and making it easier for me to spend more of my time writing.

June 26, 1996
The Hogwarts Express
Somewhere Between Hogsmeade and London

"Potter!"

Pausing, Harry let out a groan before turning around. He hadn't even made it halfway down the composite coach his own compartment was in before running into Malfoy and his bodyguards. Had the ferret decided to camp out in the compartment next to his or something? "What do you want, Malfoy? Looking for a taste of what Illyria gave your father at the Ministry?"

Draco let out a low growl as he pulled his wand, pressing the tip against Harry's cheek. "You have a lot to answer for, Potter. You assaulted my father, killed my aunt and uncles-"

"Technically, Illyria killed them." Harry couldn't help but grin at the way Draco's right eye twitched as the interruption. "And did most of the assaulting, too. I mean, I did smack him around the way you lot treat your house elves while we were down in the Department of Mysteries, but she's the one who hit your father with a Lestrange."

"-and you're the reason my parents split up!" Draco snarled as Harry just raised an eyebrow curiously at that. "My father says that when he told Mother about Illyria, she declared that she wanted nothing to do with him any more and moved out of the manor. She seemed to think it wasn't safe to be around him after what Illyria did to the Lestranges."

…he'd heard Lavender and Parvati gossiping about the Malfoys' divorce over a copy of the Daily Prophet on Tuesday, but knowing that he was inadvertently the cause of it? So much funnier in Harry's book. And while he usually tried to avoid bringing peoples' mothers into things on account of not finding jokes about his own mother at all funny? This was too good an opportunity to pass up. "Hmm. Does this mean she's technically single now? Because Illyria's been on me about trying to find a Lady Potter and… well, your mum's bloody hot."

'Would you like me to send an owl to Narcissa Black for you?'

'…no, Illyria. I was making a joke.'

'Are you sure? Luna likewise found Narcissa to be attractive, and she fits with my requirements for a proper Lady Potter. Additionally, a simple depth-first search puts her at the head of the line to succeed Sirius as the head of the Black family. Marrying her would add considerable political power and assets to our cause.'

'…there are a few different things in there that we'll need to talk about when I'm not dealing with a wand to the face.' Harry met Draco's grey eyes, which were starting to take on a bit of a manic gleam as the Slytherin dug the tip of his wand into Harry's flesh even harder. "So, how about it? I promise not to make you call me Father."

"Reducto!"

Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as the world around him suddenly slowed, allowing him to wrench himself to the left and avoid the bright blue pulse of magic that erupted from Draco's wand. He turned his head to track it as time resumed its normal flow, the spell shooting clear down the length of the corridor before impacting with the wall at the end of the carriage and detonating. As screams rang out from several other compartments, Harry wrapped one hand around Draco's wrist and pulled, yanking the boy past him before twisting and delivering a palm strike to the blond's chest. Draco took flight, soaring through the air until he was brought to an abrupt stop by the wall, the force of his impact adding to the not inconsiderable damage his Reductor Curse had caused.

Glancing back over his shoulder at where Crabbe and Goyle were standing around like the useless lumps they were, Harry jerked his head in Draco's direction. "Maybe you should haul him back into your compartment before he does something else stupid." They nodded and Harry set off down the corridor again, making sure to bring a foot down hard on Draco's wand as he passed the fallen blond, snapping it in half. As he stepped into the vestibule, he was greeted by soft clapping… and the last person he'd expect to be congratulating him for abusing Malfoy. "Greengrass."

As pretty as the doppelgänger conjured by Illyria had been, the real Daphne Greengrass had a subtle spark of life to her that made her even more so. Although the fact that she was in casual clothes instead of her school uniform probably helped on that front, Harry had to admit. He still couldn't help but be amused by how pervasive teenage muggle fashions were in the wizarding world, up to and including pureblooded Slytherins. In Daphne's case, it was a green tank top that was cut low enough to show off her substantial bust line and a pair of snuggly-fitting blue jeans. He found himself idly wondering if she'd charmed her tank top to get it to perfectly match the green in the Slytherin scarf wrapped around her neck, or if she'd bought it from the muggles in that shade.

Harry quickly brought his eyes back up to fix firmly on the teal eyes of the girl in front of him, lest he be accused of staring at something that he definitely appreciated but equally definitely was not actually staring at. Metal glinting in the light drew Harry's attention upward as Daphne adjusted the delicate silver circlet she was wearing, and then he met her eyes again. "Potter."

"Davis." The third voice drew both Harry and Daphne's attention to the girl who was standing just inside the gangway door, and Tracey Davis grinned. "Sorry, I was feeling a little left out." Stepping forward, she peered around the corner at where Crabbe and Goyle were helping Draco back to his feet. "Now I'm glad we left when we did, or I might have gotten hit in the back with a flying ferret." Leaning a bit further to her right, she caught sight of the damage to the wall and let out a low whistle. "Wow. You two sure made a mess. What the hell did you hit him with?"

His eyes slowly tracking the life-sized, glittering silver adder that was slowly making its way up Tracey's side, Harry missed the question… and Daphne's exasperated sigh… and Tracey's snicker. When a pair of fingers snapped in front of his face, he jerked his head up and blushed faintly. "Sorry, what?"

Tracey seemed amused rather than annoyed, though, straightening up and leaning against the wall beside Daphne as she brought one hand up to her chest. Hooking two fingers between her breasts, she tugged the neckline of her emerald summer dress down a bit, making Harry gulp loudly. "See something you like, Harry?"

"…err, to be honest? I was wondering if the snake was sentient. Or as close to sentient as snakes get, that is." Harry forced his eyes to meet Tracey's and remain there even as she continued to tease the scoop neck of her dress with one finger. "There aren't many people in Gryffindor who can afford something like that and… well, the ones who do have enchanted clothes? I don't speak lion. I can talk to snakes, though."

Obviously not expecting that particular answer, the half-sisters exchanged intrigued looks before returning their attention to Harry. "So?" Leaning against Tracey, Daphne wrapped one arm around the brunette's waist and brushed her hand over the serpent in question. "Is it?"

"How would I know? Someone distracted me before I could try talking to it." Harry glanced back down at the silver snake… and then blinked as it slithered its way off the side of Tracey's dress and onto Daphne's tank top. "Well that's… interesting. All right, here goes." Focusing on it the same way he did with the snake on the tap in Myrtle's bathroom, he cleared his mind and then spoke. § Hello? Can you understand me? §

The head of the previously flat-looking snake suddenly gained depth as it turned to stare at him. § Bonjour, Monsieur Potter. How are you today? § Its tongue flicked out as the snake looked around and then it let out what sounded distinctly like a sigh. § Disgusting. Blended fabric again, Daphne? At least Tracey has the good taste to keep to natural fibers. §

Harry chuckled at the unexpected criticism before looking back up at the curious girls. "Well, uh, he can speak. He's French. He knew my name for some odd reason. And he's not a fan of… whatever your shirt is made of, Daphne. Says he likes Tracey better because she wears natural fibers."

"Huh. So that's a thing." Daphne raised her arms and turned her head from side to side as she watched the snake loop around her body before disappearing behind her back. A few seconds later, he reappeared on Tracey's far side, evidently having migrated back to her dress. "At any rate, it was great watching you humiliate Malfoy but I have places to go and people to see. Which means Tracey has to come with me, because I'm not going to take the blame if she has a vision and keels over and hits the vestibule door and it flies open and dumps her out of the train when we're chugging along at nearly a hundred kilometers an hour."

"Oh will you stop, Queenie? You didn't even want to go to the girls' carriage in the first place, remember? The open coaches are too noisy for your refined sensibilities?" Tracey rolled her eyes as Daphne reached over and began tugging at her arm, leaning forward into one of the yanks and slipping her other hand up under her skirt. When it emerged, her fingers were wrapped around her wand and she shot a Stinging Jinx into her sister's bare shoulder. "Seriously, I'm sure that if I have a vision, Harry here can keep me from choking to death on my own vomit or falling out of the train or something equally ridiculous. And if he doesn't want to come with me, Morag's in the next carriage and you know she'd never let anything happen to me. I'll be fine."

"Hmmph. Fine. But don't come crying to me if you die." And with that, Daphne tossed her hair and flounced off, disappearing around the corner and down the corridor back from whence she'd came.

Harry watched the blonde go, doing his best not to be obvious as he enjoyed the excellent view the Slytherin's tight jeans provided as she departed, before turning back to a bemused-looking Tracey. "Is she always so…" He trailed off, waving his hand aimlessly as he tried to find the right word. "So…"

"Queenie? No, but times like that are why Tabby's old nickname for Daphne comes back out once in a while." Tracey tucked her wand back up out of sight under her skirt before inclining her head in the direction of the gangway door. "Now that Malfoy isn't here to make our entire house look bad... would you care to join me?" Harry pondered that for a moment before shrugging; it certainly beat listening to Hermione grill Illyria and since they were both apparently going in the same direction… why not? And Tracey evidently knew Morag, who was on his list of people to chat with anyway. Grinning impishly, Tracey grabbed Harry by the hand and pulled him toward the gangway. "So, I was wondering if you had a moment to discuss the good word of your lord and savior, Illyria?"

Harry stumbled a bit at her twisting of the evangelist's line he'd heard far too many times in his youth; for reasons he hadn't understood until his eleventh birthday, Vernon had been almost fanatical about making Harry deal with Jehovah's Witnesses and other religious visitors. For a moment, he debated trying to free himself from Tracey's grip but decided that - like with Illyria - the human contact was… nice. At first, he'd thought that it was an aspect of their bond that made him enjoy being affectionate with the bluenette, but now? He was starting to realize that this was how most normal people felt on a regular basis, and he cursed the Dursleys and his messed up childhood anew. And so rather than trying to fight his way free, he gave Tracey's hand an experimental little squeeze before opening the door between the carriages for her. The brunette pulled him through after her, the door slamming shut behind them. "Well… what do you want to know?"

Continuing to tug him along behind her as they walked down the narrow corridor, Tracey glanced into each compartment as they passed. "Everything. I mean, while most of my visions are pretty boring, I've seen a few things that would turn Blaise white. But my vision of Illyria's resurrection was a whole new dimension of terrifying. Not to mention the side effects… full-on seizure, Daphne says some of my skin turned blue like Illyria's for a few seconds, and I vommed something blue-black all over the common room floor. So hex me for being curious about the person behind something like that."

"Understandable. Didn't need to know the puking, though." Harry frowned, wondering exactly how much he should share with the brunette before realizing… he didn't have to try and guess what Illyria might want. 'So, how much should 'everything' be with Tracey?'

'Given that you are pondering pursuing her as a future wife, I would not object to her knowing as much as you think would be acceptable to share. Use your best judgement, Harry.' Illyria paused for a moment, her mental fingers digging at his brain, and then she decided to fill in a blank he didn't even know existed. 'Also, you may wish to know that Tracey has several siblings; they are likely who she is going to see. She has a full sister named Evelyn Davis who was in Ravenclaw with Luna, and a half-sister named Astoria Greengrass who is a Hufflepuff. Both are two years your junior. There is also Tabitha Seckford, who Tracey already mentioned. Ravenclaw, in her second year this year. She is related to Tracey and Evelyn but I am uncertain as to how.'

After debating whether or not to try and pass Illyria's knowledge off as his own, Harry decided it'd make a great conversation starter, given Tracey's intended topic. "The Daily Prophet actually got things right for once: Luna got possessed by an Old One while in the Department of Mysteries. The Old One, if you want to be a bit arrogant; they don't get much bigger or badder than Illyria according to what Hermione found. And I'm now her Qwa'ha Xahn… her guide, among other things. I get her knowledge, evidently a bit of her power, her protection… did you know that the Killing Curse doesn't work on soulless beings?" Tracey peered back over her shoulder with wide olive eyes before shaking her head. "Voldemort found that out the hard way. Hit her with two or three-"

'Three.'

"-three of them, and all they did was annoy her. And she moved fast enough to pull me out of the way of a fourth." Harry chuckled and reached out with his free hand, gently steering Tracey around a fellow student as she continued to walk while staring back at him in disbelief. "Oh, and our minds are linked. We're both kinda curious about your family; I'm coming up blank on how a family might end up with two Greengrass daughters and two Davises, and Illyria knows Tabitha is a part of your family but can't figure out how she fits into things."

There was a thump as Tracey's back hit the wall at the end of the corridor, driving the air from her lungs with a huff as she continued to stare at Harry incredulously. "You… she… what?" Grabbing Harry's other hand in hers, she pulled him closer so she could lower her voice. "How linked are we talking here? I mean, should I say hello to both of you whenever I run into one body or the other from now on?"

When Harry's mouth opened to reply, it wasn't by his command… nor was it his voice that emerged. "I will not require it of you, but it would not go amiss."

Tracey's grip on his hands tightened as she leaned in even closer. "Illyria?"

"In his flesh." Harry felt his head tilt to one side in Illyria's oddly bird-like manner as she studied Tracey through his eyes. "You have very attractive eyes, Tracey Davis. If I ever take you as a shell, I believe I will leave them unaltered so I can gaze upon them in the mirror, or with one of my other shells."

Flinching backward, Tracey released his hands as she pressed herself against the wall. "Thanks. I think. You've, uh, given that some thought then?"

Illyria offered a fainter shrug than Harry normally did, another behavior that people would hopefully be able to use to tell them apart when she decided to take his body for a joyride again in the future. "Briefly, but I quickly discarded the idea. While it might improve things between Harry and I, since he finds you more attractive than my current shell, I have other plans for you that require you to remain fully human."

And then with just as little warning as the original invasion, Harry was back in control of his body. Taking a step back to give Tracey some breathing room, he reached up and rubbed the back of his head. "Well. I'm not sure there's a way this conversation could possibly get any more awkward."

"You think I'm prettier than Lovegood?" Tracey had evidently taken his words as a challenge, or perhaps her preferred method of dealing with uncomfortable situations was flirtation. Possibly both. Either way, Harry found the brunette eyeing him with a peculiar little smile on her face as she reached up to play with her hair. "I'm… honestly not sure whether or not that's a compliment."

Before Harry could answer, a familiar riotous mass of brown curls poked its way into the corner of his vision. "I guess it all depends, Trae." Morag MacDougall grinned widely as she eyed the large expanse of cleavage bared by Tracey's dress. "Is he interested in all of you, or just your huge… tracts of land?" Leaning in, Morag rested her head on the Slytherin's shoulder as her eyes bounced back and forth between Harry's face and Tracey's chest. "Not that I'd blame him. Those are some mighty fine tracts indeed."

Despite having dealt with Morag fairly regularly in the past, Harry was still far from competent at deciphering her thick Scottish brogue and generally needed her to speak slowly around him… and occasionally repeat things. Tracey, on the other hand, was evidently much better at understanding what her friend was saying. Sighing, she reached up and placed her hand on the smaller brunette's forehead, pushing Morag away from her. "Just you wait, fuzzball. One of these days, I'm going to find myself a new Ancient Runes tutor and then you'll wish you'd treated me with a bit more respect."

Reaching up, Morag managed to relocate Tracey's hand from her forehead to her left shoulder before spinning under the Slytherin's arm and invading Tracey's personal space again. "That's an empty threat, gruagach òg, and we both know it. The one person who beats me in that class is Granger, and you hate her. Besides, after the work I had to put into you to get you ready for OWLs? You should be glad that all I'm doing is looking."

"…I could have passed without you if I had to."

"Tracey, you couldn't even remember which runes were Elder Futhark and which were Ogham. I'm not sure why you haven't dropped Ancient Runes yet, but you're absolutely hopeless at it. Luckily for you, I offer lengthy tutoring sessions at…" Morag ignored Tracey's answering scowl, scooting a little closer and resting her head on the Slytherin's collarbone. "…very competitive rates."

Tracey let out a loud sigh before chuckling and reaching up to pat the top of Morag's head. "That you do, luaidh. That you do." After a moment, she turned her head and eyed Harry speculatively. "Although… your better half's father puts together rune puzzles for his magazine, right? And she thinks I have pretty eyes. Would she help me out?"

"Wait, Potter has a better half? Since when?"

"…since last week? Illyria. You know, about my height, looks like a bluer version of Luna, constantly with him?"

"Ah, right." Morag was silent for a moment before shooting a wicked grin Harry's way. "So, have you found out how far down the blue goes? Because Luna was cute and all, but there's something about Illyria that… yum."

That… was actually something Harry was a bit curious about himself. So far, while he'd witnessed her emulating a wide variety of clothing, Harry had never seen Illyria show altogether too much skin. Perhaps he could have - and should have - asked, given that she evidently wanted him to pay that sort of attention to her too. But since Morag was evidently just as curious - and getting in the way of him spending more time talking to Tracey - Harry shrugged before jerking a thumb back over her shoulder. "Well, I haven't found out yet but she's in the last compartment of the next carriage if you want to try your luck."

Morag looked from Harry to Tracey's exasperated face before offering a grin and a shrug. "Could be fun. Potter. Trae." Giving Tracey a peck on the cheek, she slid past Harry before wandering off down the corridor, her voice carrying back to them as she departed. "Gruagach òg an fhuilt bhàin, éisd ri bàrdachd mo bhilean. Thoir dhomh gealladh thar chaìch, 's air do sgàtha ni mi tilleadh. Ged 's iomadh té 's an robh m'ùigh, anns gach dùthaich is cinneadh, o nach aontaich thu leam, 's mi bhiodh sunndach 'gad shireadh…"

"…I've got a bad feeling about this." Pushing off the wall, Tracey glanced to her right before eyeing Harry curiously. "Anyway, are you going somewhere in particular or just tagging along? Because I've walked this train enough times to be able to guess where most people are if you're looking for someone. Next carriage is a composite like this one; the end near us is nicknamed the Gaeltachtaí because it's where most of the Gaelic speakers hang out and then there're a few compartments full of assorted rich or connected students who don't really like each other but want to be close to the Pear."

Since only the first bit of her statement made sense to Harry, he decided to focus on that. "I'm not looking for someone… per se. There are a few people that Illyria would like me to talk to, but… well, I'm sure she wouldn't want me to ditch one of them to talk to another. And I just sent a third to see her, so she's off the table for the time being." Tracey arched an eyebrow as she latched onto his hand again and pulled him toward the gangway. "You're on the list. So is Morag. And your sister, for that matter. Which reminds me… two Greengrasses, two Davises, and a Seckford. How does that work?"

Rather than allow him to do the gentlemanly thing, Tracey opened the door for herself and then pulled Harry through behind her. "Sometimes I forget that Slytherin is the only house that really focuses on blood 'purity', and so the rest of the school probably doesn't know about my family's dirty laundry. Since Daphne is the daddy's girl of the family, she'd be the one to ask about the whys of it all… but basically her and I have the same father but different mothers. He's married to Mother - Lady Greengrass - in the wizarding world, and my mum - Missus Davis - in the muggle one. Since the wizarding world doesn't recognize muggle unions and the muggle world doesn't know that wizards exist… technically it's legal. So I have three parents - my dad, my mum, and my mother - and four sisters: Daphne and Astoria are my half-sisters from Dad and Mother, and then Evie, Tabby, and I share both Dad and Mum."

Harry stared at Tracey's back in disbelief as she explained her family situation to him. So in other words, he thought, one of the girls on Illyria's short list of possibilities for another woman in his life… possibly the one at the top, given she was a seer and Illyria seemed interested in that… just so happened to come from a happy and stable polyamorous family? That seemed almost impossibly convenient. Tracey shot an uncertain look back over her shoulder as they continued onward, perhaps anticipating some sort of judgmental comment. Not that he was going to. His kids could - and probably would - be in their shoes someday. "So then how does Tabitha's different last name fit into all this?"

A sense of approval thrummed through his link to Illyria as Tracey looked momentarily surprised at his nonchalant response before smiling. "One of our ancestors was Thomas Seckford, the man behind the first atlas of muggle England. Got some money and land out of it; that's why the Greengrasses are from Woodbridge. He also helped the Ministry create the first atlas of wizarding… well, today it's the United Kingdom along with the Republic of Ireland. He died without having any children and so the Seckfords became extant through Dad's family. This is literally the first generation in over four hundred years to have more than an heir and a spare, so Dad gave Tabby that last name in hopes that someone will marry her and either take it himself or let her pass it to one of their children, returning it to wizarding Britain again."

"If Illyria has her way, I'm going to end up doing that with some of the names that are trapped inside the Potter family tree. The Boscawens and the Tremaynes; she's taking Rashleigh for herself." Harry paused, thought about that for a moment, and then decided to stick with the honesty that'd worked reasonably well for him so far. "Well, technically she's more interested in me taking other wives for the 'magnificent offspring' we might have than to restore the families, but… close enough, yeah?" Tracey shot him an odd look at that but considering her family situation, Harry mused, she probably didn't think she had room to say anything. Deciding to go for broke, Harry dropped the other bombshell. "That's why she wants me to talk to certain… people of interest. Like you. She's curious if being a seer is hereditary."

Pausing at the end of the corridor, Tracey tilted her head back and stared up at the ceiling. "You know, when I complained about wanting to find someone who was interested in both my brain and my body? This isn't what I meant." When she received no answer after several seconds, she sighed and shook her head before spinning and retaking the same position as during their conversation in the last carriage: leaning with her back against the wall as she played with her hair. "I suppose that's the 'plan' she wants me fully human for?"

Harry nodded… and then realized that he was being handed a perfect chance to fulfill the most daunting part of his promise to Illyria. "Listen, I realize that this is all very strange and complex and would probably take longer to explain than we have left on the train. And you want to spend time with your sisters. So… can I owl you this summer? Maybe we can even get together once or twice?"

"…if you're seriously hoping to wife me someday, the least you can do is write me over the summer hols. But there are three conditions; if the two of you can't agree to them, I don't want any part of this." Tracey waited for Harry to query Illyria, receive a sense of approval, and nod before ticking points off on her fingers. "One: Considering some of the stuff Mother put in her head about responsibilities as the eldest daughter of a pureblood family? Daphne will probably start trying to seduce you if she finds out what Illyria's up to. Aggressively. Your answer will be a very firm no, because the odds of you talking me into sharing with others go from 'maybe' to 'like hell' if she gets involved." Reasonable enough, Harry thought, waiting for a matching pulse of emotion from Illyria before nodding again. "Two: there will be no buns in this oven until after graduation. If for no other reason than that climbing all those stairs every day is a nightmare and I'm not doing it while preggers." Also reasonable. "Three: Bagsie being Tracey Tremayne. I like alliteration, plus Tracey Boscawen sounds terrible."

"Deal. Look for a snowy owl… who might end up with a blue feather or two, given the way things seem to be going." Harry offered a wry grin as he reached up to flick at the blue streak in his hair, and Tracey laughed before pushing off the wall and leading him toward the end of the carriage. "So… what exactly is 'the Pear'?"

Pausing with her hand on the gangway door, Tracey shot him an incredulous look. "You've seriously never… oh, right. You're friends with the Weasleys." Harry's eyes narrowed and the brunette shook her head rapidly. "No no, I'm not… sorry. That came out wrong. It's just that the Pear is a little bit more expensive than the trolley witch, they're hardly well off, and… you know what, let's just get in there and you can see for yourself." Tracey twisted the knob and pushed the door open, and then Harry's world exploded with noise.