Chapter 2

Sunday, 10 September 1995

Gringotts Bank, London, England

"Next!" shouted a teller. Harry and Neville approached. They'd snuck out of school using the passage that started at the one-eyed witch statue. Using the invisibility cloak, they'd reached the floo at the Three Broomsticks, and flooed to Gringotts when no one was looking.

"May your gold flow, teller," Harry said. Neville had coached him a bit. "I would like to meet with my account manager, if he's available." When they'd finished Herbology, Harry, Hermione, Katie, and Neville had concocted a plan for Harry to learn about his family from those best able to do so: the goblins of Gringotts.

"Name?" the goblin asked curtly.

"Harry Potter," Harry replied. The goblin peered at him, then nodded.

"Wait here," he said, before hopping off his chair and scurrying away momentarily. He returned a few moments later. "Proceed to the corridor to the left of the head teller's desk. Third door on the right. It says 'Billhook' on it. He's waiting for you."

"My thanks, teller," Harry replied. "May your enemies fall by the blood of your axe." The teller merely nodded. Harry and Neville proceeded as directed, knocking on the proper door.

"Enter!" a coarse voice shouted through the door. Harry opened the door.

"Accountant Billhook?" he enquired.

"I am," the ancient goblin replied from a green velvet upholstered chair behind a polished mahogany desk surrounded by fine oak filing cabinets. "You are Heir Potter?"

"Yes, Accountant," Harry acknowledged. "I apologise for not coming in sooner. I only just learned that I had an accountant. I regret the lost business my ignorance may have caused you." The goblin peered at him over gold-rimmed glasses, his lips pursed as though trying to catch Harry in a lie. After almost half a minute the goblin snorted and waved in the direction of the chairs in front of the desk.

"On your head be it," Billhook said finally. "Any lost revenue affects your accounts, not mine. I take it you're interested in making up for the lackadaisical attitude you've taken to your accounts for the last fourteen years?"

"Very much so," Harry nodded. "Having discovered that my family engaged your services, I see no point in not making use of them."

"Fine," the goblin said shortly, a smile pulling at the edges of his mouth. "What's the first order of business."

"Accountant," Neville said from his seat. "I'm Harry's ally Neville Longbottom. I'm here to act as his advisor and assistant today. Harry would benefit from an overview of his estate, and any documents left by his parents. He could also use the counsel of a solicitor, and perhaps a barrister."

"Mr. Potter place your finger on the stone block in front of you," Billhook directed. Harry saw the small sandstone block on the desk, about the size of a ring box. Harry carefully placed his right index finger on the rough stone and felt a sharp prick. He quickly pulled his hand back, glaring at the stone. A drop of blood seeped into the rock as if by magic.

"What was that?" Harry asked sharply.

"Identification stone," Billhook said unconcernedly. "It uses blood to identify you and deliver to me the account book for the family present." The desk shuddered slightly. When it stopped, Billhook bent over and reached into a drawer Harry couldn't see. He withdrew a large red tome trimmed in gold leaf. "The Potter accounts." Billhook placed it on the desk and turned it around. He opened it. "This volume begins in 1414, when the last Despenser male died, and the Despenser family accounts were merged into the Potter family. It was the last time another family's accounts were merged with the Potters. The Gryffindor and Peverell family accounts were merged previously. The various family vaults were also merged at those times. Left now, as is noted in the ledger, are the Potter account vault, the Potter family vault, and the Harry James Potter trust account vault. The ledger also notes real property. The Potter family retains title to Potter House, also called Severnside, on the west bank of the Severn River southwest of Gloucester, and Peverell Cottage in Godric's Hollow."

Harry picked up the book. He started flipping through, reading the numbers. When he came to the last entry, he nearly dropped the book. The number at the bottom of the page was Ɠ319,207,156 ȿ2 ƙ6.

"How… how much is that in pounds?" Harry stammered, pointing to the number. The goblin leaned over the desk and peered at the number for a moment.

"Approximately £1,573,691,290 at today's exchange rate," Billhook answered. "I can of course get you an exact figure should you require it."

"No, no," Harry said quickly. "That's fine." He closed the book. "Are there any documents I need to concern myself with right now?" he asked, changing track a bit.

"There were no wills, if that's what you're asking," Billhook replied. "It's not surprising. Your parents were still under thirty when they died and had every reason to look forward to a long and prosperous life. Any paperwork resulting from their deaths was handled by your guardian, Albus Dumbledore, long ago. The last action he took was to liquidate all investments, returning the capital to the Potter account vault. While the investments were more profitable than the interest earned from the vault, the law only allowed your guardian to change investments to capital once, and neither he nor you were in a position to direct the management of your investments. Therefore, it was considered prudent to end them, lest they begin losing money and we would be unable to stop the loss. Since your parent's death, the Potter account vault has been earning the standard five percent annually. The only active account since your parents' death has been your trust account, which is the only one either you or your guardian can access until you attain your adulthood. As is noted in the ledger, Ɠ1,000 galleons are added to the account every year on your birthday from the main account. Ɠ50 have been removed every month since your parents' deaths for your maintenance." Harry nodded. He hadn't seen a penny of that money.

"Harry," Neville nudged him. "The solicitor."

"Right," Harry nodded, turning back to Billhook. "Thank you for going over my finances with me. I'm glad that my accounts are safe and profitable. I look forward to taking a more active role in my finances once I come of age."

"Are you looking to do that now?" Billhook asked carefully.

"What… what do you mean?" Harry asked, unsure.

"Well, you said you needed a solicitor, and that you looked forward to taking an active role in your accounts," Billhook said. "I assumed that you wanted to become emancipated."

"He can do that?" Neville asked, shocked.

"Last year you participated in the Triwizard Tournament, did you not?" Billhook asked Harry.

"Yes," Harry nodded. "I won… if you can call it winning."

"The Daily Prophet reported at the time that the contest was restricted to of-age wizards and witches," Billhook observed. "Was that indeed the case?"

"Erm… only of age witches and wizards were allowed to put their names in the cup," Harry said. "That was the rule the Ministry and the schools put on the competition."

"And if I recall correctly, once your name came out of the cup you were forced to compete, yes?" Billhook continued.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "The Ministry people and Dumbledore were all insistent that I needed to compete."

"Having little else to do between your parents' death and your discovery of me, I tracked your progress very closely the past four years that you've been in the wizarding world, Mr. Potter," Billhook said. "When you were announced as one of the contestants, I obtained a copy of the rules, which confirmed what you just told me. I reviewed the relevant portions of the tournament rules with Gringotts' solicitors, and they assured me that if you were being forced to compete, the tournament's organizers were declaring you of age.

"Since the tournament organizers consisted of Ministry representatives and the Headmaster of Hogwarts, both the Ministry and Hogwarts therefore both recognized you as being of age when they required you to participate," Billhook explained. "Your emancipation is therefore a forgone conclusion." Billhook grinned a wicked grin. "And they never even realized it." He reached into the same drawer and pulled out some documents and placed them in front of Harry. "Your emancipation paperwork. Sign here," he said, holding out a quill. "Be careful, though. It's a blood quill."

"Erm..." Harry said, looking at the quill as he took it. "Aren't these illegal."

"They're only legal for use on official documents, usually only those processed here at Gringotts and at the Ministry," Billhook said. "Why?"

"Sorry," Harry apologised as he signed. "I'm still learning the law about these things. My Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher forced me to write lines with one in detention, and I just found out that that was illegal. It was why I needed a solicitor."

"Ah yes," Billhook growled. "Dolores Umbridge. There's a witch that should've been burnt at the stake years ago." Harry laughed.

"Sorry," he said, closing his mouth and passing the quill back with the parchment. "I didn't mean to show my teeth. You caught me off guard with that. I agree, she shouldn't be in any positions of authority."

"No harm, Mr. Potter," Billhook allowed, then tilted his head as he observed the teen. "You're an unusual wizard, if you don't mind me saying so, and I'm not just referring to the fact that you're a sole surviving heir, or that you're emancipated at fifteen. There's not too many wizards out there who are so careful of Goblin culture."

"It seems to me that if you want respect, you should first show respect," Harry shrugged. "I want to have a profitable and friendly relationship with you and your bank. Therefore, I gain nothing by being disrespectful to you."

"True," Billhook agreed. "Still, most wizards don't care one whit about goblins."

"You're intelligent, sentient creatures, just like humans," Harry reasoned. "You see, hear, taste, smell, and feel, just like us. You are functionally the same as people, even if your culture is different than ours. You should be treated as people, with respect and dignity. When I was in primary school, we learned about the history of Britain. In the nineteenth century, when Britain had an empire, it didn't treat the people in its colonies very well because they were Black, or Indian, or Asian, or not Protestant, or not Christian, or they weren't English, or for whatever reason they wanted. It led to lots of hurt feelings, wars, death, and poverty. For what? So British people could be richer, or feel superior? That's not nice, and it's not right. Wizards and witches treating you as less that people isn't right or nice either. In history all we're taught are Goblin rebellions. It got me thinking that if wizards treated you more like people and less like animals we wouldn't have nearly as many problems." Harry suddenly realized he was talking very loudly, so he stopped. "Sorry. I didn't mean to rant."

"Not a problem, Mr. Potter," Billhook said. He was smiling broadly, his thin lips not revealing any teeth. "It is indeed refreshing to hear such an opinion from as powerful a wizard as yourself." He placed the emancipation parchment in an outbox on his desk, which it disappeared from. "That's on its way. Your emancipation should be completed by the time you leave. I'll get notification here."

"So now what?" Harry asked.

"Now you're ready to take up your status as head of house," Billhook said. He reached into the drawer again and pulled out four letters patent. He passed them across along with the blood quill again. "Please sign these on the designated lines." Harry looked at them. They recognized him as Earl of Mercia, Earl of Gloucester, Baron Gryffindor, and Baron Despenser. Harry signed them and handed them back. Billhook put them back in the drawer. He then pulled out a ring. "Place this on your finger. The magic will recognize you." He slid the ring across the desk.

Harry took it. The ring was a heavy gold thing, delicately carved with runes and other symbols. On the top was a large dark circular sapphire, crossed on top with a fine gold 'X'. On the "X" were inscribed the words "Eorl Merce". He carefully placed it on his finger. It flashed bright as the ring resized itself to fit his finger.

"The Potter family magic has recognized you as head of house," Billhook said. "Congratulations. Is there anything else Gringotts can do for you while we wait for your emancipation form to be processed?"

"I can't think of anything," Harry said, shaking his head. "I might require legal assistance soon, should charges be brought against Dolores Umbridge, but right now, nothing." He looked at Neville, who shrugged.

"That is easy enough. In the meantime, I can provide you with some investment opportunities to look over," Billhook tried.

"OK," Harry agreed. Billhook reached back into the drawer and pulled out several publications that looked like scholarly journals, which he passed across the desk.

"Look these over and let me know what looks good," Billhook instructed. "We can talk it over the next time you're in. No rush. Now, other services… Are you interested in buying or selling any property?"

"Not really," Harry said. "I think Dumbledore wants me to live with my Aunt and Uncle for some reason. He's usually pretty insistent about that. At least, he is for about a month."

"Hmm..." Billhook growled thoughtfully. "There must be some wards around the house that require recharging. It's a fairly standard goblin ward scheme but unusual for wizards. At any rate, when you're ready to start looking for property that's a service we offer here. We can also, as I alluded to just now, ward the property with varying levels of protection. For instance, Potter House was heavily warded by us on several occasions."

"The wards failed?" Harry asked, confused.

"No," Billhook corrected. "New wards were invented, and the head of house wanted the protections increased. Potter House is one of the best-protected homes in Britain."

"I thought it was destroyed," Neville interjected.

"Not at all," Billhook said. "Its wards have never been breached."

"I wonder why my parents weren't living there," Harry mused. "It sounds much better protected than Peverell Cottage."

"It is," Billhook said. "Potter House is traditionally the home of the head of house, which until about three months earlier was Fleamont Potter. Fleamont and his wife died of dragonpox, and Potter House had just finished being disinfected prior to the attack on Peverell Cottage. Your parents were slated to move house in just a few weeks."

"Well that's a kick in the knickers," Harry laughed darkly.

"It's a pity you didn't slay that dragon in your first task, Lord Potter," Billhook said after a few moments. "Gringotts would've been happy to render it for you."

"Erm… what?" Harry asked.

"The collection, processing, and sale of beasts – usually dangerous ones – is another of Gringotts' business ventures," Billhook informed him. "We also break curses or add enchantments to jewellery and other artefacts."

"But… the dragon was at school," Harry protested. "Wouldn't that make it Hogwarts property if I killed it there?"

"No, Harry," Neville told him. "The slayer of the dragon is always the owner, unless the dragon is killed on a registered dragon reserve."

"What about basilisks?" Harry asked.

"Gringotts does render those beasts as well," Billhook acknowledged. "Do you happen to have a basilisk?" He chuckled.

"Erm… yeah," Harry nodded. Billhook sobered immediately. "I killed it second year. It's in the Chamber of Secrets at Hogwarts." Billhook looked shocked. It took him a moment to formulate a response. Beside him, Neville too, was in awe of Harry.

"Would you like Gringotts to dress the carcass, recover the valuable parts, and monetize them for you?" Billhook asked finally.

"It is expensive?" Harry asked in return.

"Gringotts offers several pricing options," Billhook explained. "We offer a per worker, per hour rate fee, or we offer a flat fee for a fixed number of workers."

"Do the pricing options affect the sale price of the basilisk?" Harry wanted to know.

"No," Billhook said. "There again, we offer a flat purchase price, based on the weight and type of the animal, or we offer to buy the various components for a price per various amount. In this case, components we would offer to buy would be blood, bile, meat, skin, bone, venom, intestine, kidney, liver, spleen, lungs, heart, fangs, and other organs. We would negotiate a price per pound, ounce, or square foot, depending on what component we were talking about." Neville seemed to recover from his shock at that point.

"Harry," Neville whispered quietly, leaning over. "How big was the basilisk?"

"About twenty metres," Harry whispered back. Neville looked confused. "Sixty feet," Harry clarified. Wizarding Britain had never switched to the metric system. Just one more backward thing about it. Neville looked shocked all over again when he pulled away.

"Get the flat fee for the collection," Neville suggested in his normal voice after a moment. "Negotiate for the individual prices for sale."

"I'll do that," Harry agreed.

"Just a moment," Billhook said, holding up a finger. He turned his chair and leapt down. He walked over to a filing cabinet, and opened a drawer, pulling out several forms, before returning to his chair. He slid the documents across the desk to Harry. "These are the standard forms. You may fill them out using a regular quill, and then sign with the blood quill. Take your time."

Harry looked over the documents and began working. He filled out his name, the type of beast, the place of slaying, the date of slaying, and the work he wanted performed. He checked off they type of payment and hit a stumbling block.

"It asks for prices for the various bits," Harry said. "I don't know what they are." Billhook passed along a data sheet.

"These are the standard rates that Gringotts offers for purchasing bits of beasts," Billhook said. Harry looked it over and moved to copy them over.

"Harry!" Neville whispered urgently. "Negotiate higher prices."

"Why?" Harry whispered back.

"Doing so will impress them, and get you a better deal," Neville explained quietly. Harry thought about it for a second and nodded.

"I want an additional twenty-five percent on all these prices," Harry said, pointing to the basilisk part prices printed on the sheet. "It seems fair, since killing the beast was so hard."

"I can't possibly give you twenty-five," Billhook said harshly. It was so harsh that Harry almost relented. Finally, Billhook said, "I can give you seven percent."

"Twenty percent," Harry countered.

"Ten," Billhook said sharply.

"Fifteen," Harry tried. Billhook looked at him shrewdly.

"Twelve and a half," Billhook offered at last.

"Standard goblin mark-up for sales is one hundred percent," Neville whispered. "They can afford to pay you fifteen." That brought Harry up short and affected his next words.

"Seventeen and half," he tried. That brought Billhook up short.

"That's not usually how negotiations work," Billhook said.

"You were being cheap," Harry pointed out.

"Fifteen percent," Billhook said finally.

"Fine," Harry agreed, a smile on his face. He held out his hand, which Billhook shook. Harry looked back at the sheet and did the maths in his head before filling in the price blanks on his form. Finished, he picked up the blood quill and signed. Then he passed it over to Billhook who also signed before he put it into the drawer.

"We'll be in touch about scheduling the harvesting," Billhook said. "I'll have to consult about the availability of our team, and then we'll work out what time is good for you." He paused for a moment. "Just out of curiosity, Lord Potter, what did Mr. Longbottom whisper to you before you countered with seventeen and a half?" Neville's eyes widened considerably at that request.

"He informed me that the standard goblin mark-up was one hundred percent, and that you could afford to buy the parts off me at fifteen percent above your list price," Harry revealed. The goblin looked at Neville, who blushed and looked at the floor.

"And you countered at seventeen and a half?" Billhook asked, slightly amazed.

"Seemed like a stronger bargaining position than fifteen," Harry shrugged. "If I'd suggested fifteen again, you probably would've countered at fourteen. I wanted to let you know I wanted it at fifteen."

"Very shrewd," Billhook agreed. "I hope you come to rely on Mr. Longbottom's advice. It should stand you in good stead when you start making investments. Of course, I hope you'll rely on my advice as well. Investments are a moneymaking opportunity for both of us."

"I will," Harry said. "Neville is one of my best friends." Neville blushed again. Just then, the desk vibrated. When it stopped, Billhook reached into the drawer, and pulled out the completed emancipation form. He handed it to Harry.

"This is your copy," Billhook said. "Another copy has been forwarded to the Ministry, a third has been sent to your former guardian, and a final copy has been retained for our records. Do you have any other business with us today?" It was a clear dismissal.

"No, thank you Accountant Billhook," Harry said, standing. Beside him, Neville also stood. "This has been a most productive and enlightening meeting. I hope to do it again when I've had a chance to review the materials you provided on investments. May your gold run in rivers and your enemies die by your axe."

"The same to you, Lord Potter," Billhook said. "Mr. Longbottom."

Out in the hall, Harry and Neville headed back to the floos.

"Harry," Neville said as they walked. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," Harry shrugged.

"It didn't sound like you particularly wanted to go back and live with your aunt and uncle," Neville observed.

"I don't," Harry sighed. "They're unpleasant, and they make me do quite a few chores."

"That sounds bad, but..."

"They sometimes hit me," Harry said, embarrassed.

"But you have to live with them for wards?" Neville asked confused.

"I guess so," Harry replied. "I don't want to, but Dumbledore said I did."

"You should prepare for when you have to go back there," Neville said as they queued for the floo.

"What can I do?" Harry asked.

"Well, a house elf could help with the chores," Neville suggested. "They're pretty expensive, but I think you can probably afford one." Harry thought on that as they flooed back to the Three Broomsticks.

Quickly, Harry threw the invisibility cloak over them both. No one had noticed their return; the pub was empty. Even Rosemerta was gone, probably in the back working. They were quiet on their way back to Honeydukes, where they entered the tunnel back to Hogwarts. Once safely in the tunnel, Harry could speak.

"I know a few free elves," Harry commented. "I wonder if they'd like to work for me."

"Probably," Neville agreed.

"Hermione would be upset if I got house elves, though," Harry countered, mostly to himself.

"Harry," Neville said carefully. "I know Hermione's your friend. She's my friend too. But when it comes to house elves, she's simply wrong. House elves need a bond with a wizarding family to live. Sometimes free elves can live in places with high magic, like Hogwarts, but they're few and far between. Without a bond or outside magic, house elves die. Even with magic, they're often inconsolably sad. They're happiest being bonded."

"Thanks for telling me, Nev," Harry said sincerely. With that information, he made a snap decision. He stopped in the passage and called out. "Dobby! Winky!" Instantly, the two elves popped into the tunnel. Dobby was a bouncing ball of energy, while Winky appeared drunk, tears running down her face.

"The great Harry Potter called Dobby?" the little elf asked.

"I did," Harry told him. "I've just been emancipated, and I find that I need a bit of assistance running my household. I was wondering if you and Winky would like to bond with me and be my elves."

"Oh yes!" Dobby shrieked, dancing around before rushing Harry and hugging his leg. "It is Dobby's most fervent wish to be the great Harry Potter's elf!" Neville smirked.

"Harry Potter wants Winky?" Winky asked quietly.

"Yes," Harry nodded. "I remember how you were such a good elf to Mr. Crouch. It wasn't your fault that Mr. Crouch and his son broke the law." Winky sniffed and wiped her nose. "So, will you be my elf?"

"Winky will, if you want her," Winky agreed.

"I do." Once he'd said it, Dobby took one hand, and Winky the other.

"Say 'I take you as elves of House Potter,'" Dobby said. Harry did. "Say 'I bind you as elves of House Potter.'" Harry did. When he finished, bright gold glows surrounded both elves, flashing twice. "We is now your elves, Great Master Harry Potter," Dobby said happily.

"Dobby, my name is Harry in private or among friends," Harry instructed. "What's the formal address, Nev?"

"Lord Potter," Neville replied.

"Call me Lord Potter in public," Harry turned back to Dobby. "Those are the only things you may call me. Do you understand? Harry in private, and Lord Potter in public… No more great or master." Harry's eyes bore into Dobby. Dobby looked sad but nodded.

"Dobby understands, Harry," the little elf said.

"Now, as I understand it, I am not allowed to give you clothes, or you'll be dismissed from service, correct?" Harry asked. Dobby nodded. "Can I instruct you to obtain clothes for your own use?" Dobby nodded again. "I want you to obtain clothes for your own use. Both of you. They can match each other's, but I'm not going to require it. They should be tasteful and appropriate to members of House Potter and your genders. Do you need money?"

"Dobby and Winky can access the Potter accounts now that we is yous elves," Dobby informed Harry.

"Great," Harry said happily. "I won't really have much for you to do until summertime. Even though I'm emancipated, I'm probably going to have to live with my relatives. I don't like them, and they don't treat me nice. They're going to have chores for me to do, and I'll probably need your help. My room there is pretty small, so I'll need to figure out some way to make it big enough for you two to live with me, but I think I can handle it."

"Dobby will fix yous problems," Dobby promised. Before Harry could say anything, there was a pop and Dobby was gone. Winky, seeing the other elf gone, popped out too.

"That was strange," Harry said, then shook his head. Without another thought, he started walking again. He looked at his watch, then back at Neville. "What are you doing the rest of the day?"

"I don't have any plans," Neville replied.

"Wanna catch lunch, then go do revision in the library?" Harry asked. "Katie said she'd help me with Transfiguration today. You up for it?"

"I guess," Neville said, shrugging. "You're spending a lot of time with Katie."

"Well… she's… erm… my girlfriend," Harry stammered awkwardly.

"She is?" Neville gasped. When Harry nodded, he asked, "When did that happen?"

"Yesterday after practice," Harry replied.

"Have you kissed her?" Neville asked, impressed.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Right after I asked her."

"Good for you," Neville said warmly. "Katie's really nice."

"I know," Harry agreed.

"So, are you going to make time for her today?" Neville asked.

"I hadn't thought," Harry said, pausing after. "I suppose I should. D'you think she'd be up for something together after dinner?"

"I dunno," Neville said. "I suppose you should find out what she likes to do."

"Yeah," Harry said, looking like maybe he was in over his head. They popped out of the corridor behind the statue and made a beeline for the Great Hall. When they entered, Katie was sitting near the end of the table with her friend Leanne, another sixth year Gryffindor. Harry slipped in next to Katie. "Hey." Neville plopped down on Harry's other side.

"Harry!" Katie said, clearly glad to see him. She gave him a sidearm hug, which he returned. "How was Gringotts?"

"It was fine," Harry said. He raised his hand above the table, showing off his ring. Katie gasped. "I'm emancipated, thanks to the bolloxing up of the tournament last year and the Ministry making me compete. I'm head of house now… and an earl twice over! The goblins are going to come sometime and harvest the basilisk for me, then sell the parts which should net me a boatload of money, which I won't really need. And I have two house elves now. That was a really good idea. Thanks!"

"You're welcome, Harry," Katie said, blushing. "It's all stuff you should've known ages ago. The next time you go, you should visit the Potter family vault and see if you have a family history or something written down."

"I'll do," Harry agreed. Then he turned to Leanne. Leanne was thin and blonde. "Hi Leanne."

"Hey, Harry," Leanne replied. Harry hadn't talked to Leanne much, but they had traded pleasantries.

"Leanne, I need some advice," Harry said, surprising everyone. "I need to know what Katie likes." Katie's eyes bulged.

"Why?" Leanne laughed lightly as she raised her glass. "Think she's fit?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Harry said, causing Leanne to spit pumpkin juice back into her glass. Some of it sprayed onto the table. Leanne put her glass down and furiously wiped at her face to clean it. "Then again, I'm led to believe that it's not only appropriate, but also expected, to find your girlfriend fit."

"Why didn't you tell me you'd started dating the Quidditch God?" Leanne asked sharply, glaring at Katie.

"Well, it just happened yesterday!" Katie protested.

"So I had to hear it from him?" Leanne squeaked.

"Wait!" Harry interjected. When he had their attention, he continued. "Quidditch God?"

"Oh, please," Leanne pouted, "like you don't know. You're better than Charlie Weasley was on your bad days." She turned back to Katie and lowered her voice. "So… is he as good as he looks?"

"Leanne!" Katie gasped, blushing instantly, wide eyes flicking to Harry and back to Leanne. "I wouldn't know."

"Why not?" Leanne wanted to know.

"We… just kissed," Katie answered. The implications of her statement made Harry blush.

"Leanne," Harry said, drawing her attention. "Now that you know, I expect you to help me."

"How can I help you?" she asked, a little unsure.

"I thought I'd made that plain with my original request," Harry replied. "I need to know what Katie likes, what her preferences are, so that I can keep her happy."

"Harry, you don't usually do this in front of the girlfriend," Katie pointed out snidely.

"I've never done this before, have I?" Harry observed. "Plus, now that you know I'm going to be asking Leanne about you, you can make sure she knows the right answers, and you can give her feedback for me so that I can make corrections and we can both save face. I don't want to lose you because I screw up and don't know why. Plus, Leanne wins because she gets to know all sorts of stuff about us that others don't, and she can help out her friend at the same time."

"That's… practically Slytherin," Leanne said, dumbfounded.

"The hat wanted to put me there, but I asked it not to since that's where Malfoy went," Harry told her.

"I have no words," Leanne said after a few moments of gaping. "My words have failed me." She sighed. "What do you want to know?"

"Favourite foods, colour, activities," Harry listed off. "What's her birthday? What does she want to do with her life after school? Does she prefer gold, white gold, silver, or platinum? What's her birthstone? Is it also her favourite gemstone? Does she prefer to get clothes, jewellery, or something practical as a gift? What's her favourite quidditch team?"

"Merlin, Harry," Katie gasped. "You want everything in one go. Ever heard of starting small?" She leaned in then and lowered her voice. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. After all, there's nothing small about you, is there?" Harry blushed and Katie laughed.

"To answer your questions: I like roast beef; steak bakes; and pepperoni pizza. My favourite colour is red, but NOT pink or salmon. I like playing quidditch in the summers when I'm home, but I don't get the chance very often, so I spend most of my time reading, tanning, swimming, biking, playing tennis, and going to the cinema, since we live in a muggle neighbourhood. My birthday is 27 August, so I'm a Virgo. August has a bunch of birthstones associated with it, but my preferred one is Sardonyx, which is a banded red onyx. That said, I like rubies, emeralds, and sapphires better so long as they're dark colours. I also like diamonds. I like different metals paired with various gemstones. Yellow metals go best with reds and blues, while white metals go best with greens and whites. So far as gifts go, I'm not a very girly girl, so you can skip the clothes and shoes unless I ask for something specific. I'm not so girly that I won't accept jewellery, but I generally go for practical things. If you're looking to spend on me, I wouldn't say no to a Firebolt, but I realize it's a bit early in the relationship to expect something like that. I like books, though not as much as Hermione. I like jokes, but not as much as the twins. I like chess, but I can't beat Ron. My favourite quidditch team is the Tutshill Tornadoes, and I'd like to either play quidditch professionally or do something with Transfiguration after school. Any other questions?"

Harry was about to say something when Hermione sat down across from him and next to Leanne. Harry quickly looked around.

"Where's Ron?" Harry asked.

"No idea," Hermione replied, a bit put out. "I spent all morning in the library. I didn't see him once. I assume he's still in the common room playing chess or exploding snap with Seamus and Dean. What are you lot talking about?"

"I was just telling Harry my likes and dislikes," Katie enlightened her.

"Well, you told me your likes," Harry corrected. "I didn't get many dislikes except for the colours pink and salmon, and no clothes or shoes for gifts."

"I'm sorry, why is this relevant?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Oh, goodie!" Leanne said, clapping her hands and bouncing in her seat. "Can I say?" Harry rolled his eyes. Without really waiting for an answer, she ploughed ahead. "Yesterday Harry and Katie started dating! So far, they've just kissed, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time..." Though she didn't say anything, Hermione's mouth flopped open and she stared wide-eyed at Harry.

"Thank you, Leanne!" Katie said urgently to shut her up.

"But you've seen each other naked in the quidditch showers..." protested the girl.

"THANK YOU, LEANNE!" Kattie practically shouted to stop Leanne.

"You've what!?" Hermione squeaked, attention suddenly laser-focused on Harry and Katie. It was Neville's turn to gape like a fish. Others were starting to look, wondering what the commotion was about.

"Fuck, Leanne!" Katie swore softly, facepalming.

"Sorry," Leanne said meekly. "I thought everyone knew."

"NO!" Katie said, frustration evident. "That's not something I shared with anyone else," she whispered fiercely. "And I'm fairly certain none of the other team members did either."

"So, nobody else knows about the Hufflepuff quidditch orgies or how Cho..."

"For the love of Merlin, Leanne! Please shut up!" Katie growled, grabbing Leanne across the table and shaking the girl. "I am officially not telling you anything about what Harry and I might or might not do in the future."

"O… o… orgies?" Hermione mumbled quietly in her seat, looking for all the world like a lost puppy. She glanced up at the Hufflepuff table where she could see several of the Hufflepuff quidditch players sitting, and blushed.

"Please keep that to yourself," Katie pleaded. Next to Harry, Neville nodded promptly. Hermione also nodded from her spot.

"Oh!" Harry said brightly, trying desperately to change the subject. "What's your favourite part of the castle?" Katie turned to Harry, relieved to have something to talk about other than quidditch nudity, but then blushed as she thought about what her answer would be. She mercilessly forced the blush down.

"Well, besides the quidditch… pitch," Katie began, "I quite like the astronomy tower. It's a nice place to be alone. I also like lazing on the front lawn in the spring when it's warm. The library's not bad either." That earned her a smile from Hermione.

"Can you tell me about your family?" Harry asked. "I know your dad owns a shop and your stepmum's a teacher."

"My dad's name is Sam," Katie told them. "My stepmum is Brenda. I have a stepbrother, Nicholas, who's a year older than me. We live in Bristol."

"Why isn't he at Hogwarts?" Neville asked. Harry looked nervous and glanced at Hermione, guessing the reason.

"He and my stepmum are muggles," Katie said. "My stepmum teaches history at the University of Bristol. Nick goes to Bristol Grammar School, which is a quite prestigious independent school."

"That must be expensive," Hermione said, having restarted her brain and re-joined the conversation.

"Brenda got a big settlement after Nick's dad died," Katie shrugged. "It paid for her doctorate and it pays for Nick's school. Dad and Brenda have high hopes for Nick. He's got great marks. Brenda wants him to go to one of the ancient universities."

"And do what?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Nick's not sure yet," Katie shrugged. "If I had to guess, I'd say economics. Maths are his strong suit, but he's also quite good at drawing, so he might do architecture or engineering."

"Cambridge is his best bet," Hermione offered.

"Yeah," Katie agreed. "He's applying there, but he's got some other applications out too."

"Was..." Harry asked, then stopped. He didn't want to overstep.

"What?" Katie asked.

"Never mind," Harry replied. "I can ask you later. You probably don't want to blab your life story across the Great Hall." Katie smiled at him.

"I don't mind," she said after a moment's thought. "But I appreciate the consideration. I think I'll keep you if that's alright." She gave him another sideways hug.

"It's alright by me," Harry smiled back.