Harry quickly showered in the luxurious upstairs bathroom (he had never before seen a Jacuzzi, much less one made of green marble), then picked out the most casual clothes he could; he wasn't about to get his tuxedo all dirty whilst burning the grotty old Dudley clothes. He settled on his new black jeans and polo shirt.

He then made his way downstairs, Hedwig on his shoulder, to the very modern yet homely kitchen, from whence emanated all manner of appetizing smells. Dr. Reader and Lucy, dressed in casual jeans and flannel hiking shirts, had just started in on some omelettes and sausages; Dr. Reader was putting an omelette, fresh from the pan, on Harry's plate. They cheerfully bade Harry good morning, which he returned in kind. Hedwig gave a dignified hoot.

Lucy was much taken with Hedwig. She offered her a bit of sausage, set out on a small plate, with a napkin nearby. Hedwig graciously accepted, daintily nibbling at the sausage one speck at a time.

"Hedwig just returned from Hogwarts with a message from Dumbledore," Harry said as he handed the parchment roll to Dr. Reader. "He plans to call on you, Doctor. I hope you don't mind."

Dr. Reader studied the letter for some time, and not just with his eyes. He ran his fingers sensuously over the parchment, and his nostrils twitched slightly as they caught the scent of parchment and paper. "Interesting -- he's writing with his right hand on this note, but he's obviously ambidextrous," he said offhandedly. The doctor looked up from the letter. If he felt any apprehension, he certainly wasn't showing it. "I don't mind at all, Harry. In fact, I think it's a capital idea." He broke into a grin. "Perhaps we should postpone the Clothes-Burning Ceremony until he arrives. What do you think?"

Harry laughed out loud. "I think he'd find it very funny, Doctor. Dumbledore's got a rather odd sense of humour."

They spent breakfast discussing their plans for the day. Since it was Saturday, the office was closed, though both Dr. Reader and Miss Stellanova carried pagers in case of emergencies. They had the whole day ahead to do what they wanted.

Both Reader and Lucy were eager to see Harry on the Firebolt. Fortunately, the grounds behind Offhand Manor were surrounded by a twenty-foot-high wall; so long as he kept below the top of the wall, Harry could dive and swoop to his heart's content.

Harry explained the rules of Quidditch to Lucy and the doctor, and even demonstrated the starfish-and-stick maneuver. A delighted Reader immediately decided to set up a small makeshift Quidditch pitch, even though he himself was absolutely hopeless on a broom; he couldn't stay on the Firebolt long enough to rise even five feet into the air. But that didn't stop him from trying; his jeans and shirt were soon covered with grass stains. Lucy, on the other hand, was a natural-born flier; she was soon swooping and diving almost as well as Harry himself.

"This is amazing!" she cried, chasing a happy Hedwig, who was playing the part of the Snitch, around the yard. "I've never felt anything like it!" She stopped in mid-air suddenly. "Marcus, Harry -- could it be that... that I might be magical, too?"

A deep, resonant male voice spoke. "Not 'could be', Miss Stellanova. From what I have just seen, you do indeed possess magical talent, and a rather large dose of it, too. Why you never got a letter from an American school is beyond my understanding."

Everyone turned around towards the voice.

It was coming from a very tall, thin, elderly man in purple robes, with a long white beard. His twinkling eyes were hidden behind half-moon glasses. He was standing very near Dr. Reader's small observatory.

"Pardon the intrusion," said the man, smiling softly. "My name is Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And I must say that I have never seen anyone do as well on a broom on their very first try -- with the exception of Harry here. Good morning, Harry."

"Good morning, sir," replied Harry.

Lucy abruptly landed at Dr. Reader's side. She was too astonished to speak, so Dr. Reader did the talking for her.

"Good morning, Headmaster Dumbledore. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Dumbledore bowed. "The pleasure is mutual, Dr. Reader. I am most grateful to you and Miss Stellanova for getting Harry out of durance vile with the Dursleys, and keeping him from durance viler in the mental ward."

Dr. Reader smiled broadly. "It was the least I could, Headmaster." He turned towards a now-earthbound Lucy. "There are lots of things I'd like to discuss with you, not the least of which is Lucy's having manifested magical talents. But perhaps we should do it inside, over some refreshment."

"That would suit me down to the ground, Doctor."

And with that, they all entered the house together.


Ever the good hosts, Dr. Reader and Lucy led Harry and Dumbledore into the study. Once they were all seated on the wonderfully overstuffed leather chairs therein, Dr. Reader served them the beverages of their choice: ice water for Harry, Oban single-malt scotch for Professor Dumbledore.

Dumbledore's long nose twitched as the Oban's scent found its seductive way inside his nostrils. He sipped the whiskey and smiled. "Utterly delicious, Doctor. It's been a long time since I've allowed myself any single-malt." He leaned forward in his chair, taking in Harry, Reader and Stellanova with one sweeping glance of his lance-like blue eyes. "I suppose you all know why I came here today."

Dr. Reader's gaze was a twin to Dumbledore's in quiet intensity, save that his eyes were not blue. "You want to make sure Harry is living among persons he can trust. I would expect nothing less of you, Headmaster."

"Indeed, Dr. Reader. To that end, I made inquiries of my own in the Muggle world, and found that, in your chosen profession, you have earned a sterling reputation for your work with disturbed children and with adults most authorities in your field deemed untreatable: the severely psychotic, the autistic, the brain-damaged." Dumbledore took another sip of his whiskey and was silent for some time; Harry had the feeling he was waiting for Dr. Reader to say something in response, but neither Reader nor Stellanova seemed inclined to do so.

After a time, Dumbledore resumed speaking. "Your reputation is an interesting one, Dr. Reader. Many of your associates seem to fear you, perhaps partly because of your constant corrections of their myriad misdiagnoses, yet your patients and their loved ones would follow you to the ends of the earth and back. Now that I have met you, I can understand the reasoning behind both sets of reactions." His eyes settled on Stellanova for the briefest of moments, then moved on. "I also understand that Vernon Dursley was trying to use your past against you. But I also know that your past is indeed your past, and I would trust you with my life. We need not speak of it."

There was the briefest of pauses before Dr. Reader replied. "You are a trusting man, Professor."

"You have to trust someone sometime, Doctor," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "But your past is not what concerns me today. Rather, it is your present career about which I must consult you."

"In my professional capacity?"

"Quite so."

"I see." Dr. Reader steepled his fingertips against his chin, just as he done at his Harley Street office the previous day. "You have a patient for me to see?"

Dumbledore nodded, sipping his Oban. "Two of them, actually. A married couple, Frank and Alice Longbottom. They were attacked and magically tortured by Death Eaters, minions of the wizard who gave Harry his scar. The attack left them insane."

Harry gave a start. Dumbledore wanted Dr. Reader to treat Neville's parents!