Chapter 7

"Ginny isn't ill, if that's what you're worried about," Captain Sharif said, pushing his examination goggles over his head. "Today's manifestations are a delayed result of Holly's intervention two years ago. I noticed the change in Ginny's cellular structure back then, but as there seemed to be no negative side effects, I chose not to say anything about it unless she manifested her powers, which happened today."

Harry nearly wept with joy and relief as he heard the news. Ginny would be okay.

"Since I don't have a base standard for Draconian physiology, it's hard to predict the extent of the changes Ginny will go through over time," Sharif continued. "From what she told me, she seems to have gained a powerful inner eye, and the wings mean she's very likely to be able to fly. She doesn't seem to have the superhuman strength that Holly has, and I'm not sure whether she'll be able to fly as fast or as high as Holly could."

"Is there anything you are sure about?" Ron asked tersely.

Sharif nodded. "She has tremendous recuperative abilities, and her cellular decay is almost imperceptible. If injured, she'll heal very quickly—" The Egyptian Healer briefly hesitated before he finished the sentence. "And I also deem it very likely that she'll live long enough to survive you by a hundred years."

"How long will she live?" Harry caught the tremor in Hermione's voice as she asked the question.

"Hard to say," Sharif sighed. "Unless she dies an unnatural death, at least two-hundred and fifty years. This is different than Harry and Wolfe's powers from the pendant. Those are a part of you too, to be sure, but in Ginny's case, this magic is entwined with her very essence. She'll pass on the longevity to her children, though it'll decrease slightly with every generation. Still, I suppose it'll be welcome news to her that she won't survive her own children thanks to that."

"Just everyone else's," Ron said gloomily. "Did you tell Ginny that she'll see us all shrivel up and grow old while she'll still look thirty-ish when she's hundred years old?"

"Yes, how is she taking it?" Hermione asked anxiously, voicing Harry's own concern.

"Not too badly." Sharif scratched his bald head. "She seems more concerned about losing control of her wings and ripping her dress apart during the reception, the day after tomorrow."

Ron began to laugh. "More concerned with the here and now. That's just like Ginny. So you're sure that she'll be all right, physically?"

Sharif nodded.

"All right, then I'll tell Mum and the family. I bet she'll lay siege to the Citadel if—"

Ron didn't get the chance, because Molly Weasley's hysterical voice echoed through the Citadel's medical wing. "Where is my daughter?"

He went pale under his freckles. "Oh, bloody hell. Who let her in?"

"We're nearly there. I'm sure she's fine. Imhotep told me to expect a change in your daughter, though we thought that it would happen a little sooner than this," Ironheart's soothing voice replied. Moments later, they appeared in Sharif's office. He had his arm over her shoulder in a very familiar way, and Harry knew trouble when he saw it. Glancing at Ron, he saw that the paleness had disappeared from his features, replaced by angry reddening and pulsing veins on his forehead.

He didn't have to be a Mind Reader to sense Ron's desire to hex Ironheart into oblivion. To make matters worse, the commander's hand was now soothingly stroking Molly's lower back. It looked like Ironheart—in the absence of his wife and Commander Nomvete—seemed determined to seduce Molly.

Harry quickly employed his gift to see what Ironheart's chances of success were. He picked up thoughts and feelings of gratitude from Molly's mind, as well as a strong attraction, though it was partially restrained by guilt caused by memories of her deceased husband. However, she was rationalising her guilt away by telling herself that Arthur wouldn't mind if she found a worthy man to spend the rest of her days with, and she was already toying with the thought of moving to Concordia.

It was time to engage the emergency brakes. He cleared his throat. "Commander, I think C&C received a message from your wife a few minutes ago." He barely suppressed a wince as his mind heard Molly's dreams violently crash down. Obviously, she hadn't known that her knight in shining armour was a married one.

Though his face didn't reveal it, Ironheart's annoyance at Harry interference was obvious.

Harry opened his mind and projected his feelings on the matter to Ironheart. Molly Weasley was like the mother he never had, and he wouldn't let her become another notch on Ironheart's bedpost.

From Ironheart, he then got the distinct impression that that wasn't at all the case, and that he was genuinely developing feelings for the fascinating and feisty woman that was Molly Weasley.

Harry dryly answered that he thought that Donovan Jr was doing the thinking, because no one could develop genuine feelings other than lust mere moments after meeting someone. Then he proceeded to tell Ironheart to cease and desist his efforts, lest Harry reveal his romantic moments with the other female Rangers to Commander Nomvete, the disastrous consequences be damned.

Ironheart feebly protested that it was blackmail.

Harry smugly admitted that it was, but that it was nevertheless very effective. This exchange of thoughts happened in the fraction it took for Molly to step a bit further away from Ironheart, breaking the intimate distance.

"Well, here you are. Imhotep will tell you everything you want to know about your daughter," Ironheart said. "Mr Weasley, kindly escort your mother back to the public reception hall and take her home after she's done. I must get back to work." No doubt having sensed Ron's ire, Ironheart quickly left the office.

"Bloody hell, Mum, you're not allowed to be here," Ron erupted.

"She has permission from the highest authority, so we're past that point," Sharif said. "Kindly follow me to the examination room."

Harry turned to Ron and Hermione. "Fill in the rest of the relatives about the situation, would you?"

"What about the stag party?" Ron asked.

"Honestly, is that—" Hermione began, but Harry cut her off.

"The last thing I need is for you two to begin arguing like a married couple."

Ron blinked. "Mate, we are a married couple."

Harry smiled sheepishly. "Right, but my point still stands. Tell the family that Ginny will be all right. As for the stag party, that's entirely up to Ginny. If she realises the implications of her transformation and needs me to comfort her, there's no stag party."

*

Later on, however, Ginny had merrily told her family that she'd cross the ageing bridge at the appropriate time, which was roughly a hundred years in the future, and told Harry, Matt, Wolfe and her brothers to go have their stag party. As an afterthought, she had mischievously added that her headache had been a powerful inner-eye kicking in, and that unless she was very much mistaken, Matt and Wolfe were going to be in-laws through Rachel and Robert.

"Well, Wolfe," Matt said, as they walked to The Lovely Lady Lounge, which Matt had rented off until two o'clock. "I suppose my little girl could do worse than your brat."

"'Could do better?' My son will the best thing that ever happened to your daughter."

"Don't you two think you're getting ahead of yourselves?" Bill grinned. "Maybe Ginny was seeing Galatea's wishful thinking. She and Fleur kept going on about how cute Rachel and Robert looked together. What is it with women and their urge to pair everyone off, anyway? I mean, Fleur was reading a novel the other day, and there wasn't even a romantic element. But she kept droning about which man would end up with which woman."

"It's called 'shipping'," Percy said knowledgeably. "Hannah told me about it."

Ron frowned. "Shipping?"

"As in relation-ship," Harry said. "Aunt Petunia loved doing it with her soap opera characters. In situations where it isn't clear if anyone will end up together, people tend to let their fantasies roam free and begin to pair up characters in their head."

"Well then, let's do some shipping of our own," Matt said, a devious grin plastered all over his face. "Commander Ironheart seemed very interested in your Mum." He was looking at the Weasley brothers as he said it.

Charlie gasped. "Bloody hell, Jasmine and I never told Mum that he was married. We've got to warn her. Not that I don't like the bloke, but—"

"I already took care of it," Harry said. "He won't try to get to know your Mum more intimately." He turned to Matt. "You know, suppose Ginny really does become a Seer and she's right about Rachel and Robert. One would be inclined to wonder why both your daughters end up with Ironheart's descendants."

"That'll be their mother's fault," Matt said quasi-ruefully. "She's a sucker for handsome blokes, and they take after her in taste and attitude. Did you see how quickly Rachel got Robert to do anything to get her to stop whining? And poor Nicolai! Let's hope that his genius allows him to cope with Mary's tantrums. She's a real wild—Ah, gentlemen, The Lovely Lady Lounge." He nodded to a building appearing around the gentle curve of the street.

"You rented this place for the night?" Bill asked Matt. "I heard the entire serving staff consists of part-Veela women. Must've cost a fortune."

"Not really. I own the place."

"What?" Harry and Wolfe exclaimed simultaneously.

"I saw potential. Business was so-so, but I knew that it could be a goldmine with the right management. When I bought the place last year, I kept the staff, because they weren't really the problem. The real problem was the way they were being used. The girls had to dress as skimpily as possible. The wizarding world isn't ready for that yet, and it only attracted unsavoury types."

"Yeah, the look was rather cheap," Charlie nodded.

"You've been there before?" Ron asked. "What did Jasmine have to say about it?"

"Nothing. It was perfectly innocent. A few colleagues took me there, back when it was still called the Wicked Wench. C'mon, little bro', my wife's a Mind Reader. Couldn't lie to her even if I wanted to."

"Yeah, and you'd best never decide to try your luck," Wolfe grumbled.

Charlie laughed. "She'd be more than capable of dealing with me herself. Anyway, the colleagues and I also came here after the new management took over. I must say, I like what you did with the place, Matt."

"Thanks," Matt said. "I knew that getting the girls to wear those Muggle cocktail-dresses would be a big hit. They're elegant, yet provocative. Nothing quite like them in the wizarding world. The girls like them too. So much, in fact, that they didn't want to wear them for fear of spilling drinks on them." He walked up to the door and knocked. "Potter's Bachelor Party's here, mate."

The swung open and revealed a wizard in formal robes. He dwarfed Matt in both length and sheer bulk. Ron guessed that he even would have dwarfed Nathan. This wizard was over seven and a half feet tall, and he looked vaguely familiar to Ron, though he didn't know where he'd seen him before. Very few humans grew that large, though, so he had to be part giant.

"Hello, Olaf!"

"Good evening, Mr Kelly," the wizard's voice boomed as he stepped aside to allow the group in.

"One of Helga's little brothers," Matt explained. "Both her brothers work here on alternating days."

"Aren't they in the building industry?" Ron asked.

"Yep. Who d'you think renovated the place for me? They've also got black belts at judo and are advanced duellers at the club in Concordia. They play bouncer for fun. C'mon, I'll give you a tour of the place later. But first…"

"Harry!" a bunch of people cheered as Matt led Harry into the lounge. Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom, Dennis Creevey, Lee Jordan, Aberforth Dumbledore, and Oliver Wood were sitting in the richly decorated lounge.

Harry's eyes lit up. "Lee, Neville, Seamus, Dennis, Wood! I wasn't expecting you until my wedding day."

"Miss a party? Never!" Seamus laughed.

"I was honoured to be asked, Harry," Dennis Creevey said.

"Once I heard about the Veela women, I was in," Lee grinned. "Just don't tell my wife I said that."

Wood smiled. "I reckoned someone had to keep this lot out of trouble."

"Good luck to you then, Wood. Harry attracts trouble," Neville said.

"I've seen so many single friends enter the institution of marriage," Aberforth sighed. "I suppose I could see off one more."

"And speaking of institutions—" Bill deftly caught something Seamus had tossed at him. He presented it to Harry, who looked at Ron inquisitively.

Ron grinned broadly. "This is 'phase one' of your bachelor party. A straitjacket. The Muggles can't do body binds, so—"

"I know what it is, Ron. You expect me to wear that?"

"Yes. It symbolises the institution of marriage. Come on, put it on."

"Do you expect me to use my wand-less magic all night to drink?"

"Don't worry about that, Harry," Matt said, helping Ron with slipping on the jacket and fastening it. "One of the lovely waitresses will hold your drinks to your lips."

"That would be me," a decidedly masculine voice grumbled.

Ron turned Harry around, allowing him to see Wolfe wearing a provocative evening gown. One of the giggling women rushed over to steady him when he nearly lost his balance on his stiletto heels. With a wig and make-up on, he looked remarkably like Jasmine, if Ron worked his imagination really hard and edited out the hairy chest and the equally hairy legs that showed through the thigh high double slits.

Charlie doubled over with laughter, no doubt having similar thoughts.

Harry glanced back at the other Wolfe, which promptly disappeared. "A duplicate for appearances' sake. I've been here for about half an hour. Since I'm the Guardian, I get to suffer with you tonight."

When the straightjacket was snugly in place, Ron called for the other articles. A mock-up of the old ball-and-chain was clasped around Harry's ankle, and a toy version of a rusty old battle-axe was tucked into the crook of his folded arms. "These are the wife and the mother-in-law."

"But I don't think your mum's a rusty old battle-axe," Harry protested.

"Just wait until you're part of the family." Bill laughed. "Hey, don't worry about it. Mum won't hold it against you."

"One more thing—Flo, your final fling!" Lee Jordan said, bowing with a flourish as a red-faced Dennis Creevey brought forward a Muggle blow-up doll, which they handcuffed around Harry's neck.

"All right, so what do we do now?" Harry asked.

*

They had paraded him around town like that, and his task had been to scrounge clothes for 'Flo the final fling' by asking women to take off an article of their clothing and donate it to the cause. Fortunately the doll had already been wearing knickers, because knickers would have been impossible to scrounge.

Thus Harry had worked his way from the bra to the cloak. Padma and Parvati, bless them, had given him bra and a blouse, while Vesta Gaal had helped him enormously by stepping out of her skirt and handing it to Ron. Some members of Potter's Posse had remained transfixed by the sight of Vesta's very shapely legs, until Aberforth stepped forward and wrapped his cloak around her. A pair of giggling witches in their late teens had provided Flo's shoes and cloak, as well as their names and address, to allow the items to be returned. When they gave Wolfe the address, they whispered something in his ear, which prompted him to raise his hand and clearly show them his wedding band.

All in all, it hadn't taken them that long to scrounge the clothes. Harry soon found himself comfortably seated in The Lovely Lady Lounge—at least, as comfortable as a straightjacket would allow—after they'd checked in their wands at a place that was exceptionally secure for a private establishment. Doc and Wilson had designed it, and some security devices based on Ranger designs had been installed.

"So basically, there are now different activities every night," Matt said, explaining the secret of the club's success. "Many of these girls can dance, and I mean really dance. So Mondays through Wednesdays, the lounge is cleared of most of its furniture and the girls give dancing lessons to anyone who's interested, for a modest fee. Every wizard who started out in the beginner's class on Monday ended up coming back for intermediate and advanced classes."

"No wonder. Anything to be near these women," Seamus said. "Maybe I ought to look for a job here."

"Not a chance," Percy said. "I just gave you a raise, and your contract says you have to stick with the Ministry for at least another year."

Seamus scowled. "Bloody fine-print."

"Hey Matt, what about women? Can they get lessons here?" Charlie asked. "It would be nice for Jasmine to stop flattening my toes in the near future."

"Says a man who used to work with dragons," Bill commented, and everyone laughed.

"Women are welcome too," Matt nodded. "The manager worked out a deal with a few male dance instructors to teach part-time. But it's not just singles that come here for lessons. We've got lots of couples taking lessons together. So if you're interested, Charlie … "

"I'll ask Jasmine if she's interested."

"So what happens in this place the rest of the week?" Neville asked.

"On Saturdays, the place is open for dancing. No lessons, just regular people coming here to have a good time, though I've been told that the people who take the lessons on weekdays are almost always here to show off their new dancing skills. On Thursdays and Fridays, it's a gentleman's club, and a few exotic dancers perform after midnight." Matt paused and smiled as he looked at something behind Harry. "Oh, Gavin, Rolf and Geo made it. Right, where was I?"

"The exotic dancers performing after midnight," Harry said.

"Ah, right. So that's no longer the main focus here, like it was when this was still The Wicked Wench. It more about simply unwinding in the presence of women who've been trained in the art of entertaining."

"Like Geisha?" Gavin Carey asked, sitting down in an armchair between Dennis and Neville's.

"Yeah, I suppose you could compare it to that."

"It's midnight already. Where are the exotic dancers?" Seamus asked eagerly.

"I sort of told the manager not to let them perform tonight. I didn't want the pictures taken tonight to land anyone in the doghouse. But the lounge is open 'till six in the morning, so I reckon we could stay about half an hour after the doors open to the public, to see one of the performers."

Harry thought it was time for another sip of his fruity cocktail, and Wolfe dutifully brought the drink close enough for Harry to reach the straw.

"Look how Wolfina's always immediately there when Harry wants a sip. It's almost as if they're telepathic. They'd make such a cute couple," Seamus teased.

Harry grinned. Seamus knew about Wolfe's gift, but he didn't know about Harry having copied it. "Very funny, Finnigan. Charlie's really the lucky one, though. His wife can read his mind."

"That's what you think." Charlie gave them a mournful look. "If you blokes have a falling out with the girlfriends or wives, you can always play the 'I didn't mean it that way' card. Not possible if the wife can read your mind."

"Speaking of wives, does Gudrun know about this place?" Harry asked Matt.

"Of course she does. Who do you think came up with the idea for the waitresses' strapless mini-dresses and matching neckpieces?"

"Give your wife my thanks when you get home," Seamus said, while his gaze followed a particularly long-legged Veela woman. He'd hardly taken his eyes off the waitresses all night. Despite his best efforts to appear nonchalant, Percy's ears were red. Charlie and Ron seemed better adapted to the situation, since living in Concordia meant running into part-Veela more often. Like Bill and Wolfe, Dennis was completely unaffected. It was hardly surprising, because he'd started seeing Gabrielle Delacour again after she had finished school in June. Like the older men, he was used to the Veela charm.

Looking at Aberforth and Lee, Harry saw that they had interrupted their deep discussion to appreciatively stare at the waitresses. "Enjoying yourself, old man?"

Aberforth smiled. " My dear boy, age hasn't affected my eyesight."

"What have you two been talking about all this time?"

"Back when we were at school, Fred and George broke into Filch's office," Lee began.

"More than once."

Lee grinned broadly. "And they brought a trophy with them every time. This particular time the found a very old notebook that belonged to a student who had attended Hogwarts over a hundred years before. It was full of notes on making fireworks. That's where they got some of their ideas. Turns out that Aberforth here wrote it. He's agreed to whip up some demo sparkles and show them at the end your reception."

"Fireworks, cool!" Dennis said.

"Evening, gents," a tall and voluptuous woman wearing a slinky black catsuit greeted them. Her brown hair was tied back in a severe bun, and a pair of tiny spectacles rested on her nose, making a little like a very young Professor McGonagall, though Professor McGonagall would probably never, ever dress like that. The woman sat down in Matt's lap, prompting frowns and raised eyebrows from Wolfe and Ron. Harry knew her, because she became Padma Patil's new roommate shortly after Perse left to pursue her musical career.

"Brace yourselves for the evening's second big surprise. I'm sure you already know Wendy Dusza through Padma, but you may not know that she's my cousin. She manages the Lounge for me. Wendy, meet the Potter Posse."

"Charmed," Wendy said.

"I'd shake your hand, but I'm a bit tied up," Harry said.

Wendy laughed. "That's all right."

"Was there anything I needed to know?" Matt asked.

"There's going to be a special performance in Mr Potter's honour."

"Really?"

"Just promise you won't be upset."

A suspicious frown crept onto Matt's face. "Is my pregnant wife going to do a striptease?"

"Bloody hell, d'you really think she'd do that?" Ron exclaimed.

She may have lost most of her piercings and stopped dying her hair, but she's every bit as crazy as she used to be."

Wendy giggled. "Really, Matt, it's not a striptease."

"All right, then. Let's see it."

Wendy happily bounced up and made her way to the stage before disappearing behind the curtain.

George Ramos let out a low whistle. "Damn, Matt. Your cousin is stacked."

"That's nothing. I've seen a picture of his aunt," Rolf replied.

"Wolfe, drink," Harry commanded. Wolfe held Harry's glass up, allowing him to drink some more. "Hey, what if I need to go to the bathroom?" he asked, after swallowing down the last mouthful of his drink.

"Use your wand-less magic, because I'm not touching you below the belt."

Harry laughed. "Hey, don't worry. I don't need to go yet. And did you happen to peek into Wendy's mind to see what she's planning?"

Wolfe shook his head. "We agreed not to do that, remember. Why? Did you take a peek?"

"I didn't look either. But I was tempted."

"Same here."

The wait for the big surprise wasn't long. A few minutes later, the curtains rose, revealing a gangly youth and a young woman on stage. Harry easily recognised the boy behind the grand piano as Nicolai, which allowed him to deduce the girl's identity. But by God, Mary really didn't look like herself.

Her normally straight locks, usually worn in a hasty ponytail, had been transformed into blonde waves that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. She was wearing a form-fitting, shiny-black halter evening gown with a side slit that went up to her hip and revealed a tanned leg as she walked to the front of the stage. Matching finger-less gloves covered her arms all the way up and over her biceps. The gloves' diamond trimmings matched the diamonds that covered the gown's neckpiece. The subtle application of make-up hid any traces of youth that would have hinted at Mary's true age.

Nicolai began to play a few improvisational tunes, while Mary turned to the audience and began to slowly sway to the music, causing the diamonds, and her hair, to shimmer in the spotlight.

"Wendy, you allowed her to wear that thing? She's practically naked!" Matt hissed. He tried to stand up, but his cousin pressed him back into his chair.

"It's only a little leg showing. The gown she wanted to wear would have fit your description, though. Just let her sing her songs. She's quite good, you know. If you stop her now and drag her off stage, she won't talk to you for the rest of the year. Do you want to be on such terms with your daughter before she leaves for boarding school?"

Matt relented and sagged back into his chair, and Mary began to sing her first song in a surprisingly rich and melodious alto voice. The shouting matches with Gudrun that often echoed across the street in the mother and daughter's frequent clash of wills had hinted at her capacity for volume. But the pleasant melody was new.

Mary worked her way through a repertoire of Elvis songs, starting out with "Blue Moon." Nicolai cleverly blended the accompanying tune into "Unchained Melody," and Harry was afraid that Matt would get up and strangle Nicolai when the third and final song, "Can't Help Falling in Love," was over. Mary had been staring at him instead of the audience throughout the song, making it painfully obvious which way the wind was blowing. Harry had a feeling that what bothered Matt most was the fact that his little girl had a new hero.

Nicolai helped Mary offstage during the guests' wildly enthusiastic applause, and escorted Mary to where they were sitting.

"You should be at home, and in bed," Matt pointedly said as soon as Mary sat down in the armchair Nicolai had dragged over for her.

"But Daddy, it's the holidays. Mum said I could do it."

"Your mother said that, did she?" Matt grumbled. "Her mood swings must be clouding her mind."

"But didn't you like my songs?" Mary asked in a small voice.

Matt tried to stay angry, but failed. His scowl was replaced by a look of admiration and pride. "You sang beautifully, sweetie."

Mary beamed. "Thank you, Daddy."

"This is the little girl I saw when I married you and your wife?" Percy asked, giving Mary an incredulous once over.

"Yes. And that's the little boy who was with her," Matt said, gesturing to Nicolai.

Percy shook his head. "Unbelievable."

The remainder of the time passed rapidly. At two 'o clock, Matt told Wendy that some of the guests wished to see part of the regular Friday night programme, and gave the okay to open the doors to the regular patrons. Harry was untied, and Nicolai and Mary were sent into the kitchen, lest their innocent young minds were tarnished by the imminent nudity.

A stream of wizards poured into the lounge, and the place was full within minutes. There were several foreign parties, including the caliph of a desert-dwelling wizarding federation that encompassed most of the Sahara and the Middle-Eastern deserts, and his entourage of about thirty. The Concordian Chronicle had announced his arrival, and though Harry wasn't completely sure, he had a feeling that they were among the people who had invited themselves to the wedding.

Harry sank deeper into his armchair and brushed his hair over his lightning-shaped scar. The waitresses were soon bustling back and forth with drinks, occasionally stopping to share a laugh with some patrons, and even flirt a little. The patrons all heeded the ground rules and treated the waitresses with respect, except for the caliph, who leered at the waitresses openly, seemingly thinking that he was in some sort of meat-market. Men like him tended to think that rules didn't apply to them, and Harry guessed that he'd probably wriggled out of some sanctions by means of his wealth and power.

As stripteases went, the show had lots of tease and very little strip. The young woman peeled off layer after layer of clothing, throwing them into the applauding audience. In the end, she'd been dancing with a pair of fans, twisting this way and that, but always keeping one of the fans in front of her breasts. Some people said that all stripteases were straightforward and vulgar. Harry thought that the perceived vulgarity was a matter of opinion, and there certainly hadn't been anything straightforward about this girl's performance. All her movements were perfectly choreographed to keep her covered, and when she finally revealed herself the second before the stage's curtain dropped, Harry was impressed. It had been like a rhythmic gymnastics performance.

"Wow, if she hadn't been such a brilliant dancer, I'd have felt cheated," Seamus said.

"That's our formula," Wendy said. "We highlight the mystery and sophistication of femininity, rather than to parade women around like pieces of meat. Sophisticated men appreciate this—at least, they pretend to—and everyone wants to fit in with sophisticated men."

"Staring at naked babes is fine for fifteen-year-olds, but it gets old after a while," Matt added. "Wendy, get the kids. I'm going home."

Wendy nodded and headed to the kitchen to get Mary and Nicolai, and Matt made his way to the bathroom.

"Thanks for this great party, Harry," Dennis said. "I attended another stag party last year, but the main activity was to track a Hebridean Black dragon and stun it so we could take a picture with it. The groom got a nasty burn."

"Well, thank Matt. He organised most of it."

"That was Robert MacFusty Junior's party you were talking about, right?" Charlie asked Dennis.

Dennis nodded.

"Yeah, I was invited to that one too, but I had to pass because I didn't want to miss my daughter's birth," Charlie said. "I had already missed my son's, so missing my daughter's was not an option."

"I wish I hadn't missed Henry's birth," Wolfe said. "My patrol mission was scheduled to end a week before he'd be born, but he ended up being born two weeks premature. Galatea says he smiled at her right after he was born."

"Can babies that young actually smile?" Lee asked.

"I don't know, but I wish I'd been there anyway."

Harry sighed. Would he be out on a mission when Ginny gave birth to their child? More importantly, what would their child be like, because of Ginny's change?

His musings were cut short by a shrieking voice. "Let me go!"

He followed the sound to its source. The caliph had his fat hand around Mary's wrist, and he roughly pulled her onto his lap.

"Sir, she isn't part of the staff, and you'd be out of line even if she were," Wendy warned.

"I always get what I want!" the fat man said. "Now be gone, or I will convince your government officials to close your establishment."

Nicolai tried to push aside one of the wizards in the caliph's entourage, but the burly bodyguard grabbed him by the neck and casually tossed him nearly ten feet away, sending him crashing into one of the waitresses. A deathly silence descended upon the lounge.

Harry and Wolfe started towards the caliph's party. Although Harry's first instinct was to pound the caliph, he hoped to diffuse the situation by showing his scar. As arrogant as the caliph was, Harry doubted that he'd dare to get on his bad side.

Unfortunately, it was not meant to be. No doubt alerted by the sounds of commotion followed by the silence, Matt had aborted his trip to the bathroom. "Get your filthy paws off my daughter!" he screamed, before rushing towards Mary.

The same bodyguard that had prevented Nicolai's intervention stepped in and kicked as soon as Matt was in range.

Matt allowed the kick to pass his guard and strike him in the left side.

The wizard grimaced and groaned with pain. Harry instantly realised that Matt had used the iron body technique, making his assailant feel as if he'd kicked a steel statue.

Wearing a predatory grin, Matt grabbed the wizard's leg with his right hand, pinning it to his side, before bringing down his left elbow on the wizard's kneecap, filling the still silent room with the sickening crunch of a kneecap shattering.

Three more members of the caliph's entourage interposed themselves between Matt and their leader, and the other twenty-six got to their feet.

An animalistic roar stopped Matt in his tracks, and every single pair of eyes sought its source. Nicolai was once again on his feet, glaring at the caliph though glowing red eyes. A pair of horns had sprouted out of his forehead, and a pair of bat-like wings were tearing through the back of his robes. Harry had heard about an instance when Ironheart had been angry enough to transform. He'd assumed that Nicolai didn't have enough incubus blood left in him to do the same, but apparently he'd been wrong.

"Let my Mary go!" Nicolai roared.

The caliph made the mistake of not reacting quickly enough.

As the demon charged, all hell broke loose.

***

Gogirl: Your assessment was accurate. :-)

The Bronze Snidget: Well, kids fight over toys, you know.

Suky: I think you did review EaL. I recognise your name.

David: Another cliffhanger (sort of) just for you.

The Keymaker: That's right. J.K. has to deal with the limitations of children's books. She simply can't use themes like adultery, and the like.

CatatonicReaction: Nah, I would never tell my betas to hurry up. They're helping me out of the kindness of their hearts, sacrificing their valuable time to do so.

OHGinnyfan: I assume this chapter answered your questions.

Foxfur: Your review cracked me up. It's amazing how you mentioned the wedding dress. As you've seen, it was a concern of Ginny's too. And with regards to Heidi not seeing anyone … again, you have touched onto something that will develop into a subplot. It's really amazing how you seem to be able to predict where I'm going with the story.

So, your mother in law kept you busy, eh? Is she a rusty old battle-axe too? ;-) *See Harry's bachelor outfit prop* Just kidding, of course.

LadySiri: Actually, a substantial number of Harry Potter fan fiction writers are 'older' people, north of thirty, some of them married with children.

Lord Dreadnault: Yeah, I reckon it was done with PhotoShop, or something similar. But the way you can see right into those brown eyes made me think of J.K. Rowling's description in CoS.

Ginny1946: Ginny doesn't have all of Holly's powers. But won't it be fun to find out which ones she does have?

anon: There's a good reason why I chose to reveal Ginny's powers at this point in the story, and not later.

Cosmos Rose: I aim to please.

Fragarach: Short but sweet, as are all your reviews.

Angel of the Flames: That was a pretty deep quote from O'Brien, wasn't it? Anyway, I'm using Rowling's take on prophecies.

Angie: Really? I though location-descriptions were my weakness.

mentosadidasgirl17: No, I'm not planning to go that far into the future. As for your questions; yes, that guideline quote was inspired by Pirates, and yes, I've seen RoTK.

Crazyone: Thanks.

Alice of Wonderland: I guess this chapter must have answered your questions.

Stefanie: We can't always have what we want. I wanted Sirius to survive OoTP, but Rowling had other plans.