Loose Cannon

by manatee-vs-walrus

Fourteen months after the Battle of Hogwarts, an overheard, off-the-cuff comment turns Harry's life upside-down. Goodbye Auror training, hello Chudley Cannons! And witches ... lots of witches (but no harem). Heaps of dialogue and world-building, and OCs galore. Warning: Many tropes were harmed in the writing of this fic, and Cursed Child never happened. NO MORTAL PERIL.

57. Chapter 57

When Harry opened his eyes the next morning, Lydia was quietly studying him. 'You look so vulnerable when you're asleep,' she said tenderly. 'Your face relaxes, which makes you look younger—like a little boy. And your hair looks perfect on a pillow, sticking out in all directions. I've decided it suits you, even if it is appalling.'

Still groggy, he wrapped an arm around her and said, 'It's nice waking up next to you. I'll never marry you, but I like having you around.'

'I feel the same way,' she said, 'including the part about not marrying you. I can't tell you how grateful I am that you ruined me ... that I'm free.'

'You don't need to thank me. It wasn't exactly a hardship.'

'Perhaps not, but you made it perfect. And letting me stay here, and even throwing a party when I asked ... you're terribly kind.'

He propped himself up and said, 'You're certainly affectionate this morning. I gather you slept well?'

'I did,' she replied, and Harry admired her as she sat up and stretched her arms. 'And I had the loveliest dream. I can't quite remember it, but you were there, and Esme as well, only she was sweet like when we were girls. And we were in the joke shop, and we were flying unassisted.'

'Like Voldemort?'

'No, nothing like that! How can you say such a thing? It was beautiful.'

'I'm sorry,' he said sincerely. 'You were telling me about your dream and I ruined it.'

She smiled. 'You're awfully good at ruining things. They should put that on your Chocolate Frog Card.'

'That seems inappropriate for children,' he said, getting up and walking to the bathroom.

'Shall I order breakfast from Kammy?' she asked. 'Or do you want yours from Kreacher again?'

'We're eating downstairs—or at least I am. I'm an able-bodied nineteen year-old and I don't need breakfast in bed.'

'Fine,' she said, rising. 'Are you going to insist on cooking it as well?'

'No, I don't want to disappoint Kreacher. And mind you, we're eating in the kitchen.'

'In the kitchen, with the elves? My mother would be horrified to learn how far you're dragging me down.'

'Yes, she'd probably demand you leave at once, on pain of being disinherited.'

Lydia survived eating breakfast in the kitchen, and afterwards Harry left for the Cannons training grounds. He asked Mrs Thwip to send letters to all the Quidditch teams inviting the players to his party, and he dictated invitations to Neville and Luna. He also dictated letters to Cho Chang and three other friends from Ravenclaw, offering them Cannons tickets. I know I should owl them myself, he thought guiltily, but this is so much easier.

Practice that morning was uneventful, and Harry was impatient to join Owen at the Seeker trials. He was finally summoned to the stadium after lunch, with instructions to bring his broomstick and wear practice robes. When he flew to the skybenches he saw Owen, Tuttle, and a witch and wizard roughly his own age. They both looked startled when he arrived, but they quickly regained their composure.

Owen introduced them. The wizard was named Stuart, with a height and build identical to Harry's, but the witch, Gemma, was surprisingly short. That could be a disadvantage—particularly her arm length, he thought. She must be a hell of a flyer to have made it this far.

She was, and so was Stuart. Owen started by pitting them against each other, in search of a modified Snitch, and Harry was impressed by their aggressive flying. Without other players over the pitch, Gemma and Stuart couldn't dive into Chasers as Harry normally did, but it was obvious they'd be willing to.

'Gemma's a former Chaser,' explained Owen, 'but she switched to Seeker when her height became a hindrance.'

'Why isn't it a problem now?' asked Harry.

'She's nimble. You can't see it with only one other flyer, but when Tuttle ran them through drills she was like a needle through fabric.'

'How's her spotting?' Harry asked. 'Stuart seems stronger in that regard.'

'He is, but I asked them about their experience and she's relatively untrained. So she might improve.'

'But it's a risk,' said Harry.

'Yes. It all depends on how she trains up.'

Tuttle was watching though Omnioculars and occasionally took notes on a clipboard. 'Potter, you should talk to them next,' she said. 'Get a feel for them, and I don't mean that literally.'

'Is that an accusation?'

'No, I just wanted to get a rise out of you.'

Tuttle blew her whistle and the two recruits joined them on the skybenches. Gemma had caught the Snitch less often than Stuart had, but she didn't look resigned. Quite the opposite—she had a determined expression that reminded Harry of Ginny.

Unfortunately the interviews weren't very informative. Both recruits were plainly star-struck around Harry, and they were reluctant to banter with him. They'd both done their homework and asked him good questions about his flying strategy, and they were clearly enthusiastic about Quidditch, but he didn't get a good feel for either recruit's personality.

Tuttle sent them away and raised a privacy ward. 'What do you think?' she asked.

'Honestly, I have no idea which one is more suited to league Quidditch, or who I'd rather fly against every afternoon. They were a bit too deferential, but that's not uncommon for me with strangers.'

'I was worried that might happen,' said Owen. 'I had a chance to observe them in the larger group, and I'm not ashamed to admit I used Spying Charms to see how they interacted. They both have the raw material, but I was hoping you'd feel a spark with one or the other.'

'Nothing so far. Sorry about that.'

'Not to worry, we're not done yet,' said Tuttle. 'Next you're going to fly drills with them. No Snitch, just flying. And you should disrupt them—throw them off balance and see how they handle it. Owen and I will have our wands out in case they need a Cushioning Charm.'

Harry smiled mischievously and grabbed his broom. 'That sounds like fun.'

Tuttle cancelled the privacy ward and called the recruits back over. 'You're to fly drills with Potter—I want to see how well you fly in formation.' Stuart and Gemma nodded crisply, and the three of them launched into the air.

They're good, thought Harry as they flew together. I could happily spar with either of them. At first he performed the drills smoothly, but after a few minutes he started flying more erratically. Stuart and Gemma were both able to compensate, with some added effort, and Harry remained impressed. Let's make things really interesting, he thought, and he deliberately began pivoting at the waist to make his broomstick more twitchy.

Tuttle called a more complicated drill, and Harry continued to disrupt them. They hadn't spoken yet, even though they were flying in close formation, but Harry heard both of them swear under their breath when he did a particularly obnoxious move.

'Congratulations on making it this far,' he said. 'You're both terrific flyers.'

'Cheers,' replied Stuart. 'I assume you're flying this way on purpose?'

'Tuttle's orders,' said Harry. 'But I'm about to step things up—watch out.'

He started bumping into them, and Tuttle made things harder by requiring them to fly faster. Gemma and Stuart were both visibly irritated, but Harry was having a ball. 'Both of you deserve the job,' he said cheerfully. 'You should feel proud, no matter who gets hired.'

'Easy for you to say, you great bloody toff!' snapped Gemma, before inhaling sharply and clamping her mouth shut. Stuart was silent, but Harry saw his eyes flash with triumph. Harry tried to remain impassive, even though he was laughing internally.

A short while later, Tuttle whistled them to the ground and had each of the recruits go one on one against Harry with a Snitch. Neither of them tracked him, which would have been bad form during a trial, and he caught the Snitch nearly every time. I'm definitely the better spotter, he thought, but they're both near my equal on a broom.

Both recruits looked dispirited after the Snitch trials, and Gemma looked almost resigned. But she stood up straight, which made her appear taller than her actual height. He had the impression she wanted to apologise, but Tuttle was talking and Harry was off to the side.

'You can wait here,' she finally told the two recruits. 'I'm going to talk with Barrowmaker and Potter, and we'll see if we can make a decision, or whether we need you to fly some more.'

The three of them walked a long distance from the two recruits and sat down. After raising a privacy ward, Tuttle asked for their opinion.

Harry smirked and said, 'Gemma called me a great bloody toff. She was mortified as soon as it came out. But I deserved it—I said some rubbish about how they should both feel proud regardless of whether they get the job.'

'I wondered what happened,' said Owen. 'I was watching them through Omnioculars and saw her expression change. How did you react?'

'I didn't. I hid my laughter, and I think she's afraid she blew it.'

'Interesting,' said Tuttle. 'It didn't affect her flying—she was just as good afterwards.'

'Does that mean you're leaning towards her?' Owen asked.

'Yes,' said Tuttle. 'And you?'

'Same.'

They both looked at Harry. 'I feel the same way. She's got a spark.' Tuttle narrowed her eyes and he immediately added, 'Not that kind of spark! And when have I ever been unprofessional with a teammate?'

She laughed and said, 'You're just too easy to provoke. I know you're professional.'

'Do we have a decision?' asked Owen.

'Looks like it,' said Tuttle. 'You should tell them, Barrowmaker. You can be her mate, and I'll be the one she's scared of.'

The three of them walked back to the skybenches, and Owen announced their decision. 'You're both great flyers, and definitely league material, but unfortunately we can only hire one of you. Gemma, congratulations—you're the Chudley Cannons' new reserve Seeker.'

Gemma looked astonished. 'Er, thank you,' she stammered. 'Oh my god, I can't believe it. Thank you,' she repeated, this time to Harry and Tuttle.

'It was a hard decision,' Tuttle told Stuart. 'The recruiters will hear you made it to the final stage, so I reckon you'll be invited to more trials.'

Stuart thanked them, and Harry told him again how well he'd flown and wished him luck. After he left, Tuttle excused herself and left Owen and Harry with Gemma.

'I'm still in shock,' she admitted. 'After what I said ...'

Both wizards laughed, and Owen said, 'The first thing you'll discover as a Cannon is that slagging Harry is a team pastime.'

'You mean you weren't upset?' she asked Harry.

'No, I had to hide my laughter. Don't worry, I've heard every possible insult.'

'So you just let me swing in the wind like that, thinking I'd blown it?' she asked indignantly.

'I'm glad he did,' said Owen. 'This way we were able to see whether you lost your confidence and started making mistakes, which you didn't.'

'But Stuart caught the Snitch more than I did, and then ... Harry caught it every single time.' She still seemed hesitant to use his given name.

'Harry's probably the best spotter in the league,' replied Owen. 'And Stuart had better training than you did. My hope is that you'll improve with proper instruction.'

'I'll do my best, make no mistake,' she said with determination.

'By the way,' said Harry, 'I'm throwing a party on Saturday night for the entire league, and you can bring a friend if you like.'

Her jaw dropped. 'You're throwing another party and I'm invited? This is unbelievable. Should I bring anything?'

'No Firewhisky,' said Owen.

'Please don't bring anything,' said Harry. 'There'll be dancing, though, so make sure you have comfortable shoes.'

'Oh my god, yes ... and thanks again!'

They went together to the training grounds so Gemma could talk to Darius about her contract, and Harry was free to shower and leave. But instead of going home he went to Diagon Alley to run errands. First he stopped at his florist, to order flowers for the party.

A young witch was leaving just as he entered, and her eyes widened when she recognised him. Harry thought nothing of it, but when he left the shop she was still there. 'I can't believe I'm doing this,' she said as she handed him a slip of paper. 'But call me ... anytime.'

Before Harry could reply she dashed off, and he saw that she'd written down her name and Floo address. He tucked it into his pocket, mainly because it would be impolite to Vanish it on the spot. Not that there was anything wrong with the witch—she was perfectly attractive—but he found blatant propositions a bit overwhelming.

Next he went to Benedict Thimble's shop, and the tailor greeted him warmly. Harry showed him the photographs Eric had taken at the Musée d'Orsay of the portrait of Robert de Montesquiou. 'Could you make robes like this?' he asked.

Thimble examined the photos. 'What a find!' he exclaimed. 'I'd be delighted to. How formal should I make them?'

'How do you mean?'

'I can make them more or less formal, depending on which fabrics I use. If you look at the lapel, for example, you can see there's a border which follows the placket below. I can use a satin finish, like the lapel of a Muggle tuxedo, but that would strictly be for the most formal occasions. Or I could keep the texture the same as the rest of the jacket, which would work equally for daytime or less-formal evenings.'

'They both sound good,' admitted Harry. 'But I'm reluctant to get both ... I purchased robes elsewhere this weekend and should be well-stocked.'

Thimble took the bait and said, 'You must allow me to make both. I can give you them at cost, if you'll permit me to use the same pattern with other customers. Not the same colours, of course.'

'That's more than fair,' replied Harry. 'Yes, let's do that.'

'Can you come back tomorrow to look at fabrics?' asked Thimble. 'I want to visit my supplier and make sure I offer you the best options.'

'Yes, gladly. And I'll bring a friend to advise me.'

If Thimble knew who Harry was referring to, he didn't reveal it. 'Excellent. And will you want gloves for the formal robes?'

'No gloves,' replied Harry. 'And don't ever sell me them, except for cold weather.'

When Harry left the shop, another witch handed him a slip of paper before blushing and Disapparating. That's odd, he thought, and he decided to Disillusion himself before walking to Gringotts.

At the bank Harry spoke with Tarnog, the goblin who'd handled his previous party, and they made all the arrangements. Gringotts would once again allow him to hire the electronics-powering device, and they would provide wards and hundreds of charmed goblets. The price was significant, but nowhere near as much as his first party had cost, and considerably less than he earned in a single week. I can easily throw a party like this every month, he thought with satisfaction.

A third witch handed him a slip of paper as he left the bank, and Harry hastily shoved it in his pocket before Apparating home. Is this because of Lydia's perfect initiation into womanhood? he wondered, when he finally realised what must have happened.

'There you are!' exclaimed Lydia, rising from the sofa in the sitting room. The record player was on, and she was listening to music he recognised as the Beatles. 'Are you familiar with this band? They're awfully good.'

'Yes, they're probably the most famous band in England, or maybe the world.'

He kissed her, and when they separated she was smiling slyly at him. 'There's a new article about you,' she said, handing him a magazine.

'Oh dear, I suspected as much. I was propositioned three times in Diagon Alley just now.'

Lydia was aghast. 'Even though everyone knows we're together?'

'These were open-ended propositions,' he replied, looking at the magazine.

It was called Sorceress, which he dimly recalled Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown giggling behind in the Gryffindor common room, and the cover featured a photograph of a man and woman in a passionate embrace. Neither of their faces were visible, but the man, who was photographed from behind, had untidy black hair. The woman was pulling off his bright orange Quidditch robes, uncovering a tattoo on his exposed shoulder, and a closer look at the tattoo revealed the Gryffindor crest, complete with a roaring lion.

'My Night of Ecstasy with Harry Potter,' read the headline, and the subheading said, 'Our anonymous source tells all!'

'Six times!' cried Lydia indignantly. 'You and she did it six times in one night! That's twice our record ... I don't know whether I should feel insulted.'

'I was going slowly with you,' argued Harry. 'I couldn't have just plowed in when it was your first time.'

'Yes, but what about the nights since then?'

'I had Quidditch practice in the morning—I couldn't stay up late. And besides, it was exhausting.' She pouted, and he said, 'Remember, you and I did lots more than just intercourse.'

'True, but you did the same with her.'

Ginny trained me, he thought helplessly. 'Are you saying I left you unsatisfied?

'No,' she admitted. 'I just want the best.'

'You're getting the best,' he assured her. 'Just not six bloody times in a row. I hardly got any sleep that night.'

'Yes, that's what the article said,' replied Lydia, opening the magazine. 'And then there's the photograph you signed for her.'

With dawning horror, Harry remembered what he'd written. 'It was a joke!' he explained. 'We deliberately made it as salacious as possible, with the idea that her great-grandchildren would find it one day. I had no idea she was going to sell it to a magazine that afternoon!'

The first page of the article featured Harry's signed photograph, with Vera's name and the date blacked out. 'To XXXX, in appreciation for a long and intensely gratifying night. Yours in sweet exhaustion, Harry Potter.'

Mortified, he ran a hand through his hair and began reading. The article faithfully recounted the night he'd spent with Vera, and he was relieved they'd talked so little. At least I didn't refer to myself as 'The Boy Who Goes Down on Witches,' he thought, although surely someone else would start calling him that. The only omission was his nightmare—the article just said he'd awakened her for more sex.

The magazine layout included photographs of an imagined version of Harry's bedroom, including a Silver Arrow broomstick leaning against the wall and his Cannons robes in a heap on the floor, next to a pair of stockings. His bedside table had a discarded boutonnière and an Order of Merlin, First Class medal, along with a photograph of his parents.

'They ran a photograph of my mother in an article about my all-night sex marathon?' he said, outraged. 'And I don't wear my Cannons robes home, or leave my Order of Merlin lying around!'

Just then, Ron's dog Patronus burst into the room. 'Harry, heads-up ... one of your witches talked to Sorceress magazine and they printed a tell-all. I'm warning you in case Lee and George spring it on you tonight.'

'Oh bugger! I have the radio broadcast! And Hermione and Ryan will be here soon.' He turned to Lydia and said, 'I haven't even asked how your day went. How are you?'

'Aren't you going to answer him?' she asked, indicating Ron's fading Patronus. 'I haven't seen your Patronus up close yet—I only saw it in the joke shop a fortnight ago, and I was in the back.'

'All right. I suppose I should practice casting it sitting down.' He extended his wand and cried, 'Expecto Patronum.'

Prongs leapt forth and turned towards them. 'First, I'd like to introduce Lydia,' Harry told him, and Prongs looked at her appraisingly and lowered his head. 'Next, please deliver Ron the following message: Thanks for the warning. Lydia told me, but otherwise I wouldn't have known. Remind Janet that I'll jinx her again if she crosses the line.'

After Prongs had gone, Harry turned to Lydia and saw she was crying. 'What's wrong?' he asked, concerned. 'Are you all right?'

'It's just so beautiful,' she said. 'I'd never seen one up close before.'

He stroked her hair tenderly. 'They are beautiful. And you can't imagine what it's like, when they chase away Dementors. I reckon the Patronus Charm is my absolute favourite spell.'

She was still enraptured, even though Prongs was gone. 'Can you teach me?' she asked.

'I can try, but it's not an easy charm. You'll need to practice by focussing on a particularly happy memory—the stronger the better.'

'I can think of some,' she said, smiling. 'Recent ones.'

'Let's create more,' he said, leaning towards her, and before long they were horizontal on the sofa, and the record player advanced to a band Harry didn't recognise. They continued that way for a while until someone loudly cleared their throat.

'Hermione!' said Harry, sitting up and hastily pulling his shirt back on. 'And Ryan, welcome. Er, this is Lydia.'

Lydia had fortunately kept her clothes on, but she was tucking her top back into her skirt. 'Pleased to meet you,' she said politely, her cheeks red.

Hermione, looking highly amused, smiled warmly and said, 'It's very nice to meet you, Lydia,' and they shook hands. I wonder if Lydia's ever shaken the hand of a Muggle-born, thought Harry, and he was relieved she hadn't hesitated.

Ryan introduced himself and Lydia shook his hand as well. He looked at the record player and said, 'Marvin Gaye?'

'Is that who it is?' asked Harry. 'My tutor loaned me a stack of records and we've been listening to them.' Ryan started looking through the pile and Harry added, 'I'm afraid I lost track of time, but Kreacher could still make pizza if you like.'

'That sounds perfect,' said Hermione, and Harry wordlessly requested it. Everyone sat down, with Hermione and Ryan next to each other on an armchair and ottoman. 'I was impressed by Rita Skeeter's article,' she said to Lydia, 'and I admire your plan to bring wizards together in your salon.'

'Thank you,' she replied. 'I was raised to be a hostess, amongst other things, and there's no reason for those skills to go to waste. But do you think you'd be willing to attend a gathering that included Dark wizards?'

'How Dark?' asked Hermione. 'If it's just people from Dark families, then of course I'd go. But if they still actively practice and advocate Dark magic, I don't imagine they'd be fond of me, or Ryan for that matter.' Lydia looked puzzled, and Hermione added, 'Ryan's father is a Muggle.'

'And your mother married him?' exclaimed Lydia.

'Yes,' replied Ryan. 'And they've been happily married for twenty-five years, without a marriage bond.'

Lydia's eyes widened. 'Wasn't she afraid to have children? I mean, you turned out all right, but do you have siblings?'

'No, I'm an only child, but that's only because they were afraid they'd have another magical child.' He explained to Lydia that his parents had never cut ties with his Muggle relations, and that Ryan's accidental magic had been too great a challenge.

'This is all very new to me,' admitted Lydia. 'I've never spoken to any Muggles before, except for shop clerks and the like.'

'Hermione and Ryan aren't Muggles,' Harry pointed out.

'Of course not,' she said. 'But they were both raised by Muggles.'

'So was I,' Harry reminded her.

'Yes, but your parents were both magical.'

'And I can't remember them. I didn't know I was magical until I received my Hogwarts letter, same as Hermione.'

'How could you not have known?' asked Lydia. 'Surely you experienced accidental magic. That article said you did.'

'I think you're underestimating the human tendency to rationalise things we don't understand,' said Hermione. 'I had any number of strange experiences before I learnt I was a witch, but people always explained them away. They said it was the wind, or a coincidence, or that I'd imagined it.'

'Or they just pretended it didn't happen,' added Harry. 'Like the time I appeared on the school roof after running away from Dudley and his mates. The principal wanted to know how I'd got up there, and when I didn't know she said I must have forgotten.'

'And you believed that?' persisted Lydia.

'What choice did we have?' said Hermione. 'If I'd insisted it was real and that it was magic, they would have taken me to a mental hospital, and even at that age I knew that wasn't a good thing.'

'This is why Muggle-born children should be taken from their parents and raised by wizarding families, as soon as they show accidental magic,' proclaimed Lydia.

Hermione dropped her polite veneer. 'You're saying I should have been taken from my own parents and sent to live with strangers?'

'Wouldn't that have been easier? You could have just been yourself and not had to pretend you were something you weren't.'

'Lydia,' said Harry, 'I don't think you realise what you're suggesting. Muggle parents love their children just as much as any other parents do.'

'I know that,' replied Lydia. 'But there's the risk to secrecy. And when there's a war, the Muggle relations are vulnerable.'

'That doesn't mean–' Harry began, but Hermione interrupted him.

'She's right, it's a problem,' blurted Hermione. 'I lied to my parents for years—as soon as Harry and I became friends and started fighting Voldemort. And before we went into hiding I modified their memories and sent them to Australia.'

'And Death Eaters killed my grandparents,' said Ryan. 'My Muggle grandparents. But I don't think separating families is the right solution.'

Harry was relieved when Kreacher entered the room and said, 'Master, dinner is ready. Should Kreacher serve dinner in the kitchen or the dining room?'

'In the dining room, please. And thank you.' Harry chose the more distant location in the hope that the conversation topic would be dropped by the time they were seated.

'We hired a new Seeker,' he said when they arrived.

'Harry, I know what you're doing,' said Hermione dryly. 'You're trying to change the subject.'

'Are you afraid I'll say something wrong?' asked Lydia. 'Are you trying to protect me?'

'No ... I just don't see how you'll come to an agreement, and I can't see any point in arguing.'

'We weren't arguing,' said Hermione. 'We were actually agreeing about the problem, which is the first step to finding a solution.' She turned to Lydia and said, 'I think this would be an excellent discussion topic for your salon, if everyone can at least agree that Muggles are human and love their children as much as wizards do.'

'That rules out a few potential guests,' she admitted. 'But you're right, it would be a good topic. Hermione, would you be willing to participate? And you too, Ryan.'

Hermione smiled and said, 'I'd be glad to, and I think we need more conversations like that, and not just among people who already agree with one other.'

'Hermione, do you think I should introduce Lydia to my parents?' asked Ryan. 'And, Lydia, would you like that? You might find it informative.'

'I'm willing,' said Lydia. 'I need to broaden my horizons.'

'But Lucinda Spoonwocket?' exclaimed Hermione. 'She's not for beginners.'

'Is your mother a Spoonwocket?' asked Lydia.

'She's a Bellamy now, but yes. Although she's from the half-blood side of the family.'

'I probably have a Spoonwocket ancestor or two,' she admitted. 'But Harry told me it's tiresome to talk about ancestors, so I'll stop.'

Hermione stifled another smirk and said, 'Are you prepared to meet Ryan's father?'

Lydia took a deep breath. 'Yes. He fathered a wizard.'

'That doesn't matter,' said Harry. 'Prince never fathered a wizard, as far as we know, and you think he's brilliant.'

'You listened to Prince?' asked Ryan.

'"Purple Rain,"' replied Lydia. 'It's surprisingly good. And Harry's right—I need to break the habit of thinking of Muggles as inferior. But do you think your father would want to meet me? I'd probably say something appalling.'

'The biggest mistake you can make around my father is to act like he isn't there and talk only to my mother.'

'I'm certain I wouldn't do that,' said Lydia. 'But I might treat him like a goblin or a house-elf. Not on purpose, but out of habit.'

'Maybe you need to learn to treat goblins and house-elves better,' muttered Hermione.

'Whatever for?' asked Lydia.

'They're people too,' said Harry. 'I get along brilliantly with goblins now, even though they've every reason to hate me.'

'It's true,' said Hermione. 'He's literally their favourite wizard—I've seen it.'

'But you order Kreacher around!' protested Lydia.

'You've hardly heard me talk to Kreacher,' argued Harry. 'I mainly communicate with him wordlessly.'

'That is impressive,' she said. 'Very few wizards can do that—I've only seen it once before.'

'Maybe it's because I treat him with respect. I always say please and thank you.'

'Yes, and lock him in cupboards,' said Hermione.

'He wanted it,' said Harry pointedly. 'He's been much happier since I started punishing him regularly. And it's better than letting him punish himself.'

'Harry, we're never going to agree on this,' said Hermione.

'Fine,' he said. 'Ryan, what night do you think your parents could come to dinner? We're available Wednesday and Thursday, but after that I'm not free until Monday.'

'This week should work, but I think they'd prefer to have you at the house—my father dislikes magical transport.'

'You have to see their house,' insisted Hermione. 'It's an absolute marvel.'

The conversation drifted to less controversial topics, and eventually Harry turned to Lydia and said, 'You still haven't told me about your day. Did you find a flat?'

'Not yet, but my estate agent is certain she knows the perfect place. I couldn't see it today because the current tenants are still moving out, and they haven't a house-elf to assist them, so it's taking longer. But my agent said that's no reason to reject it, and that it's more than suitable for someone of my station.'

Harry saw Hermione and Ryan stifle sniggers, and he had to do the same, but he asked, 'Where is it?'

'Manchester—in that complex we visited. It's on an upper storey, so there's plenty of light, and there's a lift of course.'

'That sounds terrific,' said Harry. 'I love Grimmauld Place, but it would be nice to live in a wizarding district instead of a dodgy Muggle neighbourhood.'

'You'd hate that!' exclaimed Hermione. 'If you lived in a wizarding district, you'd have fans and protestors camped on your front doorstep, no matter what wards you had. And you'd be overrun by reporters.'

'Ugh, you're right,' said Harry. 'But why don't they hassle you? Both of you are famous.'

'Sometimes we're photographed together,' said Ryan, 'but there's a limited market for pictures of us—we're old news. You, on the other hand ... I understand there's a new magazine article about you.'

'I was hoping you hadn't seen that,' grumbled Harry. 'How did you find out?'

'Everyone was talking about it this afternoon at the Ministry,' replied Hermione. 'Apparently it hit the newsagent's after lunch. Did you really sign that photograph, or did they forge it?' She tried to look serious but she couldn't help laughing.

'It was real,' he groaned. 'I wrote it as a joke, of course. The idea was to shock her great-grandchildren one day.'

'When will you ever learn?' asked Hermione indulgently. 'If you're going to run around, you have to be more careful.'

'It's true,' said Lydia. 'He has no discretion—that's why I chose him.'

'I'd be discreet if they'd let me!' He glanced at his wristwatch. 'Bugger, I need to leave for my radio broadcast.'

Hermione and Ryan burst out laughing. 'Talking about your conquests on the radio every week isn't exactly discreet,' she observed.

'It's the only way I can set the record straight! At least I can tell people the signed photograph was a joke, and that I'm not actually that smarmy.' He turned to Lydia and asked, 'Will you accompany me to the shop? I know you don't want to participate in the broadcast, but I'm certain they'd make room for you in the front row.'

'No, I'd rather avoid the crowd. But we can go out together on Wednesday or Thursday—you'll have your new robes by then.'

Hermione raised one eyebrow. 'You bought more robes?'

'Yes, all the tailors offered me robes at cost. Lydia helped me select them.'

'You've certainly embraced your dandy persona. But don't let us keep you—you should change and pick out your flowers. We'll see ourselves out.'

With Lydia's guidance, Harry changed into his pinstriped robes and selected a cornflower boutonnière. 'It seems your florist has a sense of irony,' she observed.

'I've noticed that. Will you listen to the broadcast? I'll send you my Patronus.'

'Yes, of course,' she said. They walked down to the fireplace and she kissed him before he left. 'You'll be brilliant as always.'

'I can't wait to see you afterwards,' he said, before travelling to the Leaky Cauldron.

When Harry emerged from the tavern fireplace, the bar patrons broke into applause. 'Six times!' shouted an older wizard approvingly. 'I'm glad the younger generation still has it in them.'

'It bodes well for post-war repopulation,' observed an elderly witch, who was smoking a pipe. 'Don't use too many Contraception Charms, mind you.'

'I need to get married first,' said Harry, 'and not before I'm twenty-one.'

'Well don't use yourself up. You don't want to run out.'

I'm fairly certain that's not how it works, thought Harry, but he just excused himself and walked towards the joke shop.

There was a large knot of witches waiting for him, in spite of the cool weather, but George pulled him inside and escorted him to the booth. 'Potter, you've outdone yourself. Thanks to you, Weasley's Wizard Wireless is the most popular show in Britain, and store traffic and sales are way up. Are you sure we can't repay you?'

'You're giving me a platform—that's more than enough,' said Harry. 'Other than that, promise to invite me to dinner every now and then, in twenty years when I'm washed up and driving the Knight Bus to pay for my three divorces.'

'Consider it done.'

They entered the booth, and Lee nodded in admiration. 'Six times ... you're an inspiration to us all,' he said. 'You've set the bar higher. And you certainly make the show entertaining, although we might receive more Howlers from outraged parents.'

'Has that happened yet? I'm sorry.'

'Not to worry,' said George. 'If a Howler arrives during store hours, we make an announcement and let everyone listen to it—not that they've much choice. Customers love it! And if the shop's closed, we just toss it into Walburga's booth and open it remotely.'

Lee pointed to his wristwatch and said, 'Tick tock. Harry, are any topics off limits?'

'Draco Malfoy. And changing my name.'

'Is that it? Can we ask about your pure-blood princess?'

'Yes, but I mightn't answer everything.'

'Fine. And today's article?'

'Yes, I need to set the record straight.'

Lee's expression turned serious. 'Don't tell me it wasn't true.'

'No, it was true, but I need to explain the signed photograph.'

'Yours in sweet exhaustion?' quoted George. 'That was fantastic—that's how we're going to sign off the show from now on.'

'Yes, we await your explanation,' said Lee. 'Do you want to talk about the new Cannons Seeker? I understand they selected one today.'

'Has it been announced?' asked Harry. 'I didn't want to steal her thunder.'

'Yes, Gemma Rees, from some school I've never heard of.'

'I'll congratulate her, but otherwise I don't want to talk about her without her permission. Speaking of Quidditch, I'm having another party this weekend and you're both invited. But not our other Hogwarts friends, unfortunately, because I'm inviting the entire league.'

'You're stuffing the entire Quidditch league into your house?' asked George. 'Bloody marvellous!'

'You can each bring a guest—just tell me their names by Friday so I can add them to the Floo wards.'

'Are you prepared for Rita Skeeter?' asked Lee. 'She might make another attempt.'

'She and I have come to an agreement,' replied Harry. 'In fact, don't mention her tonight either.'

Lee was looking at his wristwatch again. 'Thirty seconds.'

Harry took a sip from the glass of water George had provided, and Lee counted down as usual. 'Good evening, and welcome to Weasley's Wizard Wireless, the number-one magical broadcast in all Great Britain!'

'And that's even after Harry leaves, and half the audience switches off their radios,' said George. 'But stick around until the end! You won't be disappointed!'

'I'm Lee Jordan, and my co-host George Weasley and I are thrilled as always to present our illustrious guest. Please put your hands together for everyone's favourite loose Cannon ... Harry Potter!'

'Loose Cannon?' exclaimed Harry. 'That's a new one.'

'Not so fast, we need to confirm your identity,' cautioned Lee. 'With today's revelations, every lovelorn wizard in Britain is going to want a snip of your hair so they can impersonate you.' In a more serious voice he added, 'Witches, if someone claiming to be Harry Potter tries to seduce you, demand he prove his identity! Either he needs to take you to his threadbare townhouse and introduce you to his godfather's Animagus, or he needs to produce his famous Patronus. Harry, let's see it.'

'Of course,' replied Harry, raising his wand. 'Expecto Patronum!'

Prongs sprang into being, and Harry said, 'Good evening, Prongs. Please go to the house and deliver this message to Lydia: Hi, Lydia! I'm thinking of you and can't wait to see you after the broadcast.'

The crowd cheered as Prongs leapt and vanished. 'Listeners, I'm pleased to announce that Harry has once again proven he's the genuine article,' said Lee. 'But as you heard, he's going straight home to his pure-blood paramour, so if you're waiting for your turn on his enormous bed, you'll have to try some other night.'

'Now you've done it,' said George. 'Half the witches in the shop are going to leave now. And look, about a dozen are doing just that! Ladies, I can assure you that Harry's not the only wizard who knows how to please a girl. And now that the editors of Sorceress magazine have provided a detailed manual, I'm certain his techniques will become commonplace. Speaking of which, we have a number of things to discuss tonight—I hardly know where to begin.'

'I do,' said Lee. 'One word: Parseltongue.'

The audience exploded with laughter, and Harry felt his face turn red. 'What about it? I can't speak it anymore. Not since Voldemort died.'

'Really?' exclaimed George. 'That's another revelation! Would you care to say more?'

'There's not much to say. My past ability to speak to snakes was directly linked to why I was able to defeat Voldemort. Once Voldemort died, the ability disappeared as well. I can't speak to snakes any longer.'

'And yet you've found a whole other use for your tongue,' said Lee. 'That was very resourceful of you.'

'You realise this opens a whole new category of nicknames for you,' added George. 'All of which start with "The Boy Who."'

'Yes, I'm aware of that,' replied Harry. 'But I doubt you want to enumerate them right now, unless you want to spend all day opening Howlers.'

'That's true,' acknowledged George. 'We'll just leave them as an exercise for our listeners, and of course all of Harry's Quidditch rivals. And speaking of Quidditch, we're wondering whether you want to change your player number from three to six. Six seems more appropriate now.'

'That was Owen's number,' laughed Harry. 'And I'm starting to wonder how he came up with it. The fun way, I hope.'

'That might explain his injuries,' remarked Lee. 'But some Quidditch observers have theorised that your "night of sweet exhaustion" was last Monday, and that you turned up at practice completely knackered.'

'It was, and I did, and I'm very sorry. It hasn't happened since, and it won't happen again. The team comes first.'

'Not according to that article,' said George. 'Apparently the witch comes first, and then the team. But did you really wake her from a sound sleep for more? That was awfully churlish of you!'

'I did no such thing! We were both awakened by a disturbance, and things progressed naturally from there.'

'And we're glad they did, otherwise you mightn't have reached your staggering total of six times,' noted Lee, 'which according to your signed photograph were "intensely gratifying."'

'Ugh, that photograph,' groaned Harry. 'I swear, I'm not that smarmy. She and I conspired to make the inscription as salacious as possible, to shock her great-grandchildren.'

'Hang on,' said George, 'she's a great-grandmother? Just how old was she?'

'Her future great-grandchildren,' corrected Harry, who could see that the audience was howling with laughter. 'She was approximately my age.'

'But you don't know for sure,' persisted George. 'Are you certain she wasn't using Polyjuice Potion.'

'Yes,' said Harry. 'She definitely went more than an hour at a time without drinking from a flask.'

'Did you hear that, ladies?' said Lee. 'Harry's keeping an eye on what you're drinking. So if any matrons are crafting plans, you'll need to settle for no more than an hour of sweet Potter love. Which according to the article is the highly abridged experience.'

'It was exhausting,' admitted Harry. 'It was great at the time, but I paid for it afterwards. Better to pace yourself.'

'Yes, you required entire days to recover before your next conquest,' observed Lee. 'Did you do a lot of soul-searching?'

'I appeared on this show, actually.'

'You're right! And then you made your appearance at the Wizengamot, where you were rebuked by ten lords, including one named Travers. Would you care to comment on your revenge?'

'Lydia wasn't revenge. She approached me prior to the Wizengamot hearing.'

'Yes, we read all about it,' said Lee. 'And we consulted a calendar ... does that make three witches in a single week? That's assuming you and the French witch did more than just snog in a portkey terminal.'

'Really, Harry, three witches in a single week is a bit much,' admonished George. 'I'm sure my mother is shocked.'

'I have an extenuating circumstance!' blurted Harry, before immediately pressing his finger to the delay rune.

'I'm sorry?' choked Lee. 'An extenuating circumstance?'

'Yes, but I shouldn't talk about it yet. It'll come out eventually though.'

'The mind reels!' said George. 'Can we resume the broadcast?'

'Yes, go ahead.'

Lee used his wand to recommence the broadcast. 'We've had to edit Harry's last remark, but I'd like to remind our listeners that our in-shop audience hears everything. So come early next time to get your spot, and you won't miss a single moment. But Harry, tell us more about how you and Miss Travers are doing.'

'Hold that thought,' interjected George. 'I think Walburga should be part of this conversation. On Sunday I had the pleasure of introducing her to Miss Travers, and she approved heartily of the match. Harry, would you be willing to give her an update?'

'I'd be glad to.'

George tapped the portrait with his wand. 'Good evening, Walburga. I've got Harry here tonight.'

Walburga opened her eyes and looked at Harry with an expression bordering on approval. 'The vile half-blood returns,' she said warmly. 'Have you sired an heir yet?'

'No, I don't think so. We've been careful.'

'Careful? What do you mean? Don't tell me you're trying to prevent it!'

'I'm afraid so, Walburga. I should have made things clearer on Sunday—I don't actually intend to marry Miss Travers.'

'You unscrupulous rake!' howled Walburga. 'Are you saying you've ruined her?'

'Thoroughly. No proper pure-blood will have her now.'

'And you're proud of it, you disgusting beast! Her life is destroyed, for your sport!'

'It was her choice,' argued Harry. 'She wanted to be ruined—I never misled her. And her life is looking pretty good. She'll have her own flat soon.'

'Like a French actress!' spat Walburga. 'Is that how you're squandering the Black fortune?'

'You and your fathers squandered most of it,' retorted Harry. 'I haven't even touched it, except for what I gave to one of the cousins you scorched off the tapestry.'

Walburga shrieked inarticulately and threw the Hand of Glory at the front of the canvas, and Lee tapped the portrait with his wand. 'I suppose I can cross my next question off the list, which was whether you're planning to marry Miss Travers.'

'No, and it's by mutual consent. But for now we're enjoying each other's company.'

'I'm certain you are,' said George. 'Have you invited her family to dinner yet?'

'I don't anticipate that happening. And we shouldn't discuss her family, as they didn't sign up for any of this.'

'No, except for that uncle who took the Dark Mark,' replied George. 'Do you think they listen to Weasley's Wizard Wireless in Azkaban?'

'What an alarming thought,' said Harry. 'I suppose it's possible the minimum security prisoners are listening right now, which I don't have a problem with. But I can't say I like the idea of Death Eaters gathered around the radio jeering at me and plotting revenge.'

'CONSTANT VIGILANCE!' boomed Lee.

'To quote a Death Eater,' said George. 'But Lee's right, you can't let your guard down, even now. You snapped the Elder Wand in half, after all.'

'Damn right I did. Every aspiring Dark Lord would be chasing me if I hadn't. But don't worry, I haven't forgotten my Auror training.'

'Yes,' replied Lee. 'I was impressed that you subjected Miss Travers to Veritaserum. Is that how you start all your dates?'

'No,' replied George, 'he starts most dates by asking the witch if she prefers Side-Along or Floo. Trust me, I witnessed it once.'

'I'm efficient,' argued Harry. 'That has to be a virtue.'

'Is that what tonight's flower means?' asked Lee. 'What are you even wearing?'

Harry looked down at his boutonnière. 'Oh dear. Lydia selected it. I'm wearing a cornflower, which is sometimes called a bachelor's button.'

He could see that several audience members were laughing already, but George started leafing through a small book. 'Let's see ... Lee bought a guide to flower meanings. Here we are, bachelor's button.' George looked at Harry with amusement. 'You cheeky bastard. Lee, tell our listeners what it means.'

Lee took the book and read, 'Bachelor's button: Celibacy.'

The rest of the audience exploded with laughter, and George asked, 'Do you think Miss Travers is trying to tell you something?'

'I'm certain she's not. But we agreed my florist has a well-developed sense of irony—they send me a selection of boutonnières every few days, as part of my endorsement contract.'

'And which florist would that be?' asked Lee.

'Livingston's, in Diagon Alley.'

'You despicable sell-out. Whoring the good Potter name for a few flowers.'

'I'm the only Potter left,' replied Harry. 'There's no one to stop me.'

'Speaking of unstoppable Potters,' said George, 'you've now won six matches in a row, which is truly remarkable. And look, our in-store audience seems to agree. Would you care to comment on this remarkable streak?'

'Yes. I couldn't have done it without Owen Barrowmaker.'

'And there it is!' announced Lee. 'Harry just unlocked this week's special: to receive a ten percent discount, tell the clerk you couldn't have done it without Owen Barrowmaker. Through Sunday.'

'Harry, I understand he's now the Cannons Seeker coach, and that you have a new teammate.'

'That's correct—we hired her today. Her name's Gemma Rees and I'm looking forward to working with her.' Harry pressed the delay rune preemptively and said, 'Don't even think about making insinuations about her.'

'Understood,' said Lee, and he resumed the broadcast. 'And Miss Rees, as longtime friends of Harry Potter, George and I would like to welcome you to the club of individuals who will, for the rest of our lives, be asked the following question. George, let's say it together. On three.'

Lee counted on his fingers and they both said, 'So what's Harry Potter really like?'

'Ugh, I'm sorry,' groaned Harry.

'Don't be,' replied Lee. 'I've met more than one witch that way, and it's been a steady source of store traffic.'

'Do you have a stock answer?'

'It's evolved over the years,' said George. 'For a long time, it was always some variant of "Decent bloke, clueless git." Then during the Umbridge year I added, "Tetchy bastard." During the final year of the war it was, "Dumbledore said he's our only hope, which means we're probably doomed, but at least Hermione's with him." And now it's, "Thank Merlin he's no longer dating my sister."'

Once Harry stopped laughing, he said, 'Honestly, I can't argue with any of those descriptions. Except for the last one, of course.'

'Yes, the long-anticipated Potter-Weasley Alliance shall never come to pass. Unless my mother starts practising the Dark Arts to make it happen, which we can't rule out.'

'You're just addicted to Howlers, aren't you?' observed Harry. 'Because you know she'll send you one for that.'

'The problem is that she bought Howler stationery in bulk once, when she'd had a little too much Firewhisky on market day, and she's too thrifty to Vanish it,' George explained. 'So she uses it for most of our correspondence. For example, last week she sent me one that said, "George, when you come to dinner on Sunday, bring another bezoar. We had to use the last one on your father after he ate that stew your Aunt Muriel sent over."'

'Did your aunt really try to poison your father?' exclaimed Harry.

'Apparently there was a mixup, and she gave the stew to her gardener to get rid of slugs. Or so she claims.'

'Speaking of owl post,' interjected Lee, 'we have another letter for Harry tonight.' He opened a folder and pulled out a parchment. 'Dear Harry, How do you get your hair to stick up like that? I tried using Muggle hair gel but it's very stiff and I can't run my fingers through it like I saw you do in a photograph once. Do you use a special charm, and if so, what is it? Sincerely, Peter M.'

'Hi, Peter,' began Harry. 'Thanks for writing, but I'm afraid I don't have an answer for you. This is literally the only thing my hair does. I can't get it to lie flat, no matter what I do. Even if I cut it short, it grows back by morning.'

'Are you serious?' asked George. 'If we were to shave your head right now, it would grow back by morning?'

'That's right.'

'Please, can we? It won't take long, I know a charm.'

'I'm not sure how Lydia would feel about that,' replied Harry. 'She said my hair suits me, even though it's appalling.'

'Come on, Lydia, it's just for one night!' persisted George.

Harry narrowed his eyes. 'Hang on a moment ... are you just trying to get my hair so you can sell it in Knockturn Alley somewhere?'

George put a hand to his chest and widened his eyes innocently. 'How can you accuse me of such a thing? I literally sacrificed an ear to protect you, and you're suggesting I'd sell your hair on the black market. Though I should mention that's a brilliant idea, and if the shop ever goes under I'll definitely look into it.'

'Mate, I think you answered your own question about why Harry would doubt your motives,' observed Lee. 'But Harry, you can trust us to Vanish your hair properly ... will you do it?'

'I reckon you can pull it off,' added George. 'You have dark eyebrows and lashes, so you won't look like my dad—in case that's what you're worried about.'

'Right, but I'm not certain what I'm getting out of this,' replied Harry. 'So far all I get is a disappointed girlfriend.'

'That's an excellent point,' said Lee. 'I understand Muggles do this sort of thing to raise money for charity. Would you be willing to endure one night of baldness for a good cause?'

Harry thought for a moment. 'Yes, I can do that. And actually I have a specific cause, which fits with the hair theme: werewolf rights.' He touched the delay rune to silence the broadcast and asked, 'Are you willing to hire a FLOOF-certified werewolf? Next time you need to hire someone that is.'

'Yes, definitely,' replied George. 'They already approached us and we agreed to it.'

Lee recommenced the broadcast and Harry continued. 'I'll allow George to shave my head under two conditions, both of which involve an organisation called FLOOF, which stands for Facing Lycanthropy and Overcoming Old Fears. My first condition is that Weasley's Wizard Wheezes commit to hiring a FLOOF-certified werewolf. Second, we make a donation in support of FLOOF tonight.' He opened his pouch and performed a charm to pull out all the Galleons. 'I'll donate forty-two Galleons. Is the shop willing to match that?'

'We'll double-match it,' said George. 'And we can circulate a tin around the shop so audience members can donate. And yes, we'll commit to hiring at least one FLOOF-certified staff member.' He motioned to the shop assistant, who pulled a Niffler-shaped piggy bank from a display and began passing it through the crowd.

'Harry, I think our audience would like to hear more about why this is important to you,' prompted Lee.

Harry chuckled and said, 'This would be a perfect time to announce that I'm a werewolf, but I'm not, so that's off the table. However, one of my father's best friends was a werewolf, and his son is my godson. And like the vast majority of werewolves, he only wanted the opportunity to live a normal life. Medically that's possible, thanks to Wolfsbane Potion, but there are still two problems: one is that Wolfsbane is expensive, and the other is that it's hard for werewolves to find jobs. FLOOF helps by providing Wolfsbane for free, or at a reduced price. And they also help werewolves find employment, as long as they adhere to certain safety protocols, like monitored Wolfsbane use, proper containment at the full moon, and short fingernails. I think it's a tremendous organisation, and it protects all of us.'

'Hear hear!' said George. 'Let's just ask our in-store audience: should Harry shave his head for the night in support of werewolf rights, even though it means his celibacy boutonnière might take effect?'

Harry could see that the audience was cheering wildly, and he felt the floor vibrate from their stomping feet.

'I think we have our answer,' announced Lee. 'That's a resounding yes! George, would you like to do the honours? If you do the shaving, I'll Vanish his hair, and Harry can do the same afterwards to make sure I didn't miss anything.'

'That sounds perfect,' replied George. 'Harry, please turn so I can stand behind you.'

Harry rotated his chair and said, 'I'm taking it as a good sign that Lydia hasn't sent her house-elf to stop me.'

'Yes,' said Lee, 'either she's keen to see what you'll look like, or she needs a break. Sweet exhaustion, you know.'

George incanted the shaving charm and slowly moved his wand over Harry's head. 'And off it comes ... Lee, are you getting it all?'

'Yes, every strand. Keep going.'

After clearing the top of Harry's head, George suddenly jerked back. 'Sweet bloody Merlin, he has another scar up here. It's shaped like a skull and crossbones.'

'What?!' gasped Harry.

'Just kidding,' said George, and the room shook with laughter.

Harry could see that audience members were craning their heads to watch, and more than one person took pictures. 'Are you done yet?' asked Harry.

'I just need to tidy around your ears,' replied George. 'The last thing you want are stray tufts.'

After another minute, Lee did a final Vanishing Charm and said, 'Harry, you are completely bald. Do you want to make sure I Vanished everything?'

Harry ran one hand over his head, which felt very strange, and he pulled out his wand and looked around the booth. 'I don't think you missed anything. But what about my shoulders, or into my collar?'

'I cleaned off your robes, but you might need to take off your shirt to confirm we didn't miss anything.'

George surveyed the crowd and said, 'I think the witches in the audience like that idea! And of course we're all dying to see your Gryffindor tattoo.'

'I don't have a tattoo,' said Harry, loosening his necktie and unbuttoning his shirt. 'The magazine invented that. Nor do I wear my Cannons robes home, or leave my Order of Merlin medal on the bedside table.'

As Harry disrobed, Lee carefully moved his wand and Vanished several stray hairs. 'You did a good job, George. Almost nothing fell down his collar. Although there's a long blond hair—I wonder where that came from.'

'You should Vanish that as well,' suggested George. 'And Harry, please turn around to prove that you don't have a tattoo.'

Harry showed the audience his back before getting dressed again. 'Tattoo-free since 1980,' he said.

'And we're finally getting an unobstructed view of your scar,' remarked Lee. 'Am I mistaken, or is it lighter than it used to be?'

'It's definitely fading,' confirmed Harry. 'Ever since Voldemort died.'

"You may need to darken it with a tattoo,' advised George. 'In twenty years, when you're all washed up and want attention.'

'"I used to be somebody!"' cried Lee drunkenly. '"I was Harry bloody Potter! I killed Voldemort, and won six matches for the Cannons before losing the next seventy."'

Laughing, Harry said, 'I hope for Gemma's sake that the Cannons sack me before I lose seventy matches.'

'Let's have a look at you, now that you're dressed again,' said George. 'Yes, you're definitely bald. And I was right—you can pull it off. You might get lucky tonight after all.'

'There's one way to find out,' replied Harry. 'Thanks again for having me on your broadcast, and thanks also for the werewolf thing.'

'You're very welcome,' said George. 'And thanks as always for joining us.'

'Good night, Harry, and best of luck!' added Lee.

Harry and George exited the booth to loud applause, and more photos were taken. 'Cheers, mate,' said George. 'For a clueless git, you always manage to keep things interesting.'

When Harry left the shop, several reporters and photographers were waiting for him. 'Yes, it was to promote werewolf rights ... It'll grow back tomorrow ... I have no idea what she'll think, but I'll find out in a minute.'

He Apparated home and found Lydia in the sitting room next to the radio. 'Surprise!' he said, pointing to his head.

She looked at him and gasped. 'I can't believe how different you look! Come here,' she said, rising from her chair.

'What do you think?' he asked uncertainly. 'Am I doomed to celibacy tonight?'

'I ought to punish you for doing something so outrageous,' she said, running her hand over his bare head. 'And for werewolves!'

'Are you prejudiced against werewolves?'

'No ... I'm frightened of them,' she said, looking down.

'Did you ever see one?'

'Yes. Fenrir Greyback once quarrelled with my great-uncle, and he ran outside our house at the full moon. I saw him through my window. The house was warded, so he couldn't get in, but he kept scraping against it.'

Harry wrapped his arms around her. 'No wonder you're frightened. I once saw a werewolf at the full moon, and it was terrifying.'

She rested her head on his shoulder and said, 'You still feel like you, even with your hair gone. And it'll really grow back overnight?'

'Yes. I don't know what time, or if it happens gradually or suddenly, but it'll definitely be back.'

'I can't believe how fearless you were! You didn't ask anyone whether you should publicly support werewolves, or even whether I'd mind if you shaved your head. You just did it.'

'It's not a big risk—my hair will grow right back.'

'But werewolves ... you just decide what you believe in, and you do it.'

'You're like that too,' he said, stroking her hair. 'I'm used to people criticising me, but you aren't, and still you ran away and rejected blood purity and made sure you can't undo it.'

'I'm going to meet a Muggle,' she said unexpectedly. 'Hermione sent her Patronus and said we can meet Ryan's parents on Thursday. They'll have us to dinner.'

He kissed her and said, 'You're amazing. I don't think I've met anyone so committed to expanding their horizons.'

'Can we go upstairs?' she asked. 'I don't mind your bald head—for one night, anyway. And George was right about your eyebrows and lashes.'

'I'd love that,' he said. 'And we should bring the record player.'

'I'll have Kammy transport it,' she said. 'Kammy! Come here.'

Pop! 'Yes, Miss Lydia.'

'We want to listen to music in the master bedroom. Transport the record player and all the records there. Please.'

'Yes, Miss Lydia.' Pop! The record player and albums vanished along with the elf.

Harry beamed at her. 'You said please!'

'Yes, I want to see if that makes a difference. I'd like to be able to command her silently, as you do with Kreacher.'

Harry suspected it might require an attitude shift and not just words, but perhaps this was how the process started. That's how I started, he recalled. I was furious with Kreacher for betraying Sirius, but Hermione made me treat him kindly. And now he's like family, sort of.

He laughed when he saw his bald head in the bathroom mirror. 'For all I know I'm looking at my future,' he said. 'I probably shouldn't complain about my hair anymore—I don't want to offend it into leaving prematurely.'

They put 'Purple Rain' on the turntable and queued up several more albums, and then climbed into bed. Hours later, Lydia insisted she'd observe him overnight to see whether his hair returned quickly or not, but they both fell asleep before midnight, and when he awoke the next morning she was quietly studying him again.

'You were right,' she said. 'It grew back.'

He reached and felt his head. 'Did you see when it happened?'

'No, you were still bald last night, but now it's just like before.'

'Potter hair,' he muttered. 'I wonder if my dad's was the same way.'

'Is there no one you can ask?'

'No, nearly everyone who knew my parents is gone now.'

'Because of Death Eaters,' she said sadly. 'Because of the Dark Lord.'

He nodded.

'How could they think he was right?' she asked, starting to cry. 'My parents love me—I know that—but they supported someone who made you an orphan. How could they think that was right?'

'I don't know. I suspect it has to do with Dark magic. I think practicing Dark magic hurts a person, changes their sense of right and wrong.'

'So they can't be fixed? They're just broken now?'

'I don't know,' he said honestly. 'Maybe people can change. Severus Snape took the Dark Mark, but he ended up protecting me because he loved my mother. He could even cast a Patronus. He gave his life for me.'

'Maybe love can fix it,' she said, sniffling.

He just held her until it was time to get out of bed, and during breakfast they laughed at his photograph in the gossip column. 'I'm glad someone took pictures,' she said. 'I'll have to save them in my diary.'

'Do you save things like that? Should we see if I still have your freesia?'

'My innocence, you mean? I don't want it. I'd much rather have knowledge.'

He felt a tickle of Light magic—just a hint of it—and he placed his hand over hers on the table.

'So would I,' he agreed, and she smiled back at him.