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.

62. Chapter 62

'Master?' said Kreacher tentatively. 'It's time to wake up.'

'What time is it?' mumbled Harry, confused.

'Six o'clock.'

Harry's eyes shot open in alarm, and he tried and failed to sit up. Why didn't that work? he thought. And where's Lydia?

'I was injured,' he declared, as the memories returned. 'And it's six in the evening, not morning.'

'Yes, Master!' chirruped Kreacher. 'It's time for Kreacher to wash Master!'

Bloody hell, thought Harry, torn between gratitude and mortification. 'Yes, thank you.'

Harry had never had reason to doubt his own hygiene, but Kreacher's thoroughness with a long-handled brush made him wonder just how many spots he routinely missed. He was pink and slightly raw when the elf was done with him, but there was no question he was clean.

Kreacher also insisted on shaving him, even though Harry could have done it himself. 'Kreacher was valet to Masters Orion, Arcturus, and Sirius,' he declared proudly, next to a floating bowl of hot lather.

'Sirius let you shave him?' said Harry in disbelief.

'Not Master Sirius Orion, who was cruel and broke Mistress's heart. Master Sirius Apollo, son of Phineas Nigellus.'

For roughly the millionth time, Harry wished Sirius had treated Kreacher better. Why had he been so hostile? Harry wondered. He couldn't even blame Azkaban, because apparently Sirius and Kreacher had always hated each other.

'I'm sorry Sirius Orion was unkind to you, Kreacher. He was like a father to me, and he's the reason I'm Head of House.'

'Yes, cruel Master Sirius gave Kreacher a fine young master who entertains frequently.'

Not until Wednesday, thought Harry with dismay as Kreacher fruitlessly combed his hair. Harry ran his hand over his face to assess Kreacher's handiwork. This is a hell of a good shave, he thought. I always miss a couple of spots, even with the enchanted razor.

Kreacher hovered him to the wardrobe, and within moments Harry was fully clothed in his new, dark green robes and seated comfortably in his wheelchair. 'Where's Lydia?' he asked, as he slid the jasmine boutonnière into his lapel.

'The Kammy furnished Master Regulus's room for Master's witch,' said Kreacher disapprovingly. 'Kreacher will take Master there.'

Harry frowned. There's no reason for her to move out while I'm injured, he thought, as he knocked on the door to Regulus's old room.

'Harry, is that you?' called Lydia. 'Come in.'

Kreacher opened the door and rolled Harry into the room, which looked nothing like what Harry remembered. Gone were the Slytherin banners, and in their place was the light botanical print that sometimes decorated Harry's bedroom. The bed curtains, formerly heavy green velvet, were pale pink and airy, and sunlight filled the room even though Harry knew it was grey outside. Lydia was seated at a dressing table, in front of a mirror framed with delicate silver vines, and Kammy was putting the finishing touches on Lydia's perfectly tousled up-do.

'Don't tell me you're staying in here tonight,' said Harry, indicating the bed.

'No, of course not. I just needed somewhere to prepare for the party, and you were asleep.'

'So you had Kammy redecorate?'

'Only temporarily. The furniture is from my new flat, and she borrowed a few items from my bedroom at my parents' house.'

'Including the sunlight?'

'That's family magic. I'd show you how to do it, but only Nightwick daughters are permitted.'

'It suits you,' he said affectionately, propelling the wheelchair towards her. 'And you look beautiful.'

'Thanks,' she said, examining her reflection. 'I'm inclined to agree. I used to think something was missing from my overall appearance, but now that I'm ruined I no longer feel that way.'

Harry knew what she was describing but he didn't think she'd appreciate hearing it called 'a thoroughly-shagged look.' The messy up-do helped—he normally liked her hair down, but this was enchanting.

'I'm going to need charms for the single wizard if you're going to look like that tonight,' he said with admiration.

'It's only until Wednesday—I'm certain you'll survive. And it'll be the perfect way to inaugurate my new flat.' She dismissed Kammy and asked Harry to fasten her necklace.

'It took me a while to realise I didn't want a husband right away,' she said as he fumbled with the clasp.

'Oh? What brings this up?'

'You fastening my necklace. I knew I wanted the feel of a wizard's hands on me, but I had no interest in going to Dunnings with him every Sunday until the end of time, or ingratiating myself to his mother and grandmother, or getting excited about his silly career at the Ministry. I wanted to make my own decisions, and not be forbidden from inviting someone over that my husband didn't approve of.' She turned from the mirror and looked directly at Harry. 'I didn't want to flatter his ego and listen to him whinge about how wizarding Britain is going to the dogs because blood purity is no longer the fashion. But your ego never needs flattering.'

He laughed. 'That's probably because it needs deflating.'

'I'm no help, then, because I think you're brilliant. And those robes are perfect on you—I love the frogged closures, although I'm afraid you'll start a trend, which will ruin it. Too much frogging looks like brains ... yours is just right though.'

'That was too dandyish even for me,' said Harry. 'I assume you're referring to these loops?'

'Yes. I shan't marry you, but at least I've done my wifely duty by rounding out your wardrobe.'

Sighing, Harry said, 'Ron's mum says I'm making a spectacle of myself with my clothing, among other things.'

'She's just bitter you're not marrying her daughter. Wasn't she counting on it for years?'

'Yeah, probably,' replied Harry. 'But it's irritating just the same.'

'You're photographed all the time, and you still don't have as many robes as Charles does. And he had to pay full price.'

'I'm relieved to know I'm not the biggest spendthrift in wizarding Britain.'

'Not even close,' she assured him. 'Remind me to tell you about one of my Nightwick uncles, who squandered his inheritance on a stable full of what he thought were Abraxans.'

'What were they actually?'

'Glamoured mules. He had to Confund Muggles into buying them, and he still didn't make back anything near what he'd paid.'

Harry looked at his pocket watch. 'We should go downstairs—my friends will be here soon.'

Lydia walked and Harry hovered downstairs, and they looked inside the dining room. The table was mostly covered with hors-d'oeuvres, but there were eight place-settings at the end for dinner. 'I told them to come into the reception hall instead of the kitchen, to stay out of the elves' way until the guests arrive.'

'I can't believe you let your friends Floo into the kitchen. That fireplace should only be for deliveries.'

'It's a habit left over from the war—the Order used to meet around the table, so that's where everyone entered. The formal reception hall still had a lot of Dark magic so we avoided it,' explained Harry as they entered the room in question.

'It's lovely now,' she said, looking around.

'No, it's missing one thing,' said Harry. 'Detach wallpaper,' he announced, and the edges of the old wallpaper peeled away from the wall.

Lydia rolled her eyes. 'Are you trying to depress everyone when they arrive?'

'Of course not, look at all the flowers. But I love how gloomy it is—it reminds me of when Sirius lived here.'

'You miss him terribly, don't you?'

Harry nodded. 'More and more. I don't know what's causing it.' He sat with his emotions for a moment, and a wave of Light magic suddenly rolled through him. 'Oh, Lydia ... I wish you could have met him. He'd have adored you. Not at first—mind you. He would have been horrified I'd taken up with a Travers, and he'd have done everything he could to shock you, in an attempt to prove you were just another small-minded pure-blood. But then he'd see your spirit and your independence, and he'd have fallen at your feet, just as I've done.'

His glow was filling the room, and Lydia asked, 'Is it all right if your friends see you like this?'

'It's fine. Hermione, Ryan, and Gemma already know, and I trust Neville and Hannah completely. And Luna either won't notice or will start glowing herself.'

While they were waiting, he added Cho Chang and Fiona to the Floo wards, and he was still glowing when his friends arrived. Hermione and Ryan were first, and Ryan was carrying a box of compact discs. 'Blast!' exclaimed Harry, 'I meant to buy "Purple Rain."'

'I have it,' said Ryan. 'And Madonna too. But no Marvin Gaye ... I don't think we need to help the orgy along. And clearly you're ready, except for the broken pelvis of course.'

'I see no reason not to glow right now,' replied Harry. 'I'll tone it down later, if it doesn't end on its own.'

Gemma was next to arrive, and she immediately took in her surroundings. 'I don't know what Lara was on about—this room isn't gloomy at all,' she said, looking around in fascination. 'Obviously the wallpaper is peeling, but the chandelier gives off plenty of light ... oh, bugger me! That's Harry.'

'Surprise!' he said, still radiating light. 'I don't get to drink or dance tonight, but this is every bit as good, if not better.' He closed his eyes and the room got a little brighter.

'It's a good thing you're young and well-dressed,' said Gemma, 'or else you'd look like a dirty old man when you do that.'

Harry laughed and said, 'That's another reason to get this under control sooner than later.'

Luna stepped out of the fireplace and looked appraisingly at Harry. 'I suspected as much—I'm surprised it took so long. But then again you were never very quick to master a new charm or practice. You took forever with Occlumency.'

Neville and Hannah arrived moments later and were surprised to see Harry glowing. 'Are you still having trouble with the Glowpox vaccine?' asked Hannah. Hermione explained what was happening.

'You should talk to my Gran,' said Neville. 'She's interested in Light magic.'

'Really?' exclaimed Hermione. 'I was under the impression that very few people practise it.'

'That's true,' said Neville, 'but she studied it after my parents, er, landed in St Mungo's, to see if it might help. It didn't, though, and she has a lot of books gathering dust.'

Gemma and Lydia were lost, and with Neville's permission Harry explained. 'Neville's parents were Aurors, and at the end of the First Wizarding War they were tortured to insanity by the Lestranges. They're still at St Mungo's and they don't recognise him.' Gemma gasped, and Lydia looked like she was going to cry. 'Neville's essentially an orphan like me, only he was raised by his grandmother.'

'My paternal grandmother was a Lestrange,' said Lydia sadly.

'And Bellatrix was a Black,' replied Harry, still glowing. 'There's no pretending we aren't connected to people who do terrible things—all we can do is cultivate love and try to do better.'

Ryan turned to Neville and Hannah and said, 'Hermione should have mentioned that Harry is obsessed with love whenever he's like this. And he might get a bit handsy with Lydia, or anyone within reach.'

'Lydia's the only one I've kissed,' protested Harry, who was stroking Lydia's hand affectionately. 'And Sophie, when I was in Paris. Otherwise I've just hugged people.'

'Er, did this have anything to do with your night of sweet exhaustion?' asked Hannah, giggling.

'A bit,' said Harry. 'But Merlin, she was demanding!'

They made their way to the dining room, and everyone raved about the vast array of starters before sitting down. At Harry's request Kreacher sent up pizza, which was received enthusiastically, even by Lydia. 'I had pizza for the first time on Tuesday, and normally I wouldn't approve of serving the same meal twice in a short interval, but for some reason pizza is different.'

'I feel the same way,' said Neville. 'I never tried pizza until Harry and Hermione introduced it to me, and now I feel like I need to make up for lost time.'

'Have the Hogwarts elves got the hang of making it?' asked Hermione.

'Yes, and they've agreed to tell me in advance when it's on the menu, so I can plan accordingly.'

'I thought Minerva wasn't going to let them serve it regularly until the students demanded it,' said Harry. 'To avoid parents complaining that it wasn't traditional.'

'She wasn't,' replied Neville, 'but all the professors started demanding it.'

Harry was happy to see Gemma getting on with Hermione. 'You're an inspiration to all Muggle-borns,' said Gemma. 'The way you've infiltrated wizarding society.'

'Thanks, but I'm realising how much it was because the Department of Mysteries sent me to Hogwarts rather than to another school, which means I'm still benefitting from unearned privilege.'

'You earned ten N.E.W.T.s,' said Ryan. 'And you helped defeat Voldemort. Nobody can accuse you of coasting on privilege.'

'It's official?' asked Harry. 'You got ten N.E.W.T.s?'

She nodded, and Gemma exclaimed, 'Blimey! I only got six, and three of them were just Acceptable.'

'Hermione's were all Outstanding,' bragged Ryan.

'Percy Weasley got twelve,' protested Hermione.

'That's because you dropped Divination and Muggle Studies for being a waste of time,' said Hannah.

'They were. And Muggle Studies was completely outdated—the textbook included instructions for churning butter and using a buggy whip.'

'I wondered about that!' said Lydia. 'I knew Muggles didn't use horses for travel anymore, but I couldn't figure out what they were supposed to whip on an automobile. I asked my father, and he said it was for whipping the driver, but that sounded unsafe.'

'You took Muggle Studies?' said Hermione with plain disbelief.

'Yes, all the Traverses take it, to identify opportunities to exploit Muggles.'

'And has that worked?' asked Ryan. 'Has your father found a way to magically corner the buggy whip market?'

'No, but my great-great-grandfather doubled the family fortune by selling charmed corsets.'

Hermione blanched. 'They didn't ... asphyxiate people, did they?'

'Of course not,' said Lydia. 'Where would be the profit in that? No, they shaved a couple of inches off women's waistlines, more than a non-magical corset could. They were called "Aphrodite's Miracle Corset" and they were hugely popular in Britain and North America, until corsets fell out of fashion.'

'Did they make bras next?' asked Hannah, giggling.

'Yes, my great-grandfather saw the writing on the wall as far as corsets were concerned, so he shifted to brassieres. He made another fortune that way, which is why I can live independently.'

'Why aren't more wizards insanely wealthy?' asked Gemma. 'It seems like there are so many ways to profit off Muggles.'

'Secrecy,' said Lydia. 'Most wizards who try selling charmed objects get caught, but my families like mine know who to bribe. That's why jobs with the Ministry are kept in the hands of old families; even if the pay isn't good, there's always money in corruption.'

'This explains why the Weasleys were so poor,' observed Hermione. 'I always assumed it was because they had so many kids, but I'm certain Arthur would never take a bribe. Neville, were you aware of all this corruption?'

'Yes, my Uncle Algie complains about it all the time. That's why he left the Ministry and started cultivating magical plants instead.'

Harry didn't talk much during dinner, choosing instead to enjoy his Light magic until he had to stifle it later. He leaned back in his chair and observed the conversation between Lydia and Luna.

'Are you in love with Harry?' asked Luna, in her usual airy voice.

'No, but I'm mad about him,' replied Lydia.

'What's the difference?'

'If I were in love I'd want to marry him, and spend our whole lives together. But I don't want that. Partly because I'm eighteen and don't want to marry anyone, but also because I don't want to be in anyone's shadow, and with Harry I would be.'

Harry's heart sank. She doesn't want to be in my shadow? he thought sadly. He didn't want to marry her either, but it hurt to be rejected for something that might prove to be a problem for other witches as well. Is that why Helena broke up with me? Was she also afraid to be in my shadow?

Harry knew that he was still glowing, and Light magic was coursing through his body, but he felt something bordering on grief. What about Ginny? he thought. He'd loved how powerful and independent Ginny was, but perhaps that was why she'd decided she didn't need him. Am I cursed to fall in love with women who don't need me? he wondered.

Luna's next question recaptured his attention. 'Lydia, have you developed Light magic yet?'

'Of course not. Why would I have?'

'I've heard it can be contagious,' said Luna. 'And you look as if you might have caught it already.'

'You make it sound like a disease,' said Hermione.

'No, not at all. But look at how Harry is turned towards Lydia. I can see his heart connected to hers. His is much brighter of course—it's like the sun. But Lydia's is like a newly-kindled fire, and it's getting stronger.'

'That's beautiful,' said Lydia, with an expression that made Harry forget his grief. 'How do I help it grow?'

'Continue what you're doing, I think. Stay close to Harry for now, but also keep expressing your independence—I'm certain you'll love your new flat. And practice kindness. You weren't allowed to until recently.'

'No,' said Lydia. 'I was taught obedience and manners, but not kindness. Kindness makes you weak.'

'Do you think Harry and Hermione are weak?'

'No, Harry's brilliant. You're right, he's like the sun. I don't know Hermione very well, but she seems remarkable too. No one who's met her could think Muggle-borns are inferior.'

'You've only just met Neville, but he's probably the kindest one here,' said Luna. 'His light isn't bright the way Harry's is, but it's unbelievably warm.'

Hannah, bursting with pride, said, 'You should have seen him during the final year of the war. We were at Hogwarts, which was completely run by Death Eaters—except for Snape, but he was pretending to be one. Neville led the student resistance, even though it meant being cursed and tortured. For months I don't think I saw him without some kind of bruise or injury—Madam Pomfrey had to treat him in secret.' She started to cry, and said, 'He took the Cruciatus Curse to protect others. Here he'd lost his parents to it, but he did it repeatedly, and without hesitation.'

Neville put his hand on hers and shook his head. 'It wasn't like that. It's not like I was tortured every day. Mostly it was minor curses, and I didn't bother with potions for stuff like that, which is why I always had bruises. And I wasn't the only person protecting younger students—the entire D.A. was.'

Hermione quickly explained to Lydia and Gemma what the D.A. was, and Hannah said, 'But you're the main reason there was a D.A.—you and Ginny and Luna. With Harry and Hermione gone, there was nobody to run it.'

Lydia sighed heavily. 'You all fought the Dark Lord,' she said, looking around the table. 'I attended Quidditch matches and wished Harry would just die already.'

'And I waited tables,' said Gemma. 'I didn't help anyone.'

'You stayed alive,' said Hermione. 'You stayed safe. And Lydia ... you rejected the Dark Arts.'

'Yes, but I could have been a spy or something. Like Vanessa's brother—he worked for the Muggle-Born Registration Commission but secretly helped people.'

Harry, who was still glowing, said, 'What you did was perfect. It wasn't time yet for you to rebel. You'd have been killed most likely, and you definitely wouldn't have had any gold. The way it's turned out is completely perfect. And Gemma, you just needed to survive. You didn't have a wand, or connections ... you needed to save up for your Firebolt Ultra so you could nail your Quidditch trials and catch the Snitch today. It's all perfect.'

Kreacher had cleared their end of the table, and he and Kammy started covering it with sweets and pastries for the party. 'We should probably get out of their way,' said Hermione. 'When do the guests arrive?'

Harry looked at his pocket watch and said, 'In a quarter hour. We staggered the times on the invitations, to prevent four hundred people from arriving at once, and half the guests have been directed to the kitchen fireplace. The goblins enhanced the fireplaces temporarily for high throughput, like at the Leaky Cauldron.'

Ryan excused himself to set up the stereo, and Hermione asked, 'Harry, where are you going to greet guests this time?'

They'd drifted into the entrance hall and Harry said, 'Here would be nice, in view of Padfoot, but the library is more practical.' Padfoot no longer had a cone around his neck and was instead seated at an outdoor restaurant with a well-groomed cocker spaniel, and they were sharing a plate of spaghetti and meatballs.

'Not the drawing room?' asked Hermione.

'No, I don't want to answer questions about the tapestry all night.'

'I still need to see it!' said Gemma. 'Is it upstairs?'

'Yes, next to the library,' replied Harry, and they all proceeded there.

Neville and Hannah expressed surprise over Harry's name on the tapestry. 'Harry James Black?' asked Hannah. 'Does this mean you're changing your name?'

'I promised Narcissa Malfoy I'd put it off for a while, but yeah. Harry Potter-Black.'

'That explains it,' said Luna.

'Explains what?' asked Hermione.

'In the painting on my ceiling, Harry's necktie changed colour,' replied Luna, as if that would make everything clear. Everyone looked blankly at her, and she added, 'It used to have red and gold stripes, for Gryffindor, but now it has black stripes as well.'

Harry was astonished. 'When did that happen? Was it two months ago, when I first got the family ring?'

'No, just last Sunday.'

'When I met with Narcissa Malfoy? Why would that make my necktie change colour, as opposed to when I got the ring or fixed the tapestry?'

'I don't know,' replied Luna evenly.

They went to the library, where the bookcases were sealed and hidden from view, and the record player was set up. Harry chose a spot with good traffic flow, and several other chairs were placed around him. 'You mustn't stay next to me all night,' he told Lydia. 'Everyone loved dancing at the last party, and I don't want you to miss it.'

'You have to dance with us,' said Hannah. 'Neville and I spent hours dancing last time, and since then he's learnt charms for twirling me. I'm certain he'll enjoy having someone else to toss about when I need a break.'

They all looked at Neville, who said, 'I'd be glad to, if Harry doesn't mind.'

'Why should I have any say in the matter?' asked Harry. 'That's Lydia's decision, not mine.'

Lydia leaned over and kissed Harry. 'You absolute sweetheart! I simply adore you for saying that. And yes, Hannah, I will dance with you and Neville. And once I've perfected being twirled about I'll insist Harry come up and watch.'

The guests were due to arrive, so Hermione, Hannah, and Neville went to the roof, Gemma went downstairs to wait near Padfoot, and Luna disappeared, as was her wont. 'I should probably stop glowing now,' said Harry.

'Kiss me once more,' demanded Lydia, and he did. 'I can't tell you how happy you made me just now, when you said it was my decision whether I danced with Neville, and not yours. That's the opposite to how Charles treats Esme.'

'I don't own you,' said Harry. 'And you don't own me. We're just ... borrowing each other for a while.'

'Can we keep borrowing each other?' she asked softly. 'After I move out? I don't mind if you see other witches.'

Harry hadn't known what to expect after Lydia moved to her own flat, but he never anticipated she'd be so liberal. 'I'd love that,' he said. 'And it goes without saying that you should see other wizards too, if you like. But not tonight ... that might be a bit challenging in my own house.'

'Of course I wouldn't. I can wait until Wednesday, for heaven's sake.'

'You make me so happy,' he said sincerely. 'I've loved having you at the house this week. And I'm glad we're throwing this party together, even if I can't dance with you. I'll take you to a Muggle nightclub sometime—you'll love it.'

They kissed once more, but the sound of voices and footsteps downstairs interrupted them. 'You need to stop glowing now,' she told him.

'If you insist,' he said, and he strongly willed the Light magic to subside. 'Am I normal again?' he asked, raising his hands.

'You've never been normal,' she replied affectionately.

'No,' he sighed. 'I suppose not.'

Guests started streaming into the room, and a queue of people formed. Other than the Seekers, they were all strangers to Harry, and the conversations generally followed the same lines. 'My pleasure, I'm glad you could make it ... I'll be fine by Wednesday ... I love playing Quidditch, and leaving the Ministry was the best decision I've ever made ... No, I really hadn't considered it until I saw that article ... Gemma's an amazing flyer, so I wasn't surprised.'

Some of the guests asked questions that were overly intrusive, which Harry was accustomed to after years of being a public figure. 'Lydia's moving out this week, but we'll keep seeing each other for a while ... No, I'm not in touch with her family ... I know what the tapestry says, but my name's definitely Potter ... Don't worry, Lydia and I have interests that don't depend on my pelvis ... I'm sorry, that's classified.'

During a lull, Lydia said, 'I can't believe some of those questions, from people you've never met!'

'Welcome to my life. At least no one asked me about the immortal warlocks who raised me.'

Carl Wainwright and Cho Chang stopped by to visit. 'We've been dancing this whole time,' said Cho. 'I wanted to thank you for letting me come at the last minute.'

'It's the least I can do, for old times' sake. By the way, I hope you didn't mind how I described our relationship on the radio the week before last.'

'Don't you mean our "failed mess of a non-relationship?"'

'Do you have a better description?'

She thought for a moment and shook her head. 'No, I'd say you summarised it accurately. But I forgive you—you had a lot going on back then.'

And you wouldn't stop talking about Cedric, thought Harry irritably. 'It's true,' he said. 'Looking back I'm amazed Ginny and I even got off the ground.'

'She's here, you know. I saw her on the roof.'

Harry felt slightly hurt that Ginny hadn't stopped by. Maybe she's waiting for the crowds to clear, he thought.

During the next brief lull, Harry encouraged Lydia to go upstairs and dance. 'You've kept me company for hours, and I don't want you to miss all the fun. And besides, you need to practice with Neville before I come watch you.'

'If you insist,' she said, and she kissed him before hurrying upstairs.

By the time Lydia left, there was no longer a queue but merely people in the area who took the opportunity to talk to Harry when it arose. A young woman Harry recognised but couldn't place approached him and sat down.

'I don't know if you'll remember me,' she said. 'Should I tell you who I am, or would you prefer the challenge?'

'Hang on, I definitely recognise you, but I'm having trouble recalling the context.'

'I'll give you a hint: Ancient Rome.'

'Rebecca!' he exclaimed. 'You're Helena's friend! Are you here with George?'

'Yes, though I peeled off to say hello.' She asked about his injury, and he asked how she and George were doing, but eventually they reached the topic that interested him most.

'How is Helena?' he asked. 'I think of her often.'

'She'll be glad to hear that. Obviously she thinks of you often as well.'

'Fondly, I hope.'

'Absolutely,' replied Rebecca. 'She tells everyone what a dear you are.'

'I hope people aren't still hassling her about me.'

'No, that blew over as soon as you were photographed with the model. And of course your current girlfriend has attracted far more attention than Helena ever did.'

'Yes, they're opposites in that respect. But you didn't tell me how she's doing.'

Rebecca sighed. 'She was fairly heartbroken at first. She was terribly fond of you, after all.'

She didn't have to leave, thought Harry sadly. 'I assume you know the whole story,' he said, and Rebecca nodded. 'Helena was right about me—I fall in love too easily. And she probably did me a favour, extracting that vow not to propose marriage before I'm twenty-one. But I stand by my belief that we'd have been good together.'

'Perhaps,' said Rebecca. 'But she was on her best behaviour around you. She always saw it as a fling, so she didn't want to weigh it down with too much real life. And she's very private.'

'Trust me, I know better than anyone how private she is.'

'I suppose you do. Anyway, she told me to say hi, and that you've turned into an absolutely brilliant roué and she takes full credit.'

'Tell her no one believes it's a real vow—they all think I made it up.'

Rebecca laughed and said, 'She'll love that! I'll definitely tell her. Is there anything else?'

'Tell her she's still pencilled in for my twenty-first birthday.'

'No, I won't tell her that. She finally got over you, mostly, and it won't do her any good to get stuck again.'

Harry nodded. 'All right. Then just tell her how much I enjoyed our time together, and that I'll never forget her.'

'Yes, that's safer.' She looked over her shoulder and said, 'It looks like you have more supplicants—I should go.'

'Will I see George tonight?' asked Harry. 'I'm not going anywhere.'

'Definitely. And thanks also for doing the radio show every week. It would never have taken off this quickly without you.'

'It's the least I can do. For Merlin's sake, he sacrificed an ear for me!'

Harry spoke with more Quidditch players for a while, but then he was approached by someone he'd assumed would want to avoid him. 'Gilstrap,' he said. 'What brings you here?'

'Floo powder. Or are you asking why I've come to talk to you?'

'The latter.'

'I wanted to thank you for inviting me. This is a great party, and I'm sorry you're unable to fully enjoy it.'

'I'm glad you're having a good time. How was your match today?'

'We beat the Harpies,' said Gilstrap.

'Impressive. Does that put Montrose in first place?'

'Yes, tied with Puddlemere.'

'Have you been to the roof yet?'

'I have, and I'll be back later. There seems to be a steady conveyor belt from the roof into your spare bedrooms.'

'How long is the corridor?'

'It was at least twice as long just now as it was when I first passed it.'

Harry chuckled. 'Pure-blood decorating strikes again.'

'It certainly does,' said Gilstrap, looking around. 'I must say, I'm surprised you'd choose to live somewhere like this. I'd heard it was old-fashioned, but this is positively gothic.'

'I lived here with my godfather, and with friends who didn't survive the war. I doubt I'll ever change the house much.'

'No, and I suppose it goes with your new persona.'

'Which persona is that?' asked Harry, bracing himself.

'Harry Black, of course.'

'It's just a tapestry. My name's still Potter.'

'Everyone knows you're going to change it eventually, or hyphenate. And who can blame you? Every posh family was founded by someone who made the leap from the middle class.'

'What are you implying?'

'You grew up in the suburbs. Your Muggle relations might have been well-off, but you certainly weren't, not for practical purposes. Why wouldn't you want to live like an aristocrat given the opportunity?'

'Is that your goal?' asked Harry.

'No, I'm just trying to make a name in the wizarding world. Both my parents are Muggle-born, and unlike your mother they didn't rise straight to the top by receiving a Hogwarts letter. If she'd gone to Tinkerton like my family, she never would have married a Potter or hobnobbed with Sirius Black.'

'And she might still be alive,' said Harry. 'Why are you lecturing me about this?'

'Because I still don't think you grasp how privileged you are. Yes, your childhood was horrid, but the day you learnt you were a wizard you also discovered you were world-famous.'

'For having a psychopath after me! Are you really jealous you didn't have a prophecy that painted a target on your back and left you an orphan?'

Gilstrap looked at Harry for a long moment without saying anything. 'You don't know what obscurity feels like.'

'Didn't you read about my bloody childhood? I definitely know what obscurity feels like.'

'I don't mean in the Muggle world. I mean wizarding obscurity, like when you attend the newest, least prestigious school in all of Britain. When your well-read, well-educated parents work in shops because the Ministry never even considered hiring them. When you get your Quidditch position the hard way, through enormous recruiter trials, instead of just owling your mate at the Prophet.'

'Are you deliberately being obtuse? I told you, it never crossed my mind to leave the Ministry until I read that article. Do I need to take Veritaserum to prove it to you?'

'Oh, so the Cannons put you through trials after you expressed interest in playing?' Harry was silent, and Gilstrap said, 'Surely they tested you!'

'They tested my flying and my ability to catch the Snitch.'.

'Yes, for ten whole minutes. And just the team manager, not the coach. I know all about your exhaustive trials.'

'You don't know a bloody thing about me,' snapped Harry. 'Everyone thinks they do because I haven't any privacy, but believe me, there's plenty you don't know.'

'Fascinating,' said Gilstrap. 'Would you care to enlighten me?'

'Do I look stupid?'

'No, you look self-satisfied. You look like someone who had wealth and fame handed to him. You didn't even work at becoming a Seeker—you were a natural on a broom. Is it true your professor gave you a Nimbus 2000 the day after your first flying lesson?'

'Yes,' replied Harry haughtily. 'And then when it was destroyed I received a Firebolt for Christmas from my rich godfather, although I didn't know it at the time. He eventually left me a townhouse, an elf, and a vault full of gold. And a ghastly ring,' he added, holding up his middle finger. 'I've never worked for anything in my life—I paid Rita Skeeter from my vast, unearned fortune to write that story about my relations. I was actually raised in a castle by immortal warlocks, along with my parents who are secretly still alive. Oh, and during the war Hermione did all the work. Ron and I just played Exploding Snap the entire time.'

When Harry finished his tirade he noticed that the room was silent, except for the music, and that everyone was staring at him.

'Gilstrap, leave him alone,' said Owen. 'The poor man is trapped in a wheelchair and can't drink alcohol. And seriously, go talk to a Mind Healer about why you hate Harry so much.'

'Enjoy the party,' said Harry. 'And don't miss Padfoot, one storey down. Tell him about how your father was tortured to insanity.'

Owen sat opposite Harry after Gilstrap left. 'What the hell just happened?'

Harry shrugged. 'I have no idea. All I know is that he loathes me because I didn't work for my place in the wizarding world. And no, you're not allowed to tell him what I've told you.'

'He's not the only one who thinks that. I've heard quite a few comments tonight about Harry Toffer,' scowled Owen. 'Bloody ingrates.'

'There are always going to be people who hate me. At least these ones aren't trying to kill me.'

'No, they're just trying to steal away Lydia.'

'Good luck with that,' scoffed Harry. 'But how are you doing? Are you having a good time? Where's Fiona?'

'She'll be here presently—she just popped into the dining room for another one of those chocolate-covered biscuits.'

'Those are good,' said Harry. 'They originated when Hermione and I brought some Hobnobs into the house, and Kreacher insisted he could make something better. I'm not prepared to say they're better than Hobnobs, since that's a high bar, but they're surprisingly good.'

Moments later, Fiona turned up with a plate of biscuits and a glass of something fizzy. 'Do you want some?' she asked Harry. 'It occurred to me you mightn't have had any.'

'That's very thoughtful, but my house-elf sent some up a while ago. He's very attentive.'

'Excellent, then I don't have to share. Although you're welcome to have some,' she said to Owen, 'since I really don't need them all.'

'Cheers,' replied Owen, taking a few biscuits and standing up. 'But I'll let you alone—I see someone I want to talk to.'

Harry and Fiona looked at each other a moment before speaking simultaneously. 'I'm glad you came tonight,' he began, just as she said, 'Thanks for allowing me to come at the last minute.'

They both laughed, realising they hadn't heard each other, although they'd caught each other's meaning. 'We should meet properly,' she said. 'I'm Fiona Dunning. And you're Harry Potter.'

'That's right. And this time I'm not pissed, so with any luck I won't make an arse out of myself.'

'You were fine,' she said. 'Jill and I had a good laugh about it.'

'That's a relief. I'm not usually like that, but it was a strange night.'

'Not as strange as the next morning, I'll wager.'

'You mean Rita's article?' She nodded, and he said, 'Yes, that was exciting.'

'I'm ashamed to admit I work for one of the organisations that owled you for a donation that week. How many requests did you end up receiving?'

'A hundred at least. But don't tell me you're with the organisation that produces a play every year about a different Chief Witch or Warlock.'

'Are you serious?'

'Dead serious,' said Harry. 'And then there's the organisation that's trying to revive the lost art of Vermimancy.'

'Vermimancy? Does that involve ... worms?'

'Yes. Apparently it was once popular to have a worm familiar. I think they were hoping I'd appreciate it because I used to speak Parseltongue.'

'Does Parseltongue work on worms?'

'I can't say I ever tried, and it's too late now. But I doubt it.'

'Anyway, no, I'm not with either of those organisations. I work for the Wizarding Orphans Relief Fund.'

'Oh! They're wonderful. I only learnt about them recently, but they do tremendous work—I've made a monthly subscription to support their efforts.'

'I know,' she said. 'That was extremely generous of you.'

'I hope it's enough. My assistant has been sending a lot of business your way.'

'How do you mean?'

He lowered his voice and said, 'Starting a few weeks ago I've been receiving letters from abused children, and several adults. My assistant refers them either to WORF or to one other organisation, and I write back to them as well.'

'Is that what happened? We've had an uptick in new cases recently, and my supervisor wouldn't say what the source was.'

'It was probably me, or my assistant, rather. I hope it hasn't strained your resources too much.'

'It's all right for now, but I don't know whether we can continue indefinitely at this rate.'

'I hope they slow down,' he said. 'The letters are heartbreaking, as I'm sure you know.'

'They are. But it's tremendously satisfying to help people change their lives, when it's possible.'

'I know, I received some follow-up letters last week. I was particularly moved by one from a teenage Squib named Celia, who just moved into a group home. She sounded much happier.'

'I'm fond of that project,' said Fiona. 'Squibs in particular are badly mistreated, and they often feel very isolated. So when they move to a safe and supportive home, and meet people with a similar experience, they open like flowers.' She looked at his boutonnière and said, 'Jasmine flowers are my favourite, by the way.'

He pulled it from his lapel and handed it to her, 'Here, you have to smell them. Looking at a jasmine is never enough.'

Fiona inhaled the sweet fragrance. 'You're right,' she said, handing the flowers back to him. 'Looking is never enough.'

Harry felt a wave of admiration for her, and it threatened to turn into Light magic. 'Tell me more about that group home,' he said suddenly, in an attempt to ground himself. 'How many people live there?'

'Twelve, and the married couple who run it. They're both magical, so they can perform charms for the residents as needed. That's the thing with Squibs—they're often made to feel like they have to become Muggles, full stop. But they still have a magical heritage, and they don't necessarily want to give that up. For example, they like Quidditch as much as any other wizarding child.'

'Would they want to attend a Cannons match?' asked Harry impulsively. 'I get ten free tickets for every home game, and it's possible one of my teammates would be willing to offer some of theirs. I haven't allocated any of mine for the match against Ballycastle next Saturday, although I should probably consult Lydia before giving away her spot.'

'I'm sure they'd love to attend a match! And as your guest ... that would be tremendous.'

'I could meet them on the pitch afterwards if they'd like, assuming I'm not injured again.'

'They'd love it, no question.'

'Maybe I should ask my teammates now, while they're drunk and in my debt.' He looked around the room and called, 'Suresh! Can you come here a moment?'

'Snitchbottom!' cried Suresh, walking over. 'Fantastic party. As good as the last one—better even.'

'Better?' asked Harry.

'More people,' he said. 'And athletes ... they're exceptionally fit.'

'Does that mean you'd be open to doing me a favour if I asked?'

Suresh frowned. 'It doesn't involve taking you to the loo, does it? Can't your house-elf do that?'

'Don't worry, it has nothing to do with my injury. I'm wondering if you'd be willing to part with four or five tickets to the next Cannons match. For a good cause.'

'Ballycastle? Yeah, all right. But tell Lara, because otherwise I'll forget.'

'Cheers! And have a good time tonight.'

'Oh, I will,' said Suresh before returning to his previous companions, who Harry had to acknowledge were exceptionally fit.

'That was easy,' said Harry.

'Snitchbottom?' asked Fiona.

He explained his team nickname, and she laughed. 'Owen's right—you are down to earth. Literally, in that case.'

'I'm sorry I have a reputation for not being down to earth,' he said. 'I learnt this week that I'm known for looking through people when I'm in public.'

'Yes, I've heard that one. Someone I know once referred to you as Glare-y Potter.'

'Oh my god, that's awful! How do I fix it?'

'I don't know. Obviously you can't smile at everyone, or you'd be overrun. I suppose you could address it on your radio broadcast—everyone listens to that.'

'Yes, but I might sound like an arrogant prat, which I know everyone thinks I am as well.'

'In a good way,' she said. 'At least you've earned it.'

'That's good to hear—the last person I was talking to lectured me for ten minutes about how entitled I am.'

'Some people just love to abuse you, don't they?' she said, before blushing and covering her mouth. 'I'm sorry, that came out wrong.'

'No, I understood, and you're right. It's been that way my whole life—I don't know why.'

'At least you don't seem the type to repeat the cycle,' said Fiona. 'A lot of abused children grow up to become abusers themselves.'

'Oh god no, I hope not. How do I prevent it?'

'Asking that question is usually a good start. In your case it was mostly verbal abuse, right? And neglect?' He nodded. 'Maybe notice whether you have the tendency to lash out when you're angry. I'm just guessing—this isn't my area of expertise.'

'I do have a temper,' he admitted. 'I blew up at my friend Ron this morning. And I'm in what Owen calls the Obnoxious Seeker phase.'

She laughed. 'I remember it well! You wouldn't believe what came out of his mouth back then. My husband once said something slightly misinformed, and Owen blurted, "Why don't you just tattoo your ignorance on your forehead!"'

'Owen said that? I need to use that on him sometime.'

'Trust me, he deserves it.'

For a moment they were both silent, and he studied her. She's awfully pretty, he thought. No wonder I embarrassed myself last time we met.

Harry realised he must have been staring, because she blushed and looked down briefly. He asked, 'Did I hear that WORF has a fundraising auction every Hallowe'en?'

'That's right. Would you consider donating signed merchandise for people to bid on? I'm sure it would fetch a good price.'

'Of course, but I have something else in mind. When I had my vision corrected in July, the Optimancer suggested I auction off my old eyeglasses for a good cause.'

'Your eyeglasses?' she gasped. 'Those would bring in a fortune! Are you serious?'

'Yes, I don't need them, surely. And I honestly can't see why anyone else would want them, but apparently there's demand for that kind of rubbish.'

'I don't understand it myself, but collectors are a different breed entirely. And your eyeglasses ... for a one-of-a-kind, easily recognisable item like that, we'd probably have bids from overseas! We could advertise them with your old "Undesirable Number One" poster.'

'They're all yours. I just need to bring them to a charms expert to make sure nobody can use them to hurt me.'

'WORF will take care of that,' she said. 'We always bring donated personal items to Gringotts first, for exactly that reason. But you should do it yourself if you prefer, or accompany me when the time comes.'

'Is that part of your job?'

'Yes, I work in the fundraising side of the organisation, and I help run the gala.'

'A gala! That sounds impressive.'

'It is. WORF is an old organisation, which is why the name no longer matches our services perfectly, and for more than a hundred years we've held our Hallowe'en Gala. It's very formal, and it always sells out, but of course we'd love to have you there. You and a guest.' Her eyes flitted upwards, indicating the roof.

'Lydia?' he asked. 'I doubt we'll still be together then. It's a temporary arrangement, by mutual consent, although I'm certain we'll remain friends.'

'Then you and some other guest. Assuming you have something to wear,' she said slyly.

'Yes, I have just the outfit, or I will next week when my tailor finishes it,' he said, thinking of the formal robes Benedict Thimble was making for him.

'I'll send you the tickets on Monday. That way you can't change your mind and donate your glasses to some other organisation.'

'Like the Brotherhood for the Lost Art of Vermimancy? It's tempting ... Perhaps when I lost Parseltongue I gained the ability to speak to worms,' said Harry, with a cheeky half-smile.

'Fiona, you're still here?' said Owen, who had returned. 'Clearly the demand for Potter has dropped, if no one's displaced you yet.'

'We were talking about WORF,' she said. 'He's offered to donate his old eyeglasses for the auction!'

'Fantastic!' replied Owen. 'You can use the proceeds to build the Harry Potter Home for Arrogant, Sex-Addicted Prats.'

'Oi!' cried Harry. 'Have you been into the Firewhisky?'

'No, I'm just taking the piss. Fiona, we should probably get going.'

She looked at her wristwatch, 'Oh! You're right.' She stood and extended her hand to Harry. 'It's been a pleasure talking to you, and I'll send you those gala tickets on Monday, along with a binding contract for you to give us your eyeglasses.'

Harry laughed and said, 'Perfect. And I've enjoyed meeting you as well. Meeting you properly that is.'

'Good night, Harry,' said Owen. 'You should go find Lydia soon, if only to chase away her suitors.'

'I will,' promised Harry. But I need to visit the loo first, he thought. Kreacher! he called silently. Could you please meet me in the bedroom? I need your assistance.

With pleasure! cried Kreacher delightedly, and Harry could hear the elf's tuneless singing in his head.

He propelled the wheelchair out of the room and did his best to avoid conversation without resorting to his 'Stay the fuck away from me' wards. I need to practise if I'm going to overcome my Glare-y Potter reputation, he thought determinedly.

He wasn't entirely successful—he was waylaid twice—but they were party guests and not just people on the street. He finally made it to his bedroom, which was warded to allow only him and Lydia, and Kreacher was waiting.

'How are you doing, Kreacher? I know you don't have nearly as much help this time as you did at the last party.'

'Kreacher is perfectly able to serve four hundred guests.'

'I hope you're allowing Kammy to assist you,' said Harry sternly.

'Yes, Master's witch told the Kammy to obey Kreacher during Master's party.'

Harry wondered how Kreacher would manage the next party, since it seemed unlikely Harry could borrow Kammy every time, but he didn't say anything.

After visiting the loo, he emerged from his bedroom and peeked down the corridor. Sweet Merlin! he thought. There have to be forty closed doors!

'You should charge admission,' said George, who had his arm around Rebecca. 'You're definitely helping repopulate wizarding Britain.'

'Are you going to stay the night?' asked Harry. 'I've been warned that the rooms become increasingly surreal the farther you go down the corridor.'

George turned to Rebecca. 'I'm intrigued. Want to try it out?'

'We should dance some more,' she said. 'But perhaps later.'

'Are you heading to the roof?' asked George. 'I'm sure Lydia could use rescuing—Neville nearly had to hex one of her admirers.'

'Yes, that's my next stop.'

'Harry!' called Ginny, from the bottom of the stairs leading to the attic. 'I was just coming to find you. Lydia sent me.'

'She couldn't come down herself?'

'No, she was planning to come down, but then some randy Chaser tried following her so I offered to fetch you myself.'

'What's going on? I've heard rumours she's being swarmed.'

'She is,' replied Ginny. 'You must have done a good job on her, because she's turned into a walking Love Potion.'

'That sounds terrifying! Is she all right?'

'She looks like she's in heaven. Not because of all the wizards, but just from dancing.'

Interesting, thought Harry. No wonder she hasn't been down to see me. 'Are you having a good time?' he asked. 'How does this party compare to the last one?'

'You aren't plastered, so we're missing that form of entertainment, and there aren't nearly as many house-elves running around. But Lydia's house-elf set up drinks and snacks on the roof, so everyone's doing fine. And of course it's packed, but that's just more fun. So I'd say it's a smashing success.'

'That's good—I'm sorry I've missed so much of it.'

'I heard you let Gilstrap have it,' she said.

'Ugh, I suppose everyone knows. Do people really think I'm just some entitled toff?'

'Yeah, some do. But not most.' She looked at him tenderly and said, 'I think it's hard for people to acknowledge just how much they owe you. Not for hosting a party, of course, but with Voldemort. And now with the wards that made everyone keep forgetting about the other schools. You're probably the most accomplished wizard of our generation, with the possible exception of Hermione, and you're also the league's best Seeker. So naturally some people are going to harp on the one or two things you didn't earn, like the house or the lordship.'

'Lordships are bollocks,' he grumbled.

'Yes and no,' she replied. 'To you and me they are, and to most well-connected wizards. But to people who come from the outskirts of wizarding society, they represent something unattainable. That's what I've learnt since I joined the Harpies—I've met heaps of people who are impressed with me simply for being a Weasley, even though we're a bunch of impoverished blood traitors. And then there's the fact that I went out with you for so long.'

Harry sighed. 'Am I a curse in that respect? It's been pointed out to me that witches might not enjoy being in my shadow for very long. Is that how it was for you?'

She looked down a moment before replying. 'No, that's not how I felt. Although I did worry for our future children.'

'Because they'd grow up in Ginny Weasley's shadow?' he said gently. 'You're brilliant, you know.'

'Yes, they'll have that cross to bear regardless. But really, you shouldn't worry about it—you're not getting married anytime soon.'

'No.'

'And you'll have no shortage of partners! When that article came out, I told people you were finally famous for the right reason.'

'Thanks, but I'm out of commission until Wednesday. At least for the main event.'

'I'm certain you'll figure something out. But be careful—a lot of witches want a piece of you, and not everyone is as disinterested as Lydia and Helena.'

'I still cast my own Contraception Charms, if that's what you're getting at.'

'Good. And be careful with that heart of yours. It's always been too big for your own good.'

'The power the Dark Lord knows not,' quoted Harry quietly.

'Exactly,' she said. 'I couldn't have had a better first love than you.'

'I wasn't your first boyfriend. Or even your first partner.'

'But you were my first love. There's no question about that.' She kissed him on the cheek and said, 'Go find Lydia, and start counting the seconds until your pelvis is cleared for action.'

He hovered up the stairs to the attic, and with assistance he was able to emerge onto the roof. It was packed, both with dancers and also with people standing around drinking and eating. He was initially overwhelmed until someone said, 'Are you looking for Lydia?'

'Yes, do you know where she is?'

'She's in the middle of that crowd,' said the guest, indicating a large knot comprised mostly but not exclusively of wizards.

What in Merlin's name is going on? thought Harry, as he propelled his wheelchair towards her. The crowd reluctantly parted to accommodate him, and he understood why they'd gathered in the first place.

She's experiencing accidental Light magic! She wasn't glowing, fortunately, but something inside him knew for certain what was happening. It's what Luna described—her newly-kindled fire. The dancing must have poured petrol on it somehow.

He had to engage all his willpower not to start glowing himself. She's so beautiful! he thought. Her thoroughly-shagged look had transformed into something extraordinary—simultaneously sexy and pure. Like a virgin, he thought, and he propelled his wheelchair towards her.

'Oh, Harry,' she cried, and she practically threw herself upon him. Fortunately his wheelchair impeded her from crushing his pelvis, and they started kissing passionately.

'Get a room!' said one of the onlookers, and another said, 'Bloody Potter gets everything.'

Harry didn't care—he held the sides of her head in his hands and kissed her until he had to stop, for fear of glowing. 'Oh Lydia, do you have any idea how beautiful you are? You're a goddess.'

'I'm in heaven,' she announced, and in a softer voice she asked, 'Is this what it feels like? The you-know-what?'

'If it feels like heaven, then yes.'

'Why am I not glowing?' she whispered.

'I don't know, but you're lucky. It means you just get to enjoy it, while I need to mentally review the seven hundred types of Quidditch fouls to keep from lighting up like a torch.'

'If we can just lie together like this, I won't mind waiting until Wednesday,' she murmured.

'You might need to start dancing first, but I certainly won't complain.'

'I need to show you my dance! Neville and I have been practicing ... I'll go ask Ryan to play my new favourite Madonna song.'

'Will you be all right? It seems your Light magic is drawing a crowd.'

'They're easily controlled,' she said. 'I just glare at them and they crumble.'

Harry followed her with his eyes as she walked through the crowd towards Ryan, who was dancing with Hermione. Ryan bent down so Lydia could talk to him, and he nodded and walked towards the stereo. She returned moments later with Hermione.

'He said he'll play it after this song ends,' she told Harry, and then she went to warn Neville.

Harry studied his old friend, concerned that he too might be ensnared by Lydia's Veela-like allure. But it was obvious he only had eyes for Hannah.

Hermione asked Harry how he was doing. 'I'm fine,' he replied, 'but are you able to see what's going on with Lydia?'

'I can see she's affecting all the unattached wizards, and probably some of the attached ones as well. But not Ryan, of course.'

'I think it's Light magic,' he said quietly. 'I mean, she's always pretty, but tonight she's irresistible.'

'She's Circe,' declared Hermione. When Harry asked what she meant, she said, 'Circe was an ancient Greek enchantress, best known from Homer's Odyssey. She ensnares Odysseus with her beauty and allure, and turns his men into swine, until he's able to escape a year later. And she appears elsewhere in mythology and art, always as a beautiful enchantress.'

'That's certainly how I'd describe her,' said Harry. 'I'm glad Ryan and Neville are immune, although I'm not surprised. George seemed all right ... how was Lee?'

'He and Lara seem to have renewed their acquaintance,' said Hermione, pointing them out near the bar. 'So you needn't duel him.'

The song ended, and after a brief silence 'Express Yourself' by Madonna began playing. Lydia and Neville began to dance, and during the few moments Harry was able to tear his eyes from her, he noticed Hannah was beaming at Neville and not at all territorial. That's love, he thought, with only a hint of envy.

Everyone watched them dance, and Harry was impressed by the charms Neville used to twirl Lydia. She looked like a true angel, floating at the end of his outstretched arm, and Harry knew he wouldn't be able to contain his Light magic much longer. Fortunately the song ended, and after the applause there were scowls from the assembled wizards when Lydia bent down to kiss Harry.

It's just as well I couldn't dance tonight, he thought. I wouldn't have lasted ten minutes before starting to glow.

He tugged meaningfully at her hand, and the crowd parted, allowing them to leave. More than a few people shouted warnings about Harry's broken pelvis, which Harry accepted good-naturedly—his Light magic was too strong for him to be annoyed. With assistance he hovered downstairs, and their guests hooted and shouted their thanks as Harry and Lydia disappeared into the bedroom.

'I don't need to ask whether you had a good time,' he said, beginning to glow.

'Oh, Harry,' she exclaimed. 'I had no idea what I was getting into when I first approached you, after your broadcast. I thought you'd ruin me, perhaps that same night, and then once we were photographed I'd never see you again. But instead you took your time, and you made it perfect, and then you let me stay here. You threw a party when I asked, and you don't want to marry me, even though I'm a Travers and my parents tried to bribe you.'

'They wouldn't need to bribe me,' he said. 'I shan't marry you, but you're already better than anything they could possibly bribe me with.'

'And everyone can see how happy you've made me,' she continued, 'and if they think I'm a trollop it's only because they're mad with envy. I can't think of a better way to begin my new life. A life you've given me, in every possible way.'

'You chose it,' he said, recalling the instruction from Sirius's final letter. Choose happiness, wherever it might find you.

'I owe everything to my godfather,' he said out loud. 'Not just the house—everything. Before I met him, no adult was completely honest with me, not even Remus or Minerva. They didn't lie, but they saw me as a child and kept things hidden. But Sirius always treated me like an equal, even though I wasn't one—he sometimes confused me with my father. I felt whole around him, or as near to it as I could with everything else that was going on.'

'I'm so sorry you lost him.'

'I am too,' he replied. 'And I've always blamed myself. If only I'd learnt Occlumency better, if only I'd trusted Hermione and not gone looking for him and the Ministry. But Sirius was responsible too. He antagonised Kreacher for years—I don't know why—and that's why Kreacher betrayed him. And then he taunted Bellatrix, and she took advantage and killed him. It wasn't all my fault ... not entirely.'

Lydia kissed the tear rolling down his cheek. 'I shan't marry you,' she said, 'but I love you, and I always will.'

'I love you too,' he said sincerely, and it felt different from the needy emotion he'd previously called love.

With Kreacher's help, Harry prepared for bed, and Lydia wore lovely but impractical lingerie. 'This must be from their broken pelvis collection,' she said. 'I can't imagine what I was thinking when I bought it.'

'It's perfect,' he mumbled sleepily, after taking a potion the Healer had prescribed. 'This has been the best week of my life, even with the Bludger strike.'

She laughed and said, 'I think Light magic makes you daft. But it's been the best week of my life too.'

Lydia curled next to Harry, taking care not to crowd him. I love you, he thought as he drifted to sleep, and there was no limit to the object of his affection.