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.

72. Chapter 72

As Harry accompanied Draco to the study, he reflected on the first half of his visit. I hadn't anticipated they'd ask me to reduce anyone's sentence, although I should have done. He was relieved he'd stood firm about Lucius, but he hadn't categorically refused to help Draco. What difference will it make if he's free from house arrest a few months earlier? thought Harry, although he remained sceptical he had that kind of influence.

He was relieved he hadn't needed to mention Draco's wand in the drawing room. Harry was nervous about communicating with the hawthorn wand, and he didn't fancy having a larger audience than necessary. He also hoped Draco might be less hostile in private, since in his current state Harry was uncertain whether he could willingly ask the wand to change loyalties.

The walk to Draco's study seemed improbably long, but they finally arrived and Draco opened the door. 'After you, Potter,' he said quickly, chivvying Harry inside.

Harry's throat clenched shut and his heart started pounding. Sirius! he thought wildly, and he tried to race towards it, but his legs wouldn't move. A ragged black curtain fluttered in a stone archway, and Harry was suddenly drenched in sweat. His trembling hands pulled at his cravat, and he thought, What's the point? I'm going to die.

All he could do was sink to the floor. Expand into awareness, Owen told him, but the words made no sense. Harry felt pinprick-small, his eyes still locked on the black fabric within the stone window frame. It's all my fault, he knew with certainty, and he was more alone than ever. Nothing else existed—just the tattered curtain and his own incalculable loss.

After what might have been thirty seconds—or an hour—Harry gasped, 'Hermione,' in a voice he could barely hear.

'Granger can't help you.'

Harry looked up and saw Lucius Malfoy, and in a panic he looked for Bellatrix. Hang on, that's not Lucius, he thought. And Bellatrix is dead. And so is Sirius, he recalled, and choking sobs overtook him.

Kreacher, he called mutely. Help me.

The house-elf appeared in his mind with a pop. Master! he cried. Is Master all right?

No, replied Harry mentally. Come help me.

Harry couldn't understand why Kreacher was taking so long. Where are you? he thought hopelessly, still heaving with sobs.

Kreacher cannot come, replied the elf despondently. The house stops him.

I love you, thought Harry, and his sobs were replaced by smoothly-flowing tears.

'Nitta,' called Draco, 'fetch Potter a Calming Draught.'

Harry looked up and slowly remembered where he was. I'm in Malfoy's study. Andromeda is in the drawing room. His head turned towards the door, which was still open behind them. The house-elf appeared with a phial on a silver tray, which she set on the floor, and Draco said, 'You can change the window back to normal.'

'Yes, Master Draco,' replied Nitta, and in an instant the black, fluttering curtain was replaced by a diamond-paned window overlooking a vast, manicured lawn. The stone archway became smooth walnut, matching the rest of the study.

Harry looked dumbly at the phial. 'It's not poison,' said Draco. 'I'm not stupid enough to try to kill the Saviour of the Wizarding World—although I was arguably taking a risk you'd knock me out with your Light magic. But it was worth it.'

His hands still trembling, Harry reached for the phial and opened it. He turned again to Draco, who nodded. 'Just take it, Potter. It's a Calming Draught.'

Harry drank it, and within seconds he felt steady again, although he was suddenly cold both from perspiration and tears. 'Why?' he asked hoarsely.

'I wanted to know whether you're damaged too, or if you got off scot-free as usual.'

'I didn't,' replied Harry sadly. 'But how did you know?' he asked, gesturing vaguely towards the window.

'Father was there, remember? And so was Aunt Bella, although she was hardly a reliable source.

'Why couldn't Kreacher come?'

'You asked for Granger, not Kreacher.'

'No, mentally. I called Kreacher, but he said he couldn't come.'

'You can thank Dobby for that,' replied Draco. 'He alerted us to a shocking flaw in our security, as you may recall. It wasn't easy to remedy, but fortunately we had it done before they confiscated half our gold, so in a sense we got it for fifty percent off.'

Kreacher, called Harry silently. I'm fine. It was only a cruel prank by Draco. I was never actually in danger.

Harry felt a fierce presence in his mind. Should Kreacher hurl the Malfoy whelp into a dragon pit?

No! replied Harry. I don't need anything, but thank you. And I love you.

Kreacher loves Master, rasped the elf before disappearing with a small pop.

Harry was able to rise, and without consulting Draco he sat in an armchair opposite a large wooden desk.

'Why would you think I'm not damaged?' asked Harry. 'I'm the one with all the dead fathers, remember?'

'Because you make it look easy. All you had to do after the war was eat a few square meals and then waltz to the Ministry for your Order of Merlin award.'

'And attend several dozen funerals,' said Harry. 'And wonder every day whether I could have prevented them.'

'And play Quidditch,' continued Draco. 'And joke on the radio about the insane, profligate Blacks, and shag a new witch every week.' Gesturing at Harry's robes, Draco added, 'And pretend you're an aristocrat, when you're just the filthy son of a Mudblood and a middle-class blood traitor.'

Harry rolled his eyes. 'I've been taunted mercilessly for the last two months. I'll give you credit for triggering a panic attack—not even Gilstrap knows about black, fluttering curtains—but nothing else you say is going to bother me.' Draco shrugged, and Harry asked, 'How long have you been planning this?'

'More than a week,' he admitted. 'Let's just say it came to me in a dream.'

On a hunch, Harry asked, 'Do you have nightmares too?'

Draco looked at him carefully and then nodded. 'Fiendfyre, mostly. And my parents being tortured.' He walked to the shelf and poured out two glasses of Firewhisky before placing them on the desk and sitting opposite Harry. 'And you?'

'Some Fiendfyre, but mostly torture.'

After a silence, Draco said, 'He made us watch. I had to watch him torture my parents, and the others. We were expected to cheer.'

'That's because he enjoyed it,' said Harry. 'It was his version of sex.'

'Of course you'd phrase it that way,' scoffed Draco. 'Is it the Light magic, or have you always been like this?'

Harry took a sip from his glass. 'No, not always. I think it's some combination of post-war Harry and the Light magic.'

'Post-war Harry,' echoed Draco. 'The one who's simultaneously the most envied wizard in Britain and a colossal headcase, apparently.'

'That sounds about right. There was a banner at yesterday's match telling me I need a Mind Healer. And my teammates recommend it regularly as well.'

'Mother tried to make me see one. Nitta told her about my nightmares, so she ambushed me one day with Cassia Dexter herself, in this very room. I just sat and glared at her the entire time.'

'I call her Doctor Niffler,' replied Harry, and Draco sniggered.

'Oh right, you said that on the radio once.'

'Do you listen?'

'I'm under house arrest—I listen to everything. And I read all the newspapers and magazines as well. Theo suggested I get a television, but between all the background magic and the lack of electricity it was hopeless.'

'The goblins have a device you can hire,' suggested Harry. 'That's what I've used for music at my parties. But they won't let you buy it.'

'Bloody goblins,' grumbled Draco. 'They'd murder us all for a handful of gold.'

'No they wouldn't. They need us every bit as much as we need them.'

'Silly me—I forgot you're England's leading goblin diplomat.'

'Yeah, I still can't believe that.' Harry took another sip of Firewhisky and asked, 'When did you study Legilimency? Did Snape teach you?'

'No, he'd have been insane to let another Death Eater into his mind. I learnt Occlumency from Aunt Bella, but I only started studying Legilimency this past year. In my leisure time.'

'You're actually pretty good at it,' said Harry. 'Better than Desmond Travers, I reckon, and he considers himself an expert.'

'Not good enough to get into your head.'

'Don't take it personally—Voldemort taught me Occlumency the hard way.'

'Yes,' sighed Draco. 'He taught me any number of things the hard way.'

'Such as?'

'Just how illogical wizards can be.'

'Are you referring to him or to his followers?'

'To his followers. The Dark Lord himself was unfailingly logical.'

'That's not how I'd describe him,' replied Harry, recalling how Voldemort had repeatedly undervalued the power of love and sacrifice.

'Don't get me wrong, he made false assumptions. Clearly he underestimated you, and probably Granger. But he understood perfectly how to control and manipulate people.'

'That he did,' said Harry. 'For someone without a nose, he was remarkably good at seduction.'

'You really are obsessed with sex,' scoffed Draco.

'I wasn't talking about sex. I was talking about seduction, which can be used for anything. How else do you suppose he convinced people like your father to bow down to him?'

'You'll laugh, but my father thought he was manipulating the Dark Lord.'

'Are you serious? How did he work that out?'

'Father wanted to promote blood purity and wizarding traditions, and so did both of my grandfathers. Dumbledore had too much power—both magical and political—and they needed someone who could challenge him. They saw the Dark Lord as a puppet they could manipulate, particularly since they considered him unstable. All they had to do was bow down to him and call him "Lord," and he'd oppose Dumbledore and advance their agenda.'

'And they didn't care that he was a half-blood?'

'No, that gave them leverage over him, or so they thought. They scorned him for growing up in a Muggle orphanage, and, frankly, for being a Gaunt. The Gaunts were considered the wrong kind of pure-blood.'

'Poor, you mean?'

'And hopelessly inbred. Even my family weaves in a half-blood every now and again. The right kind of half-blood, that is.'

'Not like me, I gather?'

'Exactly. Having a Muggle aunt or cousin would be out of the question.'

'Are you saying you'll never marry me?' said Harry, batting his eyes, and Draco laughed. 'Then I might as well leave,' he continued, 'since that was the real reason I came to see you.'

'Bollocks, Potter. You have that vow.'

'We could have waited a couple of years. But you're right, it would never work.' He took another sip of Firewhisky and asked, 'How long before your father figured out he wasn't the one pulling the strings?'

'A shockingly long time,' admitted Draco. 'Not until after I failed to kill Dumbledore.'

'But didn't Voldemort punish your father for not looking for him the first time he died?'

'No. He punished most of the others, but he wanted Father to believe he was special. He also wanted me to take the Mark, and if he'd tortured my father, I might have pulled a Theo and refused.'

'Yeah, why did he torture Theo's dad? Wasn't he afraid of losing his support?'

'The Notts hadn't nearly as much gold as the Malfoys, and old Nott was completely gaga for the Dark Lord. I think he fancied him back in school.'

'Bringing us back to seduction,' said Harry.

Draco narrowed his eyes. 'Is that what you're doing now? Trying to win me over?'

'No, this is just conversation. I was hoping to win you over another way.' He opened his pouch and pulled out the hawthorn wand.

Draco inhaled sharply, and his pale eyes darkened with longing. He began reaching across the desk, but then he stopped and asked, 'What's the catch?'

'There is no catch. You need a wand. I have a spare.'

'Yes, but only one,' grumbled Draco. 'You destroyed my other wand.'

Harry rolled his eyes. 'You didn't really think I'd let you have the Elder Wand, did you?'

'No, but I can't believe you broke it. You really have no respect for wizarding history.'

'No, I don't—I'd much rather keep wizards alive.' Harry held up the wand and added, 'Do you want it or not?'

'You realise I'm not giving up the Dark Arts,' said Draco defiantly.

'I wish I could persuade you otherwise,' replied Harry. 'I've done both, and Light magic's much nicer. I could show you if you like.'

'Merlin, no! Reading that article in Sorceress was bad enough.'

Harry laughed and said, 'Trust me, Light magic is even better.'

'Something tells me Light magic and I wouldn't get along. I still have a Dark Mark, after all.'

'Hasn't it faded?' asked Harry. 'My scar has.'

'No. And thank Merlin for Cooling Charms, because I'm probably wearing long sleeves for the rest of my life.' He reached for the wand and took it between his fingers. 'It's cold,' he said, frowning. He tried casting Lumos but the wand only flickered.

'Yes, I suspected as much,' said Harry. 'Give it over—I'll see if I can convince it.'

Reluctantly, Draco handed the wand back to Harry, who stood up, and it felt sweet within his hand. I love you, he thought, and the wand began to glow. It's time for you to return to your old Master.

Harry felt his Light magic arise, but he knew he was nowhere near glowing. He automatically expanded into awareness and set a sincere intention that the hawthorn wand change its allegiance. This is Draco's wand, he resolved. And then a thought arose: May it sow only peace. He felt warm energy flow from his torso through his right hand and into the wand.

After about fifteen seconds Harry knew the transfer was complete. 'Try it now,' he said, handing it back to Draco.

Draco rose from his chair, perhaps recognising the solemnity of the moment. He waved the wand and sparks danced from its tip. 'Potter,' he began, but then he suddenly dropped the wand and grasped his left arm in pain. 'Fuck, ow!' he cried. 'What the hell did you do to me?'

'I transferred the wand! What happened?'

Smoke billowed from Draco's left sleeve, and he yanked it back and ripped the button from his cuff, revealing his forearm. Harry covered his nose and mouth to block the smell, which was revolting. That's not what burnt skin smells like, he noted in confusion.

Draco was wincing, his eyes squeezed shut, and he covered his nose with his right elbow. But then he opened his eyes and held up his other forearm where he could see it.

'Does it hurt?' gasped Harry, not wanting to breathe.

Draco shook his head, and they both watched green smoke curl away from his skin, in a manner that recalled the Dark Mark floating in the sky. Harry released his holly wand from its holster and conjured a glass, which he filled with water just in case.

'Vanish the smoke, you idiot!' choked Draco, and Harry quickly did so. The air instantly became less foul, and they could see that Draco's arm had nearly stopped smoking. His Dark Mark was still visible, but it was pink and raw, like newly-healed skin.

Draco lowered his right arm and took a deep breath. 'Bloody hell, Potter—what did you do to me?'

'I healed your Dark Mark by the looks of it,' he replied, astonished. 'You're sure it doesn't hurt?'

'Not like at first.' With a shudder he added, 'For a moment I thought I was on fire. What the hell did you do?'

Bewildered, Harry said, 'All I did was tell the wand to change its allegiance.' But then his eyes shot open in realisation.

Draco noticed Harry's change of expression. 'What?' he asked accusingly.

Harry closed his eyes. 'I told it to sow only peace.'

Draco's jaw dropped. 'You what?! Damn you, Potter! You wrecked my wand!'

'And healed your Dark Mark, which you were complaining about a few minutes ago!'

Picking up his wand, Draco carefully waved it. 'Lumos,' he said, and the tip glowed brightly.

'Try a Patronus,' suggested Harry, and Draco scowled at him.

'Do you lie awake at night thinking up ways to ruin my life, or does it just come naturally?'

'I fail to see how I ruined your life just now. Worst case scenario, the wand won't let you hurt anyone and you'll just have to bear with it until you get a new one.'

'Good point,' admitted Draco. 'Can you teach me how to fistfight? I understand you're good at it.'

'Very funny. And by the way, you're welcome.'

'Thank you, Potter,' chanted Draco sarcastically. But then he closed his eyes for a moment. 'Thank you. I mean it. I can't tell you what it's been like not having a decent wand.'

'I can only imagine,' replied Harry dryly.

For several minutes Draco cast a series of spells with his wand, transfiguring various items, making things float, etc. 'Can I offer you more Firewhisky?' he asked, levitating the bottle.

'No, I've had more than enough,' replied Harry, indicating the glass he hadn't yet finished.

'I suppose I have as well,' admitted Draco, looking at his empty glass. 'This wasn't my first one this afternoon.'

'Why am I not shocked? Did you need Dutch courage before pulling your stunt with the curtains?'

'No, it was to pass the time while waiting. On Sundays I usually finish reading the Quidditch news by eleven, and then Pansy comes over for brunch, but she was gone by one. By the way, she's cross you didn't invite her to your party.'

'Oh right, sorry about that. I'll invite her next time. Now that I've had Andrew Gilstrap to the house, I can't claim I won't host someone who hates me.'

'I should have him over sometime. I'm certain he'd enjoy hearing about you.'

'Please don't,' implored Harry.

'I'm just kidding. Puddlemere's my pick for this year's cup, not Montrose. Gilstrap lost my respect when he couldn't find the Snitch during those five minutes. Why did you punch him anyway?'

Harry told him what Gilstrap had claimed about his father being tortured. 'That was clever,' said Draco. 'But he should have been prepared to follow through and not lose his nerve when you snapped.'

'He's another one who needs a Mind Healer,' observed Harry. 'Maybe the three of us should have group sessions with Doctor Niffler. Although I should warn you he'd probably hate you even more than he hates me. He's obsessed with unearned privilege, and specifically why he doesn't have more of it.'

The clock chimed four, and Draco said, 'Mother is probably afraid you killed me with your Light magic. Shall we return to the drawing room?'

'Yes, Andromeda is probably worried as well. You'll be pleased to know how often she scolds me.'

'Even though you bribed her with half the vault?'

'That wasn't a bribe,' snapped Harry. 'That was to take care of Teddy Lupin, who happens to be your cousin.'

'And he's really not a werewolf?'

'Yes, really. He's a Metamorphmagus, just like Tonks was.'

'Why in Merlin's name did she marry Lupin? Between her Black strain and her Metamorphmagus ability she could have had anyone she wanted.'

'Exactly. And she wanted Lupin.'

They were walking to the drawing room, but Draco stopped and said, 'We're not friends, you know. I'll never join your fan club.'

'Is that what you think friends are? I realise Crabbe and Goyle treated you that way, and maybe Pansy, but is that how you'd describe Blaise and Theo? Or Daphne?'

Draco frowned. 'No. And not Pansy either—not for years.'

'You should meet the other Cannons—they take the piss out of me non-stop. Which suits me perfectly, to be honest.'

'So you won't mind if I call you a dim-witted, overrated attention-hog?'

'No, but I reserve the right to call you a spoilt, ferrety git.'

'I'm not ferrety,' said Draco.

'Yes, you are,' retorted Harry. 'That's probably why Pansy doesn't fancy you anymore.'

'At least I'm fully grown. I can assure you these aren't raised shoes.'

Harry shrugged. 'I've come to terms with my height, since it means I can play league Quidditch. Witches don't complain, and it's the one thing the other Seekers don't taunt me about.'

'The other Seekers must have a field day with you,' observed Draco. 'And I'm envious—we didn't do nearly enough taunting during our house matches at Hogwarts.'

'Only you would complain we didn't have enough opportunities for verbal abuse back at school. The real problem was that we didn't play nearly enough Quidditch. I can't believe we only played three matches a year.'

'I know. I complained to Father repeatedly, but he said that was the tradition.'

They entered the drawing room, and Narcissa and Andromeda visibly scanned them for signs of injury. 'Mother, we're fine,' drawled Draco. 'Potter set me on fire, and I reduced him to sobs, but otherwise we're fully intact.'

Andromeda looked at Harry in alarm. 'I'm fine,' he told her. 'It was nothing a Calming Draught couldn't fix, and then some Firewhisky for good measure.'

The sisters looked at each other in exasperation. 'I daresay we've brought them closer,' observed Draco. 'I bet if we practice duelling in the cellar, that'll be enough to get them to spend Christmas together.'

'I've had quite enough of your cellar, thank you very much,' replied Harry.

'Mother, can you pour me some tea? Potter mentioning the cellar was worth another bottoms-up.'

'Andromeda, I'm sure you and Harry are keen to go home,' said Narcissa hastily. 'If you'd rather travel by Floo, you're welcome to do so.'

Narcissa led Harry and Andromeda to the fireplace, while Draco helped himself to tea and the remaining biscuits. 'Potter, is there anything you want me to tell Father next time I owl him?'

'Could you ask who his shoemaker was? I distinctly remember he was wearing low boots with a silver buckle when I freed Dobby, and they were awfully nice.'

'Those were from Kellingworth's,' said Narcissa. 'But you really shouldn't go there.'

'Yes, that's what I was afraid of. Anyway, thank you again for having me here this afternoon, and I'm sorry if I frightened you with my Light magic. And Draco should be fine—he was only on fire momentarily. But he'll tell you all about it.'

Narcissa was in the process of extending her hand, and to her credit she only froze momentarily before completing the gesture. 'Thank you again for the flowers, and for your willingness to make inquiries on Draco's behalf.'

I guess that's decided then, thought Harry, shaking her hand. Andromeda kissed her sister goodbye, and then by unspoken agreement she and Harry both returned to Grimmauld Place.

'What in Merlin's name happened between the two of you?' she demanded. 'Narcissa tried interrogating Nitta, but apparently Draco had sworn the elf to secrecy.'

Harry told her about Draco's cruel prank, and Andromeda nearly required a Calming Draught of her own. 'That was incredibly foolish, particularly when he knows you're experiencing accidental Light magic! Draco is every bit as reckless as you are!'

'I'd never do anything like that!' cried Harry.

'No, you just punch rival Seekers and ruin innocent pure-bloods. And apparently set Draco on fire,' she scolded.

'I didn't mean to!' He explained what had happened with his wand, and how Draco's Dark Mark had seemingly been excised.

'Harry! You were only supposed to transfer the wand, not imbue it with Light magic!'

'That's the only way I knew how to transfer it. Ollivander told me to communicate nonverbally, and that's how I did it—same as how I practise Occlumency.' Avoiding her eyes, he added, 'I might also have set an intention that the wand only sow peace.'

To his surprise, Andromeda chuckled. 'It's sown something all right. We'll have to wait and see, since I doubt there's much precedent for any of this, but I can't help wondering if you removed more than just his Dark Mark.'

'What do you mean?'

'I'm just guessing, but I suspect his Mark wasn't fading because he was still fuelling it with his harmful intentions.'

Harry looked at her in shock. 'Are you saying I changed his underlying intentions somehow?'

'I don't know,' she admitted. 'You should probably ask your teacher tomorrow. Honestly, we're fortunate you didn't harm him more seriously. Did he still seem like himself afterwards?'

'He insulted me any number of times. So yeah, he's still the same old Malfoy.'

'Then maybe it was just the Mark. I suppose Narcissa will owl me if he starts behaving differently.' She smiled and said, 'Draco was right—our shared anxiety this afternoon definitely brought us closer. She told me how Lucius and Sirius had quarrelled at her engagement party, resulting in a trip to St Mungo's for both of them.'

'Wasn't Sirius five years younger? Was he really able to duel Lucius back then?'

'No, she said he ambushed him in the toilet with Dungbombs, and when Lucius staggered out, gasping for breath, Sirius was ready with a wand to turn his hair green. Only he misfired and Lucius's skin turned green instead, so naturally, Lucius cursed Sirius green and shouted, "Take that, Gryffindor!" And then the punching began.'

Harry laughed and said, 'Is it wrong that I'm really proud of my godfather right now?'

'Yes it is,' she chided. 'In retrospect, we shouldn't have been surprised they'd both wind up in Azkaban.'

'Exonerated!' protested Harry. 'Speaking of which, did you notice how Narcissa railroaded me into trying to reduce Draco's sentence?'

'Yes, and I respect her for it. You were right to refuse to help Lucius, but another year of house arrest will only make Draco worse.'

'You're right, and yes, I'll speak on his behalf. Do you reckon the DMLE can handle it, or will I need to take it to the Wizengamot?'

'Almost certainly the latter.'

'I'm going to need to wear one of those funny hats, won't I?' groaned Harry. 'But at least the lords will vote with me this time.'

Andromeda and Harry spoke a short while longer, and she said, 'I suppose this afternoon went as well as we could have hoped, given the personalities involved.'

'You're probably right. We'll have to see whether Draco invites me back.'

After warm goodbyes, Andromeda left, and Harry went upstairs to shower before going to dinner at the Burrow. I'd hoped to wear these robes tonight, he thought, but they clearly weren't charmed against panic attack perspiration. His boutonnière had wilted as well, and the best option among his other boutonnières was a snowdrop, meaning 'hope.' As in, I hope Molly and Arthur don't tear me off a strip for my recent behaviour.

Bouquet in hand, he Apparated outside the Burrow, deciding he hadn't visited recently enough to just Floo into the kitchen as he'd habitually done. He took a deep breath before knocking on the door, not knowing whether Molly would start berating him straight away or give him a false sense of security and then attack during dinner.

To Harry's great surprise, Kreacher answered the door. 'Good evening, Master,' he said, bowing low. 'Welcome to the Burrow. The Red Lady is expecting Master.'

'I'm glad to see you, Kreacher,' replied Harry, following him inside. He was about to ask the elf about his day, but he was struck dumb by the how different the Burrow looked. The ceiling was still perilously low for the taller Weasleys, but the formerly rough-hewn beams now resembled polished mahogany. The floor planks were smooth and no longer seemed inclined to pull apart trespassing socks, and the rugs were threadbare no more.

'Harry, do come in,' called Molly as she drifted down the stairs in a manner recalling Narcissa Malfoy. She wore a dress Harry recognised from the festivities surrounding Bill and Fleur's wedding, and her hair was elegantly upswept. 'What lovely flowers,' she said, taking them from him. 'Kreacher! Put these in water, in the china vase you repaired this morning.'

'Yes, madam,' said Kreacher obediently, taking the flowers and Apparating loudly to the adjacent kitchen.

Molly wrapped Harry in a motherly hug and then backed away from him, as if to evaluate whether he'd grown since she last saw him. 'Why Harry, I can't get over how stylish you've become! I like to think I planted the seed with those dress robes I selected for you, for the Yule Ball all those years ago. Do you still have them?'

'Er, I outgrew them,' he replied. 'But they were certainly nice, and I remember how much I appreciated them at the time.' Especially compared to those awful lace robes you bought for Ron, he added mentally, recalling how bad he'd felt that they couldn't afford anything better.

'I chose green to bring out your eyes, but without your glasses there's no need,' she gushed. 'You've really grown into a fine young man!'

'Thank you,' he said, embarrassed. Is she trying to soften me up before lecturing me, or did I unwittingly bribe her with two days of Kreacher? 'And how are you doing?' he asked.

'Splendidly!' replied Molly. 'As you can see, Kreacher has done wonders with the house. I can't thank you enough for sending him.'

'He seems to enjoy it, in which case I'll be glad to send him around some other time as well.'

'That would be absolutely divine. But let me fetch Arthur. Kreacher! Fetch Arthur from the shed.'

'Yes, Madam,' replied Kreacher, disappearing with a loud crack, and moments later he returned with a very disorientated Arthur.

'Er, I was in the middle of something,' said Arthur, who was wearing round goggles and holding a pair of pliers.

'You can't have been up to any good,' chided Molly. 'You never use Muggle tools unless you're tinkering with something you oughtn't.'

Without a word, Arthur removed his goggles and placed them in the front pocket of his apron, along with the pliers. Next he took off the apron and was about to hang it on a hook, but Molly said, 'Not in here! Kreacher's just tidied everything and I don't want it messed up again.'

'I'd have left my apron in the shed, but I didn't have any warning,' countered Arthur.

'Just leave it upstairs when you change for dinner.'

Arthur looked down at his robes, which were dusty from whatever he'd been doing but were otherwise the same as what he always wore. 'What should I wear?' he asked uncertainly.

'I've laid it out on the bed. Do you need Kreacher's help getting ready?'

Arthur's ears turned pink, just as Ron's did when he was mortified. 'Of course not—I'm perfectly capable of dressing myself.'

'I'll be the judge of that,' muttered Molly. In a much sweeter voice, she said, 'Harry, dear, can Kreacher get you anything? Some pumpkin juice perhaps?'

'Just some water, thanks,' he said, trying not to smirk at Mrs Weasley's radical transformation. 'I hope I'm not too early,' he added, wondering where everyone else was.

'Not at all,' she replied. 'I expect George and Percy presently, and Ron and Janet should be along soon afterwards.' Harry followed her into the kitchen, where the family clock indicated Percy was 'travelling,' and moments later he stepped from the fireplace.

'Good evening, Mum,' he said. 'Don't you look nice! What's the occasion?'

Molly, who looked offended, said, 'Sunday dinner, of course,' but she hugged Percy warmly. 'Do say hello to Harry.'

'Oh, I say!' exclaimed Percy, extending his hand. 'What a surprise! What brings you here?'

'Ron invited me,' said Harry, shaking hands with Percy. 'And it's been ages, so I'm glad he suggested it.'

'Did you bring anyone?' asked Percy cautiously, peering into the sitting room.

'No, just myself. And how are you doing?'

Percy stood up straight and said, 'Quite well, thank you. I've found a real home at the Department of Magical Transportation, and I was lately appointed deputy in charge of the Portkey Office.'

'Congratulations,' said Harry sincerely. 'I imagine that's quite a big job.'

'It is, particularly considering what a shambles the office was in when I arrived. You wouldn't believe the disarray they called a filing system, which was almost completely lacking in cross-referencing. You could look up a portkey by origin, destination, date, or type of object, but there was nothing to link them all together. For all you'd know, they could be referring to four separate portkeys rather than one! Naturally I've begun reorganising it completely, but it's been the political battle of my career just to get permission.'

George had arrived and was listening to Percy with mock solemnity. 'Are you serious?' he asked. 'The political battle of your career? Did you have to go head-to-head with anyone, or call in any favours? I imagine you did.'

Percy narrowed his eyes. 'Hang on, are you pumping me for gossip just so you can broadcast it on the radio? This is highly sensitive information, you know, and as your brother I'll ask you not to repeat it.'

'Oh dear,' said George. 'I'll try not to say anything, but I don't know if I can just sit on something this volatile.'

'You have the delay,' said Harry. 'Even if you let something slip, you can stop it from being broadcast.'

'That's true,' said Percy. 'But I really shouldn't reveal anything more, because the in-store audience will hear it regardless.'

Harry greeted George, who was looking around the Burrow in admiration. 'Kreacher, you've done a fantastic job. The Burrow almost looks like an actual house now and not just like a pile of building materials that had too much to drink and passed out.'

'George, is that what you're wearing?' asked Molly disapprovingly.

'It's nice to see you too, Mum,' he replied, kissing her on the cheek. 'And yes, this is what I'm wearing. I was on my feet all day at the shop, and I couldn't be arsed to change.'

George was wearing his magenta staff robes, which clashed brilliantly with his hair and were splattered with what appeared to be nougat and more than a few feathers. 'Was there a Canary Creams incident?' asked Harry.

'I'm afraid so. Some kids bought a box and decided to see how many they could fit in their mouth. Fred and I had tested eating six at once, which went fine, but it turns out seven is a whole new threshold.'

'It's a magically powerful number,' observed Harry.

'That it is. So now Lee's making warning labels, and we need to test the other sweets as well. But the good news is we've hired a new staff member, which means we now have a FLOOF-Certified logo in the shop window.'

'Fantastic!' replied Harry. 'Are you happy with the new employee?'

'Very much so! She's particularly good at Transfiguration, which makes sense for a werewolf, and we're thinking of creating some werewolf-themed products. We're also working on a temporary baldness hat, for people who lack your special ability to shave their head and have it grow back the next morning. But we haven't yet worked out all the kinks, like how not to also remove eyelashes, nose-hairs, and the tiny hairs within the ear canal—all of which are more useful than you'd realise. So I'm hopeful she'll be able to get it working properly.'

'How's the condom project coming along?' whispered Harry.

George looked to make sure his mother wasn't listening. 'We're in the early testing phase. Quite a few wizards have volunteered to test the size-enhancing model, which is clearly going to be a big seller. Are you sure you don't want a share of the profits?'

Harry was about to refuse when a horrible realisation struck him. 'Bloody hell, I just realised how you could make a Malfoy-sized fortune.'

George's eyes shot open. 'I'm listening.'

'Sell them to Muggles. You'd have to bribe the right Ministry officials, and you couldn't enhance the size implausibly, but it would be an absolute goldmine.'

'Who do I owl?' asked George insistently. 'You know I'm not afraid to bend the occasional rule.'

Harry ran a hand through his hair. 'Blimey, I don't know. But I know who to ask—just this afternoon Narcissa Malfoy told me to do it.'

'Narcissa Malfoy told you to sell charmed condoms to Muggles?' said an astonished George.

'No, she told me to rebuild the Black fortune by paying a bribe or two and selling something magically-enhanced to Muggles. I agreed I'd try to rebuild the fortune, but I refused to bribe anyone or do something illegal.'

'I'm sure she wouldn't hold it against you if you changed your mind.'

'No, she'd be delighted. But I can't even imagine talking to her about this—it would almost be worth joining Pratt's to go around her.'

'You were invited to join Pratt's?!' exclaimed George, and Percy's head snapped in their direction.

'Now you've done it,' muttered Harry.

'Harry,' said Percy warmly. 'Did I just overhear that you were given the remarkable honour of a Pratt's invitation, at your age?'

Harry sighed, 'I've been asked not to talk about it, for privacy's sake.'

'Of course,' said Percy. 'Pratt's respects privacy above all else. I assume you're joining.'

'Actually no, I've decided not to.'

Percy blanched. 'Don't tell me you can't afford it!'

'No, I can afford it, but I don't think I'll ever fit in.'

'Oh yes you would,' insisted Percy.

'Are you a member?' asked Harry.

'If only! For one thing, I haven't been asked, although I've done my best to cultivate our Prewett relations. But more importantly, I can't afford it yet.'

'Yet?' asked George. 'How do you ever expect to afford it on a Ministry salary? Scratch that—stupid question. Something tells me we've come back around to our original topic.'

'Harry, you have to join Pratt's,' Percy urged. 'I read what you said about wanting to prevent the next war, and Pratt's is the best possible venue. Part of the problem last time around was that Dumbledore shunned the place, and so did his allies, which is why so many neutral families ended up leaning Dark.'

'Er, there's something else I should mention,' said Harry, 'I'm preparing to go public as a Light wizard. I've been experiencing accidental Light magic.'

George appeared lost, but Percy clearly understood Harry's meaning. 'Then it's crucial you join now, before they find out. They won't kick out a member, but if you turn down their offer they mightn't give you another chance.'

'Why exactly would I want to join a club that doesn't welcome Light wizards?' asked Harry.

'It's not that they're opposed to the Light Arts, at least not officially. But as a mature Light wizard you'd be much harder to control, so they'd have nothing to gain by offering you membership.'

'And what would I have to gain?'

'Access. And a neutral setting for negotiations. You'd never have been rebuked by the Wizengamot if you'd discussed it first at Pratt's.'

'Actually, Harry won that round, even though he didn't win his vote,' said George, who seemed relieved to be able to follow the conversation again.

'If you join Pratt's,' continued Percy, 'you'll be able to redefine neutrality by normalising the Light extreme. Currently the Prewetts and some of the more complaisant Longbottoms represent the Light extreme at Pratt's, and that's not saying much. If I were to join, I'd be in the same category.'

Harry was impressed by Percy's candour. 'Just to be clear, you're saying that if I joined Pratt's and skewed it Light, that would have ripple effects into the Wizengamot and beyond?'

'Yes, exactly.'

'But then I'd have to go there,' he grumbled.

'Surely it's not that disagreeable,' said Percy knowingly.

George's jaw dropped. 'Do they have a brothel?'

'No comment,' said Harry and Percy in unison.

'You wouldn't have to go there often,' persisted Percy. 'Just turn up once a week after practice, spend an hour in the lounge, and go home. Anyone who wants to talk to you will know how to find you, and they'll be far less inclined to conspire against you.'

Harry was starting to feel convinced until he remembered another problem. 'But it's all Hogwarts wizards,' he argued. 'How am I going to promote equality by interacting with a bunch of Hogwarts elites?'

'In the Wizengamot,' replied Percy, which prompted Harry to roll his eyes.

'Why can't I just be a Seeker?' he groaned.

'You'll never just be a Seeker,' said George. 'Clearly you were born to be a Seeker/Basilisk slayer/Dark Lord vanquisher/Sex god/Condom magnate. Oh, and Goblin diplomat.'

'That's actually a good point,' added Percy. 'Harry, if you want to revise the laws around goblins, you have to join Pratt's. And frankly, you need to prove you're interested in making money, or else no one will take you seriously.'

George nodded sagely. 'It all comes back to our condom scheme. You'd be doing it for the goblins. Er, hang on ... that came out wrong.'

'What do you mean, condom scheme?' asked Percy.

Harry shook his head in exasperation and said, 'George, you tell him.'

George explained, and Percy's eyes grew wide. 'Thank Merlin I don't work in the Improper Use of Magic Office, because I don't want to be in the chain of approvals. But that's an absolutely brilliant idea, and you simply have to go through with it.'

'But it's technically illegal,' whispered Harry.

'Where's the harm?' asked George. 'You'd be helping people. Saving marriages, even.'

'I suppose it's better than Ron's casino scheme,' admitted Harry.

'Don't bother with casinos,' said George. 'Fred and I already tried, when we were trying to get the shop off the ground. Every major casino and nearly all the minor ones are warded against magical interference. I heard Ludo Bagman had to go to Uzbekistan to find one, and he nearly went mad because the country is primarily Muslim and he couldn't find a pub.'

'I know about the wards in casinos, but Kreacher and I have a telepathic bond.'

'No way!' cried George. 'Prove it!'

'All right. What do you want to drink? You too, Percy.'

'I'd like a pumpkin juice,' replied Percy.

'And I'd like a bottle of Honeydukes Chocolate Porter. I bought Dad a case of it last week, but Mum won't let us drink alcohol at dinner because that's what the Prewetts used to do and she swore her family would be different. So we'll need to disguise it somehow.'

'Actually, I'd like one as well,' chimed Percy.

'Coming right up,' said Harry, closing his eyes. Kreacher! he called silently.

Yes, Master!

Would you please bring two bottles of Honeydukes Chocolate Porter, which are presumably in the pantry? But disguise them so they look like Butterbeer.

Yes, Master, right away!

Moments later, Kreacher arrived with two bottles of what looked like Butterbeer. 'Thank you, Kreacher. That will be all.'

Kreacher disappeared again, and Harry handed the bottles to George and Percy. They both took long sips to confirm the contents and nodded in approval.

'Ron's right—you could make a killing in a single weekend,' said George. 'Just take an ageing potion and disguise yourself, and no one would be the wiser.'

'I'm not doing that,' insisted Harry.

'No, of course not,' said George reassuringly. 'The casino scheme is just a counterpoint to our more ethical condom scheme.'

'I object to the word "scheme,"' remarked Percy. 'It's merely a business venture, in which I'm certain I could be of assistance.'

They were silent for a moment. 'He's right, you know,' said Harry. 'Percy knows better than anyone how to stay out of trouble.'

'It'll require start-up capital,' said Percy. 'And before you tell me you have enough, I can assure you that you don't. Entering the Muggle market is hugely expensive.' Looking at Harry, he added, 'Just how good is your relationship with Gringotts?'

'First rate. Are you suggesting we take out a loan?'

'No, I'm suggesting we partner with them. They have subsidiary banks in the Muggle world, which probably have holdings in that market sector. I know both of you have very little free time, but I'd be prepared to manage the business end.'

'Wouldn't that be a conflict with your Ministry post?' asked Harry.

'No, because it has nothing to do with Magical Transport. It's a good thing I no longer work in the Department of International Magical Cooperation, because we'll need to involve them as well.'

George looked at Percy appraisingly. 'Are you seriously offering to help? This isn't strictly above board.'

Percy shot a glance at their father, who was wearing fresh robes and a boutonnière. 'We've seen the result of strictly above-board career decisions. Obviously you aren't interested in being poor your whole life, or else you and Fred wouldn't have started a business. And I'm not keen on poverty either, but I also don't believe in turning the Ministry entirely over to Dark families. Frankly, I've been looking for a supplemental income opportunity, and it's hard to find one this upstanding, believe it or not.'

George and Harry both sniggered when Percy said 'upstanding.' George extended his hand to Percy and said, 'I'm in. And I'll welcome your participation.'

Percy shook George's hand and asked, 'Harry, what about you?'

'Can we keep my name out of it?'

'You'll be needed for the Gringotts conversations,' said Percy. 'But then they can establish a private company, and you would just be another shareholder.'

'What about Pratt's?'

'You have to join,' said Percy. 'It's unquestionably the best way to advance the Light agenda.'

Harry looked at George, who nodded. 'He's right. You'd be mad to turn it down.'

'I feel like I should sneak up to Ron's old room and glow for a few minutes, just to reassure myself I'm not a complete sell-out. Between Pratt's, my alliance with the Malfoys, and a dubious business venture I'm starting to wonder.'

'You made an alliance with the Malfoys?' exclaimed Percy. 'Did you have to make concessions?'

'Not really, other than telling Narcissa I'd try to rebuild the Black fortune, and agreeing to reduce Draco's sentence if I'm able. I also gave Draco back his wand.'

Percy looked at Harry approvingly. 'That was prudent. Light wizards won't always be on top, and I was worried you were burning too many bridges.'

'Are you seriously proposing to reduce Draco's joke of a sentence even further?' asked George, appalled.

'Yes. House arrest isn't helping him—if anything it's making him more bitter. But I refused to help Lucius.'

'That's good,' said Percy. 'You mustn't forget you still hold most of the cards.'

They were no longer speaking as quietly as before, and Arthur approached them. 'Harry, forgive me for not greeting you properly earlier,' he said, first moving to hug Harry but then pausing and extending his hand.

Harry hugged Arthur and said, 'It's good to see you—I'm sorry it's been so long.'

'I understand, given the circumstances. I'm just glad Ron invited you tonight, although I know Bill and Fleur will be disappointed not to see you.'

'Yes, I should probably talk to Bill soon anyway,' replied Harry, recalling the wards at Pratt's. He'd been reluctant to tell Hermione, lest she start asking probing questions.

'First, let me congratulate you on the Cannons' winning streak. I don't need to tell you just how extraordinary that is.'

'Cheers,' replied Harry. 'Honestly, it's doing me a world of good just to be on a broomstick every day. I'd gone nearly two years without, and I never realised how much I missed it.'

'I'm sorry the Ministry didn't suit you,' said Arthur, 'but at least you discovered that early on, and fortunately Ron seems to like it. And I should thank you for sending Kreacher over this weekend. As you can see, Molly's been making the most of the opportunity, and it's given me more time to tinker than usual.'

'Are you working on anything interesting?' asked Harry.

'I am indeed. But I'll show you after dinner, and we can talk privately as well.'

And that'll be the lecture, thought Harry grimly. I wonder if we can get some of that porter into him first. 'George, I reckon your dad might enjoy some Butterbeer. Let him try a swig of yours.'

Arthur protested, claiming Butterbeer was too sweet, but George insisted he try some. 'Oh, this is good,' said Arthur knowingly. 'Yes, I could fancy a bottle.'

Harry impressed Arthur by asking Kreacher to deliver it wordlessly, but before he could comment there was a knock on the front door, and the elf immediately scurried to open it. 'Welcome to the Burrow,' announced Kreacher, bowing, and Ron and Janet stepped inside.

'What the fuck,' began George, but Harry elbowed him just as Janet raised a finger to her lips. Harry had to clamp his mouth shut to keep from laughing, and to his relief only George seemed to have noticed. Sweet mother of Merlin, thought Harry. Ron is wearing makeup.

'Mum, the house looks great!' he exclaimed. 'Was this Kreacher's doing?'

Molly, who had somehow contrived to go upstairs again, swept down the stairs as when Harry had arrived. 'Ronald, welcome,' she said, embracing him. 'And you must be Janet. It's a pleasure to meet you.'

'Likewise,' replied Janet, her eyes sparkling with mirth. 'I've heard so much about you, Mrs Weasley, and Mr Weasley as well.'

'I can't say Ron has told us much about you,' said Molly, with a slight edge to her voice, 'but we're looking forward to getting to know you. Please, have a seat.' She led everyone to the lounge, in which all the furniture actually matched, and when everyone was seated she asked, 'Would you care for something to drink? Kreacher will be glad to fetch it.'

'Try the Butterbeer,' advised George. 'Kreacher, bring Ron the same kind you brought me.'

'And what about you, Janet?' asked Molly.

'They have pumpkin juice,' suggested Harry.

'Thank you, but I think I'll have Butterbeer as well,' replied Janet.

'That's two Butterbeers,' called George. 'Weasley-style.'

Kreacher appeared quickly with the two bottles, and both Ron and Janet appeared surprised when they tasted it, but neither of them complained.

'So Janet, how long have you and Ron been seeing each other?' prompted Molly.

'Let's see ... it was after Harry's first match, against the Falcons, so that brings us to seven weeks.'

Arthur frowned and started counting out weeks on his fingers. 'Ron, wasn't that right around when you and Hermione–' Molly cleared her throat loudly and he stopped short.

Ron stiffened, so Harry decided to help. 'Ron and Janet started dating a week after he and Hermione split up, and that's when Hermione and Ryan began dating as well. It was all very tidy.'

'I see,' said Molly. 'And I suppose you've kept it all in the family, with you and, er, Ryan being teammates.'

'Yes, we regularly swap stories,' said Janet calmly, causing Ron to choke on his drink. 'About Harry, that is. Ryan and I regularly share our findings with the rest of the starters over lunch. They certainly had a lot of adventures together at Hogwarts.'

'I can't say I was pleased to hear about all their "adventures," when they became public,' grumbled Molly. 'What I knew was bad enough, but then last year, when everything came out, I nearly had a heart attack.'

'I can't believe you sent me a Howler about the troll!' said Ron. 'That was during first year!'

'You made Hermione cry,' she scolded, 'and then you recklessly ran after a troll to find her.'

'That was my fault too,' said Harry. 'Not the crying, but the part about being reckless.'

'You had a higher calling,' said Molly reverently. 'Destiny was guiding you.'

'What are you on about?' asked Ron. 'The prophecy didn't say anything about a troll.'

'I meant Harry's status as the Chosen One. He was locked in battle with You-Know-Who from the very start.'

'Yes, Harry spat up on him as a newborn, didn't you?' said George. 'And then there was that time you were on the changing table with your nappy off, and you splashed him right in the nose. Er, nose location.'

Harry and Ron started sniggering, but Janet remained perfectly composed. 'You-Know-Who is no laughing matter,' she said firmly. 'He was a mass-murderer after all.'

'Thank you, Janet,' replied Molly. 'I can't tell you how many times I've scolded them for not taking things seriously. Harry, you of all people!' she began, but then her expression softened. 'I apologise, Harry. You should feel free to process your trauma however you see fit.'

'Like six times in one night?' smirked George, and this time Arthur sniggered as well.

Molly continued interrogating Janet, who masterfully skirted the edge between perfect decorum and shocking irreverence. She's really a good match for Ron, thought Harry. But what on earth is up with that makeup? Ron's demeanour suggested he had no idea he was wearing it, which meant Janet had somehow performed the charms without his knowledge. It's not bad, mused Harry. She seems to have darkened his eyebrows and lashes, and his cheeks and lips are looking rather rosy.

Kreacher rang a gong to indicate that dinner was ready, and they all filed to the kitchen table. In the commotion, Harry pulled Janet aside and whispered, 'What did you do to him?'

'I discovered some cosmetic charms that work at a distance,' she confessed. 'They're for stage actors, to freshen their appearance mid-scene. I tried to make it noticeable, but not entirely—how do you think I did?'

'George and I certainly noticed, but I don't think anyone else can tell.'

'Should I take it up a notch?' she asked.

'Not yet,' advised Harry. 'The light's better in the kitchen, so it may be more visible there.'

They took their places around the table, which was laden with food, and Molly looked appraisingly at Ron as he filled his plate. 'Ron, you're certainly looking handsome tonight,' she said fondly. 'I don't think I ever noticed what high cheekbones you have.'

Ron touched the side of his face and said, 'Er, thanks?'

'I always think he's handsome,' fawned Janet. 'I noticed him right away when we first met—so tall and confident.'

'Confident?' asked George. 'Are you sure you're not confusing him with Bill? Bill's the one with the scars.'

'George!' admonished Molly. 'Have you forgotten that your brother is an Order of Merlin recipient?'

'No, because you remind me every week. But I have to agree, Ron is in exceptionally fine form tonight. Have you done something different with your hair?'

'Actually, I went to a barber Janet recommended.'

'He's not a barber, he's a coiffeur,' corrected Janet. 'Although he's technically Italian, not French.'

Harry was unable to discern anything different about Ron's hair, but he said, 'Yeah, that must be it. I'd ask for his name, but obviously there's no point.'

'Your hair suits you,' said Molly approvingly. 'I daresay it's one of your trademarks, like your scar or wearing flowers.'

'And his glasses,' added George. 'Er, perhaps not.'

'I was very surprised to learn you'd had your eyesight fixed,' said Percy. 'I wouldn't have thought you'd be willing to undergo a blood ritual, given your history.'

'Darius Sprott vouched for the Optimancer, and Hermione came with me, so I wasn't at all worried,' replied Harry. 'I only wish I'd done it sooner. My eyesight is far better now than it was before, even with my glasses.'

'I suppose that makes Penumbra easier to navigate,' said George. 'Squinting might ruin the impression you're trying to make.'

'George!' scolded Molly. 'That's hardly appropriate dinner conversation.'

'Yes, I suppose it's more suited to elevenses,' replied George. 'Or perhaps breakfast in bed.'

'We talk about it all the time at lunch,' remarked Janet. 'Harry's been a non-stop source of entertainment for the other Cannons.'

'Yes, I've heard he's inexhaustible,' said George.

To Harry's surprise, Percy burst into laughter and called, 'Kreacher, may I have another Butterbeer? Weasley-style?'

'I'll have one as well,' added Arthur, waving his bottle in the air. 'Harry, you're sure you won't have one?'

'No, I had quite enough this afternoon at Malfoy Manor.'

'You went to Malfoy Manor?' asked Molly, concerned.

Harry explained that Andromeda had urged him to make amends with Draco while there was still time, and Arthur and Molly concurred. 'I'd hate to see Draco become a repeat of his father, both for wizarding Britain's sake and his own,' said Arthur. 'We certainly don't need any more young people repeating their parents' mistakes,' he added, glancing at Harry.

What is he implying? wondered Harry. I suppose I'll find out after dinner.

Molly updated Harry on Bill and Fleur, with several disapproving statements about their lack of children. 'I can understand why they didn't want to start a family during the war, but with Bill's career thriving there's no longer any reason to delay. Frankly I'm worried Fleur doesn't want children for fear of ruining her figure.'

'Nonsense,' said Arthur. 'You're still as lovely as the day I met you, and I'm certain Bill will feel the same about Fleur.'

'Ron, how will you feel if I put on weight after sprogging?' asked Janet.

'What do you mean?' sputtered Ron. 'Mum was talking about Fleur.'

'But when it's our turn!' continued Janet earnestly. 'I won't always be a professional athlete, particularly once I have a houseful of little Weasleys to look after.'

'A houseful?' asked Ron nervously. 'Just how big a, er, house are you picturing?'

'Seven is a magically powerful number,' she said meaningfully. 'And then we'd have an entire Quidditch team!'

Harry and George weren't even hiding their laughter, and Molly looked almost hungrily at Janet's midsection.

'Do you reckon you'd produce any Beaters?' asked Harry. 'The way you're built, you'd spawn nothing but Keepers.'

'I'm certain there are charms to stunt one of them into a Seeker,' said George.

'George Fabian Weasley!' scolded Molly. 'I'll not hear you talk about stunting one of my grandchildren!'

'It shouldn't be necessary,' replied Janet. 'There's a runt in every litter.'

'Oi!' cried Harry. 'I'm not a runt!'

'Isn't he adorable?' said Janet to Molly. 'Sometimes I just want to tuck him into my pocket.'

'He is, isn't he!' agreed Molly. 'I'm sorry we didn't get to keep him in the family.'

'Sorry you didn't get those Galleons,' muttered George.

'They were exaggerated,' scowled Harry.

'We'll remedy that,' replied George, making a vaguely rude, lap-based hand gesture.

Percy cleared his throat and asked Janet about her family, which fortunately moved the conversation onto less rocky territory. Harry leaned back and felt grateful that Kreacher had tamed Molly so completely. I'll have to punish him in thanks, he resolved cheerfully.

Coincidentally, Molly started gushing again about what a help Kreacher had been. 'I always knew this house had potential, and Kreacher unlocked it. You haven't been upstairs, but there's new wallpaper in the staircase, and in Arthur's and my bedroom as well.'

'Which patterns did you choose?' asked Harry.

'We used the star pattern in the staircase, and in the bedroom we used the peacock feathers,' replied Molly. 'So elegant, don't you think?'

It looked great in the Boudoir, thought Harry, but he only nodded.

After pudding, Arthur pulled Harry aside and said, 'I thought we might talk man-to-man in the shed.'

'Yes, I'd like that,' lied Harry, noting with dismay that Arthur had only drunk two bottles of porter, which wouldn't be enough to affect him. As they walked to the shed in the twilight, Harry expanded into awareness in preparation for what he suspected would be a blistering lecture.

'Have a seat,' said Arthur, indicating a stool. Harry sat down, and Arthur said, 'I've been worried about you, son.'

An angry voice in Harry's mind said, You're not my father, but he just waited for Arthur to continue.

'Ever since you and Ginny split up, you've seemed a bit untethered. I wish you'd talked to me before leaving the Ministry, and I know Kingsley wishes you'd told him you weren't happy, instead of just quitting on the spot. We might have found you a different role.'

In spite of his expanded state, Harry felt his irritation grow. 'I didn't want a different role. Did Kingsley tell you why I left?'

'He said something about how you'd never had a proper childhood, which I understand. But there's more to childhood than just doing whatever you want.'

'Is that what you think I'm doing now?'

'Honestly, yes.'

'And you don't think it requires discipline to attend practice five days a week and play a match on the sixth, spend hours replying to fan mail, go to sleep at a reasonable hour, and largely abstain from alcohol?'

'No, clearly that requires discipline, and I commend you for it. But you have a good deal more liberty than you had previously, and I'm concerned you may be ... overdoing it.'

'Overdoing it? Can you give me an example?' asked Harry, curious about which of his vices Arthur had in mind.

Arthur's ears turned pink. 'Er, well,' he hesitated. 'Your robes, for example. I realise you're not poor, but inherited gold in particular is easy to squander, and I know your parties have been expensive as well.'

'Would it be crass to tell you just how much I'm earning? I get a percentage of merchandise sales, after all. Furthermore, nearly every tailor in Britain has offered me robes at cost, and yes, I know which ones to avoid.'

'I'm relieved to hear that,' said Arthur. 'But still, you don't have any adults in your life setting boundaries. Obviously that wasn't your choice, but I think you need someone.'

'Are you volunteering?' retorted Harry, his irritation bordering on sarcasm.

'I've always been here for you—I hope you know that. I realise things changed when you and Ginny split up, but not from my perspective. I thought of you as a son long before you and Ginny were a couple.'

'But I'm not your son. And I had Sirius.'

'Yes, and you're very like him, which concerns me as well. Unfortunately, he never grew out of his Gryffindor impulsiveness. And I'll never forgive him for running after Pettigrew when he had a clear responsibility to look after you.'

'Sirius isn't solely to blame,' argued Harry. 'Dumbledore could have found me a family. We both know he stuck me with the Dursleys on purpose.'

Arthur sighed heavily. 'I wish I'd known to intervene. But Dumbledore said it was necessary for you to stay with your aunt, and that you were all right.'

'I wasn't all right. And you were so awestruck by Dumbledore that you couldn't see it.' Harry's heart was pounding, and he was surprised by how angry he was.

'I'm so sorry ... Molly was beside herself when we read that article, and so was I. If anyone should have realised you were being abused, it should have been us.'

'Someone did realise it, and he didn't care. Dumbledore saw my school reports and those teacher recommendations, and he ignored them. He prevented anyone from helping me.'

'I won't make excuses for him,' said Arthur. 'All I can say is that he loved you and he wanted to defeat Voldemort.'

'You've got the order backwards. He wanted to defeat Voldemort, and everything else was secondary. He raised me to die.'

Arthur closed his eyes and sighed again. 'I can't argue with you. But please remember who deserves the blame, first and foremost.'

'What's the point in being angry at Voldemort?' snapped Harry. 'He wasn't rational—he wasn't sane. He was irretrievably broken as soon as he killed Myrtle Warren and created that diary. But Dumbledore was at least theoretically whole, and he should have done better.'

'You're right, he should have done,' said Arthur. 'But there's no changing the past, and I doubt you'll get much satisfaction from yelling at his portrait. But it's not too late for you to be a healthy adult.'

'Are you implying I'm not one?'

'That's not what I'm saying. For one thing, you're only nineteen. I realise you're of age, and that you've endured more than many people do in an entire lifetime, but there's still a long way from nineteen to adulthood.'

'Is this your way of saying I still need parents?'

'We all need parents. I don't know anyone who's finished growing up and couldn't stand to keep maturing. Ron's improved tremendously in the last couple of years, but he's still not done. And neither are you.'

'I never claimed I was fully mature. Obviously I want to keep learning and developing.'

'Do you?' asked Arthur, with a hint of disbelief.

'Yes,' replied Harry hotly. 'And if you knew anything about my current life besides gossip, you'd know I was pursuing that.'

'Is that so?'

'Yes. For one thing, I've engaged a tutor, to teach me about culture and everything else I never learnt at Hogwarts.'

'That's a start,' said Arthur patronisingly.

Harry knew what he needed to reveal, but he was reluctant. He took a deep breath and said, 'I've been experiencing accidental Light magic.'

Arthur inhaled sharply. 'Are you sure?'

'Do you mean am I just making excuses for my private life?' he snapped. 'No, I'm sure. That wasn't Glowpox a few weeks ago.'

'But true Light magic is incredibly rare ...'

'Yes, and so is surviving the Killing Curse, and about a dozen other things I've done. I'm not normal, for good or for ill, and you're treating me as if I were.'

After a silence, Arthur said, 'I know you're not normal, but that doesn't mean you don't need guidance.'

'I have guidance. I've spoken to Alistair and–'

'The vampire?! That's hardly the kind of guidance you need!'

'He's a Light vampire, and it's not as though we're best mates. But he found me a teacher, and I met with her once already.'

'Is she also ... a vampire?'

'No, she's a witch. She spent decades studying the Light Arts, mostly abroad, and she's agreed to teach me, and Hermione as well.'

Arthur relaxed slightly. 'Is Hermione also experiencing Light magic?'

'Not the way I am. For her it's more theoretical, but Davina is confident Hermione can connect it to her magic.'

'And you're sure you trust this Davina?' asked Arthur warily. 'How much is she charging you?'

'She didn't want payment at all, but I insisted. It's no more than I'm paying my other tutor.'

'I just worry about you. There are so many people who would take advantage.' He glanced towards the house and said, 'Even Molly. She was as concerned as I am, but after two days of Kreacher she's convinced you can do no wrong. And I suspect there are a lot of people who treat you that way.'

'You haven't met my teammates,' replied Harry. 'I mean, you've met Janet, but she's putting on a show tonight just to make Ron squirm. Normally she takes the piss out of me right and left.'

'Perhaps, but that's not the same as correcting you.'

'I have Andromeda. And Owen Barrowmaker. And Tuttle, my coach.'

Arthur chuckled. 'I suppose she used to keep Ludo Bagman in line. Although I hope you turn out better than he did.'

'Please, give me a little credit!'

'But Harry, your personal life! I know it's none of my business, but it's all so public.'

Harry rolled his eyes. 'Clearly I need to give you the same explanation I gave Ron and Hermione. Do me a favour and repeat it to Molly the next time she decides she's upset with me.' Arthur frowned, and Harry continued. 'I have no privacy. Unless I only date Muggles, which requires lying, people are going to know about my personal life. I tried settling down like a proper wizard, but Ginny wouldn't have me and neither would Helena. As for Lydia, that was her idea, not mine, and I'm only human. And surely you're not going to lecture me on the virtues of celibacy.'

Arthur sighed again. 'I hate to suggest this, but there's another option.'

'No. I was invited to join Pratt's, and Percy's convinced me to do it, but I'm not going back to the brothel. The fact is I fall in love too easily, and it's just a matter of time before someone takes advantage of me in that setting.'

'You were invited to join Pratt's? At your age?'

'Yes, probably because they think they can control me better that way. I wasn't going to join, but Percy said it's my best chance to prevent the next war and promote equality among wizards.'

'He's not wrong,' admitted Arthur. 'I was never invited to join, although some of Molly's relations are members. And besides, I could never afford it. But be careful—wizarding Britain is very corrupt, and I suspect Pratt's is where a lot of the deals are made. Honestly, I still worry about Percy in that regard.'

With good reason, thought Harry. 'I should tell you I'm going public soon with my Light magic. It's an open secret, particularly now that I've told the Malfoys, so there's no harm in announcing it.'

'You're not going to announce it on the radio, are you?'

'No, I've made an arrangement with Rita Skeeter.'

Arthur was aghast. 'After everything she's printed about you?'

Harry shrugged. 'We agreed that if I give her right of first refusal on any news items, other than Quidditch news or what I announce on the radio, then she'll only write favourably about me. That's why the Prophet didn't criticise me about Lydia.'

'And you're not bribing her?'

'Other than the cost to Gringotts for our magically-binding contract, no.'

Arthur shook his head slowly. 'You've entered a world I'm completely ignorant of. But perhaps it's for the best, given your circumstances.' He looked at Harry and said, 'I brought you here to offer you guidance, but it's clear you don't want any. And maybe you don't need it—I couldn't say. But I hope you know you're always welcome here, and that Molly and I will always consider you part of the family.'

'I'm sorry I'm not more receptive, and I don't mean to imply you've never done anything for me. You took me in during all those summers, and you showed me how normal families interact. You sent me gifts at Christmas and my birthday, and you made me feel like a normal child even. I can't thank you enough for that. And I'd have loved to officially be part of the family, but that's not what Ginny wanted.'

'Apparently not,' sighed Arthur. 'But when you're a parent, you'll learn you can't influence your children's decisions. Not really.'

'Then maybe you really are like a father to me,' joked Harry, and Arthur chuckled. Hoping to change the topic, Harry asked Arthur about his latest project. 'Where did you find a pinball machine?'

'Is that what it's called?' asked Arthur, fascinated. 'Are you familiar with them?'

'Not really. They weren't very common when I was a kid—they'd mostly been replaced by video games. But I saw one in a restaurant once and Dudley got to play.'

'So you play it?' prompted Arthur. 'How exactly?'

'Er, you drop a coin into that slot, maybe 10p, and it releases a metal ball right here. And you pull this thingy and the ball shoots into play. And then you use these buttons to control the flippers—I think that's what Uncle Vernon called them. The flippers bang the ball about, and it bounces off these things, which light up and make a lot of noise. And you get points, which display up here.'

'And this is some kind of recreational activity? Or does it perform a task?'

'No, it's just for fun. That's why you pay to do it.' And why I wasn't allowed to have a go, thought Harry sadly.

'So there'd be no point in automating it?'

'No, none at all. Unless you just wanted to watch, which might be a little entertaining. But probably not for long.'

'Right,' said Arthur slowly. 'Do you reckon you could make it do something else? Something more useful?'

'Well, it did look like fun when Dudley played it. I bet if you got it working, people would have a good time with it. Where did you find it anyway?'

Arthur averted his eyes. 'Er, I just ran across it somewhere. I'm certain no one was using it.'

So you stole it, thought Harry. 'It looks pretty old,' he acknowledged, 'and a bit worse for wear.'

'Right,' said Arthur cheerfully. 'Anyway, I shouldn't keep you any longer. Shall we return to the house?'

Harry nodded, and they walked back to the Burrow together. That could have gone worse, he thought. At least he didn't ambush me with a fluttering black curtain.

When they returned to the house, Harry wondered whether Janet had strengthened Ron's cosmetic charms, because his lips looked redder than they had before dinner, and his eyelids were slightly shimmery. He was talking to George near the staircase, which gave Harry a chance to pull Janet aside and ask.

'I had to cast a Finite before he went to the loo, so he wouldn't see it in the mirror. But my wand is up my sleeve, and I recast the charms when he was walking back to the table. I decided to hit him a little harder this time, just for fun.'

'Did anyone notice?'

'Percy took off his glasses and cleaned them, but he didn't say anything. Molly, on the other hand, winked and told me to keep an eye on Ron because he has all the makings of a heartbreaker.'

'You're my new hero,' said Harry sincerely. 'But I'll hex you to bits if you ever try the same on me.'

They chatted until the front door swung open and Ginny stepped inside, wearing an old rucksack. 'Hi, I'm back,' she announced. 'Oh my god, what happened to the house?'

'Ginny!' exclaimed Molly. 'We weren't expecting you for another hour.'

'Yeah, I forgot about the time change. I left Rome at nine o'clock and got home at eight. But what's with the house?'

'Er, Harry loaned us Kreacher for a couple of days,' said Molly awkwardly, and Harry realised he should make himself visible.

He stepped into view and said, 'Hi, Ginny. Ron invited me to dinner so your parents would have someone to pick on besides him.'

'Oh! I didn't see you there. How are you? Did you bring anyone?' she asked, peering about.

'I'm fine, and no, it's just me.'

Ginny took off her rucksack and shook out her hair, which made Harry's heart catch momentarily. 'Does that mean you're no longer seeing Lydia Travers?'

'That's right. It was never long term.'

'What a shame—I'd have loved to see her at Sunday dinner,' she laughed. 'Are you all right?'

'Of course. And you? Were you in Rome?'

'Yes, I went with my teammate Wendy and a friend. We had a great time.'

'I'm glad to hear it. That's the one disadvantage of a Quidditch career—not much chance to travel during the season.'

'At least you get to play! I'm just holding the skybenches in place.'

'You play all week, though, right?'

'Yes, and I shouldn't complain. But I suppose our teams will be facing each other on Saturday.'

'They will be, and I reckon the Cannons' winning streak will come to an end.'

'Don't say that. Obviously I'm rooting for the Harpies, but I'll cheer for you as well.'

'Just don't hold up a sign telling me to see a Mind Healer, or to make an honest woman out of Lydia.'

'I promise, but I make no guarantees about the Harpyheads. I almost feel bad for our opponents, particularly at home matches.'

Harry didn't have a reply, and he just gazed at Ginny, without exactly meaning to. She blushed slightly and started looking around the room. 'Sweet Merlin!' she cried when she saw Ron. 'Are you wearing makeup?'

Ron looked over his shoulder to see who she was addressing. When he saw no one, he said, 'Of course not! You've got me confused with Harry.'

'No she hasn't,' smirked Harry. 'Look in a mirror.'

Ginny and George were laughing, and Percy leaned in for a closer examination. 'He's right, you are wearing makeup!'

Ron poked his head into the bathroom and shouted, 'Damn you, Lindhurst! Mum, it was a practical joke by Janet, I'm sure of it.'

'That was makeup?' said Molly incredulously. 'I must say, it suits you.'

'Mum!'

'I mean, the lip colour is a bit much, but I think the eyebrows and lashes are a nice touch. Ginger hair, you know.'

Ginny looked at Harry accusingly. 'What did Ron mean when he said I had him confused with you? Don't tell me that's been mascara the whole time.'

'Of course not! For Merlin's sake, we were in the Prefects' bathtub together!'

All four Weasley males glared at Harry. George said, 'I think what Harry meant to say is that Ron was referring to the bit we had to censor from his broadcast on Tuesday.'

'Er, yeah,' replied Harry. 'I said something about a Frenchman chatting me up because I was wearing makeup.'

'Muggle makeup!' clarified Ron. 'Tart armour!'

'Did you wear eye makeup?' asked Molly. 'I'm sure it looked lovely.'

'Mum, stop sucking up to Harry,' scolded Ron. 'Ginny, if you're ever in trouble, just loan Mum a house-elf and all will be forgiven.'

Janet, seated comfortably on the sofa, looked extremely pleased with herself. 'Ron, I can't believe you didn't invite me to Sunday dinner sooner. This is brilliant.'

'I would sell my soul to see photos of Harry wearing tart armour,' proclaimed Ginny.

'Ginny!' cried Molly. 'Don't joke about selling your soul!'

'Oh, and the Frenchman said Harry looked like a British rocker,' added George. 'And yes, I'd love to see it as well. Maybe you could try it out at Pratt's first.'

'You're joining Pratt's?' said Ron and Ginny simultaneously.

'Yes,' declared Percy. 'Harry, you should go home and owl them at once.'

'Use one of the ravens,' suggested Ron. 'And sign it "Lord Black."'

'They're jackdaws!' protested Harry. 'And lordships are bollocks,' he added weakly. 'Oh bugger, I'm going home.'

'Master!' cried Kreacher, whose arms were covered in soap suds. 'Kreacher used to apply makeup for Mistress! Would Master like for Kreacher to apply makeup on Master? Kreacher would be glad to learn the latest techniques.'

'Walburga Black wore tart armour?' exclaimed George.

'I'm so glad I didn't miss this,' said Ginny. 'If I weren't stuffed from dinner I'd want popcorn.'

'No, Kreacher, I do not want for you to apply makeup,' said Harry firmly.

'Couldn't you throw a drag party?' suggested Janet. 'That way you wouldn't be the only one.'

'I'm leaving now,' declared Harry. 'Molly, thank you for dinner, and you too Arthur.'

Molly hugged Harry and thanked him again for sending Kreacher, and Arthur clasped Harry on the shoulders and told him not to be a stranger. 'I'll try to get that pinball machine working for you.'

'I'd like that,' said Harry sincerely. He said goodbye to the others, drinking in the sight of Ginny one last time, and Flooed home.

Before he lost his nerve, he pulled out a sheet of the stationery Lydia had given him and wrote to the Pratt's membership committee:

After much deliberation, I've decided to accept your offer and become a member of Pratt's. I believe I have a lot to learn from my fellow wizards, and I'm grateful you were able to overlook my age and other possible marks against me. I also appreciate the opportunity to mingle with people I mightn't otherwise get to know, and I look forward to finding common ground. Please find enclosed the authorisation for my monthly dues payment.

Yours sincerely,

Harry Potter

He went upstairs to the owlery and attached the letter to Viola's leg, in cheeky defiance of the Pratt's prohibition against females. As he watched her fly off, he relaxed the tiny inner constriction that had been holding back his Light magic, and his diffuse glow merged with the reddish night sky.