Harry slept soundly that night, and when he opened the curtains Banthora wished him good morning. 'Are you ready for today?' she asked.

'Not even slightly,' he said. 'How on earth will I survive being around so many beautiful witches?'

'Perhaps you can emulate Priapus Maximus Black.'

'Really? What do you know about him? His name appeared on the tapestry when I repaired it, but he didn't have any offspring.'

'Indeed he wouldn't,' said Banthora. 'He had no use for witches.'

'Was he homosexual?'

'Decidedly so. And it was all his parents' doing.'

Harry frowned. 'How would that even work?'

'Magic, of course. Before Priapus was conceived, Ophelia Black, who was a Seer, announced that the family magic would one day choose a Head of House from a lesser branch. This wizard would be renowned for his virility and restore the family glory. Priapus's parents, Cato and Hecate Black, were from a junior branch and resolved that their son would fulfil the prophecy, so they performed a ritual at his conception to ensure his potency. And it worked: When he reached puberty, the bells of Hogwarts rang to announce it.'

Harry wondered what would count as 'reaching puberty.' Did the bells wake him from a wet dream? 'The bells that signal the end of class?' he asked.

'No, not the ordinary bells—a magical chime, deep within the castle walls. A mighty clang sounded when Priapus crossed the threshold of manhood, just before dawn. But there was one problem: He was male through and through, and no witch could tempt him. His parents pleaded with him to marry and sire an heir, but he vomited uncontrollably at the mere thought.'

That's even gayer than Robert de Montesquiou, thought Harry. 'Was he disinherited?'

'Indeed he was. But his lovers supported him in grand style.'

'Don't tell me he was a gigolo!'

'Not as such,' said Banthora. 'But his house served as a haven for sodomites, and his guest rooms were always in demand.'

Same as mine, thought Harry. 'Did he belong to Pratt's?'

'No, by the time he turned twenty-one his predilections were too well known. It was rumoured that a majority of wizards on the membership committee were, shall we say, sympathetic, but they didn't dare reveal it.'

'Talk about hypocrisy!' said Harry. 'Do you know if Priapus ever fell in love?'

'Yes, he eventually took up with Achilles Nightwick, who had his own fortune, and they lived in glorious sin until the Glowpox took them both.'

Harry was silent a moment. 'Er, I hate to point this out, but do you think maybe that prophecy refers to me?'

'By Jove, you're right! It describes you to the letter: from a lesser branch, and renowned for your virility! I must tell the other portraits at once!' She disappeared from her frame, leaving Harry to get dressed.

Brilliant, another prophecy, thought Harry. Although this one wasn't so bad, particularly since it said he'd restore the family glory. But what does that mean? The family glory might be its stupidly excessive wealth and grandeur. And the verb 'restore' couldn't possibly refer to the Light Arts.

He responded to fan mail all morning, and after lunch he met with Gerard and Victoria White. First they presented their business plan, which seemed solid enough. 'I'd like you to present it at Gringotts as well,' Harry told them, 'and if they agree it's worthwhile, I'll invest.'

'That's all we ask,' said Gerard.

'Actually, that's not quite all,' said Victoria innocently.

'Of course, dear, you're right,' said her husband. 'But that's in a different category.'

'Oh?' said Harry, bracing himself.

'Our daughter, Eveline,' said Victoria. 'She's nearly twenty, and quite a pretty girl as you may recall.' Harry nodded weakly, knowing where this was headed. 'She's had boyfriends, but still no offers. We had high hopes for her latest, but he announced last month that he won't marry for two more years.'

'I see.'

'That's all well and good for a wizard,' said Gerard, 'but a witch can't just wait around.'

If all she's doing is waiting around, no wonder he didn't propose, thought Harry.

'We believe she would attract a better class of wizard if she had a dowry.'

And there it is, he thought. 'Wouldn't that only attract mercenary wizards? It never bothered me that Ginny wouldn't have a dowry. To be honest, it never even crossed my mind.'

'Perhaps, but you're not a traditional wizard. And a dowry isn't necessarily a payment to the bridegroom. On the contrary, it gives the bride independence, particularly in the case of an unequal marriage. If the wizard controls all the assets, the witch mightn't be free to leave a bad situation.'

'I see your point, but I've never heard my female friends talk about dowries, other than Lydia and her marriage portion.'

'Are your friends from traditional families? Or noble houses, for that matter?'

'No, my closest female friends are Muggle-born, or near to it.' He knew that didn't describe Luna, but if she had a dowry it would probably be a herd of Wumperbeasts, or a garland of hay.

'But Muggles have dowries,' said Victoria.

'No, they don't,' said Harry. 'Not in England, anyway.'

'So the father of the bride isn't expected to pay for the wedding?' asked Gerard.

Harry was about to say he didn't know, but he recalled a tirade from Uncle Vernon insisting Dudley marry a girl of means, since he wasn't going to 'pay for the wedding like a bloody egalitarian.'

'I suppose that's the custom. But isn't it the same for wizards?'

'No, both families split the cost. And it's usually far less than what a Muggle wedding costs, since we can enlarge our houses or hire enchanted tents as required. And food can be multiplied, although only up to a point.'

Yes, I'm familiar with that point, thought Harry irritably, remembering meals consisting entirely of trout and mushrooms.

'Did you know that the average Muggle wedding in the UK costs nearly ten thousand pounds?' said Victoria.

Harry was shocked. 'For a single party?'

'Yes, and that's a relatively modest wedding. More elaborate weddings cost far more than that.'

'I'm sure you're right,' said Harry. 'But, if you'll forgive me, I fail to see why it's my responsibility to supply dowries.'

'Oh,' said Victoria, embarrassed. 'I thought you understood.'

Gerard looked embarrassed as well. 'When you offered to sponsor House White, that includes helping us form alliances. Didn't you know?'

Harry dimly recalled Narcissa saying something about alliances. 'Narcissa mentioned that, but nothing about dowries.'

'I see,' said Gerard, still flustered. 'Perhaps you should discuss it with her. It's possible customs have changed since Grandfather was disinherited.'

I doubt it, thought Harry. But well done, reminding me about Perseus White. Bonus points if you mention how he rejected the Dark Arts.

'It's ironic that if Gerard's grandfather hadn't rejected the Dark Arts, we'd be in an entirely different position,' said Victoria. 'But what's done is done, and of course we're all proud of him.'

'Naturally. And I'll talk to Narcissa and Andromeda, who can explain my responsibilities. Please excuse my ignorance.'

'And please excuse our impertinence!' said Gerard. 'We must have seemed unforgivably grasping just now.'

No, I've forgiven worse. 'A misunderstanding. I'll owl you later this week, and we'll set up a time at Gringotts for your business presentation.'

After seeing them through the fireplace, he wrote letters to Andromeda and Narcissa, but he was too impatient to send them by jackdaw. 'Kreacher!' he said aloud.

Crack! 'Yes, Master!' said Kreacher, and a bunch of dressmaking pins fell out of his mouth.

'Oh my god, you're helping Mrs Weasley today! I'm so sorry, my errand can wait. Go back at once.'

Kreacher looked heartsick. 'No, Master! Please let Kreacher be of service! The Red Lady can wait!'

'Er, I just need for you to deliver a couple of letters. Is that all right?'

'Yes, Master! With pleasure!'

'All right, but don't hang around for a reply. Just deliver them and go right back to the Red Lady.' Harry handed him the letters, and Kreacher disappeared with a loud crack.

Several minutes later, Nitta appeared with a short note from Narcissa:

They're not wrong about dowries, but it required impressive cheek to ask you outright. Come to the Manor and we can discuss it. Andromeda is here as well.

Nitta offered to transport him by Side-Along, and soon Harry was in the Malfoys' drawing room. Narcissa and Andromeda were drinking tea, but Teddy was absent.

'Harry, do sit down,' said Narcissa. 'Tea?'

'Yes, please,' he said, taking his usual chair.

'I should have known,' said Andromeda. 'I didn't mention it, because it's a borderline case, and I didn't want to believe they were that calculating. But apparently they are.'

'Gerard said when I offered to sponsor House White, it included helping them form alliances, and Narcissa said something similar. But I assumed that just meant introductions.'

'It's a vague term, with multiple interpretations,' said Narcissa. 'And the most traditional interpretation includes arranging marriages.'

Harry's eyes shot open. 'He didn't say anything about finding her a husband!'

'No, arranged marriages are outmoded even at the highest levels of society. Although I'm starting to long for their return,' she said, with a glance through the window.

'So what's next? If I offer a dowry to Eveline White, I'll be stuck doing it for everyone. And will the boys expect something?'

'Only introductions,' said Andromeda, but Narcissa spoke over her.

'A night at Pratt's on their seventeenth birthday.'

'What? I thought members only brought their sons!'

'There's an exception for when a wizard comes of age,' said Narcissa. 'In the case where the father is unable, an uncle or cousin is permitted to bring him.'

'Then can't Draco do it? I won't even go there myself. To the brothel, that is.'

Both sisters looked surprised, but only for an instant. 'Draco's not Head of House,' said Andromeda. 'And besides, these wizards didn't go to Hogwarts, so it's an opportunity to help them advance.'

Harry's shoulders slumped. 'When I said I wanted to make wizarding Britain more egalitarian, I didn't think that involved taking seventeen-year-old pure-bloods to the Boudoir.'

'Actually, it's not a bad start. They didn't grow up with a lot of gold, so if they do advance in the world they'll at least have humble origins.'

'Right, take them to get their wands polished. Got it.'

'Harry!' said Andromeda. 'There's no need for vulgarity.'

'That was a euphemism. I could have said something much worse.'

'It's far less costly than a dowry,' said Narcissa. 'And you'll win their loyalty.'

Harry sighed heavily. 'How much is a dowry? I didn't ask.'

'That all depends. The daughter of the main branch of a noble and ancient house would bring far more than the daughter of a junior branch.'

Lydia had revealed to him what her marriage portion would be, after they shamelessly refused it. 'This better be worth it,' she said lustily, as they reenacted her ruination that night. They even made jokes about the value of certain lewd acts: 'That's a thousand Galleons right there,' he said, and she laughed wickedly.

'I'm sorry, I got distracted,' said Harry. 'So this would be at the lower end of the scale?'

'Yes,' said Narcissa, and she suggested an amount.

'That's a lot more than one night at the Boudoir. And how long do I have to do this? Am I on the hook from now on, or at some point do I say, "Enough sponging, you lot. I'm kicking you out of the nest!"'

The sisters looked at each other. 'Those currently living?' asked Andromeda, and Narcissa nodded.

'Only the young witches,' she said. 'You're not responsible for spinsters, since they'll have had time to save up. Nor for witches not yet born, since you'll presumably have got the family off the ground by the time they're of age. And if not, it won't be your fault.'

'And what about the Blacks?' asked Harry. 'They don't expect dowries, let alone trips to the Boudoir. But they didn't change their surname, and frankly I like them better.'

'You have to help them,' said Narcissa. 'Although traditional pure-bloods won't marry them, even with a dowry.'

'Then they can use it to set up a household,' said Andromeda. 'I'm sorry, Harry, but you need to help both branches.'

'It's a good thing I signed that second contract,' he muttered.

'Another endorsement?' asked Andromeda. 'What is it?'

'More of the same. The distribution partner in North America sells women's lingerie, and I'm to appear in an advert with a witch.'

'Wearing only ...' Narcissa trailed off delicately.

'That's right. In fact, the casting session is this afternoon.'

'And it's lucrative?'

'Very. I'll get a percentage of sales, which should cover multiple dowries.' Looking at Narcissa, he asked, 'Do you really expect whoever Draco marries to have a dowry?'

'I do, because that's the tradition.' Her face went ashen. 'Catherine White. You'll have to provide one.'

'Are you kidding me? The Malfoys have way more gold than I do!'

'I wish you wouldn't, but there's no getting around it.'

Harry knew it was none of his business, but he asked anyway. 'I take it you're not keen on her?'

'No, she's plainly ambitious. Draco's the only one who can't see it.'

'She seems fond of him,' said Harry.

'They just met. I knew Lucius for years before he courted me, and we were in love. Catherine, on the other hand, went to that reunion with a clear mission: Ensnare Draco.'

'Surely you respect ambition! And there's no question which house she'd have been Sorted into.'

'No, and her bloodlines are faultless. But there's more to a marriage than that, and Draco needs someone ... exceptional.'

She's talking about his trauma, he thought. 'Should I suggest he take a vow not to marry before he's twenty-one?'

'Tempting,' said Narcissa. 'But he'd never imitate you.'

Andromeda was looking out the window. 'Careful, Cissa. They may return at any moment.'

A minute later, Draco arrived with Teddy and his toy broom. 'He'll be a good flyer,' he said brightly before noticing Harry. 'What do you want?'

'Nice to see you too. I had a question for your mum and Andromeda, but I'll get out of your way.'

'Don't leave on Draco's account,' said Narcissa. 'It's not your fault he hasn't any manners.'

'Yes, it is,' said Draco. 'At the weekend everything is Potter's fault. Wednesdays too.'

'That reminds me,' said Harry. 'Can we get together one of the days it's Voldemort's fault?'

'Tuesday or Friday—take your pick.'

'Can't do Friday. Tuesday, after the broadcast?'

'Yes, come over. Should I send away my other guests?'

'Please. They don't need to know what a pair of headcases we are.'

'They already do,' said Draco. 'But I agree, privacy would be better.'

'Are you two actually getting along?' asked Andromeda.

'Yes, but only provisionally. He ruined my life, you know.'

'It's the cross I bear,' said Harry.

He went home to settle his mind before the casting session. Sitting up straight, he expanded into awareness and set a strong intention not to break his vow. It's only a week longer. And when it's over, I'll be with Sophie, or whichever model I'm most attracted to. This is a good problem to have.

He practised what Owen had suggested on Friday: sending out a sense of wholeness, and receiving it in return. His breath became slow and deep, and after a few minutes he felt ready for his challenging afternoon. But just to be safe, he charmed his trousers.

A short Floo trip brought him to the photo studio, where he was greeted in the vestibule by Dominic and his brother Claudius. Harry half-expected Claudius to look like Aberforth Dumbledore, but he had brown eyes and wore his hair short. 'It's a pleasure to meet you at last,' said Claudius. 'We're delighted to have you on board.'

Harry responded appropriately while peering down the corridor, wondering where the models were. Following his gaze, Claudius said, 'I'm terribly sorry about the timing, but my son Randall is convinced it's a blessing in disguise.'

Easy for him to say, thought Harry. 'I see his point,' he said. 'But it'll all be easier a week from now.'

'How would you like to proceed?' asked Dominic. 'Would you rather meet all the witches at once, or should we introduce them to you one at a time?'

'One at a time,' blurted Harry. The phrase 'all the witches at once' conjured images of the Boudoir, which would definitely be too much.

'Quite so, follow me,' said Dominic, leading him into a studio. Amanda Bellows, the Cannons photographer, was fiddling with a camera, and a middle-aged witch and wizard were looking at a parchment. Dominic introduced them as his daughter Estella and nephew Randall, and they greeted him enthusiastically.

'Harry, darling, I know it'll be torture,' said Randall, 'but we want to make it as painless as possible. Here's the idea: We'll send in one girl at a time, and allow you to chat a bit, get a feel for one another. Amanda will snap some photos—wizarding and also Muggle Polaroids—and her assistant will start processing them straight away. And then afterwards, we'll gather round and discuss who's the best fit.'

'Right,' said Harry. 'How many witches will I meet?'

'Twenty perhaps—piece of cake.'

Twenty! thought Harry, trying not to hyperventilate. Expand into awareness. Let the Snitch appear– bugger! He took a deep breath and said, 'All right. Should we start?'

Randall and Estella exchanged glances. 'Would you be willing to change into a dressing gown?' asked Estella. 'The witches are all wearing lingerie, and it'll be better if you're matched, at least somewhat.'

Harry swallowed. 'Yes, that's fine,' he said, and she showed him where one was hanging. He was about to ask for a changing room, but he realised there wasn't much point, so he stripped to his boxers and pulled on the dressing gown.

He was trying to decide whether it felt weirder to be without his clothes or his wand when he thought of another problem: I charmed my trousers, not my boxers! He had no idea whether the charm had affected his boxers as well. I guess we'll find out.

The first model entered, and to his relief it was Laetitia. 'Harry,' she said fondly. 'I'd hug you, but I'm a little underdressed.'

She was wearing a bra and knickers, which she filled out beautifully, but his feelings were mostly fraternal. 'This is absurd, isn't it?' he said.

'All in a day's work. You poor thing—I've seen who else is out there, and you have a long afternoon ahead of you.'

'Is Sophie there?'

'Yes, and she's very disappointed about the timing. But c'est la vie.'

He asked her about Eric, and Amanda took pictures, but nobody thought Laetitia was the one. 'It's a shame, because you make a striking pair,' said Estella. 'But you're like brother and sister.'

'It's because I used to pretend he was my baby brother,' she said. 'And it's fine—I'm sure I'll book the next international underwear campaign.'

Next was a red-haired witch named Felicia. 'It's nice to meet you, Felicia. I'm Harry.'

'I know,' she giggled. 'We all do, so you can skip that bit next time.'

'I don't like to assume,' he said, and they began chatting. He was attracted to her, and she was touching him more than Laetitia had done, but he hoped they'd choose someone other than a redhead.

A series of witches came through, and the conversations were similar. 'It's a thrill to meet you ... Congratulations on the match yesterday ... Sorry about the timing ... I'd love to see you again, regardless.' This last phrase was invariably delivered in a breathy voice, with a sultry gaze.

'I'd love that,' replied Harry on several occasions, feeling overwhelmed. He made a mental note of several witches' names, with a mind to owl them the following Sunday if the model they cast wasn't interested.

'This is Marina,' said Randall, introducing the next witch. 'She's originally from Estonia, but we lured her from New York.'

Harry inhaled sharply, noting her magnificent figure, golden-blond hair, and sea-blue eyes. 'Are you a Muggle model as well?' he asked.

'Not runway,' she said in heavily-accented English. 'I am too curvy. But I am lingerie model.'

You certainly are, he thought, admiring her splendid curves.

Her eyes bore into his, and he responded automatically with the Look. She ran her hand along his chest, and in a husky voice she said, 'Seeker. Perfect.'

He felt himself leaning closer to her, led either by his eyes or his lips—he wasn't sure. But then his eyes closed automatically, and he realised they were about to kiss. 'No!' he cried. 'Not for a week.'

Everyone else laughed, including Marina. 'Sunday, October tenth. Seven thirty-nine p.m.,' she murmured. 'And twelve seconds.'

Harry closed his eyes again, which had the immediate benefit of hiding her from view, but his Light magic surged. He was certain he'd started glowing, but when he opened his eyes he discovered he hadn't. Maybe the vow is working, he thought, which reminded him to step backwards.

'I think we've seen enough,' said Randall. 'No need to torture the boy.'

Marina walked slowly from the room, and just before leaving she turned back to Harry and said, 'Until next time.' He simply nodded, and she was gone.

'Do you need some water?' asked Estella.

'Yes,' he croaked. 'Oh my god.'

'She's big in the Muggle modelling world. Magazine covers and so forth. She's twenty-four already, assuming that's her real age, which it almost never is, and she wants to be the first wizarding supermodel. That's why she came from New York for the audition. Otherwise she wouldn't bother.'

'Twenty-four? Is she married?'

'No, but she's often photographed with a Muggle rock star. He doesn't know she's a witch, of course.'

'She's not part-Veela, is she?'

'No, not at all. So you needn't worry about talons.'

Harry immediately imagined long nails gently raking him, and he needed more water. 'How many women are left?' he asked.

'Another half-dozen,' said Randall. 'Will you make it?'

'I think so. But god, I deserve another Order of Merlin for resisting her just now.'

The next witch to enter was lovely but not nearly as sexy as Marina, and Harry found himself returning to normal. At least, whatever 'normal' is when I'm wearing a dressing gown and interacting with a parade of lingerie models.

Next to last was Sophie. 'Ma chère,' he exclaimed, and her eyes lit up.

'Mon joli Anglais. But why do you not glow?'

'Voilà,' he said, lighting up for her. 'It's killing me not to kiss you right now.'

'And I want desperately to touch you,' she said. 'But I mustn't.'

He held up a hand. 'How close can we get?'

She lifted her hand in front of his without touching it. 'I feel your energy.'

Their eyes locked, and he was at risk of kissing her when Amanda said, 'Could you stop glowing? You didn't with anyone else, and I want a straight comparison.'

'Dommage,' said Sophie, smiling, and Harry let his glow fade. They chatted affectionately for a few minutes before Randall said, 'We're all set.'

'What are you doing next Sunday night?' he asked.

'That depends where I am working. If I don't have a job in London, I might be elsewhere.' There was a saucy gleam in her eyes.

'We'll see, then,' he replied, and he grabbed her hand in spite of himself.

She briefly interlaced her fingers with his before trailing away. 'À la prochaine,' she said, leaving the room.

After she left, Harry said, 'You know we have a history, right?'

'Yes, that's why we brought her in,' said Randall. 'Otherwise her colouring isn't the best match.'

Harry couldn't argue—he knew Marina's blonde hair would complement his own colouring, and she was certainly sexy enough. But Sophie!

The final witch was beautiful, just like all the others, but Harry knew who the top contenders would be. He changed back into his clothes and joined the others in front of a wall covered with photographs.

'Who should we consider besides Marina and Sophie?' asked Estella. No one spoke, so she took down all the other photographs, leaving the two finalists.

'His alchemy with Marina was exceptional,' said Amanda. 'And her colouring is ideal.'

'But the tenderness with Sophie was unmistakable,' said Estella. 'That wasn't just lust.'

'There was no shortage of lust,' said Amanda. 'Trust me, I saw the photos with Harry glowing. He very clearly likes her.'

'Er, could you please make sure no one sees them?' asked Harry, and Amanda assured him she would.

'She's not as busty as Marina,' said Estella. 'Which works in our favour, since we could run the adverts more places.'

Randall frowned. 'If she were anything but a brunette, I'd be sold. But brown hair with black hair isn't interesting.'

And so the conversation ran for the next quarter-hour, with Estella favouring Sophie, Randall and Amanda favouring Marina, and their fathers reserving judgment. They kept pressing Harry for an opinion, but he was genuinely torn. His mind said Marina, but his heart said Sophie.

Claudius broke the stalemate. 'What about the narrative?'

'You mean their history together?' said Amanda.

'Yes. People love a story, and it makes it all less tawdry.'

'But still sexy,' said Randall. 'That's a good point.'

'We'll get free press,' said Estella.

'You'll get it regardless,' said Amanda. 'But more with Sophie.'

'Is that a decision?' asked Harry.

'What do you think?'

'I'm crazy about her. We had a brilliant weekend in Paris.'

'And that was when you first experienced Light magic!' said Randall. 'Yes, Sophie, definitely. Colouring be damned.'

Harry's heart soared. 'Perfect! Thank you.'

'Thank you!' said Estella. 'You were superhuman this afternoon, getting through that. Do you need a cigarette, or some Firewhisky?'

'No. just another Quidditch match to blow off steam.'

They made arrangements for the photo shoot the following Sunday afternoon. 'The goal is to leave you enough time for a light dinner before your vow ends,' said Amanda. 'And I'm thrilled for the opportunity—these photos will be exceptional.'

'Oh, one more thing,' said Randall. 'Harry, could you shave next time?'

Harry ran a hand along his cheek. 'Er, I did.'

'No, darling. Everywhere.'

'I'm sorry?'

'Not quite everywhere,' said Estella. 'But everywhere visible.'

One final indignity, thought Harry. 'Yes, all right.'

He had a lot of restless energy after the casting session, and he kept finding reasons to go up and down the stairs at Grimmauld Place. But he started feeling cooped up, so he changed into Muggle clothes and went for a walk. Is that a cafe? he wondered, noticing a new business in his neighbourhood. A peek inside revealed that it was, and he bought some tea and a pastry.

When he sat down to eat, he automatically tried catching the eye of a pretty customer, but she looked right through him. Ouch, he thought, feeling the sting of hurt pride. It just shows what a difference fame makes.

Nevertheless, he got a kick out of anonymity, and he was thrilled to navigate Muggle London without fear of glowing. Three cheers for this sodding vow! One week did the trick! He regretted agreeing to a fortnight and not talking Davina down to a week, but he suspected that wouldn't have been enough. The casting session would hardly have required any restraint, and he'd probably be engaging in chaste foreplay with Sophie.

He walked aimlessly for the next hour and Apparated home from an unfamiliar location. I should put on robes, he thought, looking at his Muggle outfit, but he was feeling nostalgic and decided not to change. Not wanting to offend Mrs Weasley, however, he brought not only flowers but a bottle of elf-made wine.

He knocked on the front door, expecting Kreacher to open it as he'd done before. But a beaming Molly greeted him instead. 'What are you doing outside?' she exclaimed. 'You're still part of our Floo wards!'

'I didn't want to presume,' he said, handing her the flowers and stepping inside.

'Nonsense! Kreacher, put these in water!'

The elf appeared, looking extremely relieved to see Harry. He took the flowers from Molly but looked pleadingly at Harry, in an apparent attempt to communicate.

Kreacher, said Harry telepathically. Is everything all right?

No, Master! The Red Lady made Kreacher very unhappy.

Before Kreacher could elaborate, Molly said, 'Come on, what are you waiting for? Get to it!'

Kreacher glanced at Harry, who nodded minutely. I'm so sorry, Kreacher. You can tell me about it in a minute, when she's not around, he said silently. The elf disappeared with a loud crack.

'Let me look at you ... Harry Potter-Black!' she said approvingly. 'But why are you dressed like a Muggle?'

'I went for a walk this afternoon and didn't feel like changing. But you look lovely—that dress suits you.'

'Flattery will get you everywhere,' she said, wrapping him in a hug.

He was pondering what that meant when he noticed his arms went farther around her than usual. 'Have you lost weight?' he asked when she released him.

'You noticed! Kreacher took in my wardrobe, and it's much more becoming now.'

'It is! Well done!' He pulled the wine from his pouch and said, 'Here's something for you and Arthur. I know you don't serve wine at family dinner, but I hope you'll find some use for it.'

She took the bottle and examined it. 'Oh, elf-made! Ginny told me about the party you threw for Hermione. Very posh!'

'Life's too short,' he said simply, hoping to join the others in the lounge.

'Harry!' called Bill. 'Ron said you were coming—how are you?'

He began to answer when he saw Fleur, who was talking to Ginny. 'Keep her safe!' screamed his mind, and he was overwhelmed by the need to protect her. Light magic tore through him, extending an invisible shield around her, and he could barely look away in case of a threat.

Bill noticed his reaction. 'I should have known it would affect you strongly. It's a Veela thing: as the pregnancy develops, the mother's allure draws protection.'

'Is she all right? What if something happens to her?' asked Harry, fortifying her shield.

'She's more than all right. Obviously she can defend herself, but I've given her a top-of-the-line protective amulet,' said Bill, indicating her necklace. 'It affects me strongly as well—I could scarcely leave her side when it started.'

Harry was desperately tempted to have Kreacher watch over her until the baby was born. 'Then why aren't you next to her? She's at least six feet away! Oh my god, it's urgent she say safe—there's nothing more important!'

'Try Occlumency,' said Bill. 'Trust me, it's all right.'

With great reluctance, Harry allowed Light energy to fill his head, which freed him from his compulsion. He looked at Bill for the first time since seeing Fleur and said, 'Blimey! Did you know about that before it happened?'

'Yes, her father warned me. But there's a difference between hearing about something and experiencing it.'

Fleur and Ginny joined them. 'Harry, you are adorable,' said Fleur. 'And Ginny, you were very foolish to let him go.'

'No, she wasn't,' said Harry. 'I was a sucking pit of need, and she fancies witches.'

'You said it, not me,' replied Ginny. 'I'd kiss you on the cheek, but I don't want you to break your vow. How's it going?'

'Almost halfway there. And don't bet against me, because you'll lose.' Addressing Fleur, he said, 'How are you feeling? I hope I didn't bowl you over just now.'

'You must be quiet!' she whispered fiercely. 'Belle-mère Weasley still doesn't know.'

'Hasn't she noticed? Or doesn't it affect witches?'

'It affects this witch, but that might be a gay thing,' said Ginny. 'And Dad clearly gets a hit of it, but so far it's only resulted in a steady stream of bezoars.'

'Bezoars?'

'Yes, he's been paranoid ever since he ate the slug-repellent Auntie Muriel sent by accident.'

'And Molly hasn't noticed?'

'No, unless you count the heavy foods she keeps sending me,' said Fleur, wrinkling her nose. 'She wants me to get fat—I know it.'

'She does not,' said Bill. 'That's just her way of showing affection.'

'Or maybe she sent it away to avoid temptation,' said Harry. 'Which seems to be working—she looks great.'

Ginny sniggered. 'You mean her "weight loss?" That's all thanks to Kreacher.'

'I know. He took in her clothing so it fits better.'

'She wanted you to believe that, but no. He took in her clothing and added the house-elf version of Extension Charms.'

'Is that possible?' asked Harry. 'And if so, why don't more wizards use them?'

'They need regular maintenance,' said Bill. 'Extension Charms don't last long in direct contact with wizard magic—if the witch or wizard is inside, that is. You'd have noticed it yourself if you'd constantly leaned against the sides of that tent.'

'Oh right, Hermione warned us about that.' Thinking of Molly, he said, 'So Kreacher's charms will wear off?'

'Yes, she'll get maybe six hours in each outfit. And she can't refresh the charms herself because they require too much power. Only a house-elf could do it, or maybe Dumbledore.'

'Or Voldemort,' said Harry. 'Clearly he missed his calling as a tailor.'

'Do you reckon they were both really fat, but kept charming their robes?' mused Bill.

'Harry, you're lucky you have a house-elf,' said Ginny. 'You'll be able to hide the evidence after you retire and turn into Ludo Bagman.'

'Oi! That's not going to happen!'

'No, you might go full Slughorn instead.'

Harry suddenly remembered Kreacher's agitation, and he had a hunch about the reason. Excusing himself, he went to the kitchen to check on him. 'Harry, do you need something?' asked Molly.

He looked at her dress again to evaluate Kreacher's handiwork. She's still plump, but more like that witch at the Boudoir, he thought, remembering an ample brunette wearing a dress with a plunging neckline. Harry hadn't seen Arthur yet, but he anticipated an enthusiastic response.

'No, but I need to talk to Kreacher. May I borrow him for a moment?'

'Yes, of course! He's your elf, after all.'

Don't let Hermione hear you say that, thought Harry. 'Kreacher, let's go outside and talk in private.'

'Nonsense,' said Molly. 'Go upstairs and use the master bedroom.'

Kreacher only nodded, and he followed Harry upstairs in silence. When they entered the bedroom, Harry closed the door and Kreacher immediately threw his arms around Harry's legs.

'Master is too kind! Kreacher has the best of all masters!'

'What's going on?' asked Harry. 'How did Mrs Weasley make you unhappy?'

'The Red Lady asked about Kreacher's relations.'

'Your relations? Other house-elves, you mean?'

Kreacher, who was still wrapped around Harry's legs, said, 'Yes. Kreacher's grandchildren.'

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. 'You have grandchildren?'

'Yes, Master.'

So many questions, thought Harry, but Kreacher was clearly still distressed. 'Would you explain why it was a problem when Mrs Weasley asked about them?'

Kreacher let go of Harry's legs and looked up at him. 'The Red Lady wants to steal them.'

'Steal them! To have a house-elf of her own?'

Scowling fiercely, the elf nodded.

'What did she say exactly?'

'The Red Lady said, "Kreacher, do you have any relations looking for a family to serve?"' he said, imitating Molly's voice perfectly.

'And what did you say?'

'Kreacher could not lie, so he said nothing. And the Red Lady asked again.'

'Did you end up answering her?'

'Kreacher told the Red Lady his offspring only serve House Black.'

'Then that must be true, right?'

Kreacher nodded again, only he looked fearful. 'Kreacher did not lie, but he disobeyed Master.'

What's the big deal? You disobey me all the time, thought Harry. 'How do you mean?' he asked. 'I never gave you instructions about that, did I?'

'No, Master. But a house-elf does not bind their offspring without Master's permission.'

Harry was lost, but he asked the most immediate question. 'If you can't do it without my permission, then you can't have actually done it, right?'

Kreacher shook his head forlornly. 'Kreacher did not say a house-elf cannot bind their offspring without Master's permission. Kreacher said a house-elf does not bind their offspring without Master's permission. Kreacher was very disobedient.'

'For now just forget the part about disobedience,' said Harry. 'What changed when you said your grandchildren only serve House Black?'

'Master now commands four new elves.'

Harry's jaw dropped. 'Four new elves? Do they know?'

'Yes, Master. They felt the preliminary bond. It will be complete when they meet Master.'

'Does it have to be me? I'm not the only member of House Black.'

'Master is Head of House. Master may assign them to other members of the family, but otherwise Master will have to give them clothes.'

That's not so bad, thought Harry. Maybe some of them will want clothes. And I can give the other elves to the cousins, unless Kreacher wants a helper. 'Where are they now?' he asked.

'Master's house.'

'And where were they this entire time?'

'France.'

I have four French house-elves?Things are looking up! 'Do they speak English?'

'Yes, Master.'

Kreacher looked less upset than before, so Harry asked more questions. 'Do you ever see them? Or will they be strangers to you?'

'Kreacher sees them on the tenteenth of every month.'

'The tenteenth? When's that?'

'It's after the nineteenth and before the twentieth.'

House-elves have a secret day? Does Hermione know about this? 'What about their parents?' he asked.

'Their parents serve Houses Malfoy and Lestrange. Nitta and Poffle were given to Miss Narcissa and Miss Bellatrix at marriage.'

Harry was reluctant to ask the next question. 'Are their parents brother and sister?'

'No, Master. Poffle's wife serves House Lestrange, and Nitta's partner served House Malfoy.'

A sinking feeling came over Harry. 'He served House Malfoy? You can't mean Dobby!'

'Yes, Master.'

Dobby abandoned his children? thought Harry, horrified. 'Why were they raised in France?'

'Because Kreacher's wife lives there.'

'You're married? And your wife lives all the way in France? And Nitta's your daughter?'

'Yes, Master.'

Harry's mind was reeling, and he had a million more questions, but Molly interrupted them. 'Harry, I need Kreacher back,' she called through the door. 'Are you done yet?'

Not even slightly, thought Harry. 'Just a minute.'

Kreacher was looking at him expectantly, and Harry said, 'We have to go back downstairs, but obviously we're not finished.' Kreacher's eyes bulged in alarm, and Harry said, 'You're not in trouble. We'll sort this out after dinner, and you don't need to worry about Mrs Weasley stealing your grandchildren.'

'No, Master,' said Kreacher brightly. 'Kreacher's grandchildren serve House Black.'

'Right. Let's go downstairs and take care of this later.'

They returned just as Arthur walked through the front door, presumably from the shed. 'I finally got it working,' he announced, when he noticed Molly. 'Great Godric! You look fantastic!'

Molly held a hand to her impressively perky bosom and said, 'How sweet of you to say so! Kreacher made some alterations for me.'

Ginny started coughing, but Arthur didn't notice. He tugged at the collar of his robes and walked towards his wife. For a moment it looked like he was going to grope her, but he seemed to recall they had company and said, 'Er, do you need help setting the table?'

Everyone else sniggered, since the table was elaborately set, with napkins folded into swans that were gliding over their plates. 'No, dear, but there's something you can help me with later,' she said, prompting more sniggers.

Dinner was a typical Weasley free-for-all with overlapping conversations:

'Fleur, dear, won't you have some shepherd's pie?'

'No, belle-mère, it is too much for me.'

'Don't tell me you're trying to lose weight!'

'But ask Mum for tips if you are.'

'Mollywobbles, be sure to save room for, er, pudding.'

'At least someone gets pudding tonight.'

'It's just one more week. I'm sure you'll survive.'

'No, I dated him for more than a year. He won't make it.'

'I will so!'

'Fleur, you're a bit pale. Do you need a bezoar?'

'Must you display that timer in the shop window? It's so unseemly!'

'Actually, we're partnering with the Twisted Niffler to host a party when Harry's vow ends.'

'What?' exclaimed Harry.

'It's great timing, on a Sunday night,' said George. 'People will pay to get in, and there'll be a cash bar and a buffet—nothing too heavy, mind you. We'll have countdown timers in plain view, and cigarette girls distributing romantic novelty items from the shop.'

'Romantic novelty items?'

'Not the condoms—we're still testing those. And we didn't think you'd want us giving out size-enhancing condoms on your big night.'

'Thank you, no.'

'But we have Snogglemints, which you tuck in your cheek or under your tongue, and they release different flavours the longer you keep kissing.'

'This isn't a Bertie Bott's product, I hope.'

'No, it's a Weasley original, and the flavours are all good. It starts with spearmint but goes through different fruits and sweets—I'll give you some next time you're in the shop.'

'What happens when the countdown ends?'

'That's anyone's guess, but we assume it'll be like New Year's, with a lot of kissing. Which is why we're making it easy for people to pair up beforehand—we've designed light-up badges indicating which genders you prefer, to facilitate mingling.'

'It sounds like a meat market,' said Ginny. 'I realise your broadcasts are racy, but isn't this a bit much for a kids' joke shop?'

'That's why we're not hosting it at the shop. And besides, the Twisted Niffler isn't the only pub planning an event that night, but they're the only one with the Weasley seal of approval.'

'Which is considered the next best thing to Harry's endorsement,' said Ginny, rolling her eyes. 'Harry, I hope you realise how much my brother is profiting off you.'

'He sacrificed an ear,' said Harry. 'I'll allow it.'

'Technically it wasn't a sacrifice,' said George. 'It's not as if I threw it into a volcano for the express purpose of saving your life.'

'Good point. Thanks for nothing.'

Arthur and Molly seemed to be in a particular hurry that night, and Harry saw them go upstairs with the bottle of wine he'd brought. He waited until Kreacher finished the washing up, not wanting to go home alone to an unfamiliar fleet of house-elves.

Kreacher left first, to warn the other elves Harry was coming. After an appropriate interval, Harry travelled by Floo to the reception hall, where he was greeted by his new staff. But before he could even look at the new arrivals, he felt the surge of the new bond and they flattened themselves at his feet.

'Please, stand up,' said Harry, but the house-elves didn't budge. 'Really, I can't meet you if I can't see you.'

Slowly the new elves rose, looking tentatively at their new master. All four of them wore tea towels Harry had never seen before, sporting the Black family crest. Two looked decidedly like Kreacher, but the other pair resembled Nitta and Dobby to differing degrees.

'Let's try this again,' he said. 'I'm Harry Potter-Black.'

When they heard the name 'Black,' they all fell to the floor again, and only after negotiating were they willing to stand in Harry's presence. He decided to address them one by one. 'What's your name?' he asked one of the Kreacher clones.

'Maclou,' said the elf, with only a hint of a French accent. 'Maclou is very pleased to meet Master.'

'It's nice to meet you too, Maclou,' said Harry, wincing at the unintended rhyme.

His sister was Flauby, and she seemed rather cowed by Harry. She attempted to hide behind Maclou, but Maclou kept scooting away, which meant they gradually migrated several feet before Kreacher loudly cleared his throat.

Plouche resembled Dobby and perked up when Harry addressed him. 'Plouche was trained as a valet by the Beauxbatons head elf,' he said brightly. 'Plouche will be delighted to serve Master, who is a very fine English gentleman.'

Kreacher stiffened, and Harry sensed that he was unwilling to relinquish his own role as valet. So Harry only nodded and told Plouche he was pleased to meet him.

Last was Lodie, who resembled Nitta, only with Dobby's large, tennis-ball-like eyes. 'Lodie is proud to serve such a brave Master,' she said. 'As brave as Papa Dobby.'

The other elves went rigid, and Plouche scolded her in rapid French. 'Master,' said Kreacher, 'Lodie is very wicked to praise the free elf Dobby.'

'No, she isn't,' said Harry. 'Dobby saved my life, and I'm flattered she thinks I'm as brave as he was.' Lodie curtsied in thanks, and he added, 'I hope you'll all be comfortable here until we get you sorted.'

Panic ensued, and Harry hastily said, 'You'll all serve House Black. The only question is which family, because I'm just one person and don't need five elves.' He'd thought about it during dinner and decided to offer an elf to each of the three branches of the Black family: Elliott, Margaret, and their brother Adam. He knew Andromeda wouldn't want one, based on her own experience of growing up with house-elves. 'It's almost impossible not to spoil a child with an elf waiting on them hand and foot,' she'd said more than once, so he wasn't worried she'd feel left out.

'Who will serve Master?' asked Maclou.

'Kreacher will,' said Harry. 'And one of you as well, if he wants an apprentice.'

Four sets of very large eyes all turned towards Kreacher, but the senior elf gazed directly at Harry.

Kreacher, said Harry telepathically.

Yes, Master!

I hope I didn't just put you in a bad position, but I know how much you like having another elf to boss around.

Yes, Master! Kreacher is a superlative boss!

Do you agree it would be good to keep one of your grandchildren here? You're welcome to visit the others whenever you like.

Yes, Master! Only Kreacher can train an elf properly! Kreacher's wife is not to be trusted.

Right, thought Harry. What about your wife? Is she bonded to another family?

No, Master. Kreacher's wife serves Beauxbatons.

Harry wondered if he could pull some strings and reunite her and Kreacher under the same roof. Should I enquire whether your wife could live here, with you?

Kreacher's eyes shot open in alarm. No, Master. Kreacher's wife was selected by Master Phineas Nigellus.

Say no more, said Harry silently. Do you have a preference about which elf should stay here?

Kreacher's answer was firm. Not Plouche. Master already has a valet.

I agree. What about Lodie?

Kreacher frowned. Lodie is disobedient. She praised the free elf Dobby.

Dobby was her father. I'm glad she's proud of him.

Lodie is naughty and needs proper training.

Fine with me, said Harry. Are we decided?

The entire exchange was silent, but the four new elves watched in fascination. Kreacher nodded, and Harry said, 'Lodie, if you're willing, you'll stay here and assist Kreacher. Unless you want freedom, of course.'

Harry half expected her to wail indignantly, like nearly every other house-elf he'd met. But she answered him calmly. 'Lodie will stay. Lodie wishes to serve House Potter-Black.'

'Bad Lodie!' cried Kreacher. 'Lodie serves House Black!'

'Lodie serves Master. Master is Harry Potter-Black.'

'We're splitting hairs,' said Harry. 'As long as there's a bond, I don't care what house you call it.' He turned to the others and asked, 'Do you want freedom? I won't have anyone serve against their will.'

This was a mistake, since the other three elves responded with the usual lamentations. But Harry was quick to reassure them. 'I promise I won't free you, unless you ask. You'll have a home with House Black for as long as you wish. I'll owl my cousins straight away to let them know what's happened.'

He dismissed the elves, and they vanished in a cluster of pops. Walking downstairs, Harry reflected on his strange day. It's just as well I couldn't spend the evening with Sophie, although she would have found this hilarious. He wrote letters to the three senior members of the Black family, anticipating their surprise as Muggle-borns to learn they were to become the master of a house-elf. He was tempted to deliver the messages by elf, but that seemed excessive, so he sent them with the jackdaws and owl.

I never anticipated having a house-elf, let alone five, he thought, wondering how Hermione would react. He hoped she'd give him credit for offering to free them, but he didn't consider it likely. It's a good thing I have Light magic, otherwise she'd probably consider me a hopeless degenerate.

When he returned to his bedroom that night, Banthora greeted him. 'I reminded the other portraits about the prophecy, and everyone agrees you're the subject. You'll find they treat you differently from now on.'

'Oh? Do they finally think I'm legitimate?'

'They did already, but they weren't pleased about your mother. But in the context of the prophecy, it all makes sense.'

'Really? Do you know the exact wording?'

'I didn't remember it, but Nestor Black was present when it was delivered, so he knew it precisely: "The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black will choose the scion of a lesser branch. Son of purity, son of sacrifice, his manhood will be of world renown. House Black will be reborn, greater than before."'

Harry was floored. 'It's about my mum! "Son of sacrifice"—that has to mean her!'

'There can be no doubt,' said Banthora. 'Cato and Hecate thought it meant the sacrifice they performed at Priapus's conception—a Dark and powerful ritual—but clearly it was your mother's sacrifice of her own life.'

'"Son of purity" has to be my dad,' continued Harry. 'Pretty clever of Ophelia to leave out the half-blood part, but in a way it's implied.'

'It is indeed. And now House Black will be reborn, greater than before.'

Harry frowned. 'But what does "greater than before" mean? Couldn't it just mean more evil and cunning?'

'Yes, that's what some of the portraits are hoping. They think you'll produce a lot of heirs, and that one of them will be a true Black.'

'A Dark wizard, you mean.'

'Correct.'

'Not if I can help it,' said Harry. 'But what do you think?'

'It's intriguing. Everyone already accepted that the family magic chose a Light wizard. But until now, no one thought to connect you with the prophecy, which implies—dare I say it—that Light magic is superior to Dark.'

Harry had been tempted all week to ask his next question. 'Did you practise the Dark Arts?'

'Of course I did.'

'Did you like them?'

'They were satisfying, and powerful,' she said. 'But I've seen you glow, and clearly there's no comparison.'

'There really isn't,' he said. 'I'm sorry you didn't get to experience Light magic when you were alive.'

'So am I, my dear. So am I.'

-––—––—––-

Author's note:

This story is categorized as Humor and Hurt/Comfort, but I've never been sure about the latter. Do you think that's an accurate genre, or would one of the others be better?

The reasons I chose Hurt/Comfort were because of Harry's lingering trauma, and also to warn potential readers that this fic delves heavily into emotions. But I'd like to know if you think another category would be a better fit.

Thanks, and stay safe.