I should have figured out how to fly back from Egypt with the Grangers.

Like cafeterias, there were only really a limited number of ways to do security checkpoints, so Britain's international portkey terminal wasn't that different than airport security other than being in an actual castle somewhere on the island, with stone walls and tapestries in the traditional wizarding style. All translocation from outside the island was theoretically (who knew how many holes the system had?) redirected to this one giant room full of runic arrays. Aurors had sniper posts around the room in case someone obviously bad landed, and then everyone had to progress through a corridor that was doing other kinds of passive and active scans. Then I reached the declarations desk, where I had to turn over my foci and enchanted items to make sure they weren't some kind of contraband.

I suspected, based on my understanding of the runes I saw on the scanning arrays, that there were a huge number of ways to sneak through. If I was willing to put the work in, I could probably make a container that showed as completely mundane, no matter what was inside. A little polyjuice into a non-problematic citizen and any Death Eater could get in.

But it wasn't that bad. No worse than airport security. The problem was that if I'd come in on a plane, there probably wouldn't be reporters waiting to ambush me.

"Harry Dresden! Can I call you Harry?" the witch asked, somehow managing to intercept me and drag me into a corner between the security desk and where I would pick my gear back up. She was tiny, with aggressively-permed blond hair, horn-rimmed glasses, and other sartorial choices that made her look like she was here to interview for a job in a 1950s steno pool. A green dicta-quill and piece of parchment floated beside her, ready to take transcription. "Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet and Teen Witch Weekly. And I assure you that both of my publications are very interested in you! Now, Harry, let's start off with a soft quaffle: any chance that, as some readers have speculated, Sirius Black might be your father?"

"That's your softball?" I asked, vaguely feeling like we'd skipped the part where I agreed to be interviewed. "But, no. Even if I wasn't sure who my father was, wasn't Black still at Hogwarts in 75? And I think my mother left before he even attended." Obviously, they probably knew each other if she was over at my godmother's house all summer, but I wasn't going to explain that to a reporter. To try to distract her, I said, "I also never met him at Azkaban. I know that's a rumor, too. I was only there a few hours and it was a misunderstanding."

Somehow, the rest of my friends had been delayed coming through security, or were already out in the next atrium, so there was no rescue coming as she asked her next question, "Interesting! So why do you think this dark wizard is after you?"

I shrugged, "Have they proven that he's after me for sure? Have they even proven that he actually said, 'He's at Hogwarts?' Honestly, even if he did, maybe it was because he thought Voldemort," startled gasp from the reporter, "was still there. After all, I've banished him from the school twice now."

"A serious claim! The wizarding world is certain that You-Know-Who is dead nearly a dozen years!"

"Defeated, not dead," I shook my head. "Did they ever even find his body? I kind of feel like the country was so excited the war was over that they didn't do enough to prepare for the next time he or another powerful dark wizard showed up. Even if you don't believe I keep fighting Voldemort," hiss, "there's no doubt that his former minions are still out there. A couple of them kept attacking me last year. Did they ever catch the Lestranges? Isn't the Crouch guy still at large? Any one of those could make a bid to take over. Can you say that the political disagreements that let him gain followers in the first place are solved?"

Admittedly, part of that was rehearsed. Dumbledore figured I might have to talk to the media eventually, and had explained what he thought the wizarding public would accept. He'd talked me out of talking about the wraith, and certainly about the dark magic that was keeping him from dying fully.

"That's certainly a lot for our readers to think about! Speaking of readers, since Sirius Black is known to be one, do you have anything to say to him?"

I gave it some honest thought. No matter how bad the guy had wound up being, I didn't think I'd wish 12 years in Azkaban on anyone. "That he should cut his losses. Azkaban is cruel and unusual punishment. I can understand why he would do whatever he could to get out. But if he comes after me or anyone else at Hogwarts, he'll be right back in there. He should keep hiding. After all, I need to study for my NEWTs this year. I'd rather not have to fight off another dark wizard."

"Such confidence! Which is a great segue to my other publication… is the rumor true that you're taken, or can our Teen Witch readers hold out hope?"

"Taken, sorry. She's actually around here somewhere and I should get back to her…" I tried to use the excuse to cut the interview short. But then I saw quite possibly my least-favorite person on the planet striding up.

"Actually, Dresden," Dawlish smiled, smugly, "We need to take you into protective custody." The fair-haired auror was still trying to work the John Constantine look, tan trenchcoat, cigarette stains, and all. A couple of other aurors I'd seen around but didn't know were flanking him, and they had wands at the ready. I guess that explained how I'd gotten separated from my group for long enough to give an interview. And they were carefully in between me and my foci, still waiting for pickup across the room.

I stared, annoyed, at a point in the middle of his forehead. I didn't think he'd suddenly picked up mind-reading skills, but no reason to risk it. I hadn't met Rita Skeeter's eyes for the same reason. "Yeah? I've heard Hogwarts is the safest place there is."

"Yet, if that's where a murderer is going to try to kill you, it would be a shame for him to find you there," the man drawled, clearly thinking he had the upper hand.

"Headline: Overzealous aurors try to imprison an adult wizard and keep him from completing his education," I stated, glancing over at Skeeter. She looked absolutely delighted to be included in this little play, though I pretty much thought she must have been in on it in the first place to know when to ambush me.

"Just come along quietly, Dresden. The press will find this is on the up and up." Dawlish gritted out, once again remembering why he hated dealing with me. He gestured with his wand, and I felt like the clear implication was that I was defenseless.

"Accio staff," I said. "You might want to duck." I held my hand up and my staff sailed into my hand with a thunk, having flown lengthwise over all three aurors' heads to their great surprise. I thought Skeeter looked impressed. While I'd love to keep how much I could do without a focus secret, at least part of it was certain to have gotten back to Voldemort (assuming he hadn't personally seen what happened while he was in a cauldron and I was escaping from his deathtrap).

"Are you arming yourself in front of duly appointed aurors!?" Dawlish tried.

"Just retrieving my possessions. Or am I under arrest rather than under 'protective custody' like you said? Accio gear." With my staff to augment the spell, I was able to summon the rest of my stuff all in one go, a bundle of belt, bracelet, and amulet all flying across to me.

"Is Mr. Dresden under arrest?" Skeeter asked, painfully curious. The green quill hadn't stopped writing when our interview had ended, and was clearly recording the entire exchange.

"For his own safety, he needs to be under auror protection," Dawlish tried, but it was clear he was no longer having fun.

"Then I better get out there and meet back up with my auror escort, then, right?" I said, trying for deadpan but I probably let too much smug humor into my voice. "The Longbottoms are more senior aurors than you, right? War heroes? Great couple. Starting to be good friends. Not sure there's anyone else I'd be more happy to have watching my back."

"I did see them right outside," Skeeter offered, uninterested in clearing the smug glee from her own face. Dawlish glanced back at her, betrayed. I'd have to remember that she was a fickle ally.

"Fine. You're free to go," Dawlish basically snarled, twirling and leading his press gang away.

"We should schedule a time for a longer interview, Harry," Skeeter told me, assuming I owed her.

"I'll let you know once I'm sure what you print from the current one is fair," I smiled back.

Draco Malfoy wasn't the only one who was learning that it was useful to have a friend in the news business. Dealing with the Lovegoods was probably training wheels for this lady, but I felt like I'd picked up a few solid strategies.

She didn't seem totally happy with that, but smiled magnanimously anyway. "Enjoy your year at Hogwarts!"

I nodded and finally hurried out of the security room… right into a pair of dementors.

"Hell's bells!" I yelled—well, maybe shrieked a little—and held my staff in front of me trying to juggle my other foci that I hadn't been able to put on yet. It took me a second to realize I wasn't feeling the soul-crushing despair, even though there were dementors right next to me, and finally glanced down to see that they were contained in runic matrices around circles that had been chalked onto the floor.

"Guard dogs only, sir," the auror manning the checkpoint told me.

"Were those here before?" I asked, quick-stepping through the dementor gauntlet and into the anteroom proper. I hastily hung my amulet around my neck and held my shield bracelet in my teeth while I tried to buckle my belt back on.

"Special security upgrade for these times. They'd know Sirius Black no matter how he was disguised."

Maybe they had accounted for some of the security holes I'd noticed. "Fair enough," I said around the clasp of my bracelet, before finally getting my belt set and putting the bracelet back on my left wrist. "No, umm, no word of this?"

"Lips are sealed, sir. Happens to a lot of people," the auror gave me a faint smile. It was nice to see that not all of them had it out for me. Probably my Order of the Phoenix friends were a big help in that.

I finally exited into the "British side" anteroom, where we could take a portkey or apparate out, and realized there were several other exits into the room, and all of my friends were already in there, waiting. "Harry!" Mathilda quick-stepped up. "What kept you?"

"A reporter distracted me then Dawlish tried to take me into 'protective custody,'" I said, doing the air quotes and everything, despite nearly dropping my staff to do so. "All set, though."

"Good, good," Mrs. Weasley bustled up. "You almost missed the portkey to the alley. Let's get a move on!"

"Reporter, huh?" Mathilda asked as we were putting hands on the length of rope that served as our group portkey.

"Yeah. Oh! Umm… she also writes for Teen Witch Weekly and may have asked about who I was dating. The witches of Britain are apparently very interested."

"Harry! What did you tell h–" she didn't quite finish her question before the portkey triggered.