Chapter 10: Gryffindor's Forbidden Lion

My hotel room sucked. You would have thought since the conference was in Switzerland, magical Switzerland at that, with the sheer opulence of the hotel my room would match that and would be decent but no, not at all. It reminded me of my office at the Ministry of Magic, that tiny little thing that really needed a good TARDIS spell to make it bigger on the inside, because there was enough room for a bed, a dresser and whatever you wanted to call that excuse for a loo. Good thing that Melody and the kids decided to stay back at Colony House, because I don't think we could have fit them in the room.

I was just about to go down and complain, I was halfway out the door when the door next to me opened and a woman walked out, followed right away by a man who did a quick wand wave and locked the door.

"Oh, hello there." The man stuck out his hand. "Jamie Zipradder, New Zealand School of Magic. This is my wife Emily." He turned to his wife. "Dearest, I believe this is the man who wrote our textbook."

I shook his hand and then his wife's. "Hank Boyd. Very nice to meet you both. New Zealand, eh? Didn't know you'd adopted my text, but, very much appreciated." I hesitated for a moment but then couldn't help myself. "Hey, how'd you two fit in the room? Mine's so damn small I can barely move in there."

Emily looked at me oddly. "Whatever do you mean? Ours is lovely."

"Ah." Jamie held up his hand and tapped his index finger to his head. "I've got it. I don't think they've ever had a guest like you, professor. Have to activate it with your wand."

"Oh." I rolled my eyes. "That explains it."

Zipradder turned to his wife. "Professor Boyd is mostly Muggle, so his magic is..."

"Basically non-existent." I finished his sentence, as he looked like he was going to struggle to say it without offending me. "I can light my pipe and that's about it."

"Professor, Emily and I were on our way down to have a drink. If you'd like we can sort your room and then you're welcome to join us. Shall we?"

"By all means." I went back and put my hand on the doorknob. The enchantment for the room allowed me to lock and unlock my room by just my hand. When I'd checked in the clerk had read a note attached to my reservation and then flicked his wand around my hand, so I knew it wasn't my magic that was working the door. I took a step inside and quickly moved over so that the Zipradders could enter.

Emily's eyes opened widely. "Oh my goodness, this is...this won't do." She turned to me and smiled. "I'd like you to think of what you'd like your hotel room to look like, within reason, please."

"Sure." I closed my eyes for a moment and then turned to her and nodded. "Got it."

"Perfect." She waved her wand around my head and then pointed to the middle of the room.

The walls started moving backwards, changing from the institutional grey color to a warm, cream color, extending back and eventually stopping to a room roughly twice the size of my Hogwarts rooms. The bed turned into the standard Hogwarts four-poster bed with curtains of a heavy gold brocade, Persian rugs partially covered the hardwood floor, snaking under a desk and a sitting area with a fireplace. The best part, though, was the loo, which changed to a nice glass-enclosed shower with a sunken tub.

"Holy shit." I shook my head in wonder. "First round's on me. Hell, the second as well."

"Capital." Jamie smiled. "Emily is a decorator. She does wonderful work."

"I'd say. Thanks again." I opened the door and smiled. "So what are we drinking tonight?"

We made small talk on the way down the hallway, took the lift and eventually ended up in the lobby of the Grand Raetian Hotel. It was grand, they weren't lying, as the place was on a wizarding scale of impressive; massive pillars, marble floors...hell, it reminded me of the Ministry for Magic crossed with Gringotts but if someone had mixed comfortable elegance in with it and then gave it a dash of 'fuck you we're wealthy' for the hell of it. The whole place was filled with witches and wizards in robes of differing colors and quality, which made me stick out like a turd in a punchbowl in my tweeds.

"I believe the bar is through there." Jamie pointed across the lobby. "I daresay we'll run into some of the early arriving crowd."

"So you know a lot of them?" I felt even more uneasy. "This thing a regular occurrence?"

"Oh, I know quite a few from different visits, the occasional letter and their publications." Jamie shrugged. "As for the conference, unfortunately it is not a regular event. I believe it has been ten years or so since we've had one. The Society is rather lax on that point."

"Society?" We had arrived at the bar. I opened the door to let them enter ahead of me. "What Society?"

"The Society for Muggle Studies and Integration. That's the new name, it used to be something else but I can't quite remember what it was."

We threaded our way through the tables, finally arriving at one near a window, giving us a full moonlit view of the Alps. After we were seated a waiter came over and I ordered a bottle of firewhisky. It was the least I could do for them after what they'd done to my room. Emily politely declined the firewhisky, as she said it gave her headaches, so I flagged down the waiter again and ordered her a nice glass of wine. Cost a helluva lot more than a glass at the Leaky but I didn't care.

For the next hour it was a very pleasant visit. Jamie filled me in on his school, how they'd adopted my text after it was recommended by a colleague at Houdini in the UMS. I felt bad, asking him so many questions, but he seemed oddly excited to answer everything, going into detail about the Society, how it had been very marginalized at first due to the low esteem Muggle Studies held in most magical schools. He pointed out a few of the other professors in the bar who were there for the conference, a woman from Japan, a big bearded guy from Greece, a guy who wore clothes that looked like a crazy mix of the Matrix and a Renaissance Fair covered with a green robe who apparently taught Muggle Studies in Canada and was rumored to have a very hot blonde Headmistress named Galilea something or other. Apparently it was all the gossip that this Hunter guy, Mr. Renaissance Matrix, was sleeping with his Headmistress. I guess that just isn't done, even in Canada.

Finally, though, Jamie jumped slightly in his chair, like Emily had kicked him under the table. He cleared his throat, took a drink of firewhisky and glanced at me nervously. "So, Hank, you're friends with Harry Potter. That's what I hear, anyway."

I saw the expectant look on Emily's face and figured it out. They were fans of Harry's. "Yes, he's a friend of mine. He and Ginny."

Emily leaned forward, her half-empty wine glass in her hand. "Is it true that you're Albus' godfather?"

Not for the first time I felt bad for Harry and Ginny; bad enough that they were famous enough that people bothered them but their children were celebrities as well. "Yep, that's right. Ginny's the godmother to my daughter Virginia as well."

"And what about Hermione Weasley?" Emily took another drink. "Is it true what those books say, she's leaving her husband for Harry?"

"Those books?" I paused for a moment. "Aw shit, you mean those Potter Adventure Series books? Those are a load of crap. Don't believe a damn word of those things."

Jamie gave his wife a fleeting look of disgust. "Emily, you know what I think of those things."

"I know, Jamie..." She gave him a pointed look. "...but they're so entertaining. I knew they couldn't be true, and now we know somebody who can verify that. This one isn't a Potter Adventure Series book, this is a bit different"

She reached down, picked up her purse, put it on the table and stuck her arm in all the way to her armpit. Apparently Hermione Weasley isn't the only person who knows that undetectable extension spell. After a few moments she pulled out her hand, clutching a book.

"I just bought this before we left, so I would have something to read while Jamie's at the conference since I've been absolutely forbidden to go to the shops." She put a small book on the table. "It's just come out; they were selling so fast that I knew if I didn't buy a copy I wouldn't get one. Here, I'll make you a copy." She flicked her wand and one Gemino spell later a second copy sat next to the firewhisky. "You'll have to read it quickly, though, as the copied book will disappear after a few days."

There, on the table, in lurid faux-red leather with tacky gold trim was the book titled Gryffindor's Forbidden Lion, and underneath that, in a smaller font, Part one of the the Harmony Rising Series. The picture on the cover showed Harry, very muscular and shirtless, with a the Sword of Gryffindor in his hand looking at Hermione. I think it was supposed to be Hermione, because I've never seen her look like that and we've done family holidays with the Weasleys to the ocean and I've seen her in a one-piece swimsuit. There's no way Hermione has a set of tits like that, and the artist gave you a pretty damn good look at them as she was barely covered up with a Gryffindor scarf. Off in the background, much smaller, the artist drew Ron looking angry and shaking a fist.

"What the fuck, you've got to be kidding me." I picked up the duplicated copy and looked over to the Zipradder's. "Sorry 'bout the language, but this, this..."

Emily put her hand on mine. "Hank, I know it isn't like this. It's horrible, really, but it is entertaining to read in that 'disaster you can't look away from' sort of way. I'm sure the Potters and the Weasleys are all quite happy."

"Thank you." I nodded at her. "They are, really. Sure, they have their ups and downs like everybody else but I can't see them with anyone else. I'm sorry, I'm just...this shit makes me mad. They have to put up with so much from the media, and that one picture from that tournament in the papers when Hermione hugged Harry just..."

"You mean the Tri-Wizard Tournament picture?" Emily looked at me, somewhat embarrassed.

"Yeah, that one." I pushed my glasses to the top of my head. "The fact that you know exactly which picture I was talking about, see, that's part of Harry's problem. Everybody knows his history. I know, I know." I waved off any apologetic comments before they could happen. "It's not your fault, Muggles follow celebrities and the British royal family the same way. It's just different when it's your friends."

After that the drinks wound down rather normally. Jamie asked me about the paper I'd be presenting, the one I'd hastily put together and revised about a million times about teaching Muggle Studies from a Muggle perspective, told me a little about the one he'd be presenting, and then we did what most academics at conferences I've been to always did; we talked about textbooks. He really liked my textbook but indicated that he'd customized some of the exercises and added some content that was specific to New Zealand. That got me thinking that I should get a copy of some other textbooks for different cultures to see if I could add anything to my own text. After all, when its as easy to visit another country and culture by simply touching a portkey, students will need to know what to do so they don't stick out like a sore thumb. Bad enough to be a tourist in a different country and not know the customs, but doing that as a witch or wizard just added to the complexity. Emily professed a desire to visit the UK to do the whole 'Potter Tour' but I didn't hold that against her at all; hell, I'd done the whole tour of London with Hermione to look at all the historical landmarks, wizarding and Muggle, when I'd first arrived at Hogwarts, so I offered to be their tour guide.

We parted as new friends, promising to get together later during the conference, so I headed back to my room in a slightly inebriated fashion, kicked off my shoes, ditched my jacket, pulled off my bow tie and sat down in my wonderfully redecorated room. The leather chair sunk comfortably so I picked up that stupid book. Much to my amazement an ornate, decorative steel pillar shot up from the floor at the edge of my chair, expanding on top to display a marble ashtray. After I fished out my one pack of cigarettes I'd brought 'for emergency purposes' I lit a smoke with my wand. Damn, sometimes I love magic.

-ooo-

Harry Potter sat at his desk in the Head Auror's office at midnight and looked at the reports. Fourteen attacks against Muggles, each filed within the last week, and all centered around a specific area. He took out his wand, snapped it at the paperwork and then towards the map of England on his wall. Small red dots popped on the map, indicating each attack. He shot out of his chair, shoving it aside, and ran to the wall. There, in a perfect circle, the attacks centered around one specific Muggle house.

The house of Hermione's parents.

The promise he had given his wife echoed through his head, and he replayed the scene in his mind from the last two weeks. Ginny had given him an ultimatum; her or Hermione. He had promised Ginny that Hermione was like a sister to him, one of his best friends, and that he couldn't just cut her out of his life. It was to no avail, as Ginny demanded that he give her up, only speaking to her at family occasions as Hermione was married to her brother Ron. Steeling himself to lose a part of his soul, he had reluctantly agreed to Ginny's demand.

But things had changed. The red dots pulsed on the map, growing brighter and brighter, like warning lights. Before he could act another series of incident reports zoomed in as paper airplanes, unfolded, and landed on his desk. Three more dots zoomed into life on the map, closer and closer to the one house he knew he shouldn't enter, the house that he knew could change his life.

"Blast it all to hell, I have to go. This is Auror business." He pivoted from the map, summoned his Auror robe and began to leave but just before he left the office he stopped. With slow, measured steps he walked over to the portrait of Sirius Black that hung on the wall. Time seemed to stretch out before him, eons and ages of time, of choices, of decisions, paths not taken, wrong turns, and finally, finally he summoned that well of deep Gryffindor courage and spoke to the portrait.

"Sirius, I need it."

Sirius Black, resplendent in a crimson velour robe, turned his immaculately coiffed visage to his godson. "If you do, pup, there won't be any turning back. You do this and everything changes."

"But I have to, Sirius. She's in trouble."

"Someone's always in trouble, Harry, and she's the brightest witch of any age. She can handle herself."

"Not if they're after her mum and dad. I've lost mine, Sirius, I won't let her lose hers. Not like this."

Portrait Sirius closed his eyes as a single tear ran down his chiseled features. "You've made your decision. Beware of what happens next. You know what this means." After a pause he opened his eyes and stared at his determined godson. "Say the words."

With a deep breath Harry's green orbs burned into Sirius' chocolate brown eyes. "I, Harry James Potter, require the Elder Wand."

Sirius nodded, slowly, gravely and turned to him. "And why do you require the Death Stick?"

A lump formed in Harry's throat. His stomach turned over and he felt his blood course through his body, his magic surging around him until it almost made him float. "To save my..my...to save my true love."

"So mote it be." Sirius stood up from his chair in the portrait, walked a few paces back into the background and opened a large chest. From the chest he took a box made of goblin silver, engraved and wrought with the finest metalwork and gleaming with gems. With a final look back at his godson Sirius threw the box in the air and it vanished.

Harry reached forward, touched the frame of the portrait and flicked a small lever, causing the portrait to swing aside as if it was the page of a book blown by the wind, revealing a small inset into the wall. There, on the ledge of the hidden cupboard, was the real chest of finest goblin silver. With trembling hands he reached forward, lifted the lid and plucked the Elder Wand from it's resting place of purest white silk. The instant Harry's hand touched the wand the room melted away, shimmering as if it was fog, revealing a green and verdant clearing in a quiet forest. Two figures approached him, one on horseback riding on a midnight black charger, the other on the back of a gleaming, golden griffon.

"You have accepted your destiny." The black rider stopped and dismounted. "We meet again, old friend."

"I have." Harry stared at Death. "I made you a promise, when I defeated Voldemort, that I would not use the Elder Wand unless the need was too great. That time has come."

The massive man on the griffon pulled the reins, and as the creature lowered it's massive head he stepped down and approached them. "Harry Potter, my true heir, your die is now cast. For what reason do you now take up the Death Stick?"

Harry stared at Godric Gryffindor, locking his green eyes to Gryffindor's gleaming orange orbs. "To save my true love, a fellow Gryffindor."

Godric unsheathed his legendary sword and pointed it at Harry, letting the point rest on Harry's robes right above his heart. "You are married to a Gryffindor, Harry Potter. You have children with this woman, yet you claim your heart is owned by another. This blade is a truth blade, Harry Potter. If your words are true you will gain all your heart desires, but if your words are false it will pierce your heart and Death will take you. Speak."

"I do love Ginevra Molly Potter nee Weasley, but she is not my true love. My true love is Hermione Jean Weasley nee Granger. I have always loved her. I did not pursue this love and another claimed her before I could summon the courage to profess my love. If it had been just any wizard I would have, but the man who claimed her was my best friend Ronald Weasley. I cared too much for their happiness to sunder their joining, so I took solace in finding love in another. But now, now it is too much. Hermione is in danger, mortal danger, and I cannot bear to think of her not in this world. I know of the ramifications of my choice, I know what I do will tear worlds apart, but I will risk it all for true love. I know Hermione's heart belongs to me, as mine to her. I know this with ever fiber of my being, my magic knows it, my heart knows it, and everyone knows it but I have been a coward. I will not be a coward, Godric Gryffindor. I summon the courage of your house, of my house, to strain beyond the bounds of human law and custom to claim what is right and true and deep within my soul. I will save her and stay with her always."

Godric's blade hovered near Harry's breast for a moment and then shot out of Godric's hand into the air and stuck itself blade first at Harry's feet. Godric smiled at him. "Your words are true. Go into battle, Harry Potter, but not as an Auror. Go into battle as the Heir of Gryffindor."

Harry's robes fell away, his clothing disappeared, leaving him naked in the clearing. Suddenly a large swath of black and gold tartan appeared at his waist, encircling him, forming a kilt. Heavy black leather boots sprang up from his feet and wrapped around his calves like a second skin. The sword of Gryffindor once again rose into the air, hovered around Harry's back before it slid into a newly formed leather sheath that strapped across one shoulder and down to the thick, black leather belt and appeared at his waist.

Godric Gryffindor took thunderous steps close to Harry, so close that Harry could feel the magic radiating off of the man. Once again they locked eyes. "Harry James Potter, from this moment on, the entire world will know you are my heir. Entire vistas will open to your eyes, magic you have never dreamt of will flow ceaselessly from your wand. I now mark you as my heir."

Harry steeled himself as Godric put his palm over Harry's heart, the pain was fleeting, nowhere near the imagined pain that Harry had thought of if Hermione was no longer in the world. When Godric stepped back Harry looked down and there, glowing on his flesh, was the black and gold symbol of Godric Gryffindor.

Death stepped forward. "I would aid you but the laws of magic forbid it. Know this; the next time I see you shall be the last. Harvest souls for me with the wand."

The forest glen faded away, leaving Harry back in his Auror office, clad in the rainment of Gryffindor himself. Without another word he ran to the Apparition point, ignoring the cries and shouts of those in the Ministry, and Apparated to a location he knew all too well, Hermione's house, with love and battle blood surging through his veins.

-ooo-

"Oh for the love of, goddamn it!" I threw down the book. "That's the biggest bunch of fucking horseshit I've ever read!"

Right after that there was a knock on my door. From outside I heard Emily Zipradder's voice. "Everything ok in there?"

"Just a minute." I threw the book on the floor, got out of my chair and opened up the door. Emily, thankfully, was in a very tasteful and non-revealing dressing gown. "Sorry, I was reading that book you...what a piece of shit."

"I told you, Hank, it's horrible. Fun to read because we all know it's not real, but still fun to read."

"All right in here?" Jamie stuck his head around the corner.

"Yeah, I'm fine, it's just this damned book." I went over and picked it up off the floor. "Fuck it, I know I'm not in the mood for another drink but do you want some tea? I don't think I'm anywhere close to sleeping now."

Conferences are weird, they're kind of like summer camp. If you would have told me beforehand that I'd be sitting around at 2 in the morning drinking tea and talking to people I'd just met earlier that evening, all of us in our pajamas, talking with those people about books I would have asked you what you were drinking, but there I was. I called a room service house elf and had tea brought up.

"I don't think I can read anymore of this stupid fucking book." I held it up and it slipped from my hand, falling onto the floor, and started disappearing. "Good fucking riddance. It got off easy, I was going to burn it."

Emily shrugged. "I guess my spell wasn't as strong, must have been the wine."

"Yeah, well I don't care. Fine with me." I took a sip of tea. "I wasn't that far in and I don't think I would've been able to go much further, if I'm honest."

"Where'd you end off?" Emily looked at Jamie, who rolled his eyes. "Stop it Jamie, I know you don't approve but this is different. He knows them."

"Jesus, where did I end off? Hey, you guys mind if I have a smoke?"

Jamie looked over at Emily in disgust but waved his hand. "Go on, I know you want one."

Emily looked chagrined but smiled. "It's been years but I think the occasion calls for one. Spare a fag?"

"Ppppffftpt." I did the noise thing with my lips. "By all means." As I took out my pack another ashtray did the magic popping-up thingy from the floor next to Emily's chair near the fireplace. "You'll get to see my only trick." I handed her the cigarettes, lit her smoke with my wand and then lit my own. "Ok, the last part I read was when Harry got all kilted up and was running off with the Elder Wand and the Sword of Gryffindor to save his true love Hermione."

She exhaled. "Oh, I've missed that. Shut up, Jamie. It gets rather mental after that. Tell me, you teach at Hogwarts, was Gryffindor a Scotsman?"

"No idea whatsoever. School's in Scotland, but nobody ever said anything. All the stuff we have on Gryffindor shows him like a medieval knight or something. So what happened? Can you give me the Cliff's Notes version?" That drew blank stares. "Sorry, Muggle thing, can you give me the very brief highlights?"

"Well..." Emily took another drag. "The book changes scene from there and goes to Hermione's parent's house. Apparently she's been staying there for quite some time as she's left Ron. Nobody knows about it because they hushed it up. It comes out in drips and drabs but Ron, and I apologize in advance because he's a friend of yours, but book Ron wants her to leave the Muggle world altogether, which means severing her relationship with her parents. She doesn't take it well and that's one of the reasons why she left him and moved back with her parents. You find out that Ron is the one who's orchestrating all the attacks on Muggles, trying to prove to Hermione that the Muggle world isn't safe. He's hired some low-level thugs from Draco Malfoy..."

"Wait a fucking minute." I shook my head. "Ron Weasley hired thugs from Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes." She nodded. "In the book Draco is the head of a crime organization. That never gets explained. The plan was that Malfoy's thugs would assault her parent's house, killing them, and Ron would arrive in the nick of time to save Hermione and then she'd realize that the Muggle world was completely unsafe for a witch like her and he'd be her knight in shining armor."

"Christ, this just keeps getting worse." I looked at the clock. Too late/early to go to sleep. Fuck it. "Ok, I'm probably up for the night now. Sorry to keep you guys up, and if you want to go to sleep that's fine..."

"Oh, don't worry." Jamie smiled. "I have a fresh stock of Pepper Up potions. Necessity for every conference, plus with the time difference we deal with it's not a problem whatsoever."

"Great, thanks." I turned to Emily. "So what happens next?"

"Well..." She took a sip of tea. "...Harry shows up as the Heir of Gryffindor and just absolutely lays waste to all of the Malfoy henchmen with the Elder Wand, completely ruining Ron's plan. That leaves him and Ron in the house, Hermione and her parents are absolutely terrified, and she runs to Harry. That sets Ron off and he begins to argue with Harry. Harry still has the Sword of Gryffindor in his hand and since it's a truth blade he points it at Ron and asks him if Hermione is the one true love of his life. Ron says yes but the blade goes right through his heart, telling everyone that he was lying. At that point the Aurors bust in, see Harry sticking a sword through the heart of his best friend and try to arrest everyone but Harry does some unheard of magic and forces everyone back. Hermione clings to him and he raises the Elder Wand above his head and the two of them disappear. Oh, I forgot to mention, the author spends quite a bit of text describing what Hermione is wearing, or, more appropriately, what she isn't wearing. According to the author Hermione only sleeps in thong knickers and the temperature in the house is quite cold." She blushed.

"Fucking hell!" I stood up and began to pace around the room. "This is...I mean, the other ones were bad, but at least they had some basis in fact. I mean, Harry and Ron and Hermione and Neville and everybody did get rid of Voldemort, that really happened, the other ones just took those facts and ran wild with it, but this? This is complete and utter bullshit." I stopped suddenly. "Emily, you said you just bought the book the other day. The other one disappeared, thank Merlin, but could I see your copy? There might be a clue on who published it or something. I have no idea if Harry knows about this, but he should, I just hope to God he doesn't read the damn thing. Or Ron? Fuck me, if Ron reads this thing..."

"Back in a moment." Emily stubbed out her cigarette and left the room.

I stood there by the fireplace mantle and stared at the picture of a Quidditch stadium, the tiny players zooming about on painted broomsticks.

"I'm sorry this is so upsetting, Hank." Jamie sat back in his chair and took a sip of tea. "I didn't realize..."

I waved him off. "Not your fault at all, not at all. We've been trying to figure out who the hell is publishing these things. Apparently they're putting out illegal versions of my book as well. Not the textbook, the one where..."

"Useless?" Jamie nodded. "I've read it, very entertaining. Interesting to see our world from a Muggle perspective. I assign it to my seventh years."

"No shit? My book is assigned reading? Damn. Thanks."

The door opened and Emily returned, book in hand. "Here we are."

I took the offered book and began looking at the pages where the publishing information is usually printed. As I expected, not a goddamned thing. Nothing. Zip, zilch, nada. "Crap, I was really hoping there'd be something there. I wanted to write down something to give to the Aurors so they could investigate."

"Why don't you keep it. I finished it earlier this evening." She glanced at the clock. "Or should I say yesterday?"

"Thanks, Emily. I appreciate it." I couldn't help it; even with all the excitement and tea I yawned. "Damn. What time does this thing start?"

Jamie glanced at the clock. "Oh, in about four hours."

"Fuck." I sat back down. "I'm gonna need gallons of tea. No, coffee, strong-ass house elf coffee."

"Perhaps I can help." Emily gave me an inquisitive smile. "I have some dreamless draughts, they usually put one to sleep for a good eight hours and you wake up quite refreshed. I could modify it slightly to only give you a few hours sleep. Would that help?"

"You're a lifesaver. Sure, that'd be great."

-ooo-

I almost missed breakfast. Emily's dreamless draught was a wonder, because I felt as fresh as a daisy when I woke up. Slept a wee bit longer than I'd planned but if I hadn't had the thing I would have probably been awake in time for supper and missed the first whole day of the conference. I put on my suit but this time remembered and put on my robe, my favorite one, the one George got me years ago that had the quill pattern plus some other enchantments. I made my way downstairs and found Jamie sitting at a table, drinking coffee with two other professors when I arrived down at the official conference breakfast area so I took a seat next to him. He introduced the two other people at the table and I shook hands with them. One of the professors was a stout, middle-aged guy with a salt and pepper beard named Lewis that taught at Pryderi, over in Wales. Didn't know Wales had it's own magical school, learn something new every day. The other woman looked familiar, and before I could place her it hit me; she looked like Malfoy's voodoo granny, just without the dreadlocks, a few more pounds and actually wearing clothes that covered more than 10 percent of her body. I didn't tell Professor Okoro, from Kenya, that I might have met one of her very distant relatives. How the hell would I explain that one?

I had just finished a very quick breakfast when the conference started, so I took a last sip of house elf coffee and followed them into the big lecture hall. The moment I stepped through the door a badge appeared on my robe with my name and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry printed below in a very ornate script. I took my seat, took out a notepad, uncapped my fountain pen (which drew some odd looks) and sat there waiting until a wizard in billowing green robes stepped forward to the lecturn.

"Welcome Muggle Studies Educational Professionals! My name is Gustav Romer, I'm the Muggle Studies professor at the Alpine School of Magic here in Zurich. It does my heart good to see so many of you here. The schedule for the conference will appear on your tables momentarily, but until then..."

I'm embarrassed to admit it but I kind of zoned out on him because my schedule did appear in front of me. I took a look, quickly scanning through the schedule of papers to be presented and finally found my name. There it was, dead last, four in the afternoon on the last day of the conference. I've been to educational conferences before so I knew exactly what that would mean; people would lose interest by that point, try to make an early exit and the attendance at that presentation would be minimal at best.

I listened to the rest of Romer's introduction and it was the standard set of rules at any other conference. Attendance for the presentations was not mandatory, participants were free to sit in on any reading they wished, there would be a break for lunch, after the last session for the day there would be a reception with free food and booze, a late start the next day, blah blah blah. Same old shit. I thought about how many Galleons Headmaster Titus had approved for my attendance at the conference, how excited he was that I would be attending and representing Hogwarts, how it would be a good chance for me to meet other professors and talk about my textbook, all that stuff, but the only thing running around in my mind was the fact that I had in my possession another damn book that used my friends for bad fiction, this time horrible romance fiction. All I wanted to do was to get up, go find an owl and send a letter to Harry that he needed to send someone over here or wherever they were selling those shitty novels to find out exactly what the fuck was going on. More importantly, to find out where the books were coming from and where the gold was going. The whole thing stank to high heaven, and for some reason I thought of that old cereal commercial on tv when I was a kid, telling you to follow your nose, it always knows. It didn't take a cereal mascot to figure out that the Potter Adventure Series and whatever the hell the Super Harry love Hermione series were called stunk worse than dragon dung.