Special thank you to all my German translators, proofreaders, and contributors. You know who you are, and I'm super thankful for all the help :)

The morning after the party, even Harry slept in an extra hour.

It had gone on from a late lunch into an early dinner, and by the time the older folks had finished their traditional dances, made the nice small talk, and done their political due diligence, Harry's feet had already been sore.

Unfortunately for him, Sirius' energy hadn't lagged. With his manic influence, the alcohol-fuelled crowd had turned into some kind of 70s revival concert. The band had shocked Harry when it switched up to louder, rhythmic wizarding classics, such as The Magic Brick in the Wall and Gimbles in the Wabe, and they had instantly cleared the dance floor of couples, making way for the most incredible gyrating and hip-bumping and arm-flailing that Harry had ever seen.

It was around that time that someone charmed the lights, and someone else – Harry suspected Remus had been under orders, because Sirius was far too drunk to do it himself by then – had transfigured a giant glittering ball of mirrors to rotate near the ceiling, and the younger half of the crowd had promptly taken over the room to party until well past midnight.

A stream of party guests, some more familiar to Harry than others, appeared to come to the autonomous conclusion that Harry needed to be introduced to a variety of wizarding alcohol, never mind the legalities of his age, and by the time Dobby had snuck back to grab his elbow and guide his stumbling form back to bed, the party was hyped up and raucous and completely independent of Harry.

His vision was blurry and his head beginning to throb by the time Harry had cleaned himself up and fallen into his bed, which is why he was particularly disgusted by Sirius bursting into his library and study compartment early the next day – early for Sirius, at least – with far too much energy for someone who'd kept partying well into the wee hours of the morning.

His godfather had clattered loudly down the stairs, causing Harry's to anticipate…energy.

"So do you feel any different, Pup?" Sirius burst out, failing completely to adjust his volume to take Harry's headache into account. "What's new? Any new tingles," he wiggled his fingers symbolically, "to suggest your gifts have come through?"

"Ugh," Harry groaned, turning his head slowly on the desktop on which it lay. "No. I mean, maybe? How can I tell?"

"Oooh," Sirius nodded, some kind of realisation dawning in his eyes. "The body's adjusting, eh?"

Harry scoffed. "…I don't think that's the magic, Padfoot."

From the stairs behind Sirius, Dobby scuttled down and tugged Sirius over to whisper into his ear. Sirius' eyes widened incredibly.

"A hangover? From the piddly amount of alcohol you drank last night, kiddo? Where is the famous Potter tolerance to drink? How I have failed! I have failed you as your godfather! James would be so disappointed! How has it come to this!?"

Harry blinked slowly, his head still on his desktop. "You know you weren't the only one to get me a tankard last night, right?"

"Psh," Sirius deflected. "What's the difference between one drink and three or four…?"

Dobby tugged on his sleeve, and as Sirius bent down again, whispered one more time in Sirius' ear. Sirius' eyebrows rose.

"Really? Well then…" Harry watched him pause, visibly recalibrating, by the crinkles on his forehead and the scrunched-up eyebrows. His godfather's mood abruptly turned. "Well done, Padfoot you old dog! Go me! Another party tradition achieved, Harry! And you only fourteen too! Great Godric, I'm the best. You are so lucky to have me; not everyone takes their godparently duties so seriously, you know?"

"Well—"

"Siriusly! Geddit?"

Stifling a huff, as fond as it would have been, Harry fought a little harder to wake up. He dragged his head off the table with reluctance. "Yeah, thanks, Padfoot. It was a good night for me too, at least."

Sirius threw himself down to sit on the bottom stair with far more energy than grace, and fixed Harry with a surprisingly sharp gaze. "But what's happening in your body today, kiddo? Do you fell any different? Has your magic…I dunno…grown? Changed? What do you feel like?"

"I feel like crap," Harry admitted honestly, rubbing his temples, "but I think that's the double vision and the pounding headache, frankly. I'm getting these funny colours shimmer around things that I look at. You, for example, are surrounded by green. The bloody window seems like it's blazing. Not the light, I mean. But the…" He flailed. "Bloody colours."

Sirius sniggered.

Harry rolled his eyes, and then winced.

"I don't really know what changes I should be experiencing, but," he nibbled his lip a little too hard than he meant to, "I feel…the same? I mean, I don't know what my magic feels like. Normally, I mean. Isn't it just…there?"

Sirius barked a laugh that made Harry wince, a red kind of pain shooting across his temples and making the funny-coloured outlines blur across in his vision. "Fair enough. Do you feel any less you, then? Or more you, I suppose I should say?"

Harry stretched, inhaling as he did the scent of homebrew and fire-whiskey that Sirius still carried from last night. "Nothing yet. Maybe we should wait a bit? I mean…it's a big change, right? It won't happen immediately."

"Nothing at all?"

Harry found himself twisting, resting an elbow against the back of his study chair, and resting his chin against his fist a little too jarringly for comfort. His brows crinkled. "No. I don't feel different at all. I mean, I felt pressure or whatever when Mr Lloyd-Elliot was going through the…what do you call it, the ritual? The words? And then the pressure went away and all. But I thought I'd feel something when I signed the thing? My body changing, or accepting more magic…or something. But, no. I'm just, y'know, little old me."

"Huh." Sirius sprawled back against the stairs with the casual nonchalance of a younger man. "Have you tried magic?"

"I—" Harry began, before the shock of secret-keeping ran down his spine. "Er…not until I'm back at Hogwarts, of course. I can't use my wand until then. Naturally."

Sirius shot him an odd look. "Does the Trace follow you even in Germany?"

"I…don't actually know," Harry admitted. Obviously, he'd never had to worry about it owing to how he didn't have the Trace on his wand at all. "Er…but I'm very visible, what with all the reporters following me around, so I figured I shouldn't risk it," Harry lied.

"Huh." Sirius deflated a little, and Harry remembered with a twinge that his godfather was a risk-taker at the best of times.

"You haven't seen this before?" Harry tried hopefully. "Magic birthday gifts?"

Sirius shrugged. "No? I've been to baby-showers and naming rites, but never for a grown wizard. I don't know what's supposed to happen to you now."

Neither did Harry, which was the problem. "I thought, if it didn't happen immediately, maybe new magic would hit me at midnight, you know? But nothing happened even when I waited up – don't tell Kreacher – and I didn't feel anything. Not even a tingle."

Sirius abruptly lost interest. "Ah well, what will be, will be." The topic abruptly cut off, Sirius rolled over a bit, finding a spot that appeared to be more comfortable as he sprawled on Harry's staircase. He found a loose button on his shirt cuff to twiddle with mindlessly. "But what about your presents?"

"Another decent haul." Harry remembered not to roll his eyes this time. "I've already sent off an owl to Skeeter, asking for her to publish my thanks and convey my deep gratitude for Britain's generosity to me."

Sirius looked bored.

Harry shrugged one shoulder. "I figure I have to keep on top of whatever the reporters say about me, before they take a sudden u-turn and start hating on me in the papers again." It was a long-seated fear, in fact, and Harry found himself wondering what advice Gilderoy Lockhart would have, if he tracked him down. "It's not like I want to, or anything," Harry assured his godfather. "Turns out that this timeli—time, I mean, I need to keep one step ahead of the Ministry. Control my public persona, and whatnot. Mr Lloyd-Elliot gave me tips, in fact."

"But the presents, Pup?"

Oh yeah. "Well," Harry started, gesturing towards a corner of his study with his free hand. "These are all the things I got from people I know; Dobby helped me sort them. I'm doing the thank you notes now, replying to the letters and so on. Then there's that pile there," another gesture towards a different corner, half hidden by a bookshelf yet piled high with colourfully wrapped presents and enchanted ribbons and all. "They seem to be from people I've not met. As far as I can tell, there's a lot of quidditch gear, clothes in Gryffindor colours, and soft toys of all things. So same-old, same old, really."

"What do you think of mine?"

Harry paused. "What?"

Sirius froze. "Wait. Did I not give you my present?"

"Uh…no?"

Energy returned, and Sirius bounded up to leap up Harry's stairway, three steps at a time. "Remus! He bellowed, before leaping out of the luggage lid to disappear from Harry's view. "Moony, where are you?" His voice faded rapidly as Harry's godfather dashed towards some other part of the suite. "Where did I hide Harry's present?!"

All was resolved twenty minutes later, when Harry was given a very nice leather wrist holster, courtesy of Sirius and Remus, in the very finest of German-worked leather. Belated party poppers were popped, and an enchanted birthday song resounded around Harry's study as Sirius forced him to unwrap the hastily-wrapped package – with roaring lions on the gift paper – while a hastily assembled party cheered and clapped.

Then Harry made the appropriate thank yous, and Remus said he needed to get back to his correspondence, and Dobby to the kitchen. Sirius, apparently having achieved everything he wanted for the day, followed them up the stairs.

Harry was left alone in his study, writing thank you letters to the hundreds of people who'd gifted him something, and hoping that with practice, the task would speed up.

Greetings fellow investors!

I bid you greetings from the sunny Harz, where the duelling is competitive and the reporters remain well behaved and mostly stuck outside the buildings! I'm doing great – Sirius is getting professional help, so his health is improving greatly, and Professor Lupin is here to support him.

Thanks for the presents. They look awesome, as far as I can tell, but obviously the true test will be seeing how Sirius reacts to them when I hide them in his bed, or spike his food. I'm going to get our house elf in on it. It's going to be great.

But on to other news:

Have you considered my suggestion of selling muggle magic tricks? Obviously, you'd need special dispensation if you want to magic them up, but even the original products should sell alright. Every now and then a new thing pops into mind, so take a good read of the list I'm sending you. There might be something to spark your fancy.

Speaking of fancy…I know you're heading towards the Quidditch Cup in a few weeks. I'm sure you've realised by now that I have a few secrets – a couple of people know part of it, but in all seriousness, there are some things I just can't say.

For realsies. Stop laughing for a bit, Fred.

There's…well. There's a couple of things I'd like you to look out for, actually. Really truly. Since I'm not coming back to England until after the Cup matches.

Basically, I want you to go to the Quidditch Cup – did your Dad get tickets to the Top Box, by any chance? But do me a favour? Hide everyone's wands while you're up there. The wands of anyone you like, I mean. Your family (including Percy and Ron because I mean this), probably the Bulgarian contingent…I can't say why, and I was going to be sneaky about it but you two being who you are, you would have figured something out. So just…keep the wands in a mokeskin pouch or something, just for the duration you're up there, okay?

If you need a reason, get Percy to tell you how good I am at Divination these days, yeah? It's far more complicated than that, but…let's just say I foresaw danger and chaos in the runes.

The reason I won't be there myself is because I'm enjoying this weird sense of calm over here. Nothing hanging over my head, no ridiculous deadlines. It's all very odd.

Write me back and let me know how things are going – but take me seriously about the wand thing.

Stay in touch!

Harry

P.S.: If you're going to bet on the matches, go through an official vendor – you can age yourselves up or get Percy to help you out if you want. Don't ask me why or how, but I'll get him to help you out. (You really should get closer to him: Percy is an infinitely useful resource and I can't believe you haven't taken better advantage of him!)

P.P.S.: How experienced are you with decent amounts of alcohol? I've got a horrific headache and really funny colours in my eyes right now, so let me just advise you not to drink too much at once, even if you can get away with it. I regret everything.

Harry.

Dear Percy,

I appreciate your correspondence &c., &c.,

I'm very well thank you. As you know, last year was hectic and I'm struggling a bit now with this weird feeling of peace and simplicity that's currently hanging over my head. I have too much time on my hands! I don't know what to do with all my time and it's putting me off-balance. I feel a bit…hollow. I mean, I've been reading through all your notes (thank you for the gift; as always, you know exactly what I like and these will be incredibly helpful!) and I've done my first review of the textbooks. But still.

Germany is lovely. The people are very kind, the weather is just right, and I've spent tons of time watching the European Duelling Circuit heats. Attached are my notes: I hope you find them useful, because I'd never seen professional duellists before and didn't know how their style different from street brawlers (?) and student scuffles. I figure that the best idea is to combine my notes with more movement and a three-dimensional knowledge of the environment. Would your Dad have any insights into how to fight better? I know he was more involved in the last war than he tells people about.

I hope work is going well? I've had my birthday, obviously, and been gifted names and magic in thought and deed, as Mr Lloyd-Elliot says. But currently I don't feel much difference.

I don't know what kind of change I'm waiting for, so I can't answer your questions, I'm sorry. I thought something would happen on the day, but it didn't. Maybe I'll grow into it? Them? New magic, whatever it will be?

Let me know what's keeping you busy and maybe we could go out for tea when I get back to Britain.

Oh, and I promised the twins I'd have you help them. Without betraying any confidences, they have a very rigorously planned blueprint for their future, but I'm afraid they're a little too keen to earn money at the World Cup. If they, at any point, approach you for help laying a bet: that Ireland will win the World Cup but that Krum will catch the snitch, perhaps, could you help them place that bet with a legitimate bookmaker? Keep them away from Bagman, won't you? He's got debts with the goblins and won't be good for the odds he promises.

See you in a month or so!

Harry J.J.A.C. Potter

To Mr Lloyd-Elliot,

I appreciate your correspondence &c., &c., particularly since everything was chaos on my birthday and I don't remember much that we spoke about in person.

Thank you very much for coming over to Germany for the birthday, and for managing the particulars of my party and inheritance with such professionalism.

Sirius came back to our suites completely drunk early the next morning, as expected, but I myself am in good health. I don't have much to report: I've not noticed any new magic or power or anything, so I'll have to just let you know if anything changes.

Thanks for letting me know about the Ministry. I knew they weren't keen on backtracking on Sirius, but from what you've said it's going to take the better part of a year to get the Wizengamot to agree Sirius should be publicly acquitted and pay him reparations. Can you work on the whole Heir of House Black thing? Surely the other noble houses won't want to risk their members being unfairly incarcerated and be made persona non grata, or whatever the term is.

Obviously, the healers are planning on having him stay in Germany until he's much more stable, so my guardianship can wait until the end of the year anyway. I'm hoping I can move in with him after the Triwizard Championship this year. (Yes, I do know about that – don't ask how – and hopefully we can use this year to leverage my reputation with the Minster et cetera, et cetera.)

Oh yeah. Please also be aware that I'm expecting someone to enter me in the Tournament. I'm definitely not planning on entering myself, but when if it happens I don't want to be lynched by the press. Can you help me prepare for that? I don't know what this involves, but I think you'll manage to earn a lot from me this year as well.

Yours in anticipation

Harry J.J.A.C. Potter

Dear Mr Weasley,

Thank you so much for being willing to endorse me to Professor McGonagall again this year. I know that you've been given a copy of my school results, and hopefully you're pleased with them. Percy also tells me that he's spoken to you about me and how I coped last year. Thanks to the support of everyone around me, I think I did alright last year. I know I had that one little blip, but that was because I thought my godfather, Sirius Black, couldn't get a retrial and I knew all along he was innocent.

So thank you for continuing to support me despite the inconvenience.

I'm afraid that I am unable to come to your house these holidays: I want to spend as much time as I can with my godfather now that it is known that he is innocent, and obviously I need to stay close to my legal guardians, the Dursleys, as well. Perhaps next year?

Please thank Mrs Weasley for the Weasley Jumper and the brittle that she sent me for my birthday – they are perfectly sized and delicious in that order – and I'll send Ron a letter independently later.

I will continue to do you proud with the Time-Turner this year.

Kind regards

Harry James J.A.C. Potter

Dear Draco,

I appreciate your correspondence &c., &c.,

I am doing very well thank you. Germany is lovely, and while I didn't make it to either France nor Italy as you suggested, I have taken note of your suggestions and will definitely make a trip one day. Who knows? Maybe we can go together as a graduation trip after Hogwarts?

As you will have heard by now, I've been gifted some new names for my…well, ages back, actually, but I formally accepted them on my birthday. I got to pick them myself, which was really hard and confusing because my lawyer, a Mr Lloyd-Elliot, has done the research to decide that my Mum and Dad did a lot of planning to get my birth name just right, and I kinda didn't want to ruin whatever it was that they did when I added to my name. Hence my questions about the Black and Malfoy naming traditions.

I mean, I kind of knew that the Blacks did star names. 'Sirius' and 'Orion' and 'Andromeda' kind of had an obvious trend, but I didn't realise that the Malfoy's tended to link their names straight back to Rome. If you don't mind me asking, I thought that the Malfoy family came over with William the Conqueror and all: I thought you'd link back to the Normans, not the Holy Roman Empire. If it's not some kind of family secret, could you tell me what the Malfoys want to emphasise by linking to the Roman names? Or is that not the kind of thing I should ask? (I know, I know, but…raised by muggles, remember? I'm still trying to catch up.)

As such, I do appreciate the calligraphy primer, for the kind intent you have behind it even if you're poking fun at me for my handwriting! I'll work on it, okay?

I bought you a couple of nice souvenirs while I'm over here, I hope you like them. I know you have no faith in my sense of fashion, but Sirius hooked me up with this incredible tailor and I reckon you'll be pleased.

Stay in touch.

Harry J.J.A.C.P.

Dear Professor McGonagall,

I appreciate your correspondence &c., &c.,

Thank you very much for the birthday wishes. I did have a lovely day, surrounded by friends I've made in Germany and my family. I have, of course, passed on your message to Sirius, who thinks of you fondly and says you have done nothing that needs his forgiveness.

Er. I'm afraid he also said a few less complimentary things about Peter Pettigrew, Barty Crouch Sr and Minister Bagnold, but I'm sure you can imagine the gist without me needing to transcribe his exact words.

Sirius will continue doing well in Germany: the healers have put him on a potion regime to correct the damage that Azkaban did, and he's getting other help as well. My own lawyer, Mr Lloyd-Elliot, has done incredible things for Sirius and I'm sure that he will get everything he's owed from the Ministry sooner or later. In the meantime, I'll spend my time at Hogwarts, and share my holidays between Sirius over here, and my relatives in London.

About the coming year:

Yes, I am absolutely determined to continue using the Time-Turner and taking the full complement of classes. I like to think that I managed things relatively well overall. While I did have that wee problem around February earlier in the year, I know that Hermione had a similar experience in March. Percy Weasley also tells me that he had a similar breakdown when he took third-year. I'd like to think that my high grades and responsibility to the Gryffindor Quidditch Team and Patronus Club show that my momentary weakness was an outlier. In hindsight, teaching three evenings a week was probably too much for me, on top of all the worrying about Sirius. I hope you agree with me that I didn't seem to struggle after that, once Sirius got to Germany and the stress came off my shoulders.

In short, thank you for checking up on me, but with Sirius' support, and Percy Weasley's encouragement, I definitely want to keep using the Time-Turner in fourth-year. Mr Weasley, who I have corresponded with, continues to be happy to recommend me to the Ministry.

In the meantime, life in Germany is incredibly relaxing and I'm eager to pick up a fuller schedule again to keep me busy.

If there are any other concerns that you have, please feel free to raise them with me so that I can address them in advance. Otherwise, I look forward to seeing you on the first of September.

Kindest regards,

Harry J.J.A.C. Potter

The rest of Harry's holiday in Germany passed smoothly. He lost most of his odd accent in German. He snuck a dose of his memory potions in and learned the next curriculum level of his Runes study. He spent time with Sirius, and began to build a kind of friendship with Remus, and mailed back and forth with Percy, the twins, Luna and Draco and Neville.

He studied the Durmstrang textbooks.

He wandered the Harz, and made friends with the locals, and after his knitting got up to snuff, the ancient little witch who manned the help desk decided to teach him dancing as well. Harry had the feeling that she knew what was happening at Hogwarts this year.

After seeing him at the party she had insisted, to his chagrin, but Harry was too polite to say no.

His Hogwarts letter arrived, and Harry asked Hermione to buy his books for him so he wouldn't have to be mobbed in Diagon Alley.

And he read the Daily Prophet with detached amusement, as the Quidditch World Cup approached, and began, and then Barty Crouch escaped Winky's supervision to cast the Dark Mark, and the Death Eaters rioted, and Victor Krum lost the finals but caught the snitch.

Not going to the Quidditch Cup had been an easy decision. Harry was sick of drama, and his life for years and years had been full of surges of terror and adrenaline and exhausted triumph.

It turned out that the wand that had cast the Dark Mark, after all that, was revealed to belong to Minister Fudge – because Harry had been convincing convinced enough for the twins to follow his suggestion. The whole fuss about the Dark Mark disappeared from the Prophet very quickly after that rumour spread, and Harry was relieved to know that the timeline was more-or-less trucking along as he remembered.

Voldemort would presumably be an ugly homunculus about now; Wormtail and Crouch Junior would be Voldemort's only allies, and presumably they'd have plans to get Harry to the Cemetery at the end of the Tournament.

It guaranteed him a confrontation with the Dark Lord in a time and place that Harry could expect, and that would be his best chance to triumph over Voldemort, or at least really hit him where it hurt.

And in the meantime, in Germany and well away from all the chaos, Harry finished his thank you letters, prepared for school, and felt like his life was a hollow echo of normalcy; there was empty peace where panic and chaos should have been.

He slept well at night.

Learnt things.

Wrote to friends, about normal, everyday interactions and small happenings and Sirius' growing health.

The emptiness of no-panic seemed to hang over Harry's head like mediocrity had taken over. He felt pleasantly off-balance, constantly, from the lack of stress.

Removed from England and all of his plans by dint of geography and sheer organisation, Harry found the hairs on his arms prickle with the abnormal state of calmness and routine and…

Normalcy.

Normalness.

Nothing going wrong. What was with this strange state of affairs? How did normal wizards live?