Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling.
Chapter 3:
Harry spent Christmas afternoon with the Abercrombies' large family. It appeared that Margaret had finally stopped having babies. She had wound up with nine children, six of them redheads. Sean appeared rather bewildered at times, but Margaret was very happy with her tribe. And Harry loved them all. Mary, the oldest, had a regular boyfriend, another Davenport, and Harry thought he'd have great grandchildren before long. Chris and Victoria, and their one son, joined them, too.
Euan and his wife, Sean's parents, dropped in for a while, and Harry and Euan talked a while, feet up in front of the fire, but a couple of the children interrupted, demanding that Harry join them tobogganing. And not long later, Euan, four years younger than Harry, watched, laughing, as Harry sped down the hillside with the kids, as gleeful as any of them as he ended up in a heap in the soft snow at the bottom. Euan was four years younger than Harry, but was ageing normally. Harry was still a young man in his body, although occasionally, something in his expression could look as old as the hills.
The overseas trips resumed in the middle of January, the team unchanged. Harry liked it that way.
Catherine was pleased to see that December's fright did not seem to have had any long-term effects on Harry, not knowing how badly he was sleeping. But Monday night, he put on a new pair of shoes and a spare pair of glasses, felt for any other location devices, and disapparated from within his room. He spent every night after that sleeping with an American tourist in her hotel, as an auror guarded his own empty room.
Thursday afternoon and Friday morning were occupied with patients mostly from adjoining countries, particularly Germany. And Harry irritated Franz again by condemning the practice of wizard duelling.
By the last patients before lunch, he was beginning to be very restless, pacing the floor between patients, and looking at his watch. Finally, he was finished, and announced that he would not be returning with the team, but would go separately, and he startled Franz by putting his wand to his own luggage where it waited, so that it vanished, and then silently disapparated himself.
And then he paced back and forth for a long time at home, before he relaxed. He hadn't been prying, but he'd known that Beth's baby was on its way, even though a couple of weeks early. And not long after, he had the first telepathic communication from Beth in nine months, the image of the tiny, light brown face of a baby girl, and an invitation to visit if he wanted.
Harry wanted, and only an instant later, he appeared outside Beth and Jeremiah's home, still wearing clothes suited for an English winter. Jeremiah waited for him, and Harry wrung his hand, congratulating him before he was led in to see the daughter he loved, and his new grand-daughter.
Beth had a glow of contentment, as she regarded her father, sitting with the tiny baby on his knee, touching the cheek and hands with the air of wonderment he always showed when he held a baby.
Harry stayed several days in a nearby tourist hotel, conjuring some clothes for himself more suitable for the climate. They were in startlingly vivid colours, but did not look as outlandish as usual in the tropical climate. He quickly found an accommodating brown lady to spend the nights with, and it seemed he had come to terms with the change of relationship with Beth. It had been incredible for a time, their communication absolute, and sex with a Telepath is always dynamite, and he had truly loved her besides. But Beth was right - he had felt a guilt, and as well as overwhelming loss when she had left with Jeremiah, there had been an element of relief.
Filled with pride, he sent a photograph of the baby and an announcement of the birth to the Daily Prophet when he returned. But there were some calculations made, and the birth of the baby rather less than nine months after Beth was known to have met Jeremiah fuelled the speculation about the baby's paternity. The black and white photograph did not show that the baby's complexion was distinctly brown, and there were some who swore that they could see a strong resemblance to Harry in the tiny features.
Harry was oblivious, and proudly conjured a picture in the air for the team to admire when they gathered for their next trip. He also showed them Beth and Jeremiah, and their Pacific Island home.
Franz was the only married man among them, and his wife, too, had recently had a baby. Harry's uncomplicated delight in his grandchild finally began to overcame the reservations that this tough and reserved man had always had about Harry Potter. Alex had been a devoted admirer from the first trip he had done with him, and Malcolm and Anthony had been friends for years, especially Anthony.
There were a lot of aurors whom Harry didn't know, and Emil preferred to keep it that way. Harry tended to inspire loyalty, and maybe one day they would need to restrain him. The file on Harry was beginning to be a lot thicker again, with full reports of the occasions when unusual abilities were shown. Even those conjured pictures of Beth's baby was a rare ability, though probably not a unique one.
Harry was careful, and showed as little as possible. He had not been seen to work magic without a wand, for instance, until the pumpkin-head incident, and then he'd been fighting.
One of the Swedish aurors who gave them additional protection on this trip was Harry's own accidental son, Helmer, even though he was not yet finished his training. Harry was very popular in the ranks of the Swedish aurors. He'd once rescued two of their number when they'd been turned into pumpkin-heads, and Helmer benefited from the connection.
Harry invited Helmer and his mother, Inge, with her new husband, to the formal dinner on Thursday night that Percy had asked Stan to organise. Stan was pleased. If Harry had his own guests, he would not slip out early as he'd begun to do lately, although he hadn't boycotted any entirely yet, as he'd done in the past.
Harry greeted Percy Weasley courteously when he arrived, and stayed with him a while before crossing to Helmer who had just arrived. Inge and her husband were muggles, and had decided to stay away. They didn't think that they actually liked the world of wizardry very much. Muggles were even more scorned by wizards in Sweden than they were in Britain.
Percy had started to notice something when he attended these functions. It was Harry Potter whom all those important people wanted to meet, not the British Minister for Magic. Ministers came and went, and were often not particularly special, just good at politics. But Harry was something very special, and Percy narrowed his eyes as the Swedish Minister abandoned him rather too abruptly, to join the group that surrounded Harry.
After the usual week off, there was to be a special trip, three weeks straight in North America, in three different centres of wizardry. They would not be returning at weekends, instead the team had been promised touring and activities, suited to the tastes of the legendary Harry Potter. The British Ministry was to be paid well by the wealthy American Ministry , and there were to be trade concessions as well. Stan McMillan was very pleased with himself for arranging this trip. Negotiations had been proceeding for months.
Harry never knew all the behind-the-scenes wheeling and dealing that went on, not to mention the work of organisation. He just turned up when and where required, and worked his magic.
His secretary kept an eye on his pay, and made sure that it was fair. She thought that the Ministry had taken wicked advantage of him when he had first started doing these trips. They'd been paying him a pittance, and even now he was not getting what he was worth. Harry Potter was unique. No-one else could do what he could do, and she thought that he should get as much as a world famous Quidditch player, for instance.
The first week in America was at a sunny beach in California. Harry loved it, and even put up with the indignity of needing a helping hand across the treacherous soft sand to get to the sea, although if there were few enough people around, he'd just make a short apparation instead. He could walk without trouble these days, only using a cane occasionally if the ground was a bit rough, or if he staggered for some reason. But rough ground was harder, and stones or soft sand were very difficult indeed.
One day, he was walking with Alex along the hard sand at low tide. They were both in swimmers, although Alex wore a loose shirt over the top, with his wand in the internal wand-pocket. Women were looking, especially at Harry. They both looked strong and athletic, but the one who carried a cane was something special. He strode along easily. Maybe he carried a cane just for effect.
Harry noticed something, and stopped and stared inland. There it was, and he pointed it out to Alex, "See that pink hotel over there - that's where I met Inge, Helmer's mother."
And Alex, with the tactlessness of youth, asked him, "Is it around here that you swam out to sea to find Ginny?"
Harry stared, "How do you know about that?"
Alex reddened. He hadn't meant to blurt out that Harry had once come so close to killing himself. He looked down, thoroughly uncomfortable, finally muttering. "It's in the training manual."
"A training manual! A training manual on me?"
Harry was amazed, not knowing whether to be angry or amused. Alex was sure that he'd be furious.
"What's in it?"
Alex was evasive. "Just a bit of history. Nothing to speak of."
Harry was shaking his head, and suddenly burst out laughing. "It's ridiculous," he finally said, still grinning, "I'd like to see it, though... I bet they don't put in it those times when the Ministry tried to put me away!"
Alex was staring at him in fascination. "There's something about a history of conflict with the Ministry, but it's not specific."
Harry turned, and walked away a little from the lapping wavelets, then sat, and Alex sat with him. "Tell me?" Alex asked.
Harry answered, although he hardly ever spoke about his own past. "Cornelius Fudge was the Minister for Magic. He thought that I had the potential to be too powerful, maybe another Voldemort. - You know about Voldemort?"
Alex nodded. "We do him in training, an example of what happens when a wizard is too powerful."
"A very wise man told me when I was just a kid that's it's not his abilities that makes a person what he is, it's his choices in life."
Suddenly Harry's eyes were looking at Alex with a more penetrating gaze. "Is there any hint these days that I should be put away, or put down?"
Alex said hurriedly, "No, nothing like that!"
"Pleased to hear it," said Harry. "Anyway, I was just twenty-four, and Fudge got a couple of mediwizards to sign the papers, and tried to have me committed. There was a team of aurors sent to take me. Dumbledore got me off. I never knew exactly what he did, but Fudge resigned and the committal papers were torn up."
Harry was looking at the breaking waves in front of him, remembering. "There were other times, too. It's why I go along with those damned formal functions that Perce likes so much. He's less likely to turn against me."
Alex thought himself very privileged, and pressed, "What about when they tried you for murder?"
"I never held that against them. They treated me very generously. Amelia Bones was Minister then. For a start, I was charged with unlawful killing, rather than murder, and the fact is, I did kill those men. And there was no point denying it, not with that film in existence."
Alex had seen the film. Those two films were shown in training, athough he didn't think it prudent to mention that. Harry continued, "Getting away with a suspended sentence was a miracle, for which I was profoundly grateful."
The end of Harry's cane had been temporarily modified for the sand. It looked a bit like a ski pole now, and he used it to keep his balance as he rose, and suggested, "Swim?"
Alex checked that Franz and an American auror were in sight, slipped off his shirt, and entered the water with Harry, helping him keep his balance in the first difficult bit before it was deep enough for Harry to swim, although Alex walked out further before himself striking out. And shortly, they were playing like boys, splashing and ducking each other, to the great amusement of the American auror, although humourless Franz had seen them play like that many times, and only kept his usual alert watch for attackers.
"I hear there's another illegitimate child, to his own daughter," said the American, casually.
Franz turned on him, suddenly icy. "That's nonsense! Beth is married to a black man, and the child is brown. He showed us a picture! In any case, Harry wouldn't do anything like that! He's a good man!"
The work was easy those first few days, and Harry and Alex swam every day after work, and often walked miles along the beach. They'd been extra aurors sent this time, so that time off could be arranged. Simon, Justin and Grant were all only about twenty, with David little older. Harry had enough playmates to keep him company. For a long time it had been Anthony who was the playmate, but Anthony was thirty now, and no longer played like a kid.
Thursday evening at dinner, Franz told them that they were to go to a Dude Ranch for the weekend. Harry's grin broadened as he looked around at the faces around him. To a greater or lesser extent, they nearly all showed consternation. "Can nobody ride a horse?" he finally asked.
Anthony said, "I broke an arm last time I rode with you!"
"So you did. I'd forgotten. But it's really easy. Just like a broomstick with a broader back. And it's not as far to the ground, either!"
Catherine sat with them, a growing smile on her face. It was so long since she'd ridden a horse. She couldn't wait.
"I used to ride when I was a kid," said Justin.
But Harry looked at Justin. Justin was six feet, six inches high, and he had a sudden vision of him riding a horse, feet dragging on each side.
Simon put in, "I'm a city boy. I've scarcely even seen a horse."
"Me, neither," said big, burly Grant.
Harry leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head, "Well, I'm going to enjoy myself, anyway! I think it's a great idea."
Franz added, "Four of you can have the weekend off, so work it out between you if you can, and we'll decide who goes, and who would prefer to be absent. They can join us at the next place."
"What's the name of the place?" asked Harry.
"Ponderosa," answered Franz. "It's a muggle place."
"Ponderosa," repeated Harry. "Jack and Sheila Clarkson?"
Franz nodded, "Clarksons, but not Jack and Sheila."
Harry was quiet as he finished his meal, but not to the surprise of Franz, he joined him after.
"I've been there before, a few times. I was in my twenties, and they were not married then. Jack might not remember me, but Sheila would. They're muggles, I don't think they'd understand that I still look pretty much the same."
Franz admitted, "That could be a problem, but probably their children or relatives run it now. I'll check."
"The rest of you could go, I'll just go off by myself for the weekend," suggested Harry.
"You know that's not possible," said Franz, without a smile. "You must be protected."
"Why?" said Harry. "No-one's trying to kill me these days, except the one in Italy, and that was a one-off."
"Don't be silly! You must be protected."
Harry shrugged, and went to his room, carrying a thick book that he'd purchased that day. Once in his room he changed his shoes, and his glasses with the location devices, and disapparated to join the woman he'd spent the last few nights with. She had tickets for a show...
Half an hour later, Franz knocked on his door. When there was no answer, he finally opened it, to see the book lying unopened on the bed. There was a pair of shoes on the floor, glasses on the table, and Harry's cape flung carelessly across a chair. Franz swore, crudely, in German. They went to so much trouble to protect that cursed man...
Harry apparated back into his room the following morning, a half-eaten piece of toast in his hand. Malcolm waited inside his room. Harry looked at him. "Sprung?"
Malcolm confirmed, "Sprung!"
Harry shrugged, "See you at breakfast?"
Malcolm nodded, and took up guard outside, wondering just how many times he'd guarded an empty room.
Meantime, Harry did his usual hour's meditation, and went to breakfast to face the music. But he ate unperturbed as Franz lectured him. When Franz finally paused for breath, he asked, "What about the Dude Ranch?"
Franz took a deep breath. He didn't think he liked Harry very much at the moment. But he said, "No problem. Jack Clarkson's dead, and Sheila Clarkson is in a Nursing Home with severe Dementia."
Harry looked up, profoundly shocked. "Not Sheila!"
He was abstracted then, upset. Sheila had been such fun. A vibrant redhead - he'd always been a sucker for redheads. She used to ride a showy Appaloosa, while he rode with her, usually on a tall piebald called Bob. She'd neglected the other guests a bit when Harry was there, but then one day she'd kissed him, and asked him not to come again. She was going to marry Jack Clarkson.
The team had been supposed to leave straight after lunch, but three extra patients had been unearthed - old ones, the ones that were so often difficult. Justin was rostered to be in the room with him that day, and as usual, there were a half dozen observers from the host country.
The first time Harry had called up the strong magic, he cured the patient without incident, and was allowing the magic to die from the air when there was a crash from behind. He jumped, and the magic ceased. Holding his paining head, he turned. Justin had fainted, Catherine already at his side.
Harry joined her. "What happened?"
"Fainted." said Catherine. "He'll be fine, but maybe he should swap jobs."
Harry nodded, "Some of them feel it more than others, but I didn't think I made it all that strong this time." There were quiet comments and rustles from the observers, but none had fled the room.
Justin put a hand to his head, and moaned, opening his eyes.
"Sorry," said Harry. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
He was suddenly spun around and hugged by the patient who had been occupied for the last few minutes patting all over his own body, feeling his own smoothness.
"Ouch!" Harry said, his head paining more at the sudden movement, and he started to tremble. Catherine called a half hour break, while both Justin and Harry recovered.
Grant took over Justin's job, and stood totally unmoved as Harry called up the strong magic for a second time, and then a third. Harry was hungry and tired afterward, and no trouble to Franz, who was quite pleased at his obvious weariness.
**x**
The following day, Harry and Catherine galloped along a track, Anthony and Franz trying valiantly to keep them in sight, and Joe Clarkson hoping desperately that no-one would fall off and sue them. Didn't that mad Harry Potter use a stick when he walked? But glory, he could ride!
It was an enjoyable weekend for Harry and for Catherine at the Dude Ranch, although few of the others enjoyed it much.
Franz was becoming increasingly harried, and planned to ask for a rest from Harry, who had vanished both nights to join the woman he had spent the previous week with. He was away a couple of hours on Sunday afternoon, too.
A young girl had looked at Harry with distinct interest, but it was not returned. He never went with young girls, he'd always preferred experienced women who were a lot less likely to be hurt by a temporary lover. The girl consoled Justin instead, helping him overcome his shame at fainting in front of witnesses. He was a big, tough auror; he was not supposed to faint like a pregnant girl!
The next week, a different location - a big city. Harry now found so many location devices in his clothing that he went through the lot, systematically removed them, and dumped them all in front of Franz at dinner. "I will not be followed when I don't choose to be," he said flatly. "So stop playing underhanded tricks!"
Franz was very angry, but there was not much he could do about it. Harry was the reason they were all there, and Harry was not a prisoner.
He made up for it a little, saying casually over dessert, "I'm planning to have a wander around town tonight, if someone would like to come."
Franz asked coolly, "Who do you want?"
Harry grinned at him, "Anyone who's not currently being furious with me."
Poor Franz finally laughed, and said he'd ask for a volunteer.
Anthony and Harry explored the town, Harry eying a brothel with interest. The aurors knew about the French brothel, and he didn't want to risk his ability to apparate continent to continent becoming known. Wizards were only supposed to be able to apparate a few hundred miles. In any case, he couldn't remember what the time difference was. It was no good arriving when they were closed.
It was late, and Anthony and Harry were drinking quietly and talking. They knew each other very well by now. But Harry suddenly put down his drink, and looked into the distance. "Simon's in trouble!" he stated. "He's somewhere close. I'm going to him. I'll meet you back at the hotel," and he slipped out of sight behind a pillar, and disapparated, leaving Anthony open-mouthed.
Harry reappeared silently, close to where baby-faced, blonde Simon gazed blearily at a large, flashily handsome man, who had his hand cosily around his shoulders. Simon was trying to remember that he was a wizard and an auror, and that he should defend himself, but the drug in his drink was fast-working.
Harry smoothly approached. "Hello, Simon, I thought you might be ready to go home, now."
Simon peered at him, apparently finding it a bit difficult to see, but then extended a shaking hand, "Harry!"
The dark man held Simon a little closer to himself. "He's mine, go away!"
Harry looked at him, "Pretty pathetic if you have to drug a boy to get what you want!"
It was urgent to get Simon away, and he used his magic. The man stood back, dropping his arm, and Harry grabbed Simon as he started to fall. "Come on, Simon, you've got to walk," he said compellingly, and Simon fought off the effects of the drug and walked with him into the empty corridor, where Harry wrapped his right arm around him, his left still holding his cane, and apparated into the sitting room of the hotel that the group had been allocated for the duration of their stay.
Franz looked up surprised, getting to his feet in alarm, as Harry gently put Simon down on the couch. "I reckon his drink was spiked. Catherine here?"
Grant was there too, but no-one else. Catherine was swiftly roused, appearing in a dressing gown. "He's fine, he'll sleep it off."
Harry was still standing. "I'm going to go beat up the bloke who did it, and maybe a couple more. You can give me back one of those location devices if you want to come and help."
Franz and Grant rose, both looking grim and dangerous. "We'll come, just tell us where."
"Sorry, I don't know where. I can find it, but you'll just have to find me - you're pretty good at that, aren't you?"
Franz delved in his pocket, handed over a tiny device which Harry slipped into his own pocket, and disapparated, precisely into the corridor of the hotel. There was already a fierce grin on Harry's face. He hadn't done this in a while, and this man had attacked one of his team!
It had only been a short while since Harry had taken Simon away, and Rudy was still staring around, confused, wondering where his prey had gone. But then there was this other attractive man, black haired, not too big, and approaching him. The expression was wrong, and Rudy was hesitant.
"You were going to rape my friend," accused Harry, and Rudy said no, of course not, he wasn't planning to rape anybody, wondering how best to get this man in a position to be raped instead. He let his eyes rove down the body in front of him, wanting to see him without clothes.
"Tell you what," said Harry, "If you can knock me out with your fists instead of with drugs, you just might get what you want!"
Now Rudy stood, anticipating. He'd done a lot of boxing, had Rudy, and he was much bigger than the man in front of him, and probably stronger.
But Harry was listening to those around him. It wasn't just Rudy here who was a potential danger to him, and his eyes searched and his mind listened unashamedly. Unless Franz and Grant turned up, he might indeed find himself raped. He turned on those others, and again used his magic. "Only this one," he said compellingly. "No-one else is to interfere."
The others subsided, disappointed, not even wondering why they were instantly prepared to obey. There had been some thoughts of a line-up. In spite of glasses and a cane, Harry was a very attractive man, and Rudy was not the only one who relished an unwilling, if unconscious victim.
Harry turned back to Rudy. "Where would you like to go? It would be a touch uncivilised, don't you think, to wreck the bar." Harry would have been quite prepared to wreck the bar, as the barmen were almost certainly complicit in the drugging of drinks, but it would be too easy to trip up. "My name's Harry," he said, as he tended to do when he was going to have a fight. It was like a declaration of intent.
The other answered briefly, "Rudy," and led the way outside, and around the corner into a poorly lit alley. He'd used this alley before, for other purposes.
But now, as soon as he entered, he spun around, and tried to catch Harry by surprise. But Harry was fighting, and as always, his handicaps seemed to disappear when fighting. He dodged the bare minimum to avoid the fist, and followed it straight away with a stinging blow that connected hard with Rudy's sternum, making him gasp for breath.
Rudy recovered quickly, and it was becoming obvious that this was no novice whom Harry had taken on.
There was a ring of watchers now, soon joined by Anthony, led by the sound of barracking, and then by Franz and Grant. Only Anthony had seen Harry fight before, and Harry still fought joyfully. It was only in a muggle fist fight that Harry felt he could fully extend himself, without restraint, and he was overjoyed to find himself with such a good match, forgetting the likely consequences if he was defeated.
He'd flung away his cane. It was in the way, and when Rudy shattered his glasses, he threw them away, too. But somehow he no longer needed cane and glasses, and now he abandoned all restraint and hammered hard into the body of the large man in front of him until Rudy backed away, holding his hands up in surrender.
Harry stopped fighting, but said quietly, "Repeat after me! - I will never rape another man, or another woman."
Rudy repeated it, woodenly.
"I will never drug anyone's drink," and again, it was repeated.
Harry stepped back, "I think you'd best go home now."
Rudy turned, and without a backward glance, limped off.
Harry looked around at the ring of watchers. They were blurry, in the gloom and without his glasses, but he always had a sense of others when they were close, and he knew that Franz, Anthony and Grant were all there. There were four of them, and although wizards were seldom much good at fist fighting, these were aurors. What fun to have a full on brawl.
"Franz?" he said, "Half of these bastards would have had a go at Simon - what do you say we beat them all up?"
Harry still wore that fierce grin, but he picked up his cane from where it lay. It was too easy to lose his balance without that cane.
Franz, Anthony and Grant joined him, standing side by side, looking at the mob in front of them, which, however, fairly quickly dissolved, and Franz finally asked Harry, "Back to the hotel?"
Harry nodded. "Shortly. I want to find a bakery or something. I'm hungry."
Grant picked up some twisted, broken glasses, tapped them with his wand, and returned them to Harry.
"Thanks," said Harry, "That's a lot better."
Not long after they sat in the sitting room back at the hotel, eating pies and sausage rolls, and drinking coffee, with the noise of talk and laughter getting louder until a very polite hotel employee pointed out that they were disturbing the other guests, and they finally went to bed.
Simon was still groggy in the morning, but Catherine had a look at him, said he'd be fine, and they left him with Grant, while most of the others went to work. Harry had a very swollen black eye, but Catherine had some of that wonderful violet lotion, and it was scarcely visible by the time Harry casually waved his wand at the first patient, who had been furry now for three years.
Harry had finally won over grim Franz, who would never be an enemy to him. Thinking about the incident afterward, Harry rather wished that it had ended in an all-out brawl. Franz so often disapproved of him, it would have been good to be in a fight with Franz at his side.
Thinking about the incident afterward, Franz was profoundly grateful that it hadn't ended in an all-out brawl. Harry Potter had too much influence over them all, he thought, even himself, sometimes.
Anthony had been vague about how Harry had known Simon was in trouble, and as Franz felt that the aurors had lost face, the incident was given only a very bare and uninformative mention in the daily report.
That Saturday, there was a big Quidditch match to go to, and later, there was an opportunity to fly broomsticks. This was the first time that Harry had been on a broomstick for years. Not unexpectedly, he discovered the veer to the left to be a lot more pronounced than it had been before his illness. On Catherine's prompting, he closed his eyes, and tried to fly straight across the pitch, and Catherine ascertained the deviation to be nearly thirty degrees.
It was amazing that he could walk so well, let alone ride a horse, or get into fist fights! Doing it several times more, for curiosity's sake, he found a variation. It wasn't even consistent, and he had confirmed what he had already concluded. He didn't think he would ever again be able to apparate to coordinates, as the error was not consistent enough to be allowed for. He thought that he'd always need a cane, as well, but there had been months when he'd not been able to even raise a drink to his lips. He thought himself very lucky to have recovered so well, and he took his borrowed broomstick very high, away from obstacles, and went into a spectacular corkscrew roll, at breakneck speed.
When he dived to the ground afterward though, he went cautiously. It would be too easy to hurt himself, and he decided that he'd best stick to horses.
With their increased friendliness, Franz ventured to ask Harry where he went those times he disappeared. Harry said casually that it was a woman most times. And when Franz asked about the previous Sunday afternoon, admitted that he'd gone to see Sheila.
Sheila had known him instantly, and they'd reminisced for a long time. With her dementia, it didn't seem strange to her that he looked almost exactly the same, and no-one was going to take notice of her when she spoke about him later.
Harry, however, had been very saddened. She was frail, white-haired - he remembered her so differently. That night, Sheila had quietly died. No-one notified Harry, as no-one knew that he had anything to do with her. But when Harry thought about her a couple of days later, he suddenly knew that she was dead.
Saturday afternoon, they were joined by Percy Weasley, Stan McMillan, and Jebedee Shacklebolt in his role as head of Public Relations. Harry was pleased to see Jebedee, but a lot less pleased when they told him that there was to be a big formal dinner that night, followed by a day when they would inspect the important wizarding areas of New York, see a few of the major tourist sights, and Percy would give a speech at Kandidria School of Magic. Harry Potter was firmly requested to be there, and Jebedee, in a quiet aside, mentioned that it would be wise to play up to Mr. Weasley as much as possible. He'd been hearing whispers...
Harry tried to be very well behaved Saturday night, showing an impeccable courtesy to the various American dignitaries, and paying sufficient attention to long and boring speeches that he was not taken by surprise when he was called up to receive yet another meaningless award.
There were several attractive young women present, who all seemed to want to make a fuss of him. But they were blatant, they were witches, and he suddenly abandoned his usual courteous restraint, opened his mind to the most persistent, and recoiled, shocked. She was there for a purpose. America wanted its own powerful wizard, and it was known that some of Harry's children had unusual abilities. Helmer was very powerful, and although Beth was a bit of a mystery, Julia had been exceptional until she had been killed by a Death Curse meant for her father.
Witches were very good at becoming pregnant if they wished, just as long as the man allowed the bare possibility. This woman wanted his baby, for the prestige of being the mother of a baby of Harry Potter. Harry felt sick, and looked for escape.
But now Percy was presenting yet another important and senior witch to him, and he was again congratulated on his new medal, and asked about his magic. He suddenly felt a mental message coming from Jebedee. Keep your cool, Harry. Put up with it. Only a few more hours!
Harry looked with some desperation at Jebedee, but tried again to put on the polite mask, and after all, it was not this witch who had come up with the idea of using him as a stud.
A little later, his drink was renewed, and he took a sip, his brow creased, and he took another careful taste before tipping it in a pot plant in front of the forward young woman, still hovering close in spite of rebuffs. He looked at her frowningly, and she was suddenly ashamed of herself, put down her own drink and left the room.
But now Harry could stand it no longer, spoke quietly to Catherine, who nodded, and took his arm as if helping him. His excuse was to be sickness, and a fortuitous fit of trembling came to his aid as he took a quiet leave of Percy, who was again talking to the American Minister. Franz and Simon followed him out of the room.
The trembling stopped the moment he was out of the room, and Harry strode toward his own suite, Franz by his side, and Catherine and Simon behind. He was looking very black now.
"Who's on guard tonight?" he suddenly asked Franz.
"Justin and Grant," answered Franz, wondering what his bad temper was all about. "There are a few Americans patrolling the corridors, too."
"Warn Justin and Grant, then, that on no account to let anyone into my room, particularly not a girl!"
"They wouldn't do that without permission from you," asserted Franz, rather shocked.
"One did, once, and it was not a good idea," and added, "You can come in if you want, unless you'd rather go back to that ghastly affair."
"Why the upset, Harry?" asked Franz.
Harry looked at him, started to speak, and suddenly blushed instead, to the great amusement of Simon, especially. And he only said that he was quite good at finding his own women, and he found it offensive that they tried to set him up with one.
And then they talked about Quidditch. Franz had been Beater in his school days, although Simon had never made the team at Hogwarts. Catherine picked up a book from a table, and started to read. It was not light reading, but Catherine was a very intelligent lady, and became so involved that she didn't even notice when Simon and Franz left.
Harry regarded her with amusement. He liked intelligent women, and she had unhesitatingly come to his aid when he had wanted to pretend to illness. A pity she was married.
He quietly changed his clothes, told Justin and Grant on guard outside that he was going out, ignored with sublime indifference their pleas to tell them where he was going, and visited the French brothel in spite of an earlier decision to avoid it. He had a wonderful time too. He really adored Lolita, she was so frankly honest, in contrast to those sly little hussies he'd met at the dinner.
Catherine was gone when he returned, the book left behind, but a place carefully marked. Justin waited, feet up, reading a girlie magazine. He jumped as Harry silently apparated back into a corner of the room. Not long later, they firmly denied entry to an auburn haired beauty in a revealing green robe.
The following day, Harry was being docile again. Catherine assured people that after the health scare of the previous night, Harry seemed fine, and Simon had been primed to stay by his side all day - and if people thought that his tastes had changed, it was all to the good. And during that long and tedious day, Harry made sure to ask Percy about his children, and Bill and Charlie, whom he hadn't seen in a long time, and made conversation about Meg, Vicky and James, his own children, and Percy's nieces and nephew. They shared family in common, Harry and Percy, and surely Percy wouldn't turn on him. Maybe he only needed a reminder...
Jebedee knew that Harry always refused interviews, but had arranged for a few pictures to be taken, and Harry put up with it.
American reporters knew no restraint, however, and Harry became increasingly annoyed at their persistence. He allowed the Americans to take photographs in a couple of locations, but then said firmly that it was enough. He even told the American PR man that if he was pestered further, he would go home and not come back.
The American looked at him, saw his annoyance, thought of the story he'd recently heard - that he'd only just been prevented from burning a wizard to death, and the reporters were sent away.
An auburn haired woman and a brazen blonde had no chance to approach Harry, but Grant and Justin spent a lot of time entertaining them, and the two young women spent the night at the hotel after all, just not in Harry's room. There would be no pregnancies. It was not the children of ordinary aurors that they'd been trying for.
***chapter end***