Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling.

Harry's adult children: Victoria, Margaret, James and Beth. Adam Bourne is his stepson. Illegitimate son in Sweden, Helmer Roos. His mother is called Inge. Britta is Inge's close friend.

Chapter 6:

The following Monday, Grant, Justin, Alex, and Franz waited with Catherine. They were to go to Spain, their intended destination of three months before.

The work was easy, the location pleasant, and the only incident of note was Harry and Alex having a minor altercation with a pair of drunks. It was no competition, and the Spaniards quickly backed off, as Harry used his fluent Spanish to condemn their cowardice.

The aurors knew he was having nightmares more often. But he'd almost always settle down again after an hour's walk, and they never embarrassed him by discussing it.

Stan had organised a dinner on the last night with certain dignitaries from the Spanish Ministry but Harry told him early in the week that he would not be attending. He had dinner that night in the London brothel, and afterward, played with Honey for a couple of hours before returning to the hotel. He reckoned Stan had nothing to complain about as he'd given him plenty of notice, but when Stan found him playing dragons with Justin and Grant, he complained anyway.

Harry was tired of it. He rose from his chair, looked directly at Stan, and said that he'd only gone along with Percy's ghastly dinners in the hope of keeping him happy, and nearly got killed anyway. That he had no intention of ever again going to another function of that nature. And Stan remembered this other side of Harry, that he was not always easygoing, and that he should not be treated as a disobedient child. Stan apologised.

Sweden, and Harry discovered that a permanent smooth footpath had been laid over the cobbled square he'd so hated the last few times they were there. He liked their hotel in Sweden with its indoor pool and gymnasium, and he liked that he could say hello to Inge and Helmer, and go to bed with Britta as often as he liked. He didn't even have to apparate, although he always did in order to dump the bodyguards.

Several of their destinations now were places they'd been before, often more than once. It was good to rediscover favourite places, and if the work was often boring, there were always things to do afterward. Usually, he would do the local cases first in a country, and often find himself doing cases from neighbouring countries in the last day or two. These days, when Harry struck difficult patients, he now routinely made his first attempts with the telepathic cure. He was trying hard to develop a more subtle touch, like that of Beth. Beth didn't arouse resentment. Harry often did. He was not deterred by the risk of flying fists, what finally veered him back to the other method, that of pure power, was when a woman became so sexually aroused that it was an acute embarrassment. That had happened before, but only once.

Germany again. Harry disliked Germany. They still treated wizard duelling as an honourable tradition. He had suggested to Catherine that he should refuse to do anyone who had got themselves cursed in a duel. Catherine had been shocked. That was not in the tradition of a healer! Harry pointed out that he was not a healer, had not taken the oath of a healer, just broke spells because he could. She admitted that she'd forgotten, but then pointed out that he wouldn't get paid as much if he started to pick and choose which of his patients he'd cure.

"Yeah, I guess," he'd said.

He still wished that he could train others to do this job. He'd done a series of lectures in America, and it had reminded him of the pure satisfaction he had found in teaching. He guessed he was just not respectable enough to be asked to teach at Hogwarts. The last time he'd seen Euan, on the surface of Euan's mind had been the hope that Harry wouldn't raise the subject of teaching. Harry hadn't raised the subject.

Ben was still in Germany, and joined them for dinner one night with one of his colleagues. She was a redhead too, and watching them together, Harry wondered if Ben would finally marry. They were obviously constantly aware of each other. Her name was Hilde.

Hungary, and one night at dinner, Franz mentioned that one of their patients the following day would be from the wizard prison, and would be accompanied by their guards - Dementors. Harry looked up, suddenly with an attack of trembling. He so hated it when they came at times like this. Mostly they meant nothing, but sometimes they really were a betrayal of his agitation. So he waited until he no longer trembled before saying what he wanted to say, that any Dementors had to be kept a very long way away from himself, or he would do nothing with the patient, and that they could not rely on him not to attack the Dementors.

Franz was puzzled. "They're not so bad, they're absolutely the best way to keep a wizard in gaol, especially a powerful one."

But Harry contradicted him, suddenly shaking again, "They're the foulest, most evil things imaginable, and I think death is a far better fate than being kept prisoner by Dementors!"

Franz was looking at him, confused. "Lots of countries use them. I don't know why we don't."

"They went over to Voldemort, that's why, they thought they'd have more human prey that way!"

Franz was still looking at him, searchingly. Harry still shook, but he often did that. And his face was perfectly calm, expressionless, and his voice steady. But Franz shrugged, "I'll let them know then, the Dementors are to be kept well away."

Harry nodded his thanks, but was no longer hungry, and left his meal half eaten.

Franz spoke to Catherine later, who agreed with him that Harry had been a lot more upset at the thought of Dementors than he'd actually shown. And added to Franz, "You know that he's been attacked by Dementors, more than once, also that he's terrified of confinement, and Dementors are probably the only ones who could keep him prisoner."

Franz had been quiet. He knew that Harry Potter had been threatened with imprisonment, and was apt to agree with Catherine, the only way that he could be kept a prisoner for long would be with the help of Dementors. Dementors weaken a wizard, and had magic of their own, some of it much stronger than the magic of a wizard.

The next day, when the prisoner arrived, he was brought in by two aurors. Harry raised a wand, cured him, and looked away from the thin, haggard looking man, who scarcely seemed to notice or care that he no longer had pig tusks. No matter what the man had done, Harry wished he could free him.

The routine continued. To Harry, it was just work. To everyone else, he was a worker of miracles. For some patients who had given up expecting a cure, he was a saviour.

Catherine still treated him the same as ever, and never mentioned that she now had a great deal more information on him than he knew. She had kept her resolve not to fuss over him, and he appreciated it. There had been only that one time when he'd been a pumpkin-head for a few minutes, and been so profoundly disturbed. He'd been very grateful for her attention, then.

Harry had not needed to use the strong magic since he'd been struck down.

November, Austria. The same team he'd had for a while, Franz in charge, Grant, Justin, Alex. There were always extra aurors buzzing around, too, supplied by the host country. And Austria was especially keen to help. He was a hero to the aurors, as he'd rescued several of them once from incarceration as pumpkin-heads. They'd given him some sort of a medal for it. In every country there was also a Coordinator and a translator supplied, those jobs often combined, and always there were observers.

First thing Monday, three pumpkin-heads were scheduled. They'd been brought in from Italy, all cursed just days before. There was a husband and wife, and an auror who'd presumably tried to arrest the culprit. The culprit was still unknown. The Austrian aurors were fascinated. Included in the observers were three Austrian aurors who had spent a day or so as a pumpkin-head before being rescued. That had been when Luna had just died.

Pumpkin-heads were not as dangerous as they used to be for Harry. With improved telepathic ability, he no longer had to be as close, and he could use a barrier to stop himself being hurt. It was a weird sight in the waiting room, three monsters placidly sitting with their carers. Harry casually touched each of the victims and confirmed that they were all still alive. Two ambulance teams were waiting already, and a third expected.

The first pumpkin-head was led in, and Harry was watched closely as he used his wand to conjure a strong but yielding barrier between the man/vegetable and everybody else. He wanted the rescued pumpkin-head to have as much freedom as possible. It was such a dreadful imprisonment.

Harry frowned at the observers. "Are you sure that you want to watch this? It might be difficult for anyone who's experienced it."

Catherine suddenly looked at him in concern. Harry had experienced it himself, and this was the first since then. But he was showing no signs of any particular stress. One of the Austrians spoke for them all, they very much wanted to watch it. It was a miracle that Harry Potter could do this. No pumpkin-head had ever been rescued before Harry came along. Harry just nodded briefly, and looked back at the placid outer surface of a frantic prisoner.

Justin and Grant were both with him, both with wands drawn just in case. Harry concentrated, he could feel the person hidden behind the vegetable. He tried to impose calm, while he sought to find the touch point that would release the man.

The ludicrous and tragic sight of a pumpkin on a man's shoulders vanished, and a man was there instead. Tears were streaming down his face, but he stayed still, and it could be seen that Harry was still concentrating, eyes shut, feeling the man and his emotions.

At last Harry drew back, and the man fell to his knees, sobbing. The Austrian mediwizard with the ambulance team approached, and Harry vanished the barrier. The man was tapped on the shoulder, and a compassionate voice told him, "Come with us, we'll look after you."

One of the Austrian aurors left also. He was a tough man, he wasn't going to show that he was moved.

"Next?" Harry said, and the wife was brought in. Again she was placed in position, and Harry waved his wand, and again there was a barrier for their protection.

Harry closed his eyes again, he could concentrate better when he closed his eyes, but this one was different. He could not make this woman calm. In her mind she was screaming and screaming. He spoke a couple of words then, to Justin and Grant, "Be ready!" and suddenly a furious witch was hurling herself at the barrier, trying desperately to get at Harry. Somehow they always knew that it was Harry who had done something, and it was Harry whom they wanted to get at.

The woman would not become calm, although they waited, and Harry wove a gentle calming spell, as both Catherine and the Austrian mediwizard who was to take charge of her talked to her, trying to reassure.

Finally, the Austrian took out his wand, and said that he'd put on a Total Calm spell, and that Harry could drop the barrier. He was not quick enough, and the berserk woman was on top of Harry raking at his eyes with scarlet fingernails, until big, burly Grant picked her straight up off Harry, and held her raised in the air until the mediwizard could hit her with the spell. Instantly, she was calm, but it was an artificial calm.

Harry wondered if this woman would recover. He frowned after her. Beth would be able to help her, he thought, and decided to ask Beth if she'd be willing to be called in for cases like that. One of the Austrians picked up his glasses from the floor, and Catherine called him over. She had a lotion in hand, ready to dab on the scratches that decorated his face, even skating over an eyelid. It seemed that even with the barrier, pumpkin-heads could be dangerous.

The third man, the auror, also came out panicking, but this time he was swiftly stunned before he could get to Harry. Grant reckoned the mediwizards were just not fast enough. Harry needed trained aurors for his protection.

There were already more patients gathered in the waiting room, looking hopefully at the great wizard, who still showed traces of scratch marks across his face. But Franz decreed a break before any more patients were treated, and Harry gave a broad smile of appreciation as he surveyed the table laden with treats that had been prepared for them. Grant and Justin, always hungry, were pleased, too.

Harry took his coffee outside. There was a chill in the November air, but the reminder of imprisonment had left him craving the freedom of Outside. He was joined by an Austrian auror carrying a plate with an especially fancy concoction on it, offering it to Harry.

Harry leaned against the wall, setting down his cane, and took the cake, smiling his thanks.

The man had something on his mind, and ventured on a difficult subject. "Someone did it to you last year, didn't they?"

Harry glanced at him, "Yes, and I went just as berserk as anyone else - nearly burnt the man to death!" The auror felt a bit better.

"I tried to strangle you, they tell me. I can scarcely remember." And he cast a sidelong glance at Harry, "Sorry."

Harry shrugged, "It's standard. I forget how many times an ex-pumpkin-head has attacked me. I'm better at it now, the barrier helps a lot."

"They said you wouldn't let anyone be tied."

"I'd prefer to give them total freedom when they come back, but it's just too dangerous. Not just for me, for everyone. There was one in Turkey who laid out me, plus two aurors, before he was knocked out with a fist. For some reason, stunners bounced off him."

The auror was silent then, leaning against the wall with Harry in undemanding companionship. But when Harry straightened up, he quickly handed him his cane, and took the empty plate from him.

The day was routine then, except for a child who needed a bit of extra effort, and the small group of observers felt a tingle in the air.

Harry spent the night with Britta, in her cosy home in Sweden, and was back before breakfast the following day. Franz didn't worry so much these days when he was absent without his bodyguards, as long as Harry kept him informed. Harry had shown pretty clearly that he could look after himself.

Tuesday morning, Harry struck a difficult patient. It was a young man, and when he started the intrusion of his mind that was necessary to cure the patient with telepathy, he withdrew fairly quickly. It was bad enough when a woman became aroused, he really didn't want to be in that position with a man. He started preparing the man for the frightening feeling of strong magic in the air instead. Catherine took it upon herself to order Justin to swap with Grant or Franz, as Justin couldn't tolerate the feeling, and as previously agreed, it was explained that no observers were allowed, due to the fear of interruptions.

Franz came in with Grant and stood behind him. Harry glanced at them, with sudden, discernible nervousness, but told himself not to be so silly. Franz moved himself to the side, and told Grant to go to the other side of the room.

The door was closed, the patient stood calm, and Harry opened his mind to him. He needed to ensure his calm. And then he started to call up his magic. The feeling started with just that gentle tingling in the air, but gradually intensified until it felt like a humming, very much present but not actually audible.

Catherine was waiting. She knew that his magic could become a lot more intense than this, but suddenly Harry gave a broken cry, grabbed at his head, and fell to his knees. The feeling in the air ceased, as Catherine pushed back her chair, and hurried over to him. His eyes were tight shut, and his fists pressed against his forehead as he rocked in the overwhelming agony that attacked him. Catherine knelt by his side and waited.

Grant looked at the bewildered patient, and after a moment, sent him back outside to wait. Franz watched in deep concern. Whatever it was, it was bad. He had never seen such pain.

Harry dropped his fists, his eyes opened, but Catherine could still see the agony reflected in them. And then he slumped in a faint. Catherine was feeling for his pulse, "We'll take him back to the hotel, straightaway," she said, "Before he comes around."

Franz nodded at Grant, who gathered up Harry in his arms, and apparated straight into Harry's bedroom, laying him gently on the bed.

It even hurt to open his eyes, and it hurt just as much to close them. It was too much. Harry thought he'd never felt such pain. It was like he was on a separate dimension, those who moved softly around him were not part of the same world. He wished they'd leave him alone. The slightest movement made it worse, and he wished Catherine would not touch him, but it would hurt more to try and tell her so.

Catherine didn't know what had happened, but thought it had to do with the shock and resultant illness after the violent interruption the last time he had used strong magic. He was silent, unmoving, but she could see the pain in his eyes, and when she borrowed a pain monitor, the reading was off the scale. Other monitors showed considerable indications for concern, although if she hadn't known what his true LV reading was, she wouldn't have known that 150 was serious. It was consistently dropping, too.

She went to Franz, and asked him to call in Healer Granger as quickly as possible, or maybe Healer Weasley if Hermione was not available.

"Harry," she said softly, "I'm going to work a spell to take away the pain," but Harry suddenly knew that she must not do that. He tried to speak, closing his eyes as the pain immediately intensified. Even thinking hurt dreadfully.

She already had her wand out, and he finally got out the word, "No," he said, scarcely audible. "A spell will kill me, I think. No spells," and he sank into unconsciousness.

She hesitated, but finally put away her wand. Harry was not like other people. He was not unconscious long, and spent the next hours just waiting, not thinking, enduring because he had no choice. It would have hurt more, he thought, to scream.

His eyes were shut and he still suffered as Hermione arrived, having a soft conversation with Catherine on the other side of the room. He wished he could tell them that noises hurt, just to leave him totally alone, but it hurt too much to talk, hurt too much to think.

Hermione was there, fiddling with his wrist. The slight movement was enough to sink him into unconsciousness again, and they opened the dull red book/monitor that now showed continuous readings with the sensor they'd placed around his wrist. The fit monitor indicated that the risk of fits was low, but not absent. Energy readings were very low, and an indicator showed that he drifted barely into and out of consciousness. LV had now dropped to what would be regarded as normal levels, if they hadn't known that his actual normal was so high.

In the early hours of the morning, the pain diminished, and he could move again. It was still a very severe headache, and he wanted nothing to eat, but took a little water. Catherine still sat with him, although she had been relieved for a while by an Austrian mediwizard. The Austrians were doing everything they could to help. Harry had a shower, he had been sweating, and took himself back to bed, hoping that he'd sleep it off.

He was up again in the morning, still shaky, still with a very severe headache. But he had a shower and started to dress before falling again, again clutching his head. "Don't touch me," he got out, as Grant started to lift him.

So they left him there, on the floor, unmoving, until Hermione's monitor indicated that he had lost consciousness, and Grant put him back in bed.

It only lasted a couple of hours that time, again diminishing to a severe headache. Harry slept a little.

When he woke, Franz was watching him in concern and indecision. "Percy got his way," said Harry in a tired voice. "He wanted to weaken me - I can no longer work the strong magic."

"Will we take you home?"

"No need, it's getting better. I reckon I'll be able to finish the week, even if I have to work Saturday. Just that there might be failures again now, and I haven't had failures for years."

Hermione confirmed that he was improving, and it would have been an ordeal for him to be moved yet anyway. There were a couple more attacks of the terrible pain in his head, but one lasted only a half hour before it eased off, and the next only ten minutes.

They sent a note to Britta for him, that he was ill and couldn't visit as planned. She sent a note back that she would visit on Thursday, if he liked, and he accepted with pleasure. It wasn't so far from Sweden to Austria.

Thursday, Harry woke with a headache, but it was not severe, and he thought that he could work.

Hermione was still there, and consulted with Catherine, before stating that he could start work again in the afternoon, but was not to do any that required anything more than a wave of his wand. And he was to sit, not stand. He still wore the sensor device on his wrist, that looked like a watch, and they still kept a close watch on the monitor. The readings were a lot better now, and they could see that he was making a quick recovery.

Britta arrived in the afternoon, and she waited at the hotel for him, being met by Alex, who was on night duty. Alex didn't mind, he suspected that she would do most of his job for him. The aurors knew that he was always better when he slept with a woman, and oddly enough, they didn't actually like going for long walks in the middle of the night.

Britta was surprised to find that he was so well protected - or watched. There were two big men follow them as they went for a stroll around the nearby streets. There were others, too, she thought, large men who seemed to be watching them. She knew he was a wizard, as she'd been close friends with Inge all her life, and Inge had confided in her when Helmer had started being such a problem.

The aurors looked at Britta with curiosity. They occasionally saw some of the women whom Harry slept with, and were always intrigued that there was such a variety. This one would have to have been nearly fifty, and they forgot that, chronologically, Harry was over seventy. Body-wise, he still looked twenty-five.

Harry worked his cures that afternoon, although he had to say no to the young man. He was not up to even the telepathic cures for a few days. He said he'd be in touch. Maybe there was something else that could be done.

He hesitated before one that he thought would require just a tiny bit of effort, and finally said that she should come back tomorrow, that he'd probably be a bit better tomorrow. He was well enough for Britta though, that night. She was a bit concerned about the guard outside his door, but he told her there was a silencing shield...

Friday, he was apprehensive as the patient returned who needed that slight extra effort, and Hermione watched him closely, as the gentle tingle was felt in the air. He gave a sigh of relief when the spell broke. At least he could still do that, and that small effort was needed a lot more frequently than the strong magic.

Friday evening, the healers ignored him, as they knew he preferred, as he chatted with Britta at dinner. Her oldest son wanted to be a solicitor, but was having trouble getting good enough results at school.

Franz was next to them, listening as Harry told her about a mare called Sheba, who had just about saved his life when he was ill and nearly dying of boredom one time. Out of the blue, Britta asked, "Harry, how old are you?" and Franz watched with some amusement as Harry looked uncomfortable, and hedged.

Britta was still looking at him with penetrating intelligence. "Do wizards live a specially long time, then?" asked Britta.

"Some do," admitted Harry, looking acutely uncomfortable.

"We were talking about it, Inge and I, you still look exactly the same as when we picked you up at the Rose Hotel." She took pity on him, then, and asked what horses he had now, which Franz thought quite noble of her.

Franz was curious - had there been two girls together that time? He mentioned it the following week to Jebedee, who knew of the incident, and confirmed that there had indeed been two, and added something that Franz hadn't realised, that it was just after he'd rescued a woman from drowning, and then apparently decided that he would swim straight out to sea to find his dead wife.

Franz shook his head. He may have admired Harry Potter, but he'd never understand him.

Britta left in the morning, the Austrians doing the British team a favour, and taking her smoothly to the airport, where she was treated as someone particularly important until she boarded the plane. She loved it.

The work was finally completed early Saturday afternoon. Hermione was still there, and Harry still wore the wrist sensor, although he told Hermione that it was no longer needed, he was better. He still had it on his mind that there would be failures now, and he was thinking that he needed to become better at the telepathic cures, seeing he could no longer call up the strong magic.

He spoke to Hermione on the trip home, and she agreed with him that he should not try and call up the strong magic ever again. She told him, too, just how critical it had been for a little while. At the time he hadn't worried whether he was dying or not - he'd just wanted the pain to stop. Harry had never really had any use for the strong magic, except for his healing, but it had felt good to use it. Now it appeared he could never use it again. Damn Percy!

Harry hated failing his patients, and he'd left one uncured in Austria. But there was Beth, and she could cure people. Maybe Beth could teach him to do the telepathic cures easier, without offence. He thought she could probably cure anyone, using that method. Those he failed, he could maybe refer to her. He would go and see her, maybe at Christmas...

He suddenly thought that there was Karen Vilner, too. She had been a child when he had been able to cure her disfiguring condition. Her face had been that of a bat, and he thought of her as the Bat-girl. But Karen had no longer had a human voice, and when his magic had failed, had spoken to him telepathically. It was through little Karen that he had stumbled upon the telepathic cure, although, for him, it was not the miracle it had seemed at first. But for Beth, it was, and maybe Karen could be taught to do it, too. It could be a good living for her if she could do it, and if she was interested.

The following Monday, Harry dropped in to Sarah's office, and said that he wanted January off, and maybe February. Not to book any trips for those months. And then he strolled to Jebedee's office. Neat piles of paper, and a burn mark on the large, polished desk. He asked the question that he'd wondered for years. Why on earth they didn't fix it.

Jebedee regarded it with surprise. "I don't know, it's always been there."

Harry asked his question - Karen Vilner, early twenties, where would she be now?

Jebedee promised to find out, and commented, "Franz said you can no longer call up the strong magic."

"No," said Harry. "It appears that Percy deprived me of that. I'm going to start having failures again."

"When did you last fail?"

"I can't remember. Years."

Afterwards, Jebedee called for the file on Harry Potter, and did as his father had done, went through it, and severely culled it. He left in the bit about the loss of power. It might make him safer from jealous Ministry beaurocrats, especially as it had seemed in the last years that he only became stronger, and acquired new abilities. He found what had prompted that attack on Harry, too. Word had spread about the intended ambush in America, that Harry could apparently sense potential attackers from far away, pick them out, and stun them from a distance. And probably kill them if he chose.

Jebedee vanished the report, and continued looking. When was the last time that Harry had failed? He finally found a list of failures. It appeared that the last one may have been over ten years ago. There were not many names on that list, and some had been struck off, presumably later cured.

After some thought, Jebedee concocted a new list, much longer, and attached to a report that concluded that Harry Potter failed roughly one in twenty-five of his patients. He marked the false report with an indicator in the corner. He wanted to protect Harry, but he was an auror, and it went against the grain to include a forged report in a file.

Still, it was not a bad idea, and he made another forgery that might mislead future enemies, also with that mark. It was thought that Harry's hidden home was in France, probably close to the coast. This was supported by his fluent French, and by the fact that he patronised a French brothel, and he made up a brief report, that it was known that he had spent a few days in a French muggle hospital with concussion, after a riding accident.

He came across a very old report of his own, too. Harry had been slowly recovering from a severe illness, still looked very thin and weak, and had thrashed two muggles in a fist fight, before collapsing. Jebedee had picked him up, and brought him back to the Ministry where Healer Smythe had made a thorough examination. He studied that old medical report. He knew a lot more about the significance of Nisco readings now, and was stunned that Harry had been so ill, and still doing part-time teaching, some spell-breaking, and then getting into fist fights!

After some thought, he went to see Catherine, but she was very busy. It was time for the aurors' annual checks - if they were not sufficiently fit, they either had to be put in a desk job - Bedwin, for instance, was in charge of the trainees, or they had to transfer to a different department. That had happened to Jebedee when he'd been badly injured and lost his leg. The head of the Department, of course, was a desk job, so Jebedee no longer had to be able to run miles or lift weights.

Catherine expected to be finished late in the afternoon, and he asked her to drop by his office. He wanted to talk about Harry. Catherine regarded him suspiciously, but agreed.

When she appeared in Jebedee's office, he ordered coffees and an afternoon tea. He wanted her cooperative, and Barbara's methods had begun to spread.

He started by handing her a copy of the multi-page report on Harry prepared by Healer Goldsworthy. Catherine checked what it was, and said briefly that she had a copy. The afternoon tea arrived then, and Jebedee made conversation about Harry. The miracles he worked so casually, how indispensable he was.

"Weasley apparently thought he could be dispensed with!" said Catherine tartly.

"Yes, he did, didn't he? I thought he wasn't going to come back after that - he seemed so depressed for a while. I'm not sure what changed his mind."

Catherine suddenly laughed. "He told me, it was because Barbara was short! That everyone around him was always so bloody big!"

And Jebedee, an enormous man himself, laughed. "That sounds like the authentic Harry!"

He got down to business, then. "What makes him a target is that he's not like everyone else, especially that he seems too powerful. What we need to do is make him sound weak. He might be around a long time, and, as he says himself, Ministry heads change. He's been attacked under three separate Ministry heads - we're lucky he still chooses to work with us."

"What do you want, Jebedee?"

"I want you to re-write this report, putting in more normal figures where necessary. I want you to write a report that says that although he may appear youthful, his heart is bad, or something like that, and maybe you could put in an excerpt purportedly from a research journal that indicates real weakness in abnormal physiology - that sort of a thing. You can probably think of things better than I."

Catherine looked at him. "You want me to write lies."

"Yes."

"All right, but I'll take a few days, it has to be believable."

"Thanks, Catherine," said Jebedee, and handed her back the report, together with a couple of older medical reports. Catherine nodded, and strode away.

A few days later, she returned to his office, with some carefully re-written reports, some excerpts from research journals, indicating vulnerability, emphasis on frequent and severe illnesses, and a theory that Harry Potter had a high probability of sudden death from a rare condition with a very long name. Some of the reports were backdated. They looked genuine.

Jebedee read them over carefully, smiled his thanks, and put them down. Exactly what was needed.

"How is he now?" he asked her.

"Fine," said Catherine, "I haven't seen him, but I was talking to Hermione on Tuesday," and Catherine added, "It's not all lies, you know. I think he really is a lot more vulnerable than the rest of us, not to things like coughs and colds, of course, but he can still have what Hermione calls nervous attacks, and he's probably still susceptible to episodes of fitting in the right circumstances."

Jebedee nodded. He agreed.

Catherine started to get up, and suddenly said, "Why do you have him followed all the time? It frets him."

Jebedee was looking at the reports again. "He needs to be protected," he said casually, automatically.

"Does he?" asked Catherine.

Jebedee looked up, "I don't know, we've always done it."

"Maybe it's time you thought about it."

Jebedee thought about it. It was true that Harry seemed to be in less danger these days. There was the pumpkin-head incident, but he'd rescued himself, and there was the incident in America, and he'd looked after himself and the aurors besides. The worst that had happened to him in recent years was because of a treacherous act by those who were supposedly protecting him.

The next week, the last trip before Christmas, was Greece. They finished early, and Harry said casually that he was going for a walk. Franz was reading a book, and said, "Sure."

Harry looked at him, Franz didn't look up, and suddenly a delighted smile spread across Harry's face, and he strode out alone, while Alex and Justin looked at Franz in surprise. Franz finally looked up, and said casually to the bodyguards, "Jebedee says he's a big boy now, and can do without aurors following him everywhere."

Karen Vilner, the former bat-girl with telepathic ability, had married, and moved to America. And when Harry saw her, he discovered that she had buried her telepathic abilities, and tried not to think of that terrible time when she had the face of a bat.

"It was because of you that I've been able to fix a lot of people," said Harry. "If I send you a book, will you put it away somewhere, and not throw it away, just in case you change your mind, or one of your children has your potential?"

Karen was relieved that he wasn't going to persist, and agreed to do that. It was years ago that Harry had written that book on spell-breaking, and he checked it over, and did some revision, especially in relation to pumpkin-heads, before sending it to Karen. To gain a full understanding, the reader of the book needed telepathic skills, as words were inadequate to convey what was required.

**x**

Harry spent Christmas in a tourist hotel near the tiny home in beautiful surroundings, where Jeremiah and Beth lived. Kate was five months old, and a very beautiful baby - not that Harry had ever seen one that wasn't beautiful.

As he wanted, Beth tried to teach Harry to develop a lighter tread when he invaded the mind of another. But while he could know another's surface thoughts and emotions, and not be detected, when he tried to push where he wanted to go, he was clumsy, to her mind, as if he walked in heavy boots. He had to practise on her, too, and that made him feel even more awkward.

She had a couple of patients for spell-breaking one day, and Harry listened with his mind. He could detect what she was doing because he knew - he had taught her, but her skill was on a different level to his own, and he knew that while he might be able to improve a little, there was no way he could do it as she did it. He asked her instead if, when necessary, he could refer patients to her. She agreed, but they had to come to her, she had no intention of travelling from the island home that had been so hospitable. Beth had not been treated well in her home country.

Harry stayed a month, and grew tanned again. He always tanned easily, and he spent enough time at the beach wherever they were that it was his more usual state. He never seemed to feel the cold.

Over the next months, Harry did become a little better at doing the telepathic cures, and when he failed, he handed his patient a card. They could go see his daughter, Beth, who was better than he was at some things. Once word spread, Jebedee finally understood why Harry and Luna had kept Beth hidden for so many years. She must be something very special. He didn't start a file on her, though... Others might have done.

Harry made no further attempts to call up the strong magic. Such terrible pain was a very strong deterrent.

***chapter end***