Harry Potter Returns

by JBean210

Look! Up in the sky! It's an owl! It's a broom! It's Harry Potter! What's he doing flying around without a broom? Harry meets Superman under shocking circumstances and they are both a little mixed up-with each other.

6. The Magic Birthday

Harry Potter Returns
A Harry Potter/Superman Returns Crossover

Chapter Six
The Magic Birthday

Updated 24 July 2010

Author's Note: Warning, this is a long chapter, almost 20,000 words! A few questions were asked in PM's which I responded to the same way; this chapter is so long that I'll forego the Q&A session afterwards. Perhaps this chapter will generate some more.

Sleeping did not come easily to Harry anymore.

It had been hard enough in past years, when he would dream about Voldemort killing his mother and father; or worse, his friends. He would awaken, his scar wracking him with pain, until Voldemort either became calmer or Harry would pass out from the pain. He awakened some mornings drenched with sweat.

Now things were different, but he still couldn't sleep. He never felt tired or sleepy anymore! He would lay in bed, imagining how he'd feel if he could be up in the sky, soaring along with birds, or even higher, where planes could see him unless he was careful to stay out of view, hidden in banks of clouds. If Harry thought he could get away with it, he'd be out right now, flying above the clouds, higher than any aircraft. He wished that was where he was.

But now that was impossible. Just trying to pass through any window or door in the Burrow without first saying the proper password would set off alarms heard everywhere inside the house. And neither Harry nor any of the Weasley children, not even Hermione, knew what the password was.

It had all happened just over two weeks ago, during his last visit to Smallville — his last visit anywhere, really. After supper at the Kent farm, Ricky and Harry (mostly Ricky) had cajoled Clark into watching a movie with them on TV— Animal House, which Ricky claimed was hilariously funny. It was about some dozy American college students who got into trouble because of some rather strange behavior at their fraternity. Harry found it amusing, but a bit bewildering. It had seemed rather old-fashioned until Clark explained that it was supposed to be 1962 in the movie.

When Harry saw what was coming on afterwards, though, he knew he had to see it: Dragonslayer. He had never heard of such a movie before, but he'd spent little time in front of a television even before he learned he was a wizard. It was fascinating to see the ideas Muggles had about magic — a decrepit old wizard teaching bits and pieces of magical information to his young apprentice; a far-away threat from a dragon that was ravaging a kingdom, and a king too corrupt and spineless to challenge it, who would rather let the young women in his kingdom be thrown to slaughter. Harry could identify with the young hero — he was fighting against seemingly insurmountable odds, with little help from others. The only unbelievable part of the movie was when the old wizard came back from the dead (briefly) to help his young apprentice. Well, not so unbelievable, Harry had corrected himself, remembering that Voldemort seemed to have done exactly the same thing.

Then came the problem. It was two A.M. when the movie finished, and Harry had completely forgotten that the Burrow was six hours ahead of them! Ricky had gone to sleep shortly after the movie began (kids!) and Clark carried him out to Lana's car; Harry didn't remember when he came back into the room, but he sat down on the couch and promptly went to sleep himself. Harry wondered how he could do that — Clark never got tired or sleepy either, he'd said so himself — how could he just fall asleep like that?

Harry tapped Clark on the shoulder. "Clark? Clark! Wake up."

Clark slowly opened his eyes. He glanced at the telly. "Is it over?"

"Yeah," Harry said hurriedly. He stood. "I've gotta go — I just realized how late it is."

Clark glanced at his watch. "Will you be okay?" he asked. "It's eight A.M. back in England. Do you think they'll notice you're gone?"

"I hope not," Harry said. "With any luck I'll get there before." He smiled at Clark. "Thanks for inviting me over, it was interesting meeting your friend Lana and her son."

Clark nodded, smiling as well. "I'll let you know what happens with Ricky and his powers. Oh, by the way," he added, as Harry turned toward the door. "You're invited to Ricky's birthday party. His birthday is August 12, but the party is being held the second Saturday of August at their house in Smallville. I told Lana you might not be able to attend —"

"I'll be there," Harry told him. "I just wish you could come to my birthday—it's in two weeks."

"I wish I could, too," Clark said, seriously. "But it would look a bit strange, wouldn't it?"

"I suppose," Harry said, disappointed. "Okay, I gotta go," he said, striding to the front door and walking outside. He lifted off slowly from the front porch, gaining altitude until he was a dozen feet in the air, then flashed upward.

There wasn't time to waste. Harry angled almost straight up, flying until he'd cleared most of the atmosphere, then poured on speed until he was over Britain, only a matter of seconds later. It was amazing how fast he could go, now that he was used to flying! He had covered several thousand miles in the span of four or five seconds! Now above Great Britain, he angled downward and dove toward the Earth, beginning to feel the atmosphere around him about seven miles up. He still dove at hypersonic speed, trying to get closer before reducing his speed to subsonic so his flight into his bedroom would go unnoticed.

But five miles up, Harry suddenly came to a halt, his super-acute vision peering through the roof and upper rooms of the Burrow into his bedroom on the second floor. There were already several people in the room, he saw — Ron and Hermione and Ginny, along with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Bugger, he thought. I didn't make it back in time! Dropping down to within a mile overhead, Harry tuned in with his super-hearing to find out what was going on.

"— don't know where he could be, Mrs. Weasley!" Hermione was saying, fretfully. "I haven't seen him since dinner on Saturday!"

"Well he's got to be SOMEWHERE about!" Mrs. Weasley all but shouted. Harry wondered why he'd seen Ron wince — then he heard Mrs. Weasley. It was weird watching everyone's mouth moving several seconds before he heard what they said. Sound travels much slower than light did. "He couldn't have been — been taken, could he, Arthur?"

Mr. Weasley shook his head. "No, the spells Dumbledore put on the Burrow would have alerted us if any Dark presence tried to enter." He looked around Harry's room. "I hate to ask this, but — where's his Firebolt?"

Harry groaned. His Firebolt! He'd barely thought about it in the past few weeks, ever since he'd used it to fly after the "meteor" that had been Clark's spaceship! His super-memory now led him to recall its location: Clark had brought it inside his spacecraft as they'd left Surrey for the Fortress of Solitude, in Antarctica. He focused his attention back to his room as Ron suddenly dropped to the floor.

"He usually keeps it under his bed," Harry heard Ron say a few seconds later, followed by the thump of him getting down and looking under the bed. He came up shaking his head. "Huh! It's not there!" Ron looked at Ginny and said something. She shrugged and ran from the room, followed by her parents, then Ron and Hermione. His next sentence finally reached Harry.

"Do you suppose he put it in our broom shed?" Ron had asked. Harry's gaze shifted immediately to the broom shed, where he and Dumbledore had had a short but interesting conversation just over a day ago. A brain wave seized him, and he shot toward it at just under sonic speed. At this velocity it would be just a bit over five seconds before he reached the broom shed — that should be more than enough time…

Moving at over a thousand feet per second, Harry reached the shed just as the kitchen door began to open. He opened the shed door (careful not to rip it from its hinges!) and slipped inside, letting his flying power halt his speed. He sat down on the stone bench and slumped against the wall, making it appear as if he'd been asleep. Almost as soon as he got settled the door was jerked open again and an ear-splitting shriek rent the air. Both Ginny and Hermione turned, staring at Ron, who was looking into the shed with an expression of horror on his face.

"What?" he said, glaring at the pair of them. "There was a big spider on Harry's arm!" He was pushed out of the way as Mrs. Weasley thrust herself between Hermione and her daughter, her finger pointing accusingly at Harry.

"And just where do you think you were supposed to be, young man?" she asked crossly. "We were worried sick about you!"

Harry blinked, shielding his eyes from the sun. "W-what?" he muttered blearily, acting as if he'd just awakened. "What's wrong?"

Mr. Weasley had joined them, looking over his wife's shoulder. "Ah, there you are, Harry!" he said cheerfully, though it sounded a bit forced. "We were beginning to wonder where you'd got off to."

"Wonder?" Mrs. Weasley glared at her husband, who shrank back reflexively. She then rounded on Harry again. "What in Merlin's name are you doing out here, Harry — in this filthy old broom shed, of all places?"

Harry rubbed his eyes, feigning sleepiness to buy time to think. "Well, I — er, I wasn't sleeping too well last night," he began. "I came outside and was walking around for a bit when I realized I couldn't remember where my broom was."

"Huh?" Ron gasped. "So you mean it is gone?" But Hermione was giving him a confused look.

"Harry," she said. "Your door was still locked when we tried to get into the room. How could you have gotten out?"

"Oh — er, I guess I — er, must've locked it again, without thinking," Harry muttered, lamely.

"Well, at least you didn't lose your wand, then," Mr. Weasley said, with just a trace of sarcasm in his voice.

The humor was lost on his wife, who glared at him again for a moment, then whirled back to face Harry. "Don't you realize how dangerous is it for you now, Harry? We've got all sorts of spells on the Burrow to keep you safe, and you go wandering off in the middle of the night! Tsk! I can't say I'm very happy with you at this moment. And you!" She spun around, pointing a finger at Ron.

"Me?" Ron said, looking completely nonplussed. "I didn't do anything!"

"Well that's the problem, Ron!" his mother complained, wagging a finger in his face. "You're supposed to be looking out for Harry!"

"Mum, that's ridiculous," Ron said at once. "Harry's pulled me out of more dangerous situations all the time!"

"Well, you shouldn't be getting into those situations now, should you?" Mrs. Weasley shot back, testily. She folded her arms across her chest, looking adamant. "This can't go on anymore — we're not going to let you wander off and get yourself into trouble, Harry," she told him. "And that goes for the rest of you as well!" she added, glaring at Ron and Ginny. "You're all confined to the house for the rest of the summer!" She looked at Hermione apologetically. "I'm sorry, dear, but that applies to you as well."

Ron's mouth dropped open, and Ginny looked outraged. "Mum, that's so unfair!" Ginny announced immediately. "Hermione and I didn't do anything!"

"It can't be helped," Mrs. Weasley said, becoming stern once again. "Arthur, tell them." When Mr. Weasley didn't respond right away, she shot him an impatient look.

Looking rather more reluctant than his wife, Mr. Weasley said, "I've contacted Remus — he'll be here shortly, to help us put up a spell on all the doors and windows of the Burrow. You'll have to tap the door or window sill before you pass through it, and say the password, or an alarm will sound throughout the house."

Harry and Ron glanced at one another. Harry had already seen a loophole in the spell — he could just wait until one of the adults went through a door to hear what the password was. With his super-hearing, Harry could be anywhere in the house and still listen in on what was said.

Hermione suddenly asked, "But what happens when you or Mrs. Weasley go through a doorway, Mr. Weasley? Won't we hear you say the password?" Harry and Ron both glared at her for pointing out this obvious flaw before they could exploit it.

"It will only work on underage wizards, dear," Mrs. Weasley explained. "Once you're seventeen the spell will no longer affect you." Hermione nodded, glancing at Harry as if to say, I knew there'd be some catch to it.

Now, two weeks later, Harry had been outside the Burrow only a handful of times since then, when Mrs. Weasley had felt like having dinner outside, when the kitchen was too hot in the afternoon to do any cooking. They were always quickly herded inside afterwards.

At least, he thought miserably, lying in bed waiting for a bit of sunlight to appear in the morning sky in his bedroom window, he hadn't had to explain the disappearance of his Firebolt. At least, not to anyone other than Ron, who kept pestering him to take it out of his trunk (where Harry had lied and told him it was stored) and give it a good servicing before they went back to Hogwarts in the fall. Harry had begged off of that chore as something he didn't feel like doing, since it would only remind him he couldn't fly it.

And to make things even worse, today was his sixteenth birthday. Harry could just imagine the cheery (not!) atmosphere around the breakfast table this morning, especially since neither Ron, Hermione, nor Ginny could have gotten out in the past two weeks to get him a present. Not that he expected them to, mind you, but it was nice to receive gifts from his friends — it made him feel like he was really part of the family, something his aunt and uncle never bothered with. If anything, they'd gone out of the way to make him feel unwelcome in their home.

He wasn't feeling particularly welcome at the Burrow just now, either, but Harry had to admit it was partly — well, mostly — his fault; he'd been out of bounds when he should have been home in bed, and only his superpowers had prevented the Weasleys from learning he'd been about as far away from the Burrow as he could get, not just in the broom shed. Mrs. Weasley had been spare for a week afterwards, checking in on him almost constantly. Harry had no doubt that, if she could have pulled it off, she would have added a hand for him on the Weasley family clock, the one that currently showed every one of the Weasley family were in "mortal peril."

Thinking about his birthday and how he felt about it reminded Harry of another birthday coming up — Ricky, Lana's son, would have his twelfth one in a few weeks. Harry wanted to know what Clark had found out about Ricky's magical powers — did his mother know, had she been contacted by anyone about it? Harry didn't know anything about the wizarding world in America — did they even have schools where students could learn about witchcraft and wizardry? No one in Britain had ever mentioned such a school; he'd only heard about the European ones, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.

Wait a minute! Harry suddenly sat bolt upright in bed. What was to keep Ricky from attending Hogwarts? Yeah, he'd be a year older than most first-years, but even Hermione, whose birthday was in mid-September, was older than anyone in her year. There was no reason Harry could think of that would keep Ricky from going, if he wanted to! Now, if he could just find a way to talk to him — or to Dumbledore or McGongagall, who would be the ones to send Ricky and Lana the letter inviting him! It would be brilliant!

Excited by this prospect, Harry lay awake all night, imagining helping Ricky with his Defense Against the Dark Arts spells, while Hermione tutored him on magical theory. By his second year (which would be Harry's seventh and final year) they might even get him onto the Quidditch pitch, if he showed any interest in the game. Harry was sure, with the aptitude Ricky had shown for throwing, he could put some wicked curves on the Quaffle, enough to get it past any Keeper in the school.

At last daylight began to seep through the window of his room, and Harry glanced once again at his watch, for what must have been the thousandth time that night. It was just before eight A.M., and he heard the sound of house slippers shuffling across the kitchen floor. A quick glance two floors down showed Mrs. Weasley just getting breakfast started. Harry let himself rise off the bed, rotating slowly so that his feet touched the floor just as he became vertical. He changed from his pajamas into his usual jeans, T-shirt and trainers. The smell of breakfast was beginning to fill his room; he took a deep breath, savoring the smell of cooking eggs, sausages and bacon. Even if he didn't exactly feel hungry any more, he still appreciated eating a good meal, especially one prepared by Mrs. Weasley, arguably the best cook he knew (though he wouldn't say so to Clark, who thought his own mum was the best cook in the world).

"Good morning, Harry," Mrs. Weasley greeted him pleasantly as he padded into the kitchen a minute later. "And happy birthday as well!" she added, as Harry mumbled good morning in return. "What would you like for breakfast this morning — anything you want, dear."

"Eggs and sausage is fine, thanks," Harry said, not wanting to be too much of a bother, even today. "And maybe a little bacon, please. And some toast." Mrs. Weasley smiled and began filling his plate, as Ron slouched sleepily into the room, rubbing his stomach.

"Morning, Harry," he said, dropping into the chair next to him. "Happy birthday, mate — sorry I didn't get you anything this year," his voice dropped to a mutter, "it was a bit hard to get out and find something."

"I heard that, Ronald Weasley," his mother said sternly, plopping a spoonful of eggs onto his plate. "You just eat your breakfast and never mind the smart comments." She tipped a half-dozen sausages onto his plate, and Ron tucked in with gusto, apparently too hungry to even exchange eye rolls with Harry over his mother's scolding.

"Remus will be coming for lunch," Mrs. Weasley mentioned, giving Harry a smiling look as she poured glasses of pumpkin juice for him and Ron. "I think we'll have a little party afterwards, too — perhaps Tonks will show up as well," she added, almost to herself, as if she were hoping so.

"Good morning," Hermione said, walking into the kitchen. "Happy birthday, Harry!" she smiled at him, then looked at Mrs. Weasley. "Have our booklists come yet?"

"Not yet, dear," Mrs. Weasley replied, setting a plate and glass in front of Hermione as she took a seat next to Harry, opposite Ron. She took only a small helping of eggs, and one piece of bacon, then helped herself to a piece of toast, nibbling on it as she waited for the owl post to bring her morning's Daily Prophet. Lately, Harry recalled, the Prophet had brought them nothing but bad news — there were disasters, disappearances, and even deaths being recorded daily.

Mrs. Weasley evidently thought so as well. "Tsk," she clucked, disapprovingly. "I wish they'd put some happier news in the paper for a change," she said to Hermione.

"But we need to know what's going on, out in the world," Hermione pointed out. "It may not be good news, but we can't just ignore it!"

"No, I suppose not," Mrs. Weasley admitted. "It just seems — ah, there's your paper now!" An owl had swooped in the window, a copy of the Prophet held tightly in its beak, and landed on the table in front of Hermione. It dropped the paper on her plate, and Hermione immediately picked it up off her eggs. She placed seven Knuts in the leather pouch attached to its leg, and the owl turned and flew out the window. Hermione opened the paper and began to read.

"Anyone we know die?" Ron asked, for about the tenth time since Hermione started reading the paper at the breakfast table that summer.

Hermione gave a gusty sigh, snapping the paper with irritation. She jerked it down and glared at Ron across Harry. "I wish you'd stop asking — ohlookout!" Her hand had hit her glass of pumpkin juice, and it tipped over the edge of the table.

Harry turned toward the glass, and as he did so its motions suddenly slowed, then stopped, hanging in mid-air. Hermione had frozen as well, an expression of dismay on her face. Harry, confused for only a moment, realized his superspeed had kicked in and he was now perceiving things much more quickly than anyone else in the room. He glanced at Mrs. Weasley, seeing her eyes widened in surprise; Ron, next to him, was just beginning to turn at the sound of Hermione's exclamation. Harry looked at the glass itself, which was just off the edge of the table, its contents spilling into the air as the glass began to spin toward the floor.

Harry reached out and carefully grasped the glass, moving it so the orange liquid slipped back inside it, then rotating the glass so it was upright again. He let his perception slow again, so he was experiencing normal speed again.

Hermione gasped, seeing the glass in his hand. "Oh my goodness, Harry!" she said. "How did you catch that?"

"Quidditch reflexes, I guess," Harry shrugged, placing the glass back on the table. Ron clapped him on the shoulder.

"That was brilliant, Harry!" Ron grinned. "I don't think I've ever seen you move that fast before, even catching the Snitch!"

Harry shrugged again. He had responded without thinking about it, but what if he'd caught something that was too hot, or too heavy to explain as "Quidditch reflexes?" He'd have to watch things like that in the future.

Lupin showed up just before noon, for lunch, but Mrs. Weasley held off before serving anything for some time, in the apparent hope that Tonks would show up as well; however, the only persons to appear were Mr. Weasley, who had come home just to help celebrate Harry's birthday with the others, and Bill Weasley, to see Fleur as well as drop off a pouchful of money for Harry, mentioning that it would have taken Harry several hours if he had come down to the bank himself.

Mrs. Weasley finally announced lunch, looking a bit cross, and Ron muttered for only Harry to hear, "Mum has been trying to get Lupin and Tonks together all summer, but I don't think Tonks is having any of it — she seems really depressed."

Harry could guess why; if one of his cousins had murdered another cousin, he'd be pretty depressed about it, too. He hadn't seen her in some time, but according to Remus, who was being quizzed about her by Mrs. Weasley, she'd seemed subdued, much more quiet than normal. And she'd let her hair go back to its natural color, brown. That had earned looks of concern from both Hermione and Ginny.

Remus himself was not faring much better, in Harry's opinion. Though he seemed cheerful enough when he arrived, he looked tired and drawn, his hair even more peppered with gray and his clothing more patched and threadbare than the last time Harry had seen him. He, too, was concerned about the news in the Prophet, though all through lunch he kept mentioning reading about items in the paper about someone or another disappearing, or shops closing in Diagon Alley, and similar dire news, much to Mrs. Weasley's displeasure.

Finally, as Harry's birthday cake was brought to the table, and Mrs. Weasley cut pieces for everyone, Lupin announced the latest from that morning, that Igor Karkaroff, the former headmaster of Durmstrang, had been found dead in a shack up north. "Frankly," Lupin added, "I'm surprised he stayed alive for even a year after deserting the Death Eaters. Sirius's brother Regulus only managed a few days, as far as I can remember."

"Did you hear about Florean Fortescue?" Bill asked Remus. "He was —"

"He ran the ice cream parlor in Diagon Alley," Harry said hollowly. It was another piece of unpleasant news intruding on the day. "He used to give me free ice cream, when I was staying at the Leaky Cauldron a few years ago. What happened to him?" Harry asked, not really wanting to know.

"Dragged off, by the look of the place," Bill said, matter-of-factly.

"Why would they do that?" Ron asked, as his mother glared at Bill. "He was just a ruddy ice cream man, for Merlin's sake!"

"Who knows?" Bill shrugged. "He might've offended them, somehow."

"Yeah," Ron looked as upset as Harry felt. "He probably put too many nuts on one of their sundaes…"

"Speaking of Diagon Alley," Mr. Weasley put in, "looks like Ollivander's is gone, too."

"The wandmaker?" Ginny, who was about to take a bite of cake, looked up, startled. Harry remembered that Dumbledore had told him to get Clark a wand just a few weeks ago — his premonition about Ollivander had been correct.

"That's the one," Mr. Weasley nodded. "His shop's empty. There's no sign of a struggle, so no one knows whether he left voluntarily or was kidnapped."

"But what will people do about wands?" Ginny wanted to know.

"They'll have to make do with other makers," Lupin said. "But he was the best, and if they have him now it's not good for us."

The birthday party, grim as it was getting, broke up shortly after that, and Bill and Mr. Weasley departed back to their respective jobs. Lupin was preparing to leave a short while later, but as he bade Mrs. Weasley goodbye Harry, who'd tarried in the kitchen hoping for a chance to talk to him, stopped him at the kitchen door.

"Professor? Can I have a word before you go?"

"Of course, Harry," Lupin smiled at him. "And you don't have to call me 'Professor' any more — Remus will do. What can I do for you?"
"Um, can we go outside?" Harry asked, glancing back at Mrs. Weasley. When she looked up sharply, he added, "I promise I won't run off."

Lupin looked at Mrs. Weasley. "Molly?"

She looked a bit wary, but shrugged and said, "Oh, all right. It is your birthday, after all, Harry."

Remus nodded and, taking out his wand, tapped on the kitchen doorsill, then ushered Harry through. They took a few steps away from the door. "Now, what is it, Harry?" Lupin asked again.

"I, um, actually wanted to ask a question about school," Harry began, slowly.

"Indeed?" Lupin seemed both intrigued and amused. "I'd think you'd want to avoid that subject — you only have one more month before you go back, you know."

"Right," Harry said. They had stopped just at the gate that marked the edge of the protections around the Burrow. "Well, it's a hypothetical situation. Suppose a student living somewhere other than Britain wanted to attend Hogwarts. Would that be possible?"

Lupin considered a moment. "I suppose Albus would allow it," he said at last. "My parents considered sending me to Durmstrang, as it seemed to have a more, well, 'progressive' set of guidelines concerning students with special needs, such as mine were at the time."

"But you ended up at Hogwarts," Harry said, stating the obvious. "Why?"

"Well, because I insisted," Remus said, wryly. "I made a right pain of myself, carrying on about staying in Britain and not going off to some foreign country like Bulgaria. The truth was, I was a bit intimidated by that place, knowing its reputation for teaching Dark magic — I thought I might end up like the man that had attacked me, Fenrir Greyback — an evil, twisted person."

Lupin gave Harry a shrewd look. "So who's this person you're thinking about, Harry? Who do you know out of country that might want to attend Hogwarts?"

Harry hesitated a moment, but realized that even if Lupin told Professor Dumbledore about Ricky, that was pretty much what he wanted to happen. "Well, there's a kid over in Kansas that seems to have magical abilities, and I thought —"

"Wait a moment," Lupin's expression had turned incredulous. "Kansas — you mean, as in the American state? How would you know somebody living there, Harry?"

"It's a long story," Harry said, a bit uncomfortably. "Superman knows his mother, and —"

But Lupin interrupted him again. "Superman? But he disappeared years ago!"

"He's back," Harry replied.

"And how do you know that?"

"Because his ship nearly crashed into my aunt and uncle's house, the night I got back from Hogwarts."

"How do you know that?" Lupin exclaimed.

"Because I went after the ship after it almost hit my house, to see where it was going to land, and Superman came out of it." Harry didn't mention the circumstances of how he and Superman met.

"That's pretty bloody amazing," Lupin said, frankly. "Who else did you tell about this, Harry?"

"Nobody," Harry said, then amended himself. "Well, Professor Dumbledore found out about it, I guess." Lupin laughed.

"That man! I can't believe he didn't tell me about it," Harry's former teacher said, shaking his head. Between whatever happened to his hand and your meeting Superman this summer, I can hardly wait to find out which story is more incredible!" Lupin glanced at his pocket watch. "But, I'll have to hear it some other time, I've got to run. I'll let Dumbledore know about your friend in Kansas, Harry. You'd better get back inside, before Molly wonders if you've run off again." Nodding goodbye, Lupin stepped through the gate, turned on this heel then disappeared.

The next day, August first, the letters and booklists arrived from Hogwarts, and with them a surprising addition to Harry's packet — a Quidditch Captain's badge. Hermione practically squealed with delight as he pulled it from his envelope. "Just think!" she said, beaming happily at Harry. "That gives you equal status with prefects! Now you can use our special bathrooms and everything!"

Ron reached out and touched the badge, giving Harry a whop on the back (which Harry was careful to "give" with this time, so Ron wouldn't hurt his hand). "Brilliant, Harry! I remember when Charlie got one of these," he said. "So now you're my Captain — assuming you let me back on the team, ha ha…" he added, nervously. Harry raised an eyebrow at him — why would he think Harry wouldn't let him back on the team?

Mrs. Weasley was looking over the booklists, frowning. "I suppose we can't put off a trip to Diagon Alley any longer," she muttered, with a sign. "We'll do it this Saturday — if your father doesn't have to work; I'm not going into Diagon Alley without him.

"Can we go, too, Mum?" Ginny spoke up eagerly. "I want to see Fred and George's new shop!" Harry, Ron, and Hermione waited breathlessly for her answer. They had been cooped up in the Burrow for weeks now, with hardly even a trip outside, much less away from the house.

Mrs. Weasley looked dubious at first, but relented. "Oh, I suppose it will be fine, if we stay all together, mind you! We still have to be very careful!"

"Mum, it's not like You-Know-Who's going to be hiding behind the bookshelves at Flourish and Blotts, waiting for us," Ron sniggered.

"Oh, and I suppose you think Fortescue or Ollivander went on holiday, did they?" Mrs. Weasley replied, angrily. "If you think it's so funny, Ronald Bilius Weasley, you may just as well stay here at the Burrow, and I'll get your things myself!"

"No, Mum!" Ron hastily corrected himself. "I don't think it's funny! And I want to see Fred and George's new shop, too!"

"Then mind your tongue, young man," his mother said hotly, "before I decide you're too immature, for Diagon Alley or Hogwarts!" She dropped the booklists into a basketful of clothing bound for the wash, along with her nine-handed Weasley clock, and stormed out of the room.

Ron turned to Harry with an incredulous look. "A bloke can't even make a joke around here any more…"

"You better watch your mouth," Ginny warned him, "or you're gonna get us all grounded from going to Diagon Alley!"

But Ron kept his mouth mostly shut for the next few days, and Saturday arrived without any further incident, though Mrs. Weasley appeared nervous and distracted at breakfast. Afterwards, a Ministry car pulled up outside, black and gleaming, and they settled comfortably into it for the trip to London. "Nice ride, Dad," Ron said appreciatively, stretching out in the wide back seat between Harry and Hermione.

"Don't get too used to it," Mr. Weasley warned, from the front seat. "It's only because of Harry. He's got top-grade security status while we're at Diagon Alley. We'll be meeting up with additional security at the Leaky Cauldron."

"Oh, is it Tonks?" Hermione asked, hopefully. "We haven't seen her in quite some time."

"No, someone else," Mr. Weasley said, a small smile on his face. "You'll see, once we're there." And he would say nothing more about who it was.

Curious, Harry focused his vision on London and Charing Cross Road, where he saw Hagrid standing outside the Leaky Cauldron, his lips pursed in what was probably tuneless whistling, as startled Muggles passed by and stared at his tremendous height and girth. "I'll bet it's Hagrid," he said to Ron, and Mr. Weasley raised an eyebrow at him, but offered neither confirmation nor denial.

A surprisingly short time later they arrived, slowing as the car pulled onto Charing Cross Road and stopping in front of the Leaky Cauldron. "Here you are," the driver said to Mrs. Weasley. "I'm to wait for you as well — any idea how long you'll be?"

"Oh, a couple of hours, I expect," Mrs. Weasley answered, then looked out the window. "Good, he's here, then."

As Harry had said, Hagrid was there, tall and black-bearded, wearing a long beaverskin coat, beaming as Harry slid out of the back door of the car.

"Harry, how are yeh?" Hagrid grabbed him in a bone-crushing hug. "Buckbeak — er, well Witherwings I guess — is so happy to be back in the open again, yeh should see him!"

Harry grinned. "Glad he's pleased," he said. Once again he'd had to "give" a bit, even for Hagrid, whose prodigious strength was nothing compared to Harry's, now. He made a show of massaging his ribs, smiling as Hagrid hugged Ron, Ginny and Hermione as well, and shook Mr. Weasley's hand.

"Jus' like old times, innit?" he said to Harry, as they stepped toward the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron. "The Ministry wanted a gaggle o' Aurors protecting yeh, but Dumbledore said I was enough." Hagrid puffed out his chest proudly. He held the door to the pub open for them. "Molly, Arthur, after you…"

Looking around, Harry was surprised just how empty the Leaky Cauldron was; they were the only people there right now, other than Tom the landlord, who looked up hopefully as they entered.

"Jus' passing through today, Tom," Hagrid said, nodding to him. "Important Hogwarts business — sure yeh unnerstan'." Tom nodded, with a gloomy shrug, and went back to wiping already-clean glasses once more. The group passed through the bar, into the courtyard in the back, and Hagrid tapped the brick in the wall with his umbrella-wand, opening the archway. "Welcome to Diagon Alley, ev'ryone," he said, a touch of irony in his voice. Looking around, Harry could see why.

Diagon Alley was no longer the bustling, busy affair that it had been when Harry first came here, almost five years ago to the day. Now, instead of colorful, glittering window arrays of book, potion ingredients and cauldrons, there were Ministry of Magic posters up everywhere, most of them being larger versions of the security instructions the Ministry had sent out earlier that summer. A few, however, were large black-and-white pictures of Death Eaters known to be on the loose. Harry scowled at a picture of Bellatrix Lestrange that grinned maliciously at him as he walked by it.

Several shops were boarded up, including (as Mr. Weasley had said) Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. But there were also other shops, hastily set-up affairs consisting of stalls or tents, with signs like "Amulets, Effective Against Werewolves, Dementors and Inferi" or "Sure-Fire Protection Spells Against Dark Magic" in front of them. An old wizard waved a handful of amulets in front of Mrs. Weasley as they passed, leering at Ginny as he hawked his wares.

Mr. Weasley had stopped and was looking at the wizard in anger. "If I were on duty —" he muttered, darkly.

"But you aren't, dear," Mrs. Weasley reminded him, grabbing his arm and pulling him along. "And we're in a hurry today, anyway. Ah, here we are," she said, stopping in front of Madam Malkin's. "Hermione said she needs new dress robes, and both Harry and Ron have grown so much —"

"Well, if we're in such a hurry," Mr. Weasley suggested, "then why don't we let those three stay here, with Hagrid, while we go on to Flourish and Blotts and get everyone's school books."

Mrs. Weasley looked uneasy. "I don't know," she said, dithering. "Hagrid, do you think it'll be okay —"

"No worries, Molly," Hagrid smiled soothingly. "They'll be fine wit' me." Molly didn't look entirely convinced, but nodded and she, Mr. Weasley and Ginny walked off toward the book store, while the three of them went into the robe shop.

Hagrid peered into the shop but did not enter with them. "Might be a bit crowded with alla us in there," he muttered, standing so his face was no longer visible. "I'll jus' stand guard outside here."

The shop appeared empty as the three walked inside, looking around, but after a few moments Harry heard a familiar voice, one that set his teeth on edge. "— I am quite capable of doing my shopping alone, Mother. I am not a child!" Draco Malfoy appeared from behind a rack of green and blue robes, stepping over to a mirror to check his appearance. It was several seconds before he noticed the reflections of Harry, Ron, and Hermione staring at him.

Malfoy lifted his head and sniffed the air, then turned around. "Oh, it's you, Potter. Thought I smelled something." When Harry didn't react, Malfoy went on, "I see your friends are with you. I guess you didn't step in dragon dung, after all—it's just a Mudblood."

Ron reached for his wand just as Madam Malkin came scurrying out from behind the rack, a tape measure and wand in her hands. "Now, there's no need for language like that!" she said, nervously, then added, seeing Ron's wand out, "and no wands drawn in my shop, if you please!"

"Don't do anything!" Hermione whispered in Ron's ear. "It's not worth it, honestly!" Ron reluctantly slid his wand back into his pocket.

"Yes, Ronnie, it's not worth it," Malfoy sneered. "As if you'd dare do magic out of school. Hey, Granger," he said suddenly, "who gave you the black eye? Perhaps I should send them flowers?"

"Alright, that's enough!" Madam Malkin said sharply. She looked over her shoulder for support. "Madam, please —"

Narcissa Malfoy walked slowly out from behind the rack of robes, a haughty expression on her beautiful but cold face. "I think that's enough, Draco," she said, staring at the three Gryffindors. "It's impolite to make fun of those less fortunate than you, and they clearly are."

Harry stepped toward her, now as tall as she was. "I suppose we'll just have to suffer along, then, not being Voldemort's toadies like you are," he said hotly.

Madam Malkin looked horrified. "Don't say his name!" she squeaked. "Please!"

Narcissa smiled coldly. "How like Dumbledore you are, in some ways," she said, taking a few steps so she was between him and Draco. "I'm sure that comes of you being his favorite. But Dumbledore won't always be around to protect you, will he?"

Harry looked around, mockingly. "He's not here now, is he? Maybe you'd like to a have a go right now, then? Or would you rather wait for that loser husband of yours to get out of prison?"

"Don't you talk to my mother like that, Potter!" Malfoy snarled. "Or say anything against my father! You're the one who put him in prison!"

"Your father put himself there, Malfoy," Harry replied, coldly. "I didn't force him to attack me or my friends."

Madam Malkin, not knowing what else to do about the tenseness of the situation, decided to ignore it. She began fiddling with one of the sleeves on Malfoy's robe. "I think this left sleeve could come up a bit — let me just…"

"Ouch!" Malfoy stepped away from her, his hand over his left forearm. "Watch where you're sticking those pins, woman!" He looked at this mother. "I'm getting tired of this —" He pulled the robe off over his head and dropped it on the floor. "Mother, let's go, this place isn't fit to shop in any more."

Narcissa looked contemptuously at Hermione. "I agree, Draco, now that I see what kind of scum shop here. We'll do better at Twilfitt and Tatting's." The pair turned and walked out of the shop, Malfoy being sure to bump into Ron as hard as he could on the way. Which for Harry was the final straw.

Everyone was watching the Malfoys leave, except for Madam Malkin, whose eyes were on the robe Draco had dropped on the floor. "Well —" she began to say. Harry waited until Draco reached back to pull the shop door closed, then moved faster than the eye could follow. He took a scrap of parchment and a pin from a nearby cutting table, writing two words on the parchment using a quill and inkwell sitting next to the table. Moving behind Malfoy, he pinned the parchment on the blond teenager's back, then sped back to his original location with just a tenth of a second of time elapsed. The Calming Charm was still working well — his movement had not disturbed any of the robes or cloth bolts hanging around the shop.

"— really!" Malkin finished, as she reached down and snatched up the robe Malfoy had dropped. She began fitting their robes, but seemed nervous and distracted throughout Ron and Harry's fittings; she even tried to sell Hermione wizard's dress robes instead of witch's, and in general hurried them along so much Harry wondered who she was more upset with, them or the Malfoys.

Outside, Hagrid was leaning against the side of the building, chuckling to himself. "What's so funny, Hagrid?" Hermione asked, looking around. Malfoy and his mother were long gone by now, of course.

"Oh, nuthin'," Hagrid said, giving an airy wave with one of his huge hands. "Jus' thinking what a sense o' humor that Madam Malkin has, 'sall."

"She didn't seem in a very good humor to me," Ron groused. "Practically ran us out of her shop just now." Hermione nodded; neither of them saw the small smile Harry had on his face.

"Did you see the Malfoys?" Harry asked, still smiling.

"Yeah," Hagrid grinned. "But I wouldn't worry 'bout them — they won't make any trouble, not in the middle of Diagon Alley, anyway."

Ron looked at him, incredulous, and was about to point out what had just gone on inside Madam Malkins when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ginny showed up, all carrying heavy packages of books.

"Everyone got your robes?" she asked, peering at the three. "Right, then—we'll pop past the Apothecary, then Eeylops, and then on to Fred and George's…"

Harry found himself thinking of Smallville as they made their way through the chemist's shop and the owl emporium. He had nothing to buy in the apothecary's — Snape would never let him continue with N.E.W.T.s Potions without an "O" grade, and he had made only an "E." He was hoping Remus had talked to Dumbledore about allowing a student from America to attend Hogwarts. The only thing he worried about was whether Ricky was ready — he'd seemed a bit immature for his age. Harry was fairly sure he'd never acted that way when he was twelve — though, he had to admit, he hadn't dared talk back to his aunt or uncle, even as shabbily as they treated him.

In Eeylops he and Ron each bought a large box of owl nuts, for Hedwig and Pigwidgeon, respectively; Harry put his in his rucksack as they walked slowly down Diagon Alley, looking for Weasley Wizard Wheezes. Mrs. Weasley was checking her watch every minute as she stared anxiously from store to store.

"We haven't got that long," she was saying, glancing again at her watch. "We'll just have a quick look round and then back to the car."

"Whoa!" Ron said suddenly, brought up short as they looked up at number 93, Diagon Alley. Compared to the other boarded-up or posted-over windows of nearby shops, Fred and George's windows hit the viewer like a fireworks display — almost literally, as lights and objects glimmered and spun in dizzying patterns, with starbursts and shooting sprays of color making them all blink. Hermione shook her head, closing her eyes, and Ron's were nearly popping out at the sight of so much magic. Mr. Weasley was smiling uncertainly, as if he didn't know quite what to make of it all — especially the large purple poster with flashing yellow letters that proclaimed, "WHY ARE YOU WORRYING ABOUT YOU-KNOW-WHO? YOU SHOULD BE WORRYING ABOUT U-NO-POO — THE CONSTIPATION SENSATION THAT'S GRIPPING THE NATION!"

Mrs. Weasley stared at the poster, aghast. "They'll be murdered in their beds!" she whispered.

Both Harry and Ron were choking, they were laughing so hard. "No they won't, Mum!" Ron said, between peals of laughter. "They're brilliant!' The group quickly made their way into the crowded shop. Harry had to be careful here; people were moving and jostling against one another — it would be too easy for someone to bump into him and hurt themselves before he realized it and gave way for them.

All of the Weasley favorites were here — Skiving Snackboxes, for cutting classes by pretending to be ill; fake wands that would turn into rubber chickens or fish when waved — the pricier ones would suddenly begin smacking the unsuspecting wielder about the head and shoulders. There were boxes of Self-Inking, Self-Checking and Smart-Answer quills, and even toys like a small wooden man walking up the steps of a small gallows, a Reusable Hangman game.

He finally caught sight of Hermione and Ginny looking over a shelf with various love potions on it. Fred and George were both converging on the pair. "Best range of love potions you'll find anywhere," Fred was telling Hermione, then saw Harry and stuck out his hand. "Harry! Good to see you!"

"Hi, Fred," Harry said, shaking his hand, then George's. "Hi, George. What's up with the love potions?"

"And do they work?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Certainly they work," Fred said, importantly. He gave his younger sister a shrewd look. "But we're not selling them to you — anyway, from what we hear, you've already got about five boys on the go —"

"That's a big, fat lie," Ginny snorted. Hearing that gave Harry an odd sense of comfort, somehow. "What's this?" Ginny asked, taking a pink pot down from a shelf.

"Guaranteed ten-second pimple vanisher," George said, briskly. "But don't avoid the question. Are you or are you not currently dating a boy named Dean Thomas?"

"Are," Ginny answered, folding her arms across her chest and glaring at her older brothers. "What business is that of yours?"

"We're asking the questions here, little sister," Fred informed her.

"So what happened to Michael Corner?" George pressed.

"I dumped him, he was a sore loser," Ginny said, with a toss of her head. Then she caught sight of a cage filled with pink and purple balls of fluff, all rolling about and emitting high-pitched squeaks. "Oooh, what are these? They're reallycute!"

"They are rather adorable," Fred allowed. "They're Pygmy Puffs, miniature puffskeins. They're flying off the shelves, we can't breed them fast enough."

"But back to the matter at hand," George said, severely. "You seem to be flying through boyfriends pretty fast yourself."

Ginny turned and gave them both a baleful look; she quite resembled Mrs. Weasley at that moment, and Harry wondered that Fred and George didn't recoil at the sight of her. "It's none of your business," she told them. "And you!" she whirled, pointing accusingly at Ron as he walked up to them. "I'll thank you not to go telling tales about me to these two!"

Ron's arms were full of Weasley merchandise, and Fred eyed the many boxes in his arms, adding up the damage. "That's three Galleons, nine Sickles, and a Knut," he said, holding out a hand. "Cough it up."

"But I'm your brother!" Ron howled.

"So's Percy," George said, unimpressed. "And we'd give him the same deal. Right, we'll even knock off the Knut, just for you."

"I don't have three Galleons!" Ron moaned.

"Then put it all back," Fred told him, "and mind you put everything back where you found it!" Ron grimaced and dropped several boxes on the floor, just as Mrs. Weasley walked up.

"Ron, don't be so careless!" she told him sharply.

"You break it, you buy it," Fred warned him.

Ginny, seeing her chance, immediately launched into a campaign to have her mother buy her a Pygmy Puff. "Mum, can I have a Pygmy Puff?"

"A what?"

"Look, they're so sweet…"

Mrs. Weasley moved in closer to look at the puffskeins, and Hermione was pestering Ron look at them as well, giving Harry a moment to himself. He turned, looking out the shop's front window, and his enhanced vision caught a furtive figure moving through the shadows cast by the buildings across the street. He narrowed his focus, and the sharp pale features of Draco Malfoy resolved themselves. Looks like he's given his mummy the slip, Harry thought derisively. I wonder why. Knowing Malfoy and loathing him as he did, Harry was sure the reason wasn't innocent.

Harry moved, walking casually to the window, keeping his vision trained on Malfoy, watching him skulk through the shadows toward — wouldn't you know it? — Knockturn Alley. Once he turned down that side street, Malfoy moved more confidently. It didn't hurt, Harry noticed, that the street devoted to the Dark arts was just as deserted as Diagon Alley was. Malfoy made his way to the one shop that still appeared to be open — Borgin and Burkes, a place Harry was acquainted with as well, it being the one shop he had been inside in Knockturn Alley during his visit there before second year. Borgin, the proprietor, a small, oily-haired man, looked up as Malfoy entered; his expression was guarded, as if he realized the problems Malfoy could make for him if things did not go his way.

The jingle of the door's bell came to Harry's ear; it had taken the sound several seconds to travel the distance from Knockturn Alley. Harry cocked his ear slightly, eager to hear the conversation between Borgin and Malfoy.

"HARRY!" Harry winced in surprise as a voice seemed to shout his name directly in his ear. He turned. It was Mrs Weasley, looking at him curiously. "Harry, we're getting ready to leave," she said. "Are you alright, dear? You looked like your mind was a million miles away."

"Sorry," Harry said. He hadn't been quite that far away, though — less than a mile, really, in terms of attention. He started to turn back toward Malfoy and Knockturn Alley, but his attention was diverted once again, this time by Ginny, who held up a small purple ball of fluff in front of his face, beaming at him.

"See my new pet Pygmy Puff, Harry?" she said, smiling broadly. "Mum just bought him for me. Isn't he cute?"

"Adorable," Harry said, echoing Fred's earlier comment.

"Mum says we're going," Ginny went on. "Are you ready?"

"Well," Harry said, distractedly, "I haven't had much chance to talk to Fred and George, yet —"

"A tremendous oversight on your part, Harry," Fred said, appearing at Ginny's side. "We had so much to show you, too —!"

"Like our Shield Hats," George stepping up on Ginny's opposite side, added. He held up a small black and blue package, waggling it in front of Harry. "Or Instant Darkness Powder, from Peru, if you need a quick getaway —"

"— or these Decoy Detonators," Fred added, holding out a few weird-looking horn-type objects in one hand. "Handy for creating a diversion. Just drop one on the floor and it'll run off a make a nice, loud noise out of sight. Here you go." He dropped a few into Harry's hand, and George handed a few packets of the instant darkness powder.

"Here's something you might like," George said, handing Harry a couple of Galleons. "Remember those D.A. Galleons Hermione made, the ones you could change the date and time on, and it would be shown on the other coins as well? We improved them."

Harry stared at the coins. They looked just like regular Galleons, he saw. George took one from him. "Watch this," he said, and tapped it with his wand, then spoke over it, saying, "Testing one, two, three." The coin in Harry's hand vibrated slightly, and as he watched the words TESTING ONE TWO THREE appeared on its face.

"That's brilliant!" Harry said, impressed.

"We think so, too," Fred said proudly. "Now, instead of just dates and times, you can send short messages to one another. We haven't quite worked out how to send from one specific coin to another — currently all the coins enchanted like this would get the same message, but we're working on it."

"This would be handy to have, though," Harry said, thinking he could communicate with Clark or Ricky if they had a coin. George tossed the coin back to him.

"Keep it, then — Fred and I can make more when we work out the details."

He looked around as Mrs. Weasley started calling for everyone to get ready to leave. "If there's anything you need, Harry, just let us know — we'll fix you up, no charge."

"But —" Harry began to protest, having already pulled out his money pouch to pay for the items they'd given him.

"No," Fred said firmly. "Put away your money, Harry — it's no good here. You gave us our start-up loan, remember?"

"Take whatever you like," George added, walking with Harry to the door. "Just remember to tell people where you got it from, if they ask."

Mrs. Weasley was herding them all toward the car. Harry hung back, taking a moment to check out what was happening at Borgin and Burkes, but Draco was already leaving the shop, looking very pleased with himself. Meanwhile, Harry saw, Borgin's eyes had remained on Draco's back, his expression one of amused confusion. Harry tuned his hearing to catch whatever conversation could still be heard, but all he got was, "—a word to anyone, Borgin, and that includes my mother, understand?"

"Naturally, naturally," he heard Borgin muttered, and the doorbell tinkled once again, followed by a slight chuckle from Borgin. Harry grinned to himself; even though he had missed whatever Draco was plotting, he'd put one over on Malfoy, though the Slytherin hadn't yet realized it. Pinned to his back was the parchment upon which Harry had written the words "Muggle lover" — Malfoy had been wandering through Diagon and Knockturn Alleys with that sign on his back for some time now. The few people he passed in the street were turning to look at him, smiling or chuckling. It would be interesting when Malfoy rejoined his mother and discovered that sign, Harry thought. Whistling a happy little tune, he slid into the back seat of the Ministry car and closed the door; the car pulled away from the curb, whisking them back toward the Burrow.

=ooo=

Harry had hoped that, after Diagon Alley, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would remove the spell keeping them from leaving the house without their permission, but the story of Draco Malfoy wandering around with a "Muggle lover" sign pinned to his back had made her suspicious. Neither Ron nor Hermione would admit to pinning the sign on Malfoy (ironically, Mrs. Weasley suspected Harry the least, which made him feel a bit guilty) and Narcissa had complained to the Ministry, suspecting one of the three Gryffindors they had encountered in Madam Malkins.

"It doesn't matter if none of you did it, anyway," Mrs. Weasley said, stubbornly. "That Malfoy woman thinks you did, and that's enough cause for concern! You'll just have to wait until you go back to school."

It was frustrating, because Harry was cut off from everyone — from Clark, from Dumbledore — except by owl, and there was no way he was going to make his owl fly to Kansas! For one thing, she couldn't make such a trip over the Atlantic Ocean. For another, he was already keeping her busy trying to get a response from Professor Dumbledore on whether Hogwarts would accept students from America. He had hoped that Dumbledore would let him know, somehow, shortly after he talked to Remus, but it had been over a week now, and he had already sent two owl posts to the headmaster. Both times Hedwig had returned with no message. He had sent off a third post last night, to try one last time before it was too late. He'd really wanted to get some good news before Ricky's birthday, even if it looked like he was stuck here in the Burrow. He'd asked in his letters if Dumbledore could fix things with the Weasleys so he could attend Ricky's party Saturday afternoon.

But it was now Friday, the day before the party in Smallville, and Harry still had no word from Dumbledore, nor any way to contact Clark. He had spent the week playing Exploding Snap with Ron, Ginny and Hermione until it drove Mrs. Weasley mad and she took away the deck, then played wizard chess against Ron (actually beating him a few times in the process, a benefit of his super-memory and enhanced cognitive abilities) until they were both bored with it. Hermione had tried researching the spell keeping them inside the house, learning that even a detection spell would set off the alarm, which had brought Mrs. Weasley running and got Hermione into a spot of trouble.

Fred and George had been over for dinner, earlier in the week, and they'd had a go at it as well, but came up short. "It's a damned good spell," Fred admitted to the trio and Ginny, "since Remus had a hand in it as well as Mum and Dad. Dumbledore probably helped them with it, too. So —"

"— you're probably stuck here," George finished, glumly.

Harry was even considering trying to fly through a door or window at super-speed, in the hope that he would be moving too fast for the spell to activate, but common sense told him that wouldn't work either, not if a detection spells set it off. Fred and George had mapped the spell; it extended over every door, every window, every flue opening and even over the walls and ceilings, so that breaking through a wall would set off the alarm as well. Dumbledore's hand was definitely in this, Harry decided. He'd thought of everything.

There was a fluttering at the window, which Harry had left open, and Hedwig landed on the window sill, hooting tiredly. "Hedwig!" Harry beamed, going over to the window and offering her his arm. She stepped onto it, and Harry moved slowly over to her perch. "How are you doing, girl?" he asked, softly, stroking her head. "Tired, I'll bet — it's way past your bedtime." She nipped affectionately at his finger — Harry no longer felt those nips, his invulnerability made that impossible now, but he knew what they were. "There's more owl nuts for you, there," he pointed to the food tray he'd just filled earlier that morning. "And don't worry — no more trips to Hogwarts for you, until we leave in September."

There was a note attached to her leg this time, and Harry quickly removed it, going back and sitting on his bed to read it.

---

Harry,

Please excuse my tardiness in responding to your posts. I am sorry to inform you that I do not have the authority to invite students from other countries to attend Hogwarts without approval from the International Confederation of Wizards, as well as the student's home government.

The approval process would take about six weeks, so even if it began right away, it would be late September before the student could attend Hogwarts. If the student is a wizard, his or her parents will be notified of the options available to them when he reaches the age of twelve, the minimum age to attend an accredited American wizarding school.

I must also unfortunately inform you that my schedule does not permit me to "rescue" you from the Burrow, as you so quaintly put it, this Saturday. However, I do look forward to your own arrival at Hogwarts this year — we have much to discuss.

As always, yours sincerely,
Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore

---

Harry lay back on the bed, once again disappointed. He was so sure Dumbledore would be able to fix things so Ricky could attend Hogwarts! Even so, he reminded himself, all was not lost yet — the letter had said Ricky's parents would be notified when he reached the minimum age to attend an American school, which would be his next birthday. Could that mean Ricky was likely to be contacted that day? Harry wished Ricky's birthday party was being held on the day of actual birthday instead of the day before.

What he was most upset about, however, was not being able to attend Ricky's birthday party in the first place. There had to be some way around the spell keeping him, as well as Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, inside. But every exit seemed to be covered — doors, windows, every opening and every wall or ceiling with open air on the other side of it. Even Apparating, if he could do it, would set off the alarm — but that had been thought of as well, Fred and George had said.

There was a scratching sound from the desk where Harry had composed his letters to Dumbledore, and he glanced over it, then sat upright, watching in amazement as a quill dipped itself in ink and began scratching a message on a blank piece of parchment. Harry walked over to the desk, watching as the quill slowly wrote a message.

Harry this is Superman — May I fly into your room — nod if it's okay.

Harry looked upward, scanning the sky with his super vision until he caught sight of Superman, floating above the Burrow, perhaps a mile up. He had a look of intense concentration on his face, and his right hand was moving as if he were writing something. Harry glanced at the window, which was still open, then looked up and nodded. A moment later, the Man of Steel was standing next to him.

"Hi, Harry — sorry it took me so long to figure out you couldn't contact me," Superman said apologetically. "I would have come here before now if I had."

"Wow, am I glad to see you," Harry said, happiness and relief in his voice. "I've been trying to figure out a way to get in contact with you without leaving the house." He pointed toward the writing on his desk. "So how'd you do that, then?"

"I've been practicing working magic," Superman told him. "It's a lot harder than you make it look, let me tell you!"

Harry glanced at his trunk. Yes, he could see the wand they'd bought at Diagon Alley, still hidden inside. He looked back at Superman. "That's pretty impressive," he told the Man of Steel. "Usually it takes a while to learn simple levitation spells even with a wand, and you were making that quill write from over a mile away!"

"So tell me," Superman asked, "what happened that's keeping you from leaving this house? Is it magic?"

"Sort of," Harry said, and explained about the Weasleys wanting to protect him from Lord Voldemort, especially after the big fight in the Ministry of Magic two months ago, the one where his godfather Sirius had been killed.

"So only your headmaster, Dumbledore, knows about your super powers?" Superman asked. Harry nodded. "Well, I don't know that I disagree with his reasoning," Superman went on, "but I thought that the Fidelius Charm would keep anyone from learning my secret identity unless I told them."

"It will," Harry agreed. "But Professor Dumbledore seems to think you might unconsciously drop clues that would let people guess who you really are."

"Hmm," Superman looked thoughtful. "Something like that has happened before, with Lois," he said.

"So she knows your secret identity?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Not any more," Superman replied, shaking his head. "Knowing my real identity was making it too difficult for her to live a normal life — I used a Kryptonian hypnosis technique to block her memory of my identity."

Harry said nothing, not pretending to understand, though it sounded something like a Memory Charm. But there was something he wanted to know. "So what's up with Ricky? Did you talk to your mum about what your friend Lana knows?"

"They talked on the phone earlier this week," Superman said. "Mom says Lana has mentioned a few weird things happening at her house in the past few months, but she thought it was a poltergeist." Superman chuckled. "I told Mom that although wizards were real, poltergeists and ghosts probably weren't."

Harry gave Superman a look, then slowly nodded his head. Superman looked surprised. "What? You mean there are?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "We've got both at Hogwarts — quite a lot of ghosts, actually. And one poltergeist, who's a real pain in the arse sometimes."

Superman shook his head, bemused. "Well, I guess that goes to show, there's a lot more to most things than we realize."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, plaintively. "Like how I'm going to get out of here and attend Ricky's birthday party tomorrow."

Superman put on a serious expression. "I don't think I can condone disobeying your guardians, Harry. They are trying to protect you, you know."

"I know, I know," Harry said, annoyed. "But I'm invulnerable, remember?"

"But not against magic," Superman reminded him. "And that's the primary weapon wizards use against one another, right?"

"True," Harry answered, reluctantly. "But most spells travel slow enough that I could easily dodge them. Even the Killing Curse can be dodged if you see it coming in slow motion! And besides," he pointed out. "You're going to be there too, aren't you?"

"Clark Kent will be there," Superman corrected him. Then he smiled. "But I'll be around, of course. I'm always around." He stepped toward the window, then faced Harry again.

"I know Ricky and Lana would both like to see you at the party," he said. "I hope you can work something out."

"I'll try," Harry said, earnestly. Whether he could work something out or not, he planned to be there. It was just stupid, staying in this house when he could be out flying. Superman waved and disappeared out the window.

Harry was about to go downstairs and see what else was going on in the house when Superman's voice came from outside the window. "Harry?"

Harry went over to the window. Superman was floating there. "Do you want me to go get your broom?" Harry had mentioned the Weasleys noticed it wasn't in his room.

"No, it's not a big deal," Harry shook his head. "I mean, yeah, I'll need it back before I got to Hogwarts, but I don't need it right this second. Maybe we can fly up there after the party."

"We can do that," Superman said, and waving once again, he rose into the air until he was above the top of the Burrow, then shot away. Harry watched with his super-vision until the Man of Steel disappeared over the horizon.

I've still got to get him to show me how to do that, Harry thought, remembering that Superman still hadn't shown him how to fly faster than sound in atmosphere without generating a tremendous backwash. And, I've got to find out a way out of this house by tomorrow night, he added to himself. Clark had told him the party started at four P.M. — that gave him until about ten P.M. Saturday night to come up with a solution. Harry stuck his hands in his pockets, then cursed to himself as he felt the two Galleons in there — he'd forgotten to give one to Superman! Well, one way or another, he'd see him Saturday and make sure he had one.

=ooo=

Lois pulled into the garage of their seaside home Friday evening, pulling out her cell phone and dialing Richard's number. "I'm home," she said tiredly. "Come and get it." She had phoned earlier, telling Richard that she would pick up Chinese when she got off work. She hadn't expected it to be this late, however — she'd worked well into early evening. They would be dining fashionably late.

The garage door opened and Richard and Jason appeared. "Hi," she greeted them, handing boxes and bags through the window to Richard, who handed a few in turn to Jason. Jason turned and made a beeline for the door to the house.

"Put them on the table," Richard told him, waiting for Lois to exit her car. He smiled at Lois, kissing her gently as she closed the car door. "And how was your week?" he asked her, playfully.

"Don't ask," she groused. "I didn't think this week would ever end. Your slave driver of an uncle has had me doing background pieces for the Genesis launch, assuming it ever does launch, as well as city desk work." They set the remaining boxes on the table; Jason was running back and forth, putting silverware on the table. "Jason, honey, did you take your medicine earlier?" Jason nodded. "Good!" Lois praised him.

"Take your time, buddy," Richard said, as Jason raced back to the silverware drawer. "You don't want your asthma to start up, do you?" Jason shook his head emphatically no. "Why don't you go practice your music?" Richard suggested. "Mommy and I will call you when supper's ready." He went into the next room and sat down at the keyboard of the electric piano.

Richard looked at Lois, a teasing smile on his face. "Perry just knows quality work when he sees it. After all, you did just win a Pulitzer Prize, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Lois said, almost reluctantly. She was getting plates and glasses for the three of them. "'Why the World Doesn't Need Superman,'" she said, quoting the title of the editorial piece that had gotten her the coveted award.

Richard watched her for several seconds. "Do you miss him?" he asked, suddenly.

"Miss him?" Lois gave her fiancé a sharp look. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you knew him, didn't you?" Richard pointed out. "And you were —" he glanced at Jason, mindful that the boy was listening to their conversation even though he seemed engrossed in playing scales. "— you were close, weren't you?"

"We were good friends," Lois hedged. "But all that's in the past, now. Superman's been gone for five years — nobody knows where he went. For all intents and purposes he abandoned us."

"Maybe he had a good reason for leaving," Richard suggested, mostly to see how Lois would react rather than believing what he was saying.

"Well, if he did," Lois retorted, "it's too bad he never let anyone in on it. A lot of people were affected by his disappearance."

"Such as?" Richard prompted her. He was being a bit of a dick, but Lois never opened up about this subject unless she was tired…or drunk…

Lois stared at him, and for a moment Richard thought she'd seen through his ploy. Perhaps she had, anyway, because she answered, "Such as — Clark Kent. The poor guy was traumatized when Superman left; he called up Perry and asked for an extended leave of absence — nobody's seen or heard from him since."

"So you miss Clark, then?" Richard asked.

"What? No," Lois looked as if the idea was ludicrous. "Clark is just — well, Clark. He was a good reporter, we did our share of stories together. But there's nothing else to it." Their phone rang, and Richard picked it up.

"Hello? Oh hi, Perry." Richard looked at Lois. "Yeah, she's here, we're just sitting down to a late — okay, here she is." He held out the phone, his hand over the receiver. "The iceman calleth."

Lois took the phone without comment. "Hi, Chief. What's up?" She listened for several seconds, then suddenly blurted, "You're kidding! Perry, that's ridiculous! Why would they schedule it for a Saturday —? Yeah, yeah, I know all about 'window of opportunity' and all that. Okay," she sighed. "I'm on it." She hung up the phone, giving Richard a look of aggravation.

"Uh-oh," he said, warily. "I know that look. What happened?"

"They finally rescheduled the Genesis launch," Lois said, annoyed. "For tomorrow afternoon! It takes off at 5 P.M — I've got to be in Houston by tomorrow afternoon if I want to be on the launch. I can't believe it!"

Richard looked at the boxes of food spread out on the kitchen table. "Want something to eat before you start packing?"

Lois glanced at her watch, frowning. "I don't know," she dithered. "I need to make flight reservations and book a hotel room — I have no idea whether I can make the last flight tonight — and everything is in the laundry, I don't have a thing to wear…"

"Mommy…?" Lois turned. Jason was looking up at her, with eyes bright with tears and trembling lips. "Do y-you have to leave again?"

Lois crouched down so her face was level with his. "Yes, Jason, Mommy has to go Houston, to fly in the space shuttle."

"Shouldn't you eat something first?" Jason asked, tremulously. Lois and Richard glanced at one another.

"Yes, I should," Lois agreed. "But I don't know if I have enough to do that and still…" Lois's voice trailed off. "You know what?" she said, smiling at Jason. "We should eat! And if I make it to Houston, I make it — if I don't, then I don't!"

Jason smiled and put his arms around her neck. When he let go Lois nodded at the table full of food. "Let's eat," she said.

=ooo=

Most of Saturday had come and gone, but by dinner that evening Harry still hadn't come figured out a way out of the Burrow. Now almost desperate to come up with a way around it, he'd engaged Ron and Hermione in a discussion up in Ron's room to try and come up with a solution to the "Burrowzkaban" problem, as Ginny had dubbed it earlier that week. Neither of them were very optimistic.

"I don't know what bloody good it's doing, talking about it anyway," Ron said, moodily. He was still a bit put out that his own mother had in effect accused him of not knowing where Harry was all the time. "Once Mum has made up her mind, wild hippogriffs couldn't make her change her mind."

"I know that, Ron," Harry said, impatiently. "But I'm not trying to change her mind — I'm just seeing if we can think of a way to get round that spell."

"And then what?" Ron challenged.

"I don't know!" Harry said, a bit more shrilly than he'd intended. "It just seems like we should be able to think of something, doesn't it? I mean, look at all the things we've had to figure out in the past five years — like those traps the teachers set up to keep anyone from getting to the Philosopher's Stone. We got around those, didn't we?"

"And I figured out that Remus was a werewolf," Hermione added, sounding a bit proud.

"And I —" Ron stopped and thought for a moment. "I beat that wizard's chess set, didn't I?"

"That was first year, we already mentioned that," Hermione reminded him.

"Well, I still did it, didn't I?" Ron argued.

"Forget about what's already happened!" Harry overrode their argument.

But Hermione looked at him helplessly. "Harry, we have to face facts… there's no way around the barrier. It's everywhere — around every exposed inch of the Burrow."

"Right," Ron agreed. "The one way around it would be to dig our way out, and it would take us days, even with magic, to make a tunnel that would take us out beyond the spell's reach.

Harry blinked. Oh, that was just too bloody simple! He'd never even considered a way out beneath the house! "Ron, that's brilliant!" he exclaimed.

"What?" Ron looked surprised. "Digging our way out? It's not like we can really do it," he said, pessimistically. He looked at Harry and Hermione. "Can we?"

"Of course we can't, don't be silly, Ron," Hermione said. "Right, Harry… Harry?"

Harry was thinking furiously about what to say next. Finally he looked back at the two of them. "I can get us out of here," he said, calmly.

Ron and Hermione looked at one another. "Harry, what are you thinking about?" Hermione asked him. "The Burrow is built on a chunk of solid rock — the softest ground around here is in the garden, and it's only a few feet deep. We couldn't possibly —"

"Leave that to me," Harry said. He stood. "I have somewhere I have to be in —" he glanced at his watch "— a little over an hour. You can come along with me if you'd like, there's someone I want you to meet — a couple of people, in fact — but you have to decide now."

Hermione had a look of concern on her face. "Are — are you sure about this, Harry? We're supposed to be on guard against traps by Voldemort, you know —"

"Don't say that name!" Ron hissed.

"Oh, grow up, Ron!" Hermione said, firing up at his attitude. "It's just a name, you don't have to be afraid of it!" To Harry again, she said, "How do you know these — people — you know aren't trying to trick you?"

Harry smiled. "They've never even heard of Voldemort, Hermione — well, one has, but I told him about the situation, and he'd like to help us do something about him, if he can.

"For now, though, I want you to meet someone who might be a wizard but doesn't know it."

"A Muggleborn?" Hermione said, surprised. "Where'd you meet him?"

"Well," Harry hesitated. "That's a bit — er — complicated. I'd rather you meet him and see for yourself."

"We still have to get past the enchantment, Harry," Hermione pointed out. "How are we going to manage that?"

"I've, um, noticed an increase in my magical ability these past few weeks," Harry told her. "I hadn't said anything to either of you before because I didn't know how long it was going to last. But I think I'm strong enough now to get us out of here, using Ron's suggestion of digging our way out. So," he finished, looking at the pair of them. "Are you in this with me, or not?"

Ron and Hermione glanced at one another again. Ron grinned, nodding. "We're in," Hermione said.

=ooo=

The hardest part, Harry reckoned, was finding a place in the house they could use to start tunneling their way out. Almost every inch of the Burrow's ground floor was being used in some way. "There is an old cupboard beneath the stairs," Ron remembered. "Fred and George used to tell me I was invisible when I was inside there." He shrugged. "Mostly, I think they just liked putting me in there, really."

"It'll do," Harry said, getting out his Invisibility Cloak. The three of them got underneath it, then inched their way down the stairs, hearing Mr. and Mrs. Weasley talking in the kitchen. None of them had seen Ginny since dinner.

"She's probably up in her room, with Arnold," Hermione whispered. "She really likes her new pet Pygmy Puff."

Ron carefully undid the hook holding the cupboard door closed, and slowly pulled it open. The door made a squeaking sound, which sounded like it echoed through the entire house, until Hermione pointed her wand at it and said, softly, "Silencio," and the door ceased creaking.

"I thought that spell was only for silencing people," Ron whispered to her.

"It will work on any sound you don't want heard," Hermione replied.

The cupboard was not very large, just big enough for the three of them to stand inside it, cramped and bent over. Both Hermione and Ron looked at Harry. "Well, we're here," Ron whispered. "Now what?"

"There's an awful lot of stone to remove, Harry," Hermione looked at him doubtfully. "Are you sure you can do it?"

"I'm going to give it a go," Harry muttered, determinedly. He pointed at the cupboard door, whispering, "Colloportus," to lock it, then pointed to the floor, which was bare stone here beneath the staircase, and said, "Defodio." A round hole appeared in the floor, just big enough for them to slip down. Harry repeated the spell, holding his wand so the hole being gouged out began curving in a horizontal direction. After casting the Gouging Charm several times, the tunnel extended quite some distance down, curving beneath the house in the direction of the garden. The sides of the hole were smooth, as Harry intended, so they could slip down and along it.

"I'll go first," Harry said, putting his wand away for the moment, "and extend the tunnel when I get to the end. Then I'll call back for you to follow me." Ron and Hermione both nodded, though neither of them appeared to like the idea much. This tunnel was not nearly as big as the one they had used to travel from Hogwarts to the Shrieking Shack a few years ago. That couldn't be helped, though; Harry didn't want a tunnel that would be too easy to use.

He slid head-first into the tunnel. The smooth walls and sloping angle let him move downward easily, until he reached the end of the tunnel, about thirty feet from the cupboard. Taking out his wand again, Harry repeated the Gouging Charm several more times, moving along as the tunnel extended further under the Burrow toward the garden behind it. Using his X-ray vision to guide his progress, Harry began angling the tunnel upward again once he was nearly past the garden. He reached the surface again, coming up just past the hedge that lined the far end of the garden. "Come on through," he called back down the tunnel. "I'm on the other side." He heard Ron and Hermione bicker momentarily about who should go first, and shook his head wearily. Then he heard the sound of them moving along the tunnel.

Harry looked back at the Burrow, listening for any sign that the alarm had sounded, but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were only talking about getting ready for bed. Good — that meant they had successfully avoided tripping the alarm! A few minutes later Hermione, then Ron, emerged, both a bit dirtier than before, from dust and such in the tunnel. Looking around, Harry located a small boulder big enough to cover the tunnel's exist. He pointed his wand at it, and the boulder lifted into the air, settling over the hole.

"Now what, Harry?" Hermione asked, brushing dirt off her clothing and out of her hair. "Where do we go from here?"

"Uh —" Harry hadn't quite worked that out yet. He'd Side-Along Apparated with Professor Dumbledore, but even if any of them were old enough to do it, he wasn't sure he could do it himself, having only followed Dumbledore's lead when they went to see Horace Slughorn.

Similarly, a Portkey was right out — you had to have Ministry permission to create one (though it was an almost unenforceable law), but Harry had never studied the theory, so he was unsure what to do beyond saying "Portus" and tapping the object to be enchanted. And they couldn't use brooms (his was still in Clark's ship, in the Antarctic) nor a flying car (the Weasleys' Anglia was still roaming the Forbidden Forest!) nor a flying carpet (banned in Britain, anyway).

Well, there was nothing else for it, Harry sighed to himself.

"Yeah," Ron said, looking at Hermione. "Just where is it we're —" he, then Hermione, suddenly went limp, rendered unconscious by the two Stupefy spells Harry had suddenly hit them with. He pocketed his wand and flashed around behind them, catching them before they fell to the ground.

"Sorry," Harry muttered. "But it'll be easier if you both wake up in Kansas." After considering a moment, he let go of them; then, moving at super-speed, took out his wand again and cast Mobilicorpus on each of them. With Ron and Hermione now floating in the air, Harry prepared them for the trip. He cast a Bubble-Head Charm on each of them, then a Calming Charm, followed by an Unbreakable Charm on each article of clothing they were wearing, and his own as well — the Calming Charm not being effective at preventing friction damage. Remembering that their exposed skin would be at risk as well, since they weren't invulnerable like him, Harry added Bubble-Head Charms to each of their hands.

Now they were ready to travel. Putting his arms under each of their shoulders, Harry lifted off gently, flying straight up until they were about a mile in the air, then flattening out slowly as he climbed until he was perhaps 15,000 feet up. He began to accelerate, watching carefully for signs that the Bubble-Head Charms were going to fail due to the wind whipping around them. He was flying at Mach one, then two, and still accelerating, until he could see the Bubble-Head shell begin to vibrate, just past Mach seven. Harry backed off a bit until the shells looked steady again; he was now traveling at about 4500 MPH. That would get them to Kansas in just about an hour. Harry hoped he would be close enough by then to slow down to a speed that would allow Ron and Hermione to breath once the Bubble-Head Charm ended.

Normally, it only took Harry a minute or two to fly from the Burrow to Smallville, but that was when he could go as fast as he wanted to, and out of the atmosphere. Now, he just had to be patient and not try to hurry, or he might do something that would endanger Ron and Hermione. Taking the "slow" route did give him the chance to examine the Atlantic and northeastern United States as he passed over them, using his superspeed to take in details that no normal human would have time to notice at hypersonic speeds.

Soon he was flying over Kansas, but Harry did not begin angling downward as he normally would. He was going to stop directly over the Kent farm, then drop down and into their yard, hopefully giving no one much of a chance to see him. He had gained a little time flying, so the Bubble-Head spells were still operating. Even as he dropped toward the Kent farm, he heard four soft pops that signaled the end of the spells. From a few thousand feet up, Harry looked down and saw that Clark had come out into the yard, waiting for him to land. There was a bemused look on his face, Harry saw — he was probably surprised to see Harry's friends with him.

Harry landed a few feet in front of Clark, still holding an unconscious Ron and Hermione. "Were they conscious when you began flying here?" Clark asked, dryly.

"No, I didn't want to try and explain my powers or how I got them," Harry said. "These are my friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. They don't know about you, of course — and I don't want them to find out about my powers, at least for now."

"I'll let Mom know," Clark nodded. "But they are magical as well, aren't they?"

"Oh yeah," Harry said, grinning. "Hermione's the smartest witch of her age in our school. Ron, he's — well, he's my best friend."

"I see," Clark smiled. "So, when do you plan to wake them up?"

"No time like the present," Harry shrugged. He let go of both of them, letting the Mobilicorpus spell take over again, so they were both floating just above the ground. "They're going to be a bit irritable when they wake up, I expect — the last thing they remember, they were in Devon, where Ron's family lives. But I wanted you to meet them before school started, and they did help me figure out a way to get around the spell keeping in the Burrow."

"You didn't talk it over with the people you were staying with?" Clark asked, sounding a bit disappointed. "I'd hoped you would find a way to convince them to let you go."

"Couldn't be helped," Harry said. "Okay, here goes… Rennervate!" The Anti-Stunning spell made both Ron and Hermione's bodies shudder as it passed into them. Ron's head came up, then Hermione's, and they both looked around, momentarily confused. Harry silently ended the Mobilicorpus spell on each of them, and their feet settled to the ground.

"Uh… what happened?" Ron asked. "I was asking somebody something…" he looked around, seeing that their surroundings had changed. "Where are we? Harry?"

"We're in Kansas," Harry said. "In America."

Hermione was looking at him blearily. Her eyes widened in surprise. "America? Harry, how could we have gotten here? It's thousands of miles away!"

"No time to explain now," Harry said quickly, hoping he could come up with something plausible before they asked again. "For now, this is Clark Kent. He, er, knows about wizards. He's the one who contacted me about the boy he thinks might be a wizard. I wanted you to meet him, and Clark, and see if you agree with me." All of that was untrue, Harry knew, but it was easier than trying to explain the truth to them while avoiding the issue of how he'd gotten his powers.

"Er — hello," Hermione said to Clark. "It's — nice to meet you." Clark shook her hand.

"Yeah," Ron agreed, as they shook hands as well. "Whoever you are."

"I'm a friend of the boy's mother," Clark added. "His names Ricky. He's having a birthday party today, so we'll be able to see him interacting with other boys and girls about his own age. The party begins in —" Clark glanced back at the house for a moment "— about ten minutes, at Lana's house. Mom's going to lend me her truck — it'll be a bit cramped, but we should all be able to fit in it."

Not giving his friends a chance to think about the situation, they all piled into Martha Kent's ancient truck and drove into Smallville. Ron and Hermione, wedged between Harry and Clark in the cab of the truck, were looking around in wonder at the wheat fields, grain silos, and few farmhouses they passed during the drive. Once in town, the truck moved slowly down Smallville's Main Street. People in vehicles passing by would wave or honk, recognizing Clark, and he waved back.

When they arrived at Lana's house, the party was just beginning on the front lawn. A couple of picnic tables had been moved together and covered with paper tablecloth, and an old electric wire spool, turned on its end, held an array of plates, napkins, and plastic cups and silverware. There were more than a dozen kids, both boys and girls, talking or running around the yard. Lana, seeing the truck pull up, waved happily at Clark, then pointed them out to Ricky, who smiled and waved as well, running over to them as Harry and the others were getting out of the truck.

"Hi, Harry!" Ricky said as he stopped in front of him. "Glad you could make it! Mom said she hoped you'd be here!" Ron and Hermione looked at each other, surprised, to hear that remark.

"I'm glad to see you again too, Ricky," Harry smiled. He could hear his two friends whispering to one another.

"How's he know this kid anyway?" Ron was whispering to Hermione.

"He said that Clark Kent fellow contacted him," Hermione whispered back. "But how do they know each other?"

"Well, he is the Boy-Who-Lived, y'know," Ron pointed out.

"Right, but how many wizards in America even know who Voldemort — oh, Ron, stop that! — who he is, anyway?"

Lana was clapping her hands for silence. "Listen up, everyone! Let's get started! After everyone gets a piece of cake and some ice cream, we have a special guest that's going to come out and entertain us!" She had placed the birthday cake, a large sheet cake that had the words HAPPY 12TH BIRTHDAY, RICKY! written on it in red and blue icing, along with a bunch of hard candy baseballs, white with red stitching, split in half and pressed into the top and sides of the cake. There were twelve candles in the middle of the cake, and Lana quickly lit them with a candle lighter.

The other boys and girls in the party gathered around Ricky, who was watching his mother light the candles with a look of anticipation on his eager, young face. Lana finished lighting the candles, then said, "Alright, everyone sing —" and the group began singing "Happy Birthday," a song Harry, Ron and Hermione, as wizards and a witch from Britain, hadn't heard before. Clark was singing along as well, Harry noticed.

After the song was finished, Ricky took a deep breath and blew out the candles on the cake. They all went out, and everyone applauded, including the three Gryffindors. Lana moved the cake over to where the plates were and began cutting it into slices; another young girl, who looked to be in her late teens, placed scoops of ice cream with the slices and handed them out to the other boys and girls, who took them, along with plastic cups filled with Kool-Aid, to the picnic tables to eat.

Harry, Ron and Hermione fell into line near the end, when all the boys and girls in the party had their cake and ice cream. "Hi, Harry," Lana said, cutting the last few pieces of the cake as he stepped up to get his piece. "Nice of you to come to Ricky's party — I know he's happy to see you again."

"I'm glad to be here," Harry agreed, smiling. "I almost didn't make it."

"Oh, why not?"

"Oh, it's a long story," Harry said, shrugging. Then, to change the subject, he said, "These are my friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger."

"Hi," Lana said, smiling at them. "It was nice of you to come to my son's party." She handed a large slice of cake to the girl helping her. "Harry, this is Ricky's sitter, Sarah."

"Hi, Sarah," Harry said politely as she dropped a scoop of ice cream onto the plate next to his cake. "Nice to meet you."

"Hi, Harry," Sarah smiled shyly at him. "I heard you can catch Ricky's curve ball.

"Uh, yeah, I can," Harry admitted, smiling a bit nervously. Curve ball? he heard Ron mutter to Hermione. What the bloody hell is that? Hermione only shrugged.

"You may have to give me a few pointers," Sarah went on, quickly adding scoops to two more plates from Lana and passing them to Ron and Hermione.

"Yeah, we could do that," Harry said, not sure what her interest in catching baseballs was about. Ricky had told him that few girls played baseball in America.

"Thanks!" Ron said, beaming at the cake and ice cream he'd been handed. He and Hermione took their food and moved away, Hermione almost pulling Ron with her.

"Don't you get it?" she told him quietly, as Harry listened with his super-hearing. "That girl fancies Harry!"

Ron turned and looked at Sarah. Harry had as well — he'd wondered if that's what had been going on, but he didn't know quite what to do about it. Ever since the debacle with Cho Chang he hadn't really thought about girls much — with perhaps one or two exceptions…

Lana was calling for everyone's attention once again. "Now that you've all got cake and ice cream, I'd like to introduce you to someone who's going to show you some very interesting magic —" Harry looked up, startled — who was Lana talking about?

But she was gesturing toward an empty spot on lawn, in front of some shrubs. "Here is the very famous prestidigitator, Professor Marvolo!" There was an explosion of white smoke, and a smiling gentleman stepped out of it, bowing to the applauding boys and girls.

"Good afternoon, young ladies and gentleman!" the man said loudly to the group. "Welcome to Ricky's birthday party! Today you will be surprised and thrilled by my feats of legerdemain! Prepare to be amazed!"

The man was tall and thin, dressed in a formal black suit complete with a top hat, white gloves, and a red-lined black cape, wielding a small black stick with whitened ends. His face, seemingly young, nevertheless had a look of wisdom about it, though that may have been from his long, curled mustache and goatee. Ron, seeing him, suppressed a giggle. "What's funny?" Harry whispered to him.

"He looks like a disguise I saw in a Martin Miggs comic," Ron sniggered. "Martin wanted to dress up like a 'real' wizard — that's what he looked like!"

It was a strange coincidence, Harry thought — he came to see Ricky and find out if they'd been contacted by anyone from an American wizarding school, but instead they got a pretend wizard for entertainment! The name was interesting, too — Professor Mavolo. Harry was starting to wonder if that was a coincidence or not, though. Was it possible this was some sort of trap for him, set by Voldemort?

But as Marvolo launched into his act, Harry began to relax. The man was performing "Muggle magic" — illusions and other tricks that any non-magical could do, given the proper training. Hermione had seen through it as well. "This is like some of those Muggle magic tricks I saw in Fred and George's shop," she whispered to Harry and Ron. "I can see how he's doing them!"

The kids were beginning to see it as well, and becoming bored. "Do some real magic!" one boy yelled. "We don't need this David Copperfield crud!"

"Who's David Copperfield?" Ron asked Harry. Harry just shrugged.

The magician smiled at his audience, twirling his mustache thoughtfully. "You'd like some real magic, would you? Alright, then!" Pulling a handkerchief out of his coat pocket, he showed them both sides of it, then folded it in half twice. He then unfolded it, but as he did so the handkerchief had become the size of a small tablecloth. Harry and Ron looked at one another, mildly impressed. Hermione was intrigued, watching the performer very closely.

Reaching into his coat again, Marvolo produced a steel ring about a foot in diameter. He placed the ring in the middle of the cloth, then held it so the cloth appeared to be covering a round object. Lowering the cloth so it touched the ground, Marvolo released it — the cloth remained standing, as if the ring were holding it up by magic! The audience gasped, and before Harry thought to look beneath the cloth with his X-ray vision, the magician pulled it away, revealing a round magician's table. There was a smattering of applause.

Marvolo took off his top hat, placing it on the table. "Hey kids," he asked the boys and girls there. "Want to see me pull a rabbit out of my hat?"

"No," someone in the back said. Several of the kids laughed.

"Very good!" the magician said, as if no one had spoken. "Now to show you there's nothing up my sleeve…" He tugged on the right cuff of his jacket; the sleeve fell away, revealing — nothing. There was no longer an arm there. A couple of the girls in the audience screamed.

"Whoa!" Ron muttered, surprised. "How'd he do that?"

"Oops," Marvolo laughed. "That's a bit too much gone, isn't it? He took the handkerchief, which had been draped over his left sleeve, and covered up his right side from the shoulder down, then removed it again. His sleeve and arm were now back in place.

"And now — presto!" He tapped the edge of his top hat with his magician's wand. Instead of a rabbit, however, a lion's head suddenly popped out of it, roaring at the audience, who screamed in laughter and surprise.

Marvolo looked chagrinned. "Wrong hat!" he said, tapping the lion on the head, making it with go back into the hat. "Let's try that again," he said determinedly, and tapped the hat again. "Presto!"

But instead of a rabbit, once again another animal emerged from the hat — this time it was a large, green snake, rising up several feet before Marvolo tapped it with his wand and it dropped back out of view. "Wrong hat again!" one of the kids in the audience yelled.

"I take a seven and a half," Marvolo commented. "Well, let's have another go, shall we? Presto!" But once again another animal poked its head out of the hat: this time it was a smaller animal that somewhat resembled a weasel, with black and white markings on its face. It chattered at the audience for a few moments, then disappeared back into the hat. Marvolo shook his head. "No doubt about it, I've got to get another hat!" The boys and girls in the audience were buzzing with laughter and excitement.

"Hmm," Hermione said, softly. "That was a badger…"

But Marvolo was signaling for silence. "This time for sure!" he said, making a large flourish as he pointed his wand and said, "Presto!" once again.

Instead of a rabbit, however, this time an eagle emerged from the hat, spread its wings and flew away as everyone, Marvolo included, watched.

"Ooo, don't know my own strength!" he said, after the bird had flown out of view.

"Was it just a wild coincidence that those four animals represent the four Hogwarts houses?" Ron pointed out quietly.

"I don't think so," Harry replied, just as quietly. "I don't think he's just doing 'Muggle' magic any more — I think he's doing real magic!"

At that moment Marvolo was quieting his audience down in preparation for his next trick. "How about a levitating woman? Would you all like to see that?" Most of the kids, now enthusiastically enjoying the performance, shouted that they would. Marvolo pointed to the tallest girl in the audience, who was Hermione. "You there, young lady — would you come up and assist me?"

"Me?" Hermione looked surprised. "But I'm not —"

"Oh, no need to be shy," the magician persisted. "Come on, there's a good girl.." Persuaded to come forward, Hermione looked both embarrassed and flattered. "And what is your name, my dear?" Marvolo asked.

"It's — er — Hermione Granger," she answered, a bit of trepidation in her voice. A few kids in the audience laughed, and she scowled at them.

"Are you ready to be levitated, Hermione?" Marvolo asked, smiling at her.

"Well, I guess so," Hermione said. She hadn't heard Harry's comment earlier about the magician using real magic — she thought he was going to levitate her using some illusion trick. "Are you, um, sure you can do it?"

"Of course, my dear, of course." Marvolo positioned her so that he and she both side-on to the audience, facing one another. "Just relax, and I'll do all the work." He passed his hand in front of her face a few times; Hermione's expression went blank, and her arms stiffened at her side. Harry and Ron were watching carefully, both tense. As Marvolo gesture toward her, her body began to lean back, and her feet swung into the air. In a few moments she was flat on her back in mid-air, motionless. The audience gasped in collective awe.

Taking a large steel ring from inside his coat (where had he hidden that? Harry wondered — or did he conjure it, somehow?), Marvolo moved it so it passed completely around Hermione, still suspended in mid-air. "As you can see," he told the audience, "she is floating with no means of support. Now to bring her back to normal." Placing his hand a few inches above her head, Marvolo brought her vertical again, her feet finally touching ground, then snapped his fingers in front of her. After a few moments Hermione blinked, looking confused.

"When are you going to do it?" she asked, making the kids laugh.

"Thank you, my dear," Marvolo said graciously. "Let's give her a big hand, everyone," he added, applauding her while the boys and girls in the audience chimed in as well, to her vast confusion as she walked back to Harry and Ron.

"What did he do?" she whispered as she reached them.

"He made you float in mid-air, it was brilliant!" Ron told her.

"I don't remember anything except him waving his hand in front of me," Hermione said, frowning.

"He hypnotized you, or something," Harry told her. "I think he's using real magic."

"But he was just doing simple Muggle magic tricks earlier," Hermione objected. "Why would he bother with those if he could do real magic?"

"Why did his hat produce a lion, a snake, a badger, and an eagle?" Harry asked. "I think he knows who we are, or at least suspects."

"Now what?" Ron muttered, as Marvolo held up his hand for silence; the kids in the audience had been calling for even bigger tricks.

"You'll all get a chance to participate in my last illusion," he told them, walking around to stand next to a small trunk that had been sitting in the background. The trunk was roughly the size of the ones Harry and others used to store their possessions at Hogwarts. He stared at it for a moment. "Of course, I think we'll need a bigger trunk than this one."

So saying, he tapped the trunk with his wand; it promptly opened up, and Marvolo reached down and pulled another trunk out of it, setting it on the ground beside the first one. Harry frowned, seeing them side-by-side — the second trunk, somehow, was larger than the first. Marvolo repeated this several time, pulling larger and larger trunks out of each successive one until the last one was the size of a small wardrobe. This clinched it for Harry — the man must be a wizard, not just a stage magician.

"All right," Marvolo said, turning to the boys and girls in the audience. "Who'd like to volunteer to help?" Everyone put up their hand. "Very good!" the magician beamed. "That's just the number of volunteers I need! Alright everyone, line up in front of this trunk, please." He pointed his wand at the trunk, which tipped up on its end — the lid swung open, revealing a black interior that was impossible to penetrate. Harry tried to glance inside with his X-ray vision, but there seemed to be nothing inside to see, not even the interior of the trunk was visible to his gaze. "Let's see how many of you can fit inside," Marvolo said and, laughing and giggling, the boys and girls in the audience began filing inside.

After the first three or four has passed inside, it became obvious the trunk was some kind of vanishing cabinet. When Ricky, one of the last in line, started to go inside, Marvolo took him by the arm, saying, "Hold on a moment, birthday boy. I want you to help me with the rest of the trick." When the last person had passed into the trunk, including Sarah, over a dozen kids were "inside" it, by Harry's count. He, Ron and Hermione had not gotten into line. Marvolo tapped the trunk once again; the lid closed and the trunk tipped back onto its bottom. "Now, let's gather up these other trunks," the magician said to Ricky, pointing to the other trunks scattered across the yard. He had Ricky take the first trunk (the smallest one) and place it inside the next larger one, then place that trunk in the next larger one, and so on, until there were only two trunks left. He then tapped the largest trunk with his wand and the lid sprang open. Ricky and Marvolo picked up the smaller trunk, placing it inside the larger one, and closed the lid.

"Well, that's that," Marvolo said, smiling at Ricky. "Now we can get down to business."

Harry stepped forward. "Wait a minute," he objected. "What happened to all those kids, what did you do to them?"

"Nothing," Marvolo said, taking off his top hat and dropping the wand into it. The wand disappeared from view. "I just sent each of them to their home." He pulled off the white gloves and tossed them into the hat as well.

"How could you have sent them home?" Clark asked, speaking for the first time since the show started. He'd been watching the entire performance very carefully as well. "That wouldn't be possible."

"You'd be surprised what's possible, Mr. Kent," Marvolo replied, replacing the top hat on his head. At Clark's look of surprise he added, "Oh yes, I know who you are. I've known you since you were this tall." He held out a hand, waist high.

"You know me?" Clark asked. "How?"

Marvolo waved a hand at the house behind them. "I visited here quite often when you were little; you used to play out here in the front yard with Lana, when you were both children."

Lana looked dumbfounded. "What are you saying? You're even younger than me or Clark!"

Marvolo chuckled. "Well, 'Professor Marvolo' looks quite young, 'tis true, but in reality I'm a bit older than he is. Marvolo spun around once, slowly. As he did so, his face and clothing suddenly changed appearance. He now appeared to be an old man, white-haired and balding on top, with thick, round glasses like Harry's. His mustache and goatee had disappeared as well. He was dressed in academics robes — his top hat had become an academics cap, with a black tassel hanging from one side. "Here's what I really look like." He smiled at Lana. "Do you recognize me, my dear?"

"Oh my gosh!" Lana exclaimed. "You're my uncle, Phineas Potter!"