Disclaimer: J. K .Rowling owns Harry Potter and his world.

Notes for the convenience of the reader: Harry's children: Margaret, Victoria and James, children of Ginny, Beth, daughter of Luna, and Adrian, son of Harry and raised by Julie and himself. Current wife, Julie.

Chapter 2

Harry's wife, Julie, adored socialising. She loved being out with her famous husband, she loved being known as his wife, and she relished the prestige of having bodyguards assigned for their protection. That Saturday night, they were to go to a large party hosted by the Finch-Fletchleys. Harry obediently stood still for her as she arranged his deep crimson dress robes, embroidered with gold and navy thread, and combed out his long hair. Julie thought that his mane of white-streaked hair made him look so much more the great wizard, and she liked him to look the great wizard. She'd given up expecting him to act with any great dignity though. Madam Diefenberger, and even Julie herself, were a lot better at that.

The Finch-Fletchleys were very pleased at the appearance of the Potters, and Harry and Julie were happy and relaxed. After greeting their hosts, Julie and Harry circulated, Julie quickly finding a group of girlfriends to enjoy some spicy gossip, and Harry wandering over to where an acquaintance since school days sat. Kryall Malfoy hurriedly vacated a seat for him, and he joined Draco, Kryall's father.

"You've always been a muggle-lover," sneered Draco, after a perfectly courteous welcome, "Now I hear you're trying to change even the word!"

"I'll succeed, too," boasted Harry, though he wasn't really all that confident. "Remember that I get to teach just about every young witch or wizard in the country, and any of them refer to muggles gets an automatic fail." And he wasn't really intending to be that ruthless, either.

"There's a lot of the old families will be against you," argued Draco, "Especially my family. It's not fit for a wizard to have much to do with muggles."

"Medjkind," Harry said softly, tauntingly, "Not muggles, Medjkind."

"Muggles," said Draco, peevishly, "And if I wasn't going to die soon, I'd make sure they stayed muggles."

Harry turned a shocked gaze at Draco, and suddenly looked bleak. "What's the matter?" asked Draco. "You must have realised. I'm ninety-six!"

Harry stared into the distance. He wanted Draco to always be around. He didn't even know that he liked him. They'd seldom seen eye to eye, and had been bitter enemies in their school days. But he didn't want Draco to die.

Draco watched him. "It upsets you, doesn't it?"

Harry pulled himself together, and now only wore the cool, expressionless face that he always assumed when he felt more than he was willing to show.

But Draco knew. It was something he'd never considered, but maybe staying young was not, after all, such a wonderful thing. "How's Hermione?" he abruptly asked. Hermione Granger was the only one, aside from Harry and himself, still alive from their year at school, though there were a couple from the year ahead of them.

"She's fine, good as gold," said Harry, quickly.

Draco raised an eyebrow. No-one was fine at ninety-six! And he wondered how Harry was going to cope when his children and then his grandchildren started to die of old age. But then again, maybe Harry would suddenly start to age after all. Maybe he would suddenly die. No-one ever, as far as was known, had not appeared to age at all! Harry was in unknown territory. There were always those trying to kill him, too. Draco had a strong suspicion he knew some of them.

There was a waiter offering them drinks then. Harry accepted with a smile, but a second later, Draco noticed that the liquid had been vanished. Harry hadn't even raised it to his lips. Prudently, Draco tipped his own out on the grass, just in case the same poison tainted it. Harry brought Draco a new drink, from a flask that was being offered around more generally, then wandered off to join Adam, his stepson, who was deep in discussion with three others who worked in research.

"You were proved right after all," Adam said as he joined the group.

"I told you," said Harry, "You want magic to be logical, but magic has never been always logical." And a moment later, they were involved in enthusiastic and deep discussion about a subject that most people had scarcely heard of and would not have understood. This was another aspect of the great wizard. He was a very highly regarded intellectual.

Mrs. Finch-Fletchley had been watching him with some disappointment. One of her parties had been made memorable when Harry had thrashed four wizards in fist-fights, and then seduced the Cranborough girl. She loved her parties to be memorable. He was being perfectly well behaved now, though. She supposed she should be grateful that he was present.

More people were arriving, and now Mrs. Finch-Fletchley hastened to welcome Cecil Drysdale, the Minister for Magic, and the most important person of their world. Word spread, and yet more people came. The great wizard was present, and some were there who only wanted to fawn on him, much to his annoyance.

A couple of the aurors came closer, and Harry greeted his friends. But they were very tense, very alert, and again, Harry extended his senses, feeling for danger, for possible intention to attack. No-one seemed to be wanting to kill him. There was something, though, and some giggling teenagers suddenly found the great wizard standing right behind them as they prepared to play a sudden blast of music. It had been common knowledge for many years that Harry Potter had been conditioned to connect the agony of torture with a certain piece of classical music. Even after all these years, he'd sometimes be sick when he heard it. Once he'd fainted. Always he would react. Now he extended his hand, and a terrified girl gave him the recorded music they'd been planning to play as loudly as possible, for the fun of seeing his reaction. He cast his glance around at the ashen-faced trio, then turned and strolled away. But somehow the three girls couldn't seem to stop hiccupping, and their parents finally took them home.

Julie was looking at him then, and obediently he joined her. Then, for a while, Julie made sure that he behaved himself as they spoke to the most influential, and especially the richest people of their world. Julie's snobbery seemed inherent, and to show off her goodlooking and famous husband was almost her favourite pastime, even better than shopping. Harry concealed his boredom as best he could. He knew how Julie enjoyed this, and he loved his wife with all the fibre of his being.

Spiteful eyes followed them. Julie was having a wonderful time, and refused Harry's suggestions to go home. Harry looked carefully around again. There were enemies here now; he could feel them. But there were so many people that it was hard to isolate just who might attack. Julie tapped him on the shoulder, and said that she had to talk to Mrs. Cranborough and Mrs. Drysdale, and that he was to enjoy himself.

Harry nodded obediently, and went to stand with Patrick, one of the aurors, uniformed, on duty. His alert stance was noted, and two more aurors joined them. Harry thought that being close to the bodyguards would considerably reduce the likelihood of an attack. And while he made apparent light conversation with the aurors, whom he'd known for years, he continued to scan around, trying to detect the individuals who threatened him, without actually looking at innocent minds, and violating privacy.

A wizard fainted without warning. It seemed to be contagious. Another fainted close by. Harry was still alert, still scanned the crowd. Then he relaxed, and turned his full attention to his friends, asking about Paul's daughter, and Patrick's latest girlfriend.

Fred was suspicious, and interrupted. "Why did those wizards faint?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "The heat?" he suggested.

Fred looked sceptical, and declared that it would really be better if Harry would tell them if he suspected a threat, and the culprits would be punished according to law. But Harry only suggested that he get them another drink, "The Punch is good, and non-alcoholic." And then he quizzed them about the other aurors whom he suspected were there, but who were not in uniform. He liked to know the aurors, in case they ever tried to hurt or imprison him, as had happened before under three different Ministers for Magic. Some had thought that a wizard too powerful to be controlled was automatically dangerous and shouldn't remain free. It was a long time ago, and he thought now that his known abilities were too great for him to be seriously threatened by the Ministry, even though he disliked Drysdale.

He strolled over to greet Kate then, the exotically beautiful, brown-skinned daughter of Beth and Jeremiah. His grand-daughter was of average intelligence, average ability, but superlative charm and popularity. Everyone loved Kate, and she was already second in command in her department at the Ministry. She had declared some years ago her ambition to be Minister for Magic. She was still only in her mid twenties, but Harry had begun to be sure that she would achieve her aim. People loved to give her just what she wanted, and she did appear talented at choosing people to work with, who had the abilities and efficiency needed, and yet were happy only to have her approval. Harry guessed, as long as she continued to choose her helpers well, her reign at the Ministry might not be altogether a disaster.

Julie was with a group of friends, casually letting slip that her husband had received a pressing invitation to do a series of lectures in New York. A reporter was one of those listening. She had a magical transcriber that took down faithfully every word that Julie uttered. There would be another article about Harry Potter in the next issue of Witch Weekly.

And then the reporter looked directly at Julie. "And how do you feel about it when people think you're his mother?"

Julie stared at the woman, her colour draining from her face. She'd never thought about it. She knew that Harry loved her, and she'd felt secure in the warmth of that love. But she was nearly forty, and she was starting to show grey in her hair. Her figure was no longer youthful.

The vicious words were an exaggeration. Julie did not look nearly old enough to be Harry's mother, but she certainly looked older than Harry, and it would only grow worse. Harry was there then, putting an arm around her waist and pulling her protectively close. He was looking at the reporter, showing an anger that had her backing off swiftly, then turning and hurrying away before the great wizard did something awful to her.

He took Julie home, but not all his reassurances could convince her that it was all right. For the reporter was right. Unless there was a change, even if she didn't look like Harry's mother now, she would in ten years' time. Harry pointed out that his second wife, Luna, had been nearly sixty when she died, and it had never bothered her. And no-one had ever said anything nasty to her about it either, that he knew. But Julie only wailed that Luna was dead before she'd even been born, and although that was not quite true, it wasn't far off. So Harry just held her, not knowing what to say to comfort her. Julie cried a long time in his arms that night.

Two days later, she watched from the door as he used an exercise machine in the gymnasium he'd organised for himself when he and his first wife took possession of the home. Harry was lost in the soothing repetition of muscle-stretching exercise. He did this most days of his life, and had for a very long time. He only wore exercise shorts, and Julie admired his body, as she'd done since they'd married. It was not a big body, and the muscles didn't bulge, but they were beautifully defined on a body that showed its strength of shoulders, back and limbs. Harry Potter had a very desirable body, and again Julie felt her upset and slipped away to cry.

It was only when Harry was out playing with his horses, that Julie returned to the gymnasium, and started a rigorous exercise campaign that she'd carefully planned. She loved her husband, and wanted to stay as youthful as he did. It was not going to happen, but Julie was going to give it the best shot she knew.