Harry woke early the next morning. While he wanted to ask Albus about the whole Lockhart situation, his mind was far too focused on something he felt to be eminently more important than Lockhart (to be fair, he would be hard pressed to find something he cared about less than Lockhart). He had finally cast wandless magic. Sure, it was with his finger and he had to be touching the object and it only lasted for as long as he could exhale, but it was a start.

After a quick shower and getting dressed, Harry sat crossed leg upon his bed with his back facing toward the hall door. In front of him sat a hardcover French to English dictionary. He centered himself, placed his finger upon the book, then exhaled slowly as he lifted his finger. The book lifted easily with the movement of his finger. When he ran out of breath, the book fell with a soft thump. Harry smiled, rested for two minutes, and then repeated the process, this time ensuring that he lowered his finger back to the bed before he ran out of breath.

Inhale, exhale, raise finger, lower finger, end exhale, rest. Inhale, exhale, raise, lower, end, rest. As he repeated the exercise, he found his mind relaxing into a meditative state. As his eyes watched the book rise and fall, in his mind's eye he was in Albus's apartment above the Lord Bowl-Some-More bowling alley.

He felt a subconscious pull to walk downstairs to the bowling alley. As the alley clarified, he walked to his reserved lane, lane 12. Looking over at the ball rack, he saw a ball that was labeled Levitate. He picked it up and walked to the lane.

Rest. He readied the ball for a throw, waiting for his body to feel ready.

Inhale. He walked toward the throw line, beginning to swing his arm back.

Exhale. He let the ball fly down the lane.

Raise. The ball was nearing the halfway point.

Lower. The ball had passed the halfway point.

End. The ball knocked down the pins.

Rest. He picked up and readied the ball.

For the next two hours, he repeated the process. His steps and throws becoming smoother. He was unaware of the passage of time. He didn't notice that the ball's weight was rapidly diminishing. He didn't notice his rest periods were decreasing into near nothingness. All that existed was the process, his physical eyes taking in the books rise and fall as his mind's eye took in the ball rolling down the lane to knock down all the pins.

Rest. Inhale. Exhale. Raise. Lower. End. Rest. Inhale. Exhale. Raise.

"Harry Potter sir needs to be eating breakfast now!" shouted an excitable House Elf directly behind and inches away from Harry's ear.

Harry shouted in shock and twisted around to see Dobby's smiling face. Behind Dobby, Albus stood chuckling in the doorway.

"Come along Harry" spoke the old man. "You don't want keep Gilderoy waiting, do you?"

Harry frowned as he quickly got up to chase after the man who already began walking to the dining room.

"Albus! Albus, hold on!"

Albus, not really to Harry's surprise, continued his walk to the dining room. The man loved his dramatics, though Harry wasn't sure if Harry's annoyance was the primary driving force for the man or simply a pleasant side effect. After a month, Harry was well accustomed to his tutor's questionable sense of humor.

As they both settled down for breakfast, Harry once again spoke.

"Are we really seeing Gilderoy Lockhart today?"

"Yes."

"The same Gilderoy Lockhart who was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this past year?"

"The very same."

Harry looked at Albus's twinkling eyes and knew that he was missing something important.

"And he is coming to teach me?"

"Well, he is coming to give you a lecture. Whether you learn something is up to you."

"But… the man was hopeless at teaching Defense!"

Albus shrugged noncommittally.

Harry narrowed his eyes at the man. It had taken a few more annoying "teachable moments", but he had finally come to recognize the signs of Albus playing a prank that only works if Harry refused to ask questions. Asking questions did not come naturally to Harry, but he was willing to deal with the unnatural feeling of leaving his comfort zone, mainly because Albus made sure the level of annoyance of staying quiet was always rather high.

"OK. The man is an obvious fraud, and you wouldn't waste my time with an incompetent teacher. So… what are you planning?"

Albus smiled warmly at Harry. "That is an excellent question, Harry. You have come a long way over this past month. I will gladly tell you the plan."

Harry felt a surge of warmth fill his heart. Albus had not been stingy with praising Harry's progress (with asking questions, studying French, or attempts at wandless magic), but he had yet to become accustomed to unreserved compliments. He supposed that was also part of the reason why he didn't much mind leaving his comfort zone by asking questions.

As he listened to Albus's explanation of the plan, he could not hold back his smile. Even better, Albus happily modified the plan based upon Harry's suggestions.

Shortly before lunch, Gilderoy arrived at the front gate. Jean met him and quickly led him to the study.

Albus smiled broadly, wearing his purple robes with stars and clouds drifting across the fabric. "Gilderoy, thank you for coming."

Gilderoy, wearing his powder blue robes, smiled brightly at Harry and Albus. Harry could honestly (though grudgingly) say that he could see why the man kept winning awards for his smile.

"Headmaster, it is wonderful to see you again. I was surprised to receive your letter, requesting my expert advice. You are a man with almost as many adventures under your belt as me. Ah, and young Harry, you must be feeling rather giddy to be in the presence of the two greatest names of the last century."

Harry forced a smile as he responded. "I can barely contain myself, Professor."

Gilderoy smiled and nodded in agreement. "Of course. Of course. Though, I am no longer your Professor, Harry. Feel free to call me Gilderoy. I am afraid I was pulled away on emergency business shortly before the end of the year. Sadly, I was unable to help with the dreadful business with the Chamber of Secrets when that poor… Wimbly girl was taken. Had the business not been so urgent, I would have of course saved her. Still, all's well that ends well, I suppose."

Harry nodded politely.

Albus chuckled as he responded. "And feel free to call me Albus. I am no longer a Headmaster, so I believe we are all friends here. And yes, young Miss Weasley was saved from the Chamber and all is well."

Gilderoy smiled with vacuous pleasure. "Wonderful, Albus. One cannot have too many friends. Now, you were pleasantly vague in your letter, so which topic can I advise you in today? Do you have a nasty monster to track? A dark wizard needing to be vanquished?"

Albus took a seat as he gestured for other two to take their own seats. "Nothing quite so dangerous, I am happy to report. Rather, the first thing I need is your expertise as a writer."

Gilderoy's well-groomed eyebrows rose in surprise. "Oh?"

"Yes. You see, I have a story from my past and I was wondering if you had any insights into whether or not it was worthy of being written as a book."

Gilderoy's eyes flashed with a predatory gleam. "Well, I do love a good story. Go ahead, Albus. I am all ears."

Albus nodded with a small smile of his own. "Thank you, Gilderoy. You see, some years ago I received a call for help from the nephew of a friend. He lived in a family house located within the wilds nearby a small market village. The young man, Roger, had been told by his uncle that should he ever be in extreme danger that he should try to contact me. Odd advice, I know, but Roger's family was known for its less than completely legal methods for making a living. As such, calling for an Auror would be low on Roger's list of voluntary activities. One day, Roger's house was attacked by a family of trolls, who then began trying to break in. Luckily, the family house had been given enough protections that the trolls were unable to successfully break in, but everyone was now stuck inside the house. In the house was Roger's wife, children, and a couple family friends. They had no Floo access, the trolls had eaten their owl, no one knew how to fight the trolls, and Roger was the only one who knew how to apparate and could only do solo apparition. The siege lasted for three days before Roger decided that the trolls would not leave on their own. As such, he apparated away, and then sought me out."

Gilderoy listened to the story, with his smile slightly dimming.

Albus continued. "Luckily, he lived in Northeast England, so he was able to find a Floo and contact me that same day. I rushed out, and transformed each troll's club into a Portkey, sending them to the Troll Colony in Ireland. I would have stayed to talk to the residents of the house, but I needed to return to Hogwarts for a staff meeting. As such, Roger thanked me and told me that he would let everyone know that they were safe. I returned to Hogwarts, and that was that. What do you think of the story, Gilderoy?"

Gilderoy forced his smile to return. "Well, it's a bit… dull, I am afraid to say. The start is exciting enough but solving the problem in minutes… it's just anticlimactic."

Albus nodded. "Yes, I believe Roger felt the same way. I happened to be visiting a magical pub near his home, in Stockton-on-Tees, and overheard him telling the story. Of course, he had embellished the tale a bit and was telling it to receive free drinks. First, of course, he had been the one to single-handedly taken down the trolls through a combination of crafty magic and fisticuffs, after being held captive for three weeks, rather than three days. Some other embellishments included… well I think you can figure those out. After all, it is almost the same story that you shared in your book, Travels with Trolls. Of course, when I talked to Roger after reading your book, he had no recollection of calling me for help and was certain that you had been the one to defeat the trolls after you had been held hostage for the preceding three weeks. He had come clean with his family, friends, and those bar patrons. The poor man had to pay for his drinks from that day forward."

Gilderoy had paled as Harry spoke up. "But, Albus, you're making it sound as if Gilderoy used some sort of memory charm to take credit for Roger's false heroics."

Albus looked at Harry in shock. "Oh dear, I certainly didn't mean to imply anything like that."

Albus then met Gilderoy's eyes. "Gilderoy, I hope you don't think I am accusing you of something untoward. Perhaps another story will help you. I know!"

Albus pulled a book from the side table next to his chair, placing it in front of Gilderoy. Gilderoy could clearly see it was Gadding with Ghouls.

"Perhaps I could tell you the story of the time I helped the grandson of a friend remove some particularly troublesome ghouls from his attic, where I ended up transfiguring a tea strainer into a net?"

Next, he brought out Year with the Yeti.

"Of course, there was the time where I helped a witch whose village was dealing with a problem with a highly aggressive Yeti. Apparently, its fur had grown quite thin on its head and so it was overly irritated. A simple fur regrowth potion fixed it, and I told the witch that the problem was a cold head."

Next, he brought out Wanderings with Werewolves.

"Then, there was the time where a werewolf friend of mine was staying in a cabin in Armenia. The cabin had cages for werewolves to stay during their transformation. After hearing that a warlock in the nearby village was planning to go out and hunt the werewolves that were 'harassing the village', they tore down the cabin and moved away before they could be found."

Next, he brought out three books. Break with a Banshee, Holidays with Hags, and Voyages with Vampires.

"Finally, there was my Banshee friend, Shannon, who lived in Bandon. I had introduced her to a Vampire friend, Maurice. I knew that they would get along as Maurice's coven consisted of so-called 'vegetarian vampires' who actually just consist on the blood of animals instead of sapient beings, and Shannon was dedicated to make sure she never hurt people with her sonic attacks. They fell in love, and I introduced them to a pair of hags I know who had been trying to break into the wedding planning business. After a beautiful wedding, the hags, vampire coven, Maurice, and Shannon decided to move to a magical community on an island off the Florida Keys. They had all previously lived near witches and wizards who kept complaining about the menace of the nearby creatures."

Albus stared into the eyes of a very pale Gilderoy.

"The fascinating thing is that after each of my stories, the person I helped, or some local braggart decided to take credit for getting rid of the 'evil creatures' and would keep expanding on their tall tales. All in search of some free drinks, food, or other knick knack. Then, mysteriously, they would come clean and give you all the credit. Don't you agree that is fascinating?"

Gilderoy stared at Albus and Harry, his face pale and fearful. "What do you want?"

Harry smiled. "I want to know how I should have dealt with the aftermath of people finding out I could speak to snakes."

Gilderoy looked at Harry as if the boy had suddenly grown a second head which then declared is was going to marry the first head.

"What!?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, you may not have the skills to back up your stories, but you clearly have the skills to sway public opinion. So, how would you have handled the Parselmouth incident?"

Gilderoy stared at Harry as the silence stretched into an uncomfortable length. His eyes occasionally darting back to Albus, who seemed completely comfortable in the uncomfortable silence. Finally, his shoulders sunk in defeat and his lips curled up into a smile that was far more realistic than any other smile Harry had seen on the man's face.

With a chuckle, Gilderoy spoke up. "You know, I did sometimes think that those stories always seemed a tad unrealistic. I guess it was just my luck that I would be stealing stories from people who stole from Albus Dumbledore's glory. I suppose you knew what I was doing from the start, Albus?"

Albus smiled gently. "Not until after I hired you. I hadn't read your books until that point."

"Should I be expecting the Aurors soon?"

Albus shook his head. "Your only victims of illegal memory charms have been con-artists. I don't see the need to call in law enforcement at this time."

Gilderoy's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "And you're just going to trust that I won't do it again?"

Albus shrugged. "I know that you would do it again if given a chance. However, I snuck into your quarters while you were sleeping during your first night at Hogwarts. I then wove a curse into your magic. The next memory charm you cast will violently backfire on you."

Gilderoy's eyes widened in shock. With a gulp he spoke at a barely a whisper. "I didn't know that was possible."

Albus smirked. "I'm Albus Dumbledore."

"Right… right, that would do it… so… Harry, you wanted to know how I would have handled the whole snake-speaking thing. Well…"

Three hours later, Gilderoy finished his lesson. Harry was deeply impressed. The man was incompetent when came to spellcasting or anything academic, but he was a genius when it came to the subject of manipulating the masses. It had taken about ten minutes for the man to really warm up to the subject, and then it was like a dam had burst when he realized he had a class of attentive people listening to him speak about something he was truly knowledgeable and passionate about.

Of course, most of the plans would have required Harry to voluntarily walk into the spotlight of the public eye, which was an idea that Harry absolutely despised. Despite that, he couldn't deny that the plans would have made his second year much more pleasant.

Harry's eyes were opened to a world of possibility, but it didn't mean that he was ready to enter the world. It was at this time where Harry was glad that he had discussed things with the Albus before meeting with the blonde fraud.

"OK" Harry spoke, "that was impressive. So… how would you like a job?"

Gilderoy smiled at the honest praise of his true self, and then tilted his head in confusion. "A job?"

"Well, I hate my fame, but I know I can't stop being famous. Well, at least not any time soon. So, I'd rather if my fame doesn't make my life miserable. I don't need it to make my life great, just… it would be great if it only had a neutral effect on my life. How would you like to be my… fame manager I guess you would call it? You figure out the plan that requires the bare minimum of effort on my part, and in return you get to call yourself one of my hand-selected private tutors, get paid, and we can negotiate further compensation as we figure out the details of the job. What do you say?"

Gilderoy smirked as his mind seemed to race through the possibilities. "I'm listening."

It took another hour of negotiating prices and roles, with Albus taking on the role of negotiating pay instead of Harry (who did not have a good conception of monetary worth in the magical world). In the end, Gilderoy walked away with a new job title, and a month to put together a plan for how to manage Harry's fame.

Harry wasn't sure how much he liked the plan. But he had a month to let the idea percolate. He would just wait to see what Gilderoy came up with and ignore it for now.

That night, after spending the rest of the day at the beach (where Harry made his first ever attempt at flirting, which was wildly unsuccessful), the duo stayed out for a late-night movie and even later dinner. As such, Harry ignored his normal evening wandless exercises and Occlumency training, choosing to instead just roll into bed and fall asleep.

When he awoke the next morning, his eyes cracked open and saw something odd. Floating a couple feet above his waist was his French to English dictionary. After a few seconds of confusion, he realized it was the same the book he had been levitating the previous day.

"Huh... Shouldn't that have fallen by… ooph!"

Before he could finish the sentence, the book dropped suddenly. Right on his crotch.

It took a couple of minutes before he recovered and was able to get up.

Over the next two weeks, Harry tried to figure out how he had managed to have the book levitate for nearly an entire day. He was sure he was missing something obvious, but he couldn't figure it out. He was levitating various things, often without truly paying attention. Albus and Pierre were greatly amused the one night where Harry was absentmindedly lifting and dropping the dining room table during the middle of dinner.

Albus had offered to give Harry advice, but Harry declined. He really wanted to figure this out on his own. He knew he could do it, as he had done it once already. He could do it again. He hoped.

In the dining room, Harry was eating his breakfast while deep in thought, levitating his plate repeatedly as he bowled within his mind's eye. Dobby sat eating his breakfast, staring at Harry's dirty plate with a clear desire to clean it. Albus was reading a letter.

"Hmmm" spoke Albus. "Harry, I have received a letter from Miss Granger's mother. I believe you should read this."

Harry was broken out of his reverie, shocked by the news. He had given up on hearing back from his former friend. A month had been more than enough time for her to respond. His eyes focused on the letter in Albus's hand. He reached for it as Albus slid it across the table, not noticing when he accidently knocked into the plate he had been levitating. He was so focused on the letter that he didn't hear the plate knock gently against the wall as it glided to a stop, nor did he notice Albus subtly shake his head to stop Dobby from collecting said flatware.

Harry noticed nothing as he stared at the folded letter in his hand. He unfolded the letter to read why Hermione's mum would be writing to Albus.

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

I hope you are the correct person that I should be contacting. From what my daughter, Hermione, tells me, you should know who she is. I am writing regarding her friend Harry Potter, who I am led to believe is your student.

When Hermione came back at the end of the school year, she was a wreck. As soon as she got home, she immediately ran upstairs. We had initially thought she was getting a head start on her summer schoolwork, as that is normal behavior for her. For the next week, she barely said a word to us. If she wasn't eating or sleeping, she was working.

It was when I was emptying her bedroom rubbish bin that I discovered that she wasn't working on anything assigned from her school. She has been writing apology letters to her friend, Harry. There were over a dozen letters, each at least ten pages long, and none of them good enough for her. I talked with her, and she explained to me that she had done something that was, in her own words, inexcusably awful to Harry. She has told me what she did, and I agree that it was an awful thing to do. I don't know if you are aware of what she did, so I hope you understand that I keep that between her and Harry.

I have tried to convince her to simply send a letter, but she keeps insisting that the letter must be perfect. The longer she goes without sending the letter, the longer her drafts become. She has also taken to going to the library to check out books on friendship. As I am writing to you, it has been four weeks since Hermione came home, and she is nowhere nearer to finishing the perfect letter. I think she is terrified that this is her last chance to mend things with her friend, though I would understand if Harry felt that she had waited too long to mend things.

I understand if this asking too much, but I must do the best I can for my daughter. Do you think you might be able to convince Harry to write to Hermione? He doesn't need to forgive her, of course that would be wonderful he did, but perhaps he could give her a deadline for her response that will kick her out of her endless revision cycle. Or, in the worst case, if there is no forgiveness to be found, please let her know so that she can move on.

Just to let you know, we will be spending two weeks in Dijon, France, starting on the 23rd of July. I am including our contact information on the attached card, along with a photograph of what Hermione's room currently looks like.

Please, try to convince Harry to write to Hermione.

Thank you for your help,

Sincerely,

Elizabeth Granger

Harry finished reading the letter, and then looked at the photograph that Albus slid over as Harry was reading. Sitting at a small desk was the hunched form of Hermione Granger, hair ten times as frizzy as normal. Surrounding her was an overflowing bin, floor covered in crumpled papers, with papers spreading to the edges of the photograph.

Harry sighed after staring at the back of Hermione in her classic test studying pose. He supposed he should have expected this from her. In a way, it was nice to know that she hadn't written because of her perfectionism, rather than her lack of being sorry. In another way, in a part of his heart that he was not proud of, it was nice to know that her betrayal had caused her over a month of suffering.

Looking at Albus, he saw the man staring back with a questioning look. Harry stood and began to pace around the dining room, running his hands through his hair. Today was the 24th, so they could easily make a quick trip to Dijon. Harry had already been there twice. The question was, should he go?

As he paced around the room, he noticed something odd sticking against the wall. Walking over, he stared at the object. It was a plate, randomly stuck to the wall. Not really paying much attention, he gently nudged the plate and was surprised to see it float away, staying at the same height. Weird, why would someone do that to a plate?

On the one hand, there was enough lingering friendship there that Harry didn't want her to needlessly suffer. On the other hand, why should he do all the work? Also… wait, wasn't that his plate?

Harry looked back at the plate which had stopped its forward motion and was hovering over the floor. Had he gotten it working? How did he do that? He entered his mindscape and walked to his lane. There, in the middle of the lane, was his ball. It was spinning in place, its location on the lane completely steady. It seemed like the ball should have reached the end by now. As the thought occurred to him, the ball shot forward and hit the pins, while the plate crashed to the floor.

The plate immediately reassembled. Harry looked back at Dobby, who had just snapped his fingers. "Thanks Dobby"

"Harry Potter sir is welcome. Dobby also cleaned the plate, even when some bad servant didn't want Harry Potter sir's plate to be clean." Dobby looked pointedly at Albus, who rolled his eyes in response.

Harry smiled, and looked at the plate. What had he done differently? He had lifted the plate, and… Harry's eyes moved down to the letter he still held. The letter had distracted him, and he had forgotten about the plate. What about the book? Harry looked over at Albus and Dobby. They had distracted him, telling him it was time to deal with Lockhart. Wait… Harry replayed the night he figured out the trick to casting his levitation spell without a wand. He had raised his bed, Dobby distracted him, he had breathed several times to catch his breath, and then the bed crashed. Oh! He didn't hear the bed crash immediately like it should have. It only crashed when he thought it should crash. This felt very familiar. But, why? Harry huffed in annoyance, and then paused. He huffed again, slowly inhaled, smiled, and the smacked his head.

"The air bubble spell!" Harry exclaimed, not realizing he had spoke out loud. Albus smiled happily.

The air bubble spell had stayed active, because Harry hadn't thought about cancelling it. As soon as he decided he really wanted the spell to end, it ended. But, did he want the levitation spell to end? Well… no… but, he did expect it to end. And his magic worked to meet his expectations. But, when he got distracted, he forgot about his expectations. So… either figure out how to be constantly distracted or… did he just need to change his expectations?

Harry walked back to his plate, placed his finger on it, and closed his eyes, picturing the bowling alley. Next to the lane, he pictured a button. He pressed the button, and a frictionless net appeared in the middle of the lane. He readied his magic, breathed in, breathed out, threw the ball down the lane, lifted his hand, and watched as the ball was stopped by the net but still spun. He opened his eyes, resumed breathing normally and let go of the plate. The plate remained in its floating state. Harry smiled broadly.

Harry looked into the eyes of a beaming Albus. "What the hell, let's go to Dijon."

"Are you sure, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "I'm in a good mood. I was able to make a tentative business deal with Lockhart, so I think I can handle Hermione. Come get me when it's lunchtime. We'll go to that place in Dijon that had the delicious Coq au Vin. Afterwards, we'll go their hotel. If she's not there, I'll leave a note with a deadline. Until its lunch time, I am going to practice my latest step in wandless magic."

With that, Harry left to practice for the next three hours until it was time to apparate to Dijon.

As fate would have it, Harry was able to talk to Hermione in person. After enjoying a delicious Coq au Vin, Harry and Albus made their way to the hotel listed on the contact information given by Hermione's mum. Before knocking on the door, Harry paused and looked at Albus.

"You may want to do something that will make sure no one can overhear us, in case she's here. I'm not sure if Hermione is in the right state of mind to keep her voice down and remembering that she is not somewhere where she can speak freely."

Albus smiled. "I'll have to wait until she opens the door first, but I will follow up on those wise precautions. If she is here, shall I bring her parents down to the lobby to give you a chance to speak?"

"… yeah, that would probably be for the best."

Harry turned to the door and knocked. From the other side, he heard a familiar voice.

"Mum, dad, I told you that I am not going to leave this room until I have the perfect letter. Just go visit a museum or something."

Harry smiled and knocked again.

"Fine. I'm coming! I'm coming!"

The door opened and presented Harry with the sight of Hermione Granger with red eyes and hair that was frizzier than he had ever seen. She froze as she saw Harry standing in front of her, her jaw slowly slackening. She didn't seem to even notice as Albus leaned in and pointed his wand into her room, lowered his wand, squeezed Harry's shoulder, and walked back toward the stairs.

The silence dragged on for such a long time, that Harry was starting to be tempted to try poking her in the shoulder. However, as the idea started to take root, whatever rebooting process her brain entered had finally completed.

"Harry?" Hermione whispered, barely making a sound.

"Hey Hermione." Harry responded, starting to feel a bit awkward.

"Harry!" Hermione screamed as she hugged him with all her strength, as if afraid that he would disappear if she let go. Although, Harry thought, that is probably exactly what she was afraid of.

Harry stood still, as Hermione held on to him, rapidly whispering "I'm sorry" into his neck, followed by feeling his shoulder starting to feel damp as she began to cry. As he felt her breaking down in his arms, and he uncomfortably patted her back, he felt his heart extinguishing the last ember of anger he had still held for her. He knew that her misery was real. He knew that her contrition was real. He finally knew that he could forgive her. He just didn't know if he could find his way to having her as a friend again. The three questions still stood.

How could she think he was a Dark Wizard?

How could she think he could attack his fellow students?

How could she treat a friend like that?

Once she had calmed down, he would give her another chance to answer those questions.

That night Harry relaxed in his bed as his mind went over the conversation with Hermione. In the end, her answers were what he was expecting. She had been scared. She hadn't been thinking straight. She ran to her books for protection and they ended up betraying her. She admitted to the mistake, which was… nice, he supposed.

She also seemed to be trying to become a better person, and less willing to believe everything that is written or said by an authority figure. It was a start.

However, that was the problem. It was only a start.

Harry felt like that potential future version of Hermione might become a good friend. But this current version… he felt like he had truly forgiven her and held no more ill will. He also held no more trust, which was the cornerstone of their friendship. Rebuilding that would take time, time that they would normally have at Hogwarts. But Harry was certain that he and Hogwarts had parted company for good, more than certain.

In the end, Harry agreed to trying to write to each other once every month or two. Hermione was not thrilled with that answer, but she gave the impression that it was more than she had expected. When they parted ways in the lobby, she said that she would wait for her parents to arrive. So, she didn't seem happy, but she did seem satisfied. Harry didn't know what the future held for the two of them, but he was willing to find out. If it didn't work, he could always stop writing letters.

As he placed the memories and emotions of the day in their appropriate rooms in the apartments of his mental bowling alley, he allowed himself to move on to happier thoughts. He listened to the peaceful sounds of the house at night, as everybody slumbered. He relaxed further into his meditation.

He had finally figured out the secret to the long-lasting wandless levitation spell. He had also figured out how to remotely end the spell at his leisure. He could levitate a dozen items at once but was still figuring out how to not cancel the levitation of individual objects as opposed to end all the levitations at once.

He had also spent several long hours practicing until he could almost cast and end the spell in his sleep, though he had not forgotten about figuring out how Albus could apparently cast while sleeping.

As part of his practice, he worked with water balloons. Specifically lifting a dozen water balloons up to the top of the canopy that was directly above where Albus slept at night.

In his mind's eye, Harry hit the button to remove the nets holding back the bowling balls. The levitation spells cancelled simultaneously.

A loud splash and sputtering old man's shout of surprise replaced the quiet of the night.

Harry filed away the memory in a special place in his mind, and then fell asleep with a content smile.