Night Discovery
Hermione woke with a lot more heat around her than she was used to. And it wasn't just the heat-of-summer and London-instead-of-Hogwarts.
She opened her eyes. Oh, Harry was under her cheek. And Crookshanks was weighing down her blankets on the other side. And according to the dim moonlight, the sheet on the far side of Harry was being held up by a very feminine set of hips. But there didn't seem to be anything under the sheet.
She slid an arm out from under the blanket and poked the sheet, firm and warm. She slid her hand farther up toward the 'nothing'. And found the lump of a belt and a ragged piece of invisible fabric barely and intermittently covering a hot bare side, also invisible.
Even farther in the same direction a shoulder and a neck, and ear and braid. She ran her hand the other way down the arm to a wand holster, loaded. And a hand just as invisible as the rest, though it had a twist of sheet clasped in it … and …
A hot breath in her face, and something big shifted on the mattress, the sheets around the invisible hips moved some, and Harry's far hand lifted to wrap around the invisible shoulder of …
Someone was there. Someone who should be breathing but she could hear no breathing except hers and Harry's.
Who is in my bed with my Harry?
A vaguely familiar bit of disorienting magic tried to convince her that wasn't an interesting or productive line of inquiry. Maybe not even a sensible question.
Damn it, no. My bed is mine.
No resistance.
Someone invisible is in it.
Nonsense, why would I even worry about it with Harry and Crookshanks being so comfortable.
My Harry doesn't mind her.
Resistance. Harry isn't yours.
He damn well is my friend.
That's different.
She's dressed like a house elf.
That's none of your business.
If Harry owns someone and is keeping them for a house elf, it is my business.
Why would it be?
Because my Harry wouldn't keep slaves.
But would he protect them?
Yes, he would.
There you go then. But only if they were good, right?
Which one of us thought that?
Huh?
Who are you?
Who are you?
Hermione.
But who is 'Hermione'?
Harry is my friend.
Harry isn't yours.
Do you have an alternate explanation what he's doing in my bed?
Because you want to be Harry's.
I do not want—
… Of course you do, because you want to be good enough that he would want to protect you.
That's different.
No, it's not.
Fine. Yes, I want to be Harry's.
And he tried to tell you, you are eligible, you could be if you wanted.
What are you saying?
You are Harry's if you say you are.
I'm already Harry's friend.
Yes.
Also his sex-ed lab partner.
So?
What else is there?
He says you're good enough to be one of Harry's things to protect. Part of his Pride.
He did say that.
Do you believe him.
I believe that he believes that.
Do you trust him?
Not about that, not yet. I … don't know if he knows me well enough to judge. I did just seduce him. (Although maybe that was much too mutual to count as seduction.)
So you think you're bad?
Criminal at any rate. Not that I think as highly of the law as I once did. But no, I try to be good.
So why aren't you one of his, yet?"
I don't know.
Say this and you will be: I am under Harry's protection. He is my lord and master. I trust him to aid and protect me. I will serve him however he asks.
NO.
Then what do you say?
Harry and I protect each other, we collaborate about our mutual goals, we trust each other to aid and protect each other, and we um…. serve each other as much as, and when, we please, as a sign of, well he says love, but I think of it differently and…
Rambling. Rambling. Rambling. You're half asleep, forget about it all.
NO, not forgetting.
You're not Harry's, you don't get to look at all his things and see all his secrets and help with all his projects.
Actually I do get to do most of that.
Even his projects he doesn't want help with?
Especially those, he's not always as sensible as he thinks.
I like you. But you have to decide to belong to him.
Humph.
Say: I am his. No extra words for clarifications or limits.
No.
Then forget that Harry has any secrets from you. And you'll sleep just fine.
No.
Then we may be at an impasse.
I love him and want to protect him too.
And trust him enough to obey him until he has time to explain?
Sometimes, and within the limits of my own ethics.
Ethics that he usually agrees to after the fact and once you've explained and he's had several months to meditate on how they differed from the ethics that once were his?
Yes.
You might already be his, and don't realise it.
I might be. Agreed Hermione.
The tension melted away.
Or he might be mine and doesn't realise it. The thought crossed her mind but this time she recognised the pattern and she left it alone, and didn't pull the thought into her meditation against Harry's invisibility ward.
The tension finished melting and began to evaporate.
Hermione relaxed her jaw and opened her eyes. She could see the face and the squished lips and the drool. The hand clutching the sheets not an inch from her own hand. The wand holster of the same make as her own, but possibly a lighter colour. She raised her eyes, the hair in a braided crown, Harry's hand on her shoulder, the ragged slice down the side of a muggle tee-shirt, the belt. The bare thigh barely concealed by Hermione's sheet. And she could remember the thing Harry gurgled in his sleep when he petted her shoulder was, 'sleep well, Bella.'
She returned her eyes to the face.
Who are you? And what are you doing in my bed?
It's just one of Harry's things to protect, nothing for you to worry about.
Actually it's fairly worrying. Both that he has someone that size to protect, and that he sneaked her into my house without me noticing.
Apparently there was nothing to say to that, because the ward didn't respond.
Crooks?
Mum?
Do you know everyone in the bed?
Mum and Nim and Nim's Mum.
What does Nim's Mum look like?
[A normal picture of Harry. This time without clothing.]
What does Nim look like?
Normal? Or right now?
Right now?
A skimpily clad cat-witch bigger than Harry, with two tails and dangerously heavy boots.
That's what I thought, thanks.
Is Mum going to sleep or getting up?
Going to sleep. You sleep well too Crooks.
Yes, Mum.
.
Hermione stared at the witch for a few moments longer. And then closed her eyes.
Nim knew all about animagi and Pettigrew and … thrall marks.
Another almost-death-eater Harry was trying to figure out.
Or a real one who had co-opted him to rescue Pettigrew. Though all those extra oaths as the sentence might not have been her plan.
Hermione opened her eyes and lifted the wrist and turned it over. Swirly lines connecting to a round mass at one end. A dark mark. And perhaps this was the real thing.
Or maybe it was another fake.
Either way of the commonly spoken of 'known death eaters' there was only one whose name matched 'Bella': Bellatrix Lestrange, one of you-know-who's fiercest fighters and a known practitioner of the cruciatus curse.
Oh, hell no.
"Do you like it, Hermione?" said a voice gravelly with sleep.
"Huh?" Hermione jerked her hand away and looked up. The eyes were open and the mouth was no longer squished sideways and drooling.
"Do you want one too?" less gravelly from sleep, more mocking, more inviting.
"I don't think so," said Hermione.
"But you're not sure," she continued.
"Does it hurt?"
"Not since My Lord … not since it finished forming."
Interesting.
"You know you want one," said the woman, "just tell my lord you wish to swear fealty to him, and answer his questions. Maybe you'll get a thrall mark, maybe he'll just give you a more normal job, whatever is suited to you. A very good master, my lord is." She yawned and stretched and re-curled and closed her eyes.
"Bella?" Hermione whispered.
The eyes opened again.
"Harry … touches you down there."
"When I need relief."
"Do you return the favour?"
"He requested tutoring in how to be pleasing to his friends."
"That is not quite the answer to my question."
Bellatrix smiled, "he is expressive and fun to please."
"So, not only do you return the favour, but … you're not reluctant about it?"
"I'm only ever reluctant about it when seducing prudes."
"Would it bother you if I requested to sit in on his lessons?"
"Not in the slightest," said Bellatrix, "and if you take his mark, I'll give you lessons as well, if you want them."
"And if I don't … wait this is Harry's mark?"
"Yes, changed when he stole me."
"And you shag girls too?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
Right, No respect for law or authority, except the wishes of whoever she currently belonged to… right.
"Never mind, if I didn't take his mark, could I still get lessons?"
"You'd have to get him to give specific permission for me to participate."
"I guess I'd better see about buying a strap on," said Hermione.
A widened eye, "Why not just transfigure one?"
"Good point," said Hermione, "I'll have to think about that too."
A knowing smile, and an inviting tone, "you do that, Hermione," and the eyes closed, "pleasant dreams."
Bellatrix, with a real thrall mark, belonging to Harry. Perhaps it was alright that Nim … was what?
...-...
The Dawn
Hermione woke to a cool draft and rhythmic motion. She opened her eyes to see that little Harry was big again and Bellatrix was stroking him.
"Muh?" she said.
Bellatrix gave her a lazy grin and a shrug that seemed to invite Hermione to take over.
Interesting offer...
"Harry?"
Harry picked up his head a little then put it back down. "It's called morning wood," explained Harry, "Technically it means I need to use the restroom. But Nim likes the challenge of trying to make it get small again the other way."
Nim smiled and stroked a little more enthusiastically.
"Do you ever tell her not to?"
"Usually only if I'm afraid I'm going to piss before she finishes. Or after I realised she's going to get bored first, and feel the need to remind her that it's not a required activity."
"Oh."
They were silent for a few moments.
Then Harry started to tense. She could feel it in his side against her hand and his thigh against her knee. Hermione realised he was holding his breath. A moment later little Harry erupted across his stomach. He started breathing again.
"My Lord," said Bellatrix.
"What is it Nim?" said Harry.
"I ... made a mess, my Lord."
"Oh are we playing this game too," sighed Harry.
"We are my Lord," said Bellatrix, "your new pet Hermione told me she wanted to learn all of the games."
"Of course she does," said Harry and glanced at Hermione with a shrug.
Bellatrix moved. Hermione barely managed to predict what she was going to do before she started licking up what she had just convinced little Harry to spill.
Hermione watched her work. On the one hand, that seemed vaguely disgusting. On the other hand, cleaning it up before the mess could spread all over everything also made sense.
But that hadn't been a problem last night because…
"Why don't you just use a banishing spell?"
"Usually I do," said Bellatrix, "but Harry is one of the few people I have ever known who really appreciates being served."
"Oh," said Hermione, "oh wow."
...-...
Morning
"I think it's time for a shower," said Harry, "how many of you are joining me?"
"You don't even need to ask, my Lord," said Bellatrix.
Hermione's shower stall was a bit small for three, but Nim had an impressive skill of shrinking to cat sized whenever she was about to be in the way, or whenever someone was too much in her way. Also, Hermione noticed that Bellatrix did not wash her hair. So theories and schedules of taking down buns and washing hair was discussed. Soon they were out and dressed.
"Oh!" sighed Harry.
"What's wrong?" said Hermione.
"I'm up and dressed," said Harry, "but there's no Quidditch practice to rush to, nor breakfast to fix. Does anyone want to go running?"
"It's not a running day," yawned Bella.
"No," said Hermione, "but … can you braid my hair like Bella's?"
"Sure," said Harry.
Bella huffed.
Harry smiled indulgently, and took the offered brush and started working along the bottom edge of her hair. At least he remembered that much.
"What was that smile about?" said Hermione.
"No one at my dojo had any reason to recognise Bella, right?"
"Sure, I guess?" said Hermione.
"And you have a huge back yard," said Harry.
"Also true."
"Would you like to join us for blade combat practice later?"
"Fencing?" said Hermione.
"Not fencing the sport," said Harry, "practice combat, weighted wooden blades, one or two knives, and if one, the other hand might either be empty, sword, shield, or wand."
"…Right," said Hermione, "Um, why?"
"To start with, because of Slytherin's basilisk," said Harry, "Later because Bella can give me pointers how to adjust my techniques in light of the capabilities that mages bring to the battlefield. And after the pleading last Tuesday and I figured out about Bella, she could start teaching me directly."
Hermione nodded, "Yeah, I guess that does make sense. Still think I'd wait for after breakfast."
"Occlumency then?" said Bella.
Harry nodded.
Nim dashed away. Shortly she was back with a familiar looking book and handed it to Hermione.
"Where should I start?" she said.
"Introduction," said Harry, "But silently is fine, I've read the first three chapters, it's not as easy to pick up as charms. Go ahead and start, I figure you can catch up to me in reading in no time, it's the practice that's harder."
"Hmm? Sounds interesting," said Hermione.
.
"So, did you sleep well, Harry?" ask Mr. Granger.
"Yes, sir. Very well."
"Hermione, I like what you two did with your hair," said Mrs. Granger.
"Thank you," said Hermione.
"Of all the popular slumber party games," said Mr Granger, "I wasn't expecting fixing each others' hair so high on the list."
"Then I haven't done very well explaining Harry at all," said Hermione.
"Oh," said Mr. Granger, "are you a poofter then, Harry Potter?"
"Dad!" gasped Hermione.
"Nothing wrong with that either way," said Mr. Granger.
"I don't remember which that is," said Harry.
"It means, do you prefer boyfriends to girlfriends?" said Hermione.
"Oh right … I never thought much about it," said Harry "I'm not even sure how to think about it."
"Well …" said Hermione, "would you find me more appealing if I was wearing a strap on?"
"How do you even know about those?" said Mrs. Granger, "wait, never mind, in fact, I don't want to know."
"I don't know what that is either," said Harry.
"It's a toy pretend penis," said Hermione.
"One for actually playing with?" said Harry.
"Yes," said Hermione, "one that's not for playing with is called a 'packer'."
"Right," said Harry, "that's the one I've heard of before."
"Huh," said Mr. Granger thoughtfully.
"To answer your question, Hermione," said Harry, "I don't know, I lack sufficient experience."
"Why did that not sound like the denial that it should have been?" said Mr. Granger.
"I don't know," said Hermione, "it sounded like a request for an invitation to collaborate to me."
.
"So, were you planning on going to Ministry this morning and working on your report?"
"Yeah, I suppose I should," said Harry, "would you like to go with me?"
"Sure," said Hermione.
"Oh, Mr. Law Professor?" said Hermione
"Don't call me that," said Harry, "But what?"
"Hypothetically speaking, if I knew the location of an escaped prisoner, and did not report it to the ministry, is that aiding and abetting?"
"Or conspiracy?" said Harry, "I'm not really sure. Do you mind if I ask a friend?"
Hermione shrugged.
"Spider Queen, Spider Queen," said Harry.
Everyone looked at him like his sanity was slipping.
"Hello Lord Potter," said his necklace, "just so you are aware: you are not under your normal set of wards. And I can get a precise fix on your location."
"Oh, good to know," said Harry.
"Lord Potter?" hissed Mr. Granger.
Hermione nodded.
"What did you call me about? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. Hermione asked me a legal question. And I don't know where to look it up."
"This is the same Hermione Granger who assisted you as court scribe and usually scores top marks in her year outside of Ravenclaw?"
"Yes."
"Alright, I'm listening."
"In the hypothetical case, that someone became aware of the whereabouts of an escaped prisoner, if she neglected to report that to the Ministry of Magic, is that conspiracy or aiding and abetting?"
"Or accessory after the fact," said Mrs. Malfoy's voice from Harry's necklace, "No, simply put in the magical world there is only two degrees of criminal liability: accessory before the fact, which is: you became aware of definite plans to commit a crime, and didn't give warning either to the intended victim or target organisation, nor to the aurors. The other is of course principle liability, which is either committing the crime, or conspiracy to commit the crime, which means if you gave the orders, you also have primary guilt, even if you 'never got your hands dirty.' It is a rule which the muggles recently implemented to punish black market capitalists. Unfortunately, the legal precedent in the magical world is a bit confused, and a lot of people are convicted on conspiracy that by the intent of the law should have been convicted as accessories. Why we don't have 'accessory after the fact' stems in part from the hospitality tradition of English common law and earlier, and from the aftermath of the Great Persecution and the Statute of Secrecy.
"Serfs were the property of their land owners, and could not gain custody of themselves except by surviving a year and a day in a free walled city. Stealing away to live for a year and a day on their own recognisance was technically a crime, until the year and a day had passed, and just about everyone they met could tell. Doing any business with them at all would count as 'aiding and abetting their escape', or 'accessory in surf stealing'. In the popular imagination, and eventually the law was forced to be interpreted this way: the criminal act was the surf leaving his master's land. Everything after that is being a neighbourly, hospitable, and shrewd but equitable tradesman, whatever.
"The difference became even more stark with the witch hunts, and everyone was in danger and everyone was helping whoever they could trust not to report them afterwards. When the Statute of Secrecy divided the world, in many countries, the risks and sacrifices of the previous and current generation were honoured in this way: There is no law against providing succour or concealment to a fugitive, no matter what the crime. However you are still responsible to report or offer warning about crimes in progress or planned to be committed."
"Alright," said Hermione, "Thank you Mrs. Malfoy."
"Is that everything?"
"Yes, Mrs. Malfoy," said Hermione.
"Alright, then I have two things. Are you listening?"
"Yes."
"First of all, there is a precedent for maintaining a 'second' for the duration of an investigation, if you were to appoint, hypothetically, Hermione this would give her the same rights and privileges you enjoy Harry. You get an assistant, and she gets the responsibility of filing your 'work so far' if something were to happen to you."
"Oh," said Hermione, "Interesting."
"Second of all, you two should sit down and have a talk with your cats about how they mark their territory."
"Did Nim get into something she shouldn't have?" said Harry aghast.
"More like neglected to cover her tracks properly," said Mrs. Malfoy.
A pause.
"Try from in your room?" said Hermione.
"Oh, that," said Harry.
"Try from in your room." said Hermione.
"Yeah, I suppose," said Harry, "There's one more thing, can you wait just a minute?" he ran upstairs.
It turned out that Harry's wards did not stop Mrs. Malfoy from getting the location of Harry's necklace, but it did stop her from using them in any way.
"Alright, thanks," said Harry.
It was agreed that might be more important than a trip to the ministry first thing.
.
So they made a full tour of the property line and Nim promised to contemplate what should be needed, and then they broke out their wands and conjured practice pads.
.
It turned out that Hermione was slower on her feet than Harry, but she was absolutely vicious with her swings.
After the first round they stopped and conjured significantly thicker padding.
By mid-morning Bella had convinced Harry that by now he should also be swinging a lot harder. It wasn't only a game of stamina and survival, it was also a game of damage dealt.
.
"Were we going to stop for lunch?" said Hermione.
"Oh, eventually," said Harry wiping the sweat from his forehead, "Is now a good time for that?"
Hermione shrugged, "It's almost 1:30."
Harry shrugged, "I can eat," he shrugged again, "I could also see pushing another 45 minutes just to make sure my stamina doesn't think this was a day off."
Bella laughed and started attacking him without either of them making their bows first.
He defended himself as well as usual.
Hermione fought down her shock at the suddenness, then watched in awe as he held his own with the two short knives against her sword; the combination put him at a disadvantage, but he kept moving and kept alert and defending.
Then once when she lunged, he managed to telegraph a sidestep, but actually made a sidestep the other direction. He landed a slash and a stab to her torso before she could correct, then brought one blade up toward her sword arm in another slash, while dropping the other practice blade to grab her collar and yank her off her feet.
Hermione saw how perhaps that only worked so well by timing when she was farthest off balance. But she didn't see how Harry could have known ahead of time when she'd be off balance.
Bellatrix twisted in the air on the way down, Hermione was suddenly certain that they both knew how to land in a combat situation with a plan how to maximise their ability to get back up again and keep fighting. And then Harry's hand, still on Bella's collar yanked a different way. And Bella's fall didn't look like it would be nearly so graceful.
So instead Nim jumped snarling out the end of her training pads, leaving Harry to land on top of the now empty suit.
It didn't take him long to right himself and clamber to his feet.
"Wow," said Hermione, "Was that Judo?"
Harry shrugged, "Judo teaches you how to fall, and what to do to throw them once. A lot of the other martial arts have imported some Judo or 'Judo adjacent' techniques. And usually we practice as if we're fighting against opponents that will either surrender or go into shock after the first three good hits. But every once in a while Bella and I practice one step closer to 'no holds barred' instead: If you really threw an enemy and realised that they knew how to land and bounce back, you wouldn't just let them land."
Hermione nodded.
"Some of the schools teach a slightly different technique where … basically if you throw them, and can get to them and stomp or punch the pad near them before they get back up, it counts as proof that you could have hit or kicked them while they were down. With the understanding that, if you can land and bounce back, getting thrown barely counts, but in a real fight, you've trained to follow up a throw with getting there fast enough to," Harry shrugged, "finish them off or hold them down or at weapon point or whatever is appropriate for the context."
"Right," sighed Hermione.
Harry turned and met her eyes. "Actually attacking someone while they are down, (rather than merely simulating it, or moving to hold them at weapon point), is proof that you are either engaged in war, or feud, or genocide. Not merely duelling for sport or reputation."
Hermione caught his seriousness and nodded.
"With obvious implications to everyone who sees you. If they're on the other side, you can expect them to also escalate to war tactics, if they haven't already. And your allies to either call you to account, or trust you to know how serious this is, or ask for clarification why this might have become a no-quarter type engagement for you."
"Sure," said Hermione, "Is it weird that I'm really horny right now?"
Harry grinned and shook his head, "adrenalin arousal isn't very far from the other kind."
She shrugged.
"And I'm given to understand that … a lot of people like the smell of sweat, as long as it's fresh."
Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"And all three of us showered this morning, so all of it is fresh."
"Merlin!" she said.
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"You said you wanted another half an hour or so of … really heavy exercise before lunch?"
"Yeah?" said Harry, "Oh!"
Hermione grinned and drew her wand, dispelling first his pads and then her own. They barely made it to her room before they'd gotten each other's clothes off also.
.
After lunch, they sat down with Bella and went over what they wanted in a minimal set of wards. Bare minimum they wanted: repelling those with hostile intent, anti-apparition over everything with an option to sometimes allow arrival via the back porch, the simplest version of unplottable, basically the non-retroactive version.
They could do all of that with quill and parchment and some leftover lath boards for stakes, at least until it rained. And by casting imperturbable on the parchments, they could extend that to even a few days of rain. Long enough for them to get to Diagon and buy rocks to engrave.
Bella was sure that once they had proper rocks, they'd even be able to manage the shield ward to block simple curses from crossing the property line. Not that they could harden the boarder against the real siege-breakers like fiendfyre, giant's-fist, and siren's-echo without spending thousands to hire professionals. And professionals probably wouldn't be able to do much in a muggle neighbourhood, or not without a fairly complete stone wall to anchor things to (and hide things inside).
And while they were at the ministry they could also buy the standard floo control accessories.
...-...
Interview with a Dentist
"So, you finished your duties at the ministry?" said Mr. Granger, "and your rune project that required you to dig up the corners of the property line?"
"Yes," said Harry, "and Madam Bones promised me: my godfather will get a pretrial hearing soon."
"So do you have anything new planned?" said Mr. Granger, "or were you going to bum around the house all day?"
Harry shrugged, "We do have some more reading ahead planned, but … on the topic of 'bumming' I've been expecting a conversation on what my chores will be, and no one has brought it up, so I am."
"I thought we already covered that," said Mr. Granger, "No, chores per se, but —
"(By which he means keep your room neat, your laundry taken care of, and load your own dishes in the dishwasher)," provided Hermione.
"I can do that," said Harry, "but … what about, I don't know, cooking or yard work?"
"No," said Mr. Granger, "The HOA has the yard taken care of. Sometimes in the spring Emma adds more bulbs. That's about it. Emma and I have a habit of cooking together, I suppose, you may cook lunch if you want cooked lunch."
"Oh," said Harry, not sure whether to be disappointed, or relieved.
"So, after all that," said Mr. Granger, "you have no additional chores, but if you stay past your 19th birthday, I expect you to start paying market appropriate rent for whichever room or suite you're staying in by that time."
"Oh," said Harry, "Yes, you did mention that."
"Good, and I'm willing to negotiate for a different birthday, if you choose to pursue additional education," said Mr. Granger, "now if there's no definite plans, how do you feel about going to work with me today."
"What? Why?" said Hermione.
From Hermione's tone Harry had a sudden suspicion he should invent something he would be busy with, but he wasn't sure why.
"Because I promised his relatives I'd look at his teeth," said Mr. Granger.
"Oh," said Hermione.
That seems incongruous. Has he talked to my relatives since Kings Cross?
.
"Alright, Harry. That should be enough x-rays for now. Do you want to see what we're looking at?"
"I guess," said Harry.
"So far as wear marks are concerned your teeth show some … unusual patterns. Care to explain?"
"I don't understand, sir."
"I'd say your front teeth came in late, perhaps your baby teeth had been knocked out, and/or your jaw took longer to adjust in size?"
"Maybe," said Harry.
"Alright, what about, how much sweets do you eat?"
"I mean, treacle tart is good," said Harry, "But I probably eat more apples and drink more pumpkin juice than err traditional candy."
"How sweet is pumpkin juice?"
Harry shrugged.
"How sour is it?"
"Not at all," said Harry.
"Well that's something at least." Mr. Granger sighed and looked at the ceiling, "How often do you brush your teeth?"
"When they feel dirty, sir."
"Basically twelve hours too late in other words."
"Oh," said Harry, "I'll try to pay more attention to that then."
"Good.'
"You might should also think about eating more meat, I'd say you're calcium deficient. Or at least you were when your adult teeth were growing."
"Oh, yeah, probably," said Harry.
"Do you want to tell me about that?"
"I usually just had toast for breakfast until I started kindergarten."
"And then what?"
"Then I also had lunch, when I could stomach it."
Mr. Granger grimaced, "and how long did that pattern persist?"
"Until I started Hogwarts."
"At eleven, And what has the pattern been since then?"
"At Hogwarts, three meals are available every day, though I sometimes skip breakfast, since I was only used to toast before anyway. But my owl didn't like that if it meant her bacon supply was diminished, so she encouraged me to eat more breakfast. So did Hermione. Ron merely encourages me to wake him up in time to attend meals long enough so that he can eat, which isn't quite the same thing, but has had an effect on getting me there while the food is available."
"Right."
"And some other friends showed me where to find the kitchens, and the elves are always in the mood to watch children eat."
"I see."
"And last summer, my uncle decided to make me into a boxer. After that I was welcome to as much meat as I could stomach."
"And how much is that?"
"A burger patty or two, for lunch and tea, sometimes steak, but much more rarely."
"Well that's something, are you balancing that out with vegetables?"
"Depends on which vegetables are available," said Harry.
"Thus it ever is," said Mr. Granger.
.
"So," said Mr. Granger, "I'm going to drill these cavities smooth, and then (to simplify a complex process), I will glue in replacement material. Do you mind silver amalgam or are you going to insist on gold?"
"Both of those sound magically active."
"Is that good or bad?"
"I have no idea."
"Would you prefer porcelain?"
"That sounds … safer."
"Humph, well then."
"Is that a problem?"
"It costs about three times as much," said Mr. Granger, "But since you're not paying for it, relax."
"Oh," said Harry.
He relaxed. Until the drill hit his first tooth.
.
"Are we done?"
"We're about half done," said Mr. Granger, "I thought it was about time to give you a break and let your adrenalin levels drop back to baseline."
"They might not do that until I run a mile or two," said Harry.
"Fine we'll try that and start again after lunch, if nothing else will do, but I figured you'd rather be done before lunch and go home."
"Oh," said Harry, "I guess."
"So," said Mr. Granger, "How have you found living at my house?"
"It's …" Harry giggled.
"Yes?"
"It's been weird," said Harry.
"In what way?"
"So … mostly normal," said Harry, "as normal as life can be for a wizard who has duties at the ministry at almost 14, but …" Harry shrugged, "as much as my relatives go on about 'being normal,' and keeping things normal, and making me normal, I never felt as normal as at your house."
"Not even at Hogwarts?"
Harry shrugged, "At Hogwarts I'm something of a celebrity. Much to my annoyance."
"Oh," said Mr. Granger, "I think I heard a rumour to that effect a while ago."
Harry nodded.
"Alright," said Mr. Granger, "Is my daughter treating you like a celebrity?"
"No," said Harry, "That's why I can stand to stay around her more of the time."
"You're more of an introvert than you let on aren't you?"
"I don't know what that means."
"Very active mental life.'
"Oh, yes, definitely," said Harry, "Two familiars chattering to me constantly, and each other."
"OK … that's not what I meant," said Mr. Granger, "Though it could contribute drastically one way or the other."
Harry didn't know what to say, so he said nothing.
"So if not like a celebrity, How does my daughter treat you?"
"Intermittently, like her favourite study partner, or her little brother, or … the little kitten she grabbed out of a pack of stray dogs."
Mr. Granger nodded, "how do you feel about each of those."
"Well, she is my favourite study partner," said Harry, "and … sometimes I think of her as a sister, and she did take me away from my relatives, but …"
"How do you feel about her?"
"She's one of my two friends."
"Only two?"
"I also have two cousins, both of whom are nicer than they used to be, and two familiars who … love me, but that's in a different way."
Mr. Granger nodded, "But Hermione?"
Harry shrugged.
"Has she come onto you again since that first time?"
"Um," said Harry, "The first time was at my relatives house."
"What were the circumstances?"
"There's a rare magical skill that lets you turn into an animal. I gave her a potion that is supposed to tell you what animal you can turn into if you bother to develop the skill."
"Go on?"
"I got a lion," said Harry, "She got an otter."
"And she told you what that means to her?"
Harry nodded.
"Did you believe her?"
"Why would she lie to me?"
"Never mind. How did you respond?"
Harry shrugged, "I don't remember, Mrs Weasley's letter annoyed my relatives which distracted pretty much everything and Hermione decided to get me out of there."
"I see," said Mr. Granger, "and then the comment at dinner about taking your clothes off?"
"Yeah."
"And has she done or said anything else inappropriate?"
Harry shrugged.
"And have you done or said anything else inappropriate?"
Harry shrugged.
"You spent that night in her room," said Mr. Granger, "You did each other's hair."
"I did her hair," agreed Harry.
"Did you sleep with her?"
"Yes."
"With clothes on or off?"
"Usually off," said Harry.
Mr. Granger blinked, "How often do you sleep in your own bed?"
"An hour or two nap before tea, most days," said Harry.
"And most nights in Hermione's room?"
Harry nodded.
"Has there been sex?"
Harry nodded.
"Every night?"
Harry nodded then shook his head, "Some nights we do, and some nights she transfigures one of those strap-on things she talked about, and plays with my cat."
"Plays with your cat," said Mr. Granger, "is that normal in the wizarding world?"
"Which part? No one really cares who you have sex with, as long as all the children born are contractually … err spoken for. Well and the whole sticky business about … every— most people prefer to raise kids that will be part of their own community, not that will have to leave to the other side of the statute of secrecy, breeding only with people with a similar amount of magic is generally considered the more ethical choice."
Mr. Granger stared at him, then nodded, "I can see Hermione's been rubbing off on you more than she's claimed."
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"That ethical analysis of this particular segregation," said Mr. Granger, "but never mind that. The strong distinction between sex and breeding, implies that their contraceptives are that much more foolproof? Or are there additional classes of contracts besides marriage."
"Both," said Harry.
"So, sex with animals is also … err tolerated?"
"Not exactly common," said Harry, "Not talked about, but there's enough half breeds and 'kin around that we all know it happens."
"What's a half breed and what's a 'kin?"
"Half breeds are half human, half of some other hominid species, we have a half goblin professor and a … I don't know what he is but he's huge. Kin are what happens if you're in animal form when you conceive a child. The children are born in animal form, and only revert to human if they happen to have magic, and happen to learn the skill of animagus transformation. There's a theory that that is where tamable horses even came from, and the previous kind of horses are as dangerous as zebras."
"Well that's something to think about," said Mr. Granger.
After several seconds of silence, Mr. Granger continued, "Alright, that's you being generous to what other people in your culture get up to, how do you feel about Hermione getting it on with your cat?"
Harry shrugged, "I've taken the animagus potion too, and I told you I got lion."
"Yes, you did."
"And I can agree with Hermione, that Nim is a good looking cat."
"Ah," said Mr. Granger, "and the strap-on thing?"
Harry shrugged, "They both seem to enjoy it. Or at least, usually it's Hermione that asks for it, and Nim who doesn't object and usually does the fireworks in the back of my head thing while she's enjoying it."
"Is Hermione usually the one who asks for sex from you also?"
"Yeah."
"And do you usually say yes?"
Harry nodded, "I didn't always at first, but now that … now that she's started alternating between me and Nim, I can usually say yes when she asks."
"And how do you feel about all that?"
Harry sighed and looked down, "The first two times, I was frightened that I would hurt her or make her not like me any more, or …"
"Go on," whispered Mr. Granger.
Harry squeezed his hands together, "The first time I told her 'no' I was afraid …"
"You're safe here," whispered Mr. Granger.
"I wasn't sure if she'd be angry," said Harry, "I … but she didn't turn even a little red. She just … hugged me harder for a couple seconds, and then asked Nim for a turn instead."
"What do you mean by turning red?"
"My aunt and uncle, when they get angry. Especially my uncle."
Mr. Granger nodded, "that's what I thought you meant but wanted to clarify. You can go on again."
Harry shrugged, "So I realised she meant it about wanting to play with me, because she wanted to play and I was desirable and available, and I stopped worrying about her getting angry if I couldn't always please her every time. The way I am with Nim."
"You what?"
"Please Nim," said Harry, "take care of her when she's in heat, with my fingers, otherwise she runs around gryffindor tower and collects all the male cats and they annoy everyone with weird purrs and lots of mewing and other noises that they make when they're speaking to each other instead of to humans."
"How often has that been?"
"Twice a day for a day or three, about every three months," said Harry.
"Ah," said Mr. Granger, "And how do you feel about Hermione and her antics now that you've had two weeks to get used to the current pattern?"
Harry shrugged, "Now it's just fun. Either I get to enjoy playing with her, or I get to enjoy Nim enjoying playing with her."
"Alright," said Mr. Granger, "Do you have any intention of marrying her?"
"She made it very clear that she has no intention of marrying me," said Harry, "and I'm not to feel the least bit … jealous about her whenever it is she decides who she is going to marry."
"Are you using condoms?"
Harry blinked, "There's a contraceptive charm, when I heard about it I was … sceptical, I was afraid it worked by messing up egg cycles, and was afraid it could leave someone infertile if performed wrong, but Hermione showed me the literature, and taught it to me, it's based on an alchemical analysis of Cretish Lasur, a plant with spermicidal properties."
"And how careful are you to use it every time?"
Harry shuddered, "it would be hard to forget, it also provides lubrication."
"Ah," said Mr. Granger, "That alleviates one fear at least. Now for the other, do you realise that the age of consent is 16 around here?"
"What's that?"
"The age at which a child may be taken at their word by an adult when they say they are willing to have sex. It is illegal for anyone to be sexually active with someone under 13, and illegal for an adult to be sexually active with anyone under 16, and illegal for anyone in a position of trust to be sexually active with any of their charges who is under 18, and it is illegal to pay anyone for sex, or to be paid by anyone for sex who is less than 18."
"So … is it fine that we are because we are both over 13 and aren't adults? or am I an adult because of the paper I had to sign, to take control of my Dad's friend's trial?"
"I think according to the muggle law in question, it is your age which applies, not your legal status, but you should check."
"Alright."
"Furthermore, I'm concerned about whether Hermione would be considered as 'in a position of trust,' over you. While you are in her house, and you felt your friendship was in jeopardy."
Harry shrugged, "I'm not worried about that anymore."
"Alright, but those first two times, might have been illegal."
"But I wanted those also," said Harry, "It was the third time that I didn't want to, but I managed to say 'no,' so it's fine right?"
"It seems to have turned out much better for you than I might have hoped it would for someone your age."
Harry shrugged, "We're both kind of mature for our age."
"Oh?"
"She's really smart, and I'm … well, the literature says orphans tend to be more self reliant."
"Self reliant in some ways and cases, and extra susceptible to Stockholm in other cases," a shrug, "it's not set in stone, merely statistical."
"Yeah, she warned me about Stockholm," said Harry.
"And have you identified what that cognitive bias feels like from the inside?"
Cognitive bias was when your brain lied to you, or believed one thing you didn't know for sure much easier than another thing that you also didn't know for sure but should be equally possible as the first. How would you even tell that … Oh. So also like addiction or … but also … Stockholm was supposed the be the totally logical inspiration to butter up the most powerful of your kidnappers who you thought you could expect to win over … but they talked about it like … the strategy lasted too long, and probably was never a conscious decision. And therefore… had he ever felt it? What he had felt …
"Yeah," said Harry, "It feels like distrusting all adults, and expecting kids to be reliable enough and capable enough to collaborate with, even when often they are not." Because they had never been orphans.
"That's not classic Stockholm," said Mr. Granger, "But that does seem like a reasonable learned response given your experience. Do you think you have a handle on how that bias differs from reality?"
"No," said Harry with a raised eyebrow, "I mean, it makes sense to adjust my expectations for the actual capability of the kid in question, but … no, I mean, I guess kids aren't that much more reliable than adults." Harry shrugged.
"I think adults might be more reliable than you give them credit for."
"I doubt it," said Harry, "there are just a few that…" Harry shrugged again. Hagrid … and Dumbledore … Yeah, those had been classic Stockholm. He'd actually believed …
"Exactly," said Mr. Granger, "I think adults are probably just as reliable if not more-so than children, but generally speaking, both adults and children are indifferent, until you've told them enough of the story to make them care."
Harry thought about that for several seconds before saying, "So, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Amelia Bones," Harry shrugged, "And you and Mrs. Granger? And Mrs. Bones might not count, given that it's her job to care about the things I was telling her about."
"Perhaps," said Mr. Granger, "I'm fairly sure you didn't just list me because you believe it, but as a not so subtle form of flattery."
"Maybe," said Harry.
"I think I can be fairly reliable," said Mr. Granger, "But I can be … slow on the uptake sometimes. I want to urge you, when you need me to help, say so, when you just want a safe audience to vent to, say so, and when you want advice, say so, if you just come to me and tell me of a problem you're facing, I might not be able to guess which of those is the kind of response you want or need from me. When you just need a stuffed duck to explain a confusing topic to, I recommend getting a stuffed duck, or just using one of your familiars."
"A stuffed duck, sir?"
"It's an old trick from Uni, anything that will sit still and has eyes will usually work, but stuffed ducks are traditional for some reason."
"And how is it used?"
"You try to explain the confusing concept to it, usually in the process of trying to put it into your own words, or into simple enough words even a stuffed duck can understand, the solution becomes blindingly obvious, or at least the disconnect in the logic becomes more apparent, leading to a large hint where to continue your research, or at least where to focus your efforts towards farther de-confusion."
"Oh," said Harry, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure Hermione used to use Ron for that sometimes."
"That sounds more than a bit condescending," said Mr. Granger.
Harry shrugged, "apparently they've gotten a bit less annoyed at each other after an argument about something called the Socratic method."
"Do you know what that is?"
"No, but apparently both of them did."
They stared at each other.
"They don't argue any less than they did before," supplied Harry, "They just tend to do it without getting angry."
Mr. Granger nodded, "That's something of a relief to hear."
.
"Alright, That's all of your fillings, no chewing for 3 hours."
"Ugh?"
"So, what would you like for lunch?"
Harry stared at him, "That's your idea of a joke right?"
"You've got me," Mr. Granger smiled.
Harry rolled his eyes, then shrugged, "I don't mind just waiting until Tea, if it's as good as what you usually serve."
"Ah," said Mr. Granger, "That might seem a much more reasonable solution to someone of your experience than most of my customers. Most of my customers tell me they're going to be going out for milkshakes immediately."
Harry shrugged, "I mean, I like that idea, but, it seems like that would be a waste, given how weird my mouth tastes right now."
"Fair enough. Also, rinse again if you feel like it."
"Sure."
"Now then, do you want a ride back to the house right away? Or do you mind waiting … either in the waiting room or the break room for—" Mr. Granger looked at his watch, "about an hour and a half while I look in on the next two patients."
Harry shrugged, "Hermione told me to bring a book, so I guess I'm fine."
.
"Sorry, that took longer than expected, Are you ready to go?"
"Yes, sir."
.
"What's your book about?"
"The Animagus Transformation."
"Ah," said Mr. Granger, "still want to turn into a lion?"
"I don't know," said Harry, "My dad could turn into a stag, and several of his friends could do other animals."
"Ah."
"It's actually kind of a rare skill, something about it being the culmination of several branches of Transfiguration."
"Hmm, and you're thinking about learning it at your age?"
"Yeah, sort of. But, partly I'm just interested in, how the different branches of transfiguration talk about neighbouring branches, when trying to teach this. It seems like … it's easier to learn the various perspectives and their jargon when different writers are all teaching theoretically the same thing, but all using their own perspective's favourite jargon. Also more confusing at first because you've got to translate some, but saner by the end because you've got more perspectives of all of it instead of only one perspective."
"Ah!"
"And as a case where multiple perspectives on the same thing, provide a window into the various branches, it seems ideal."
"Something about being the culmination of several branches of transfiguration?"
"Exactly."
"I see."
"You … know what I'm talking about don't you?"
"Yes, I do. For instance: dentistry is at the crossroads of chemistry, materials science, mechanical engineering, surgery, sculpture too even, I suppose also business if you also run your own practice."
"Oh," said Harry, "Yeah, I see."
"So, you're studying to be an animagus, but you don't know if you want to become one?"
"Sort of," said Harry.
"Do you already plan to not become one, or do you just not know yet?"
"More like, I'd kind of like to, but know better than to get my hopes up on something this hard."
"Ah," said Mr. Granger, "But a lion, … I mean, how much more difficult would that be to deal with than the cat you already have?"
"I guess," said Harry, "I don't know really. I suppose it makes as much sense to keep out of sight of the public when using that as much as any other kind of magic."
"Right," said Mr. Granger, "What about instincts, how much are they a problem?"
"I'm not sure," said Harry, "There seem to be conflicting stories on that. There are proponents of the theory that, 'yes the animal instincts exist and come to the fore, otherwise you wouldn't even know how to move, without three years of practice,' and conversely, 'your animal form gets picked by what symbolically has the most compatibility with your personality type to start with, so there's not that much to be worried about, or it's very difficult to measure, or whatever."
"So are you going to take the plunge one day, and turn into a lion, and eat one of your friends or neighbours by accident?"
"I don't think that's supposed to be a problem," said Harry, "And anyway, Lions are known to not hunt humans unless they're so hungry that they have a death wish. Unless that's just propaganda to make people less afraid to shoot them in self defence, but only in self defence. But … I guess it makes sense to try the first few transformations inside a cage."
"Ah, that sounds like a wise precaution."
Several beats of silence.
"So, what do Lions symbolise?"
"That seems to depend on what culture is telling the story, king of beasts or king of the jungle is one, another is males prowl the night, and females hunt during the day, several others are … err harem related, both in the sense of sexiness, and in the sense of protecting a huge family."
"Ah," said Mr. Granger, "Are there multiple stories on otters also?"
"Everyone except Hermione seem to say that they represent playfulness and curiosity," said Harry, "But given that none of them say what they are playful and curious about, it might work as, animagi routinely elude talking about sex as animals."
"I think you mean, 'elide'."
"Err … Yeah, that's what I meant," said Harry, "it also might work as, 'Hermione will only be curious about sex for a little longer, then she'll move on to other things.' And maybe she already knows that, at least subconsciously, which is why she ordered me to … err not get too used to her attention… or that kind of attention from her."
"Ah, That does sound likely, now that you mention it," said Mr. Granger.
They pulled into the driveway and Harry replaced his finger with a bookmark.
"There was one more thing," said Mr. Granger, "You mentioned giving hand jobs to your cat."
"Doing whats?"
"When she's in heat."
"Oh that. 'Hand jobs,'? Alright. Yes, sir."
"How do you feel about doing that?"
"It seems safest and simplest, sir." Said Harry.
"Safer and simpler than to let nature run its course?" said Mr. Granger.
Harry shrugged, "I don't mind her leading the interested male cats she can find around the dorm to wherever they can find whatever mix of privacy and supervision they find optimal, I do mind the older students talking about … err 'bedding me' … vicariously through our familiars."
Mr. Granger remained quiet, but his head moved enough to show that he was interested and politely listening, not that he'd frozen stiff while he thought that over.
"I don't mind them thinking things like that," said Harry, "But hearing them talk about it, or worse brag about it, is embarrassing or annoying or depressing."
"Depending on what?"
"Because usually the comment is in the form of, 'it's the only way they or their friends is likely to have a sexual encounter with the boy-who-lived." Harry shrugged his vehemence, "embarrassing when it is true, and I'd rather Nim chased that particular familiar away rather than let it mount her, annoying when … I actually like them and wish that they saw 'Harry' when they looked at me, instead of just 'Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived,' and depressing when …" Harry stopped and glanced at Mr. Granger, then looked away, "depressing when I wouldn't mind playing with them or learning from them, if they just had the confidence to ask or offer, or if I did."
Mr. Granger nodded, "that makes sense," he sighed.
Maybe that was in preparation to say something. Harry decided to wait, he didn't have anything left to say either way.
"I wouldn't worry about that too much," said Mr. Granger, "I expect when you're a year or two older, they might gain a bit of confidence that you're old enough to teach, or play with, or learn from."
"Oh," said Harry, "Yeah, probably."
"And you'll gain confidence also. Maybe by the time Hermione is done with you as a lab partner, you'll be confident in your ability to use sex as an additional way to make friends rather than only as an activity so dangerous or awkward that you only feel safe engaging in it with friends."
"Oh," said Harry, "That might be nice," or it might be very very weird. Like Cormac McLaggen.
"The other thing, that is weird," said Harry, "is one of the boys a year above me has a huge meat rabbit for a familiar."
"What's a meat rabbit?"
"They're big and dumb and are farmed for their meat. Anyway McLaggen's familiar is especially brutish and hasn't figured out that Nim is his natural predator. And the only reason she hasn't eaten him yet is that I've told her no hunting familiars." Harry shrugged, "anyway, sometimes he'll try to join the rotation when Nim is on the prowl for … satisfaction. So far she's always been satisfied and wandered off before he's worked his way up through the posturing hierarchy to get a chance to beg her for next turn. So I'm not sure what she'd do to him if he actually tried to mount her… But I might … make an exception to the 'no hunting familiars' rule if she … thought she had reason to ask."
I heard that.
Good.
"Do you feel that protective about Nim, or about your reputation, or about hers?"
Harry shrugged.
"Do you think of her as your daughter, or part of your family, or an extension of yourself?"
"Oh," said Harry, "In some ways she is an extension of myself, and she usually considers me part of her family. I feel protective of her but not as a daughter, she's an adult. Both my familiars are adults, they can handle themselves in their natural habitat, it's only in human society that I have to translate for them."
"Ah," said Mr. Granger, "and I suppose having two confident adults in the back of your head is also giving you a significantly saner perspective on sex?"
Harry shrugged, "to the extent anyone is allowed to call it that, given that sanity is defined by the average experience, not by logic from first principles."
Mr. Granger sighed, "your perspective of 'average' might be significantly different if you consider how much of the population are adults and, (just like your familiars), have had years to adjust to the existence of sex, and the hormones and emotions surrounding it."
"Alright," said Harry, "Calling me 'early to mature' might be true, except that I'm fairly sure I'm still behind average. But maybe the 'mature' I'm looking forward to is from my familiars whereas the 'average' I'm expecting to feel but don't is from my human and particularly wizard peers?"
"That sounds reasonable," said Mr. Granger, "Which points to … more reason to be careful, I think you should try to keep your perspective moving toward a comfortable acceptance of the realities of life. Even while you … don't translate too much of your perspective to your peers who aren't ready to hear it yet."
"Ah," said Harry, "Yeah, I see."
.
...-...
Weasleys
A bit after the appointed hour, Mr. Weasley stepped from the fireplace and looked around, "Ah! Hermione and Harry."
Together Harry and Hermione looked up from their books.
"Hello, Mr. Weasley," they said in unison, and hurried to mark their places, and slip their books into their robe pockets, and pat their cats to urge them to get off their laps.
Fred and George popped out of the fireplace in rapid succession.
Crookshanks got down onto the couch beside Hermione. Nim got up onto Harry's shoulder. Breaking their symmetry.
Together Harry and Hermione stood, but before they could grab their trunks, Fred and George grabbed one each and disappeared back through the green fire. Mr. Weasley held out floo powder for them, reminded them of the connection address, as if they'd forget it with the twins yelling it at that volume.
Nim jumped down and skidded away up the stairs, Never mind, I don't like floo'ing as a cat. I'll catch up later.
Fine, good bye, Nim.
Harry was careful to enunciate clearly and ducked through the floo.
"Mom, we're going!" shouted Hermione, and grabbed Crookshanks and held her tight to her chest through the floo.
.
"Good show on getting a password on the floo," said a red haired man Harry didn't know.
"Thank you," said Hermione, "Harry found a contractor to do the wards and the floos."
The man stepped forward, and offered his hand, "Bill Weasley, curse-breaker with Gringotts, Cairo."
Hermione shook, "Hermione Granger."
Then it was Harry's turn.
Then it was the same thing with "Charlie Weasley, dragon wrangler."
Harry blinked, "I don't remember your face, but I remember your voice."
"Likewise, but in reverse," said Charlie, "you're a bit taller and more presentable than last time."
"Don't listen to him," said Bill, "take the bun down, long hair is cool, braids are fine, but buns are for girls."
"Humph," said Hermione, "I like it."
"And that is what matters after all," said Charlie.
The two men started having a tickle-and-wrestle fight right there in the middle of the dining room.
Mrs. Weasley was not slow about sending them outside to "burn off all that energy doing something productive."
Sensing a useful skill to learn, Harry followed them out, but in fact all they were doing was setting up a bigger table for dinner. Since there would be not two but four more place settings needed than usual.
After helping as much as they were in the mood to accept he came back inside. Only to be dragged off by the twins and encouraged to eat something that … he knew he shouldn't. After a bit of cajoling they realised he was onto them and explained all their new joke products.
"Oh!" he said suddenly, "I have an item for you."
"Oh? What is it?"
"Where's my trunk?"
"In Ron's room, where else?"
"Good," said Harry, "I'll be right back."
He went down and found one of the early prototypes of his pet doors. But they'd followed him. And watching him test to make sure he got a matched set to show them.
"Here," he said, "I guess you can figure out what this does."
They peeked inside one. Tried to reach through, grabbed both, and looked at each other through the magical hole. Drew back until the inside and outside of the hole was the same distance apart. They shook hands through it, though they had to stick in their arms almost to the elbow.
"Hmm," said George.
"I could see some uses for this," said Fred.
They kept backing apart. And shaking hands.
"Did you invent this?" said Fred.
"No," said Harry, "I just refined it into a smaller size, and made the wall out of idealised wool felt, instead of idealised wood or limestone."
"There are so many uses in delivery, clandestine and otherwise."
"How much do they cost to produce?" said Fred.
"Each pair took me about a week to make, between classes and homework," said Harry, "so … nine hours or so."
"Hmm," said Fred, "That's outside of the price range of most of our products, Though we would still want to buy them for internal use.
"See if you can find ways to speed up production, can you weave them with a charm?" said George.
"Scribe the runes directly onto leather?" said Fred.
"Wait, you guys are starting a factory?"
"Factory, store, and mail order catalogue."
"Ah, yes I see. Cool."
Fred leaned close, "We've been planning this for years, but it didn't make sense to start until Percy isn't prefect."
"Oh," said Harry and stood up straight, "Oh, yeah, I see. You really have thought this through."
"Of course we have," said George, "What do you take us for, amateurs?"
.
Supper outside was nice, the yard was appropriate for it, and the weather was nice besides. There were fresh apples.
.
The Portkey was disturbing, almost as much as the floo had been.
"I wish I could apparate," said Hermione.
Harry and Ginny immediately agreed. So did Crookshanks.
"Ah, Lord Potter," said the man with Cedric Diggory, "you've been busy I hear."
"Depends on what you heard," said Harry.
He went on for a moment about the Pettigrew pleading, and then about Cedric Diggory leading the hufflepuff team to victory last year. Which given the interference from the dementors, among other things, Harry realised that Cedric realised it was not … as equitable a victory as might could have been hoped. But parents should be allowed to be proud of their children's achievements. And hufflepuff did win in the available conditions, rather than in the 'ideal' conditions, so it wasn't that it wasn't a victory to be proud of. It was just in poor taste to crow over a victory that included one of your audience 'freezing' in dementor-dark and falling from his broom. But how many times had Harry's friends crowed similarly over a win in driving rain, because Harry had caught the snitch in similarly impossible conditions?
.
The next project was finding their camping place and setting up their tent. As soon as the thing was stable and Harry understood what it did, Harry crawled along the edge trying to decipher the runes. By and by he noticed the runes repeating the third time, and realised that he'd all but memorised it, though not yet deciphered it, and stood up to crack his back. He realised that Bill was watching him.
"You studying to be a curse-breaker?"
"Not really," said Harry, "Just … I'm taking runes, and I was trying a minor space bending project last year, didn't work the way I wanted, so I just made twice as much of the previous design and cobbled together what I wanted from smaller versions of well known parts."
Bill listened to him explain, and then described two alternate geometries that should work, though they would need significantly more creativity in choosing runes in the sets. And considerably more arithmancy than Harry had at the moment.
Harry explained his predicament, and plan to get out of it. Bill said encouraging things and said he'd write Professor McGonagall and professor Vector a letter of recommendation, if Harry wanted.
Harry said, "Thanks," and "Please," and "But don't lie, I know I'm not much at the arithmancy I've learned so far."
"Rubbish," said Bill, "you've got muggle arithmetic through pre-algebra, and you've got an idea how the statistics work, if not the skills to work them. And geometry. Geometry is important for wards."
Not that much geometry, Harry was about to say, but he was interrupted.
"There you are, Harry," said Hermione, "You're missing out on the cultural experience that you signed up for."
"Right," sighed Harry, "Sorry, coming."
Bill followed them out, and they were in time to witness Fred and George betting on a weird outcome for the upcoming match.
"Now there's a bet I wouldn't take," muttered Bill, "anyone who can read the odds well enough to know that's smart money, reads the odds too well to try to take their money."
"Yeah," said Hermione, "But think about it. In a complete book, the odds to cover the winning bet comes from absorbing all the losing bets.
.
A little later Nim came running out of the crowd with Draco chasing after calling her back.
By the time he caught sight of her again she was on Harry's shoulder, and Harry was weaving back through the crowd to meet Draco half way and catch him in an embrace.
"Cousin Draco!" said Harry, "Thanks for bringing Nim."
"You're welcome," said Draco, "But how did she wind up at my house to start with?"
"She had a choice between me carrying her through the floo, or finding her own way, and she chose not to risk the floo, or at least not, riding on my shoulder."
"Crazy cat," said Draco.
Nim purred.
"Anyway," said Harry, "are you hanging out with us now, or are we hanging out with you?"
"Whichever you want," said Draco, "But I remember an arrangement where I get you for winter hols and they get you for summer hols."
"Sure," said Harry, "But you can hang out with me right now, if you don't mind putting up with lots of Weasleys and Hermione."
"The same Hermione who follows you around the ministry like a trained cruppy?"
Nim sneezed.
"It is better not to compare anyone I know to dogs."
"Hmm," said Draco, "OK, whatever. So what should I compare her to?"
"Well, I suppose, otters are independent and curious like cats, only more so," said Harry, "and that is without implying they aren't gregarious when the mood strikes them."
Nim purred.
.
...-...
{End Chapter 4}