The day after Harry's arrival, a Friday, April finished with her work early, and brought Harry and Tracey around Diagon Alley. The booklists from Hogwarts had not yet arrived, so they simply walked around, window-shopping. Unlike the previous year with Dumbledore, this time, Harry had time to look around, even in some of the side streets – though April was careful to steer clear of Knockturn Alley. All sorts of merchandise were displayed in the windows – from 'wizarding' things like cauldrons, herbs, and enchanting supplies, to the more mundane, such as vegetables and fruits, and even fashion that looked surprisingly muggle, though perhaps a few years out-of-date. Harry had a handful of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts left over, and he used some of them to buy some new clothes to replace some of his Dudley hand-me-downs, though he did not dare spend too much for fear of running out of money. He also bought a few trinkets for Hermione and Neville – a pair of Dictionary Glasses for Hermione, which were supposed to be able to define any word in the dictionary, and an odour-blocking-cloak as a gag gift for Neville, which was sure to either annoy him or make him laugh.
So went Harry's first few days at the Davises. At Harry's request, they spent quite a lot of their time playing Tracey's magical board games, which Harry, to Tracey's surprise, found quite fun. Harry liked Galleons – which reminded him a little of Monopoly – the most, and though Tracey beat him every single time, it was still extremely enjoyable.
Tracey seemed oddly excited about something the next Tuesday, and when Harry asked her what she was excited about, he found out that her father was going to be returning home. 'He always brings me something from where he went,' she explained. 'Most of it's snacks. I've had something from every continent.'
'Is he away often?' Harry asked.
'He is,' Tracey replied, sounding a little sad. 'He always has to meet with people.'
'Where's he coming back from this time?'
'Istanbul, I think,' Tracey answered. 'He's meeting someone important in the "imperial harem", I think.'
Harry had no idea what that meant, and went back to playing his game of Galleons. Tracey was excited enough that her game was affected, and she made several key errors that almost managed to cede Harry the win. At the end, though, Tracey's superior experience still won out, and she clinched the victory – though far closer than she might have otherwise liked.
Just before lunch, Harry suddenly heard a loud whooshing sound, which he recognised as that of the Floo, coming from the living room. Immediately upon hearing it, Tracey jumped up from her game and rushed out of the room. Harry, meanwhile, unsure of what to do, got up and slowly walked towards the door, stopping just within the doorframe.
Out of the Floo stepped a tall man, who, like both Tracey and her mother, had straight brown hair. He was dressed in odd-looking clothes that seemed a cross between a suit and robes, but which nonetheless suited him quite well. The expression on his face was stern and professional, but that all changed the moment he laid his eyes on Tracey.
'Tracey!' he cried, holding out his arms.
'Dad!'
Harry watched as Tracey ran forward right into her father's embrace. Her father picked her up and swung her a little, eliciting a small shriek from her, which quickly turned into a laugh. A small, wistful smile broke out over Harry's face as he watched the display.
Finally, Tracey's father lowered her to the floor. He reached into his robes and took out a large package that, if not for magic, would never have fit underneath. 'For you,' he said.
Tracey's face lit up in a giant smile as she unwrapped the package. 'What is this?' she asked after taking a quick look.
'Bülbül yuvası,' Tracey's father answered. 'It's an Ottoman sweet with pistachios.'
'Is it good?'
Tracey's father gave a small laugh. 'Would I bother bringing you something that wasn't?'
Tracey chuckled and retreated into the kitchen, presumably to get started on her father's present. This left Harry and Tracey's father alone in the room, looking at each other rather awkwardly.
Tracey's father was the first to break the ice, extending a hand and taking a step towards Harry. 'Orville Davis,' he said, returning to a rather professional tone of voice. 'And you must be Harry Potter.'
Harry nodded rather stiffly, walking forward and shaking the man's hand. 'I am.'
'Welcome to our home,' Orville Davis replied. 'I'm sorry that I haven't been able to meet you sooner. It was unfortunate that I had to leave the day before April picked you up, but better later than never. April has said many good things about you.'
Harry nodded. 'Nice to meet you, Mister Davis.'
'As my wife is April to you, I think I should be, accordingly, Orville.'
Harry nodded. 'Orville.'
'Have you been enjoying your time here, Harry?' Orville asked.
'A lot,' Harry replied. 'It's been…uh…very fun.'
'More fun than Hogwarts?'
'Uh…yeah, I think so,' Harry answered, a little confused. 'Well, I was all alone at Hogwarts, and here…'
'You have company,' Orville finished with a nod. 'Well, I'm glad that you've been enjoying your time here, Harry. I should go and clean up right now – it's been a long trip – but we'll definitely talk more over lunch. I'm sure there'll be plenty of interesting things to find out about you.'
Orville retreated into the master bedroom, and Harry to his own room. He started doing a bit of summer homework that he had been trying to do earlier, but was repeatedly distracted by the sounds of Diagon Alley through the open window. In any case, though, lunch was called less than thirty minutes later, so even if Harry had managed to concentrate, he would not have been able to do all that much anyway.
The four of them gathered around the kitchen table, and Harry felt rather awkward as he sat down. By now, he had known April and Tracey for long enough to feel comfortable around them, but Orville, he barely knew except by name. It also did not help that Orville, unlike April through his mother, had no direct connection to him, which made him really feel like the stranger that he was to him.
No one spoke as the food was passed out and drinks were poured. Despite this being rather normal, it only added to Harry's discomfort. He waited longer than usual – until everyone had taken a bite – to pick up his utensils.
'So, did you have a good year at Hogwarts?' Orville asked, finally breaking the silence.
It took Harry a split-second to react to Orville's question. 'I did,' he replied – omitting the saga of Quirrell-Voldemort, which, in hindsight, did not seem as scary as he had made it out to be back then. 'I…uh…well, magic is fascinating – going from thinking that it didn't exist to actually doing it, especially.'
'I know how you feel,' April said. 'I remember having the exact same reaction in my first year at Hogwarts. Everything was so new and amazing, and you feel like the world is perfect. You grow up, realise things, but that feeling doesn't ever completely wear off.'
'Well, of course! Magic is wonderful,' Tracey remarked, drawing laughter from around the table.
'It is,' Orville said. He turned back to Harry. 'So, how have your studies been?'
Harry shrugged. 'Not bad. Classes are interesting. I don't really like Potions, but I like the rest.'
'That's good to hear,' Orville replied. 'I'm sure you've been getting good marks? With brains like your father's and mother's.'
'Pretty good, I guess,' Harry answered. 'I got 'E's or higher in every class.'
'Outstanding,' Orville said with a smile. 'That's better than I did in my first year. You must have a good feel for magic. Tracey tells me you managed to levitate a classmate's chair on the first day. That's an impressive display for sure'
'I guess,' Harry murmured with a shy grin.
'I'm sure you do,' Orville affirmed. 'Well, have you been making many friends?'
Harry nodded again. 'A few?'
'Like whom?' Orville asked. His tone of voice was casual, but it seemed to Harry like there was something else to his questioning.
'Well, there's Hermione – Hermione Granger,' Harry answered. 'And Neville Longbottom.'
Orville raised an eyebrow. 'Neville Longbottom? Augusta's grandson?
'I…uh…I think so,' Harry replied. 'Do you know him?'
'Ah, I used to do business with Augusta,' Orville explained. 'Stopped when Augusta became an Overseer, though. Neville was maybe five or six back then. I haven't really met him since. How is he?'
'He's…uh…he's well.'
'Doing well in classes?' Orville pressed. 'I know that Augusta had always wanted to train him to take over for her one day.'
'Yeah, he's been doing well,' Harry replied, a little confused by Orville's probing. 'He got good marks on his final examinations.'
'That's good to hear,' Orville said with a nod. 'And who's this Hermione Granger? I don't think I've ever heard of her.'
'Muggle-born?' April asked.
Harry nodded. 'Yeah. Hermione's…uh…well, she's the cleverest student in the year. She somehow always manages to get things the first time they're explained, and she finishes all her assignments in half the time it takes me.'
'Sounds a bit like Lily,' April remarked, looking a little wistful. 'She was always like that, too. She managed to make enemies of the entire Ravenclaw House by beating them at their own supposed game.'
'Weren't you a Ravenclaw, mum?' Tracey asked.
'I was, but I knew I wasn't as good as her from the very beginning, and so accepted it, in contrast to the rest of the House,' April replied with a smile. Once more, Orville and Tracey chuckled lightly.
'This Hermione Granger sounds remarkable,' Orville said, looking approving. 'Many people can succeed with hard work, but few can do the same with little effort. Do me a favour, Harry. Tell her that when she finishes Hogwarts, she will be more than welcome to interview for a position with me.'
'Orville, you're not recruiting eleven-year-olds to your business!' April protested, punching her husband lightly on the arm.
'Not recruiting, just, ah, putting the seeds of thought into her mind,' Orville said before returning his attention to Harry. 'Met anyone else interesting?'
Once again, Harry felt a little perplexed by the line of questioning, but he chose to answer anyway. 'I…uh…well, good or bad?'
'Good, of course,' Orville replied. 'A word of advice – you must always keep your enemies in your mind, but you are never to let them get to your heart. If they do, then they have won.'
Harry nodded absently. 'Well, there's Dean from my House, and he seems nice. And I met a girl called Jeanne and a boy called Aakshansh on the boat ride – '
'Aakshansh?' Orville asked. 'As in, Aakshansh Trivedi?'
Harry nodded. 'Do you know him?'
'I know of him,' Orville replied. 'His family is a major merchant clan based out of Delhi. They're ridiculously wealthy and influential there. I once visited the home of one of their clan members in Delhi, and it's less a home, and more a palace. Aakshansh's parents are…first cousins, I think…to the head of the clan. They moved to Britain about a decade ago to set up business connections here, and I've worked with them in the past. Do you know Aakshansh well?'
Harry shook his head. 'No, not too well. Enough to say hello in the corridors and talk a little before class, but not too much more than that.'
'Ah, well,' Orville said with a small sigh. 'Would've been fun if you did. I'm sorry I interrupted earlier, by the way. Who else have you met? I'm curious now if I might know any of them.'
'Well, there are the others in my dormitory,' Harry replied. 'There's Seamus Finnigan, Ron Weasley, and Raul Noriega.'
'Ah, you're in Raul Noriega's year?'
'You know him?'
'His parents,' Orville answered. 'We worked together for a brief spell, then I decided that I didn't want to get caught up handling their money. See, they used to be involved in politics in Spain before suddenly coming to Britain about a decade back. Rumours say they took some huge bribes, but weren't too smart about keeping the money to themselves, so they got caught and had to flee – Spain's basically a client state of France, and France and Britain don't quite get along, hence why they came here. Now they're reduced to small-time merchants, but I doubt they really care. They apparently managed to get the best part of their ill-gotten gains out of Spain, so they can probably sit on their hands for the rest of their lives and still live comfortably.'
Harry blinked. 'Raul seems like a decent person, though,' he said, trying to absorb the information. 'Annoying, but not…bad or a thief or anything.'
'I didn't say he was,' Orville replied. 'Raul could in fact be a very honest boy. The child does not necessarily need to be what the parents are. Not if they choose to be different.'
Harry nodded, unsure what to think about everything that he had just found out. It seemed like everyone in the wizarding world had one incredible story or another, and even the ones that did not come from this world – Hermione or, perhaps, himself – had something special about them.
'At any rate, Harry, you have some impressive friends,' Orville said after some moments of silence. 'And you yourself are of course very impressive, too.'
'Uh…thank you?' Harry replied, unsure of what exactly Orville had meant by that, or whether it was meant as a compliment or some kind of evaluation, either of which could have been possible given Orville's battery of questioning earlier.
Orville nodded. 'I'd like to think I know talent when I see it,' he said with a grin, and April rolled her eyes. 'By the way, Harry, next week, our organisation will be hosting our annual gathering for our clients. As I'm one of the founders of the organisation, and April is a very valued employee – ' April rolled her eyes again, ' – we usually attend.'
Harry nodded. A part of him could not help but wonder if they were going to be leaving him at home to go somewhere distant and exotic. The Davises would not do that, would they? Not after barely a week of meeting him. But then, the Dursleys had always done exactly that…
'Usually, the entire family goes,' Orville continued. 'Oh, I forgot to say, it'll be a ball of sorts, held in Virtic Alley, which is near here. But yes, normally, we all go, Tracey included. Since you're staying the summer here, though, it would be rather rude not to invite you to come along – only if you would like to, of course.'
It took a few moments for what Orville had said to sink in for Harry, and when it did, he felt rather conflicted about how he should answer. He had never been to a wizarding ball – or anything remotely resembling a ball, actually – and was rather curious about what it may be like. Another part of him, though, held him back, thinking of the Hogwarts students who used to ask him to sit with them for no reason other than to 'meet the Great Harry Potter'. His mind began to construct some sort of 'nightmare scenario' in which he was subject to a full night's worth of ogling…
But Orville would do no such thing, right? He seemed like someone who had met enough important and famous people. And even if he did, April would surely stop him, would she not? In any case, how would he even refuse? It seemed rather rude to turn down out of hand an invitation from the family that had let him stay in their home for the summer.
Harry was not the only one seemingly having some reservations, though. Tracey, across the table, was looking at him with a conflicted and uncertain expression, as if unsure if she wanted him to go. Harry tilted his head in questioning, wanting to know why she was looking at him like that, but Tracey did not give an answer, simply shaking her head slightly and looking down at her food, her expression still rather forlorn.
'Well, would you like to come, Harry?' April asked.
Somehow, April asking that question made Harry drop his doubts. 'Yeah, I'd love to,' he answered. 'But…I don't know how a wizarding ball works…or what to wear…or how to act…or anything, really.'
'Don't worry, we'll help you with all that,' April promised.
Right after lunch, April, Orville, Tracey, and Harry went out into Diagon Alley, which was, as usual for this time of day, packed with people. Unlike previous outings, when they simply walked around casually, admiring the scenery and the displays in the windows, this time, they had an obvious goal in mind – or at least, April and Orville did. They bounced from store to store, buying things that they needed for the ball, before finally arriving at a fancy-looking tailor's shop, where painstakingly – the tailor measured nearly everything about him short of the hairs on his head – Harry was fitted with a set of dress robes. At the end, Harry offered to pay for it – or at least a part of it – with the Galleons he still had, but April and Orville shot that idea down.
'You're our guest at the ball,' April told him. 'It wouldn't be appropriate for you to pay. At any rate, seven Galleons would be barely enough to cover the cost of all but the lowest-end dress robes.'
'The tailor is a friend of mine,' Orville added in a quiet voice. 'We'll get a good price. Don't worry about it. Save your money – you never know when you might need it.'
With multiple bags hanging off their arms, they stopped at a restaurant in Horizont Alley for dinner. Perhaps thanks to the afternoon's outing – and the fact that Orville no longer seemed like he was questioning him – Harry did not feel anywhere near as awkward as he did during lunch. Now, April and Orville were walking him through the order of the ball, and how he should act and what he should do.
'If anyone comes up to greet you in a formal way, you should greet them back the same,' Orville told him. 'Even if it's someone you know or someone you don't like. It's just etiquette. Usually there'll be a bit of small talk. Don't worry if you don't know what to say. You're still a child, and nobody would expect too much from you. Just talk about the weather – it's always the safest.'
The majority of dinner was spent this way, with Orville or April adding details that the other missed. Once or twice, Harry thought he saw something large and globe-like glinting in the bushes next to their table, but ignored it, thinking that it was just a trick of the light.
Tracey, however, had on all through dinner the same expression that she had carried at lunch. Her parents, too, had noticed, but when they asked her what was going on, she had replied simply that she was tired. Harry did not know if he believed that, though, for Tracey had seemed perfectly energetic in the morning as she waited for her father to return home.
Her discomfort did not die off after dinner, either. As they worked on their summer homework later that night, she continuously zoned out, looking out the window and missing entire fragments of what Harry was saying. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, Harry asked her what was going on.
'Nothing,' came Tracey's automatic reply.
'Are you sure?' Harry asked. 'You've been…off…the whole day. Is there something going on?'
'It's not important.'
'So there is something.'
Tracey sighed. 'It's not important,' she repeated.
'Does it have something to do with the Ball?' Harry asked based on some gut instinct that it might.
Tracey sighed again. There was a stretch of uncomfortable silence before she replied. 'Yeah, it does.'
'What is it?'
There was another long silence. 'It doesn't really matter anymore… I mean…you've decided to go and all…'
Harry furrowed his brows, confused. 'Did you not want me to go?'
'It's not that,' Tracey replied immediately. 'Well, uh…it's complicated,' she qualified a moment later.
'What do you mean?'
'It's complicated,' Tracey said again. 'We should just do our homework. There's still a lot to do.'
'We're not getting anywhere with the homework,' Harry pointed out – they had genuinely not gone very far with their homework. 'What's going on?'
Tracey set down her quill and stared at the sight of Diagon Alley at night through the window for a long while. 'It's just…well, I was worried.'
'About what?'
'Well…Pansy and Daphne will be at the Ball,' Tracey replied.
'Okay…? Aren't they your friends? Why're you sad about that?'
'Well…I'm…uh…I'm not sad about it,' Tracey answered. 'I'm just…well, it has to do with Pansy.'
'What about her?'
'Uh… Well, I don't know what to think of her anymore,' she replied. 'She's…changed.'
'What do you mean?'
'I mean…you saw the way she was like last year yourself,' Tracey said. 'She's developed a real mean streak, and…well…I don't know how long we could still be friends. I don't really want to spend time with her at the ball, but…I know she'd think that I'm abandoning her.'
Harry blinked, thinking for some moments over what he should say. 'If you don't think you can be friends with her…then maybe…don't?' he said finally. 'I mean, if you don't even want to see her at the ball…'
Tracey looked shocked, and Harry found himself rushing to qualify his statement. 'I mean…friends come and go, right? That's what everyone says. And you don't need to spend time with everyone. You know Ron Weasley, don't you? I don't really like him, so I don't spend much time with him. It's pretty simple.'
'But it's different,' Tracey argued. 'You didn't know Ron until a year before. Daphne and Pansy and I…we've known each other for years, and I can't just not be friends with them.'
'Why not, if you don't like them?'
Tracey suddenly looked scandalised. 'Who said I didn't like them?'
Harry recoiled. 'Didn't you say that yourself? You don't know how long you could still be friends with them.'
'With Pansy,' Tracey corrected. 'But…but…I can't just not be friends with Pansy.'
'Why not?' Harry asked, unable to understand Tracey's angst. 'If you can't be friends with her, then…well, why are you, then?'
'I can't just go!' Tracey exclaimed. 'I've known them for too long to just go! And also, Daphne likes Pansy.'
'What does Daphne liking Pansy have to do with you, though?' Harry asked after a moment's digestion.
'I…well…' Tracey paused. Harry looked at her curiously as she swallowed, blushing a little. 'It's just that…I like Daphne,' she said, striking Harry by surprise. She paused a little, as if gathering her thoughts, before continuing. 'I don't know how to describe it. She's different from Pansy. She's always been nice to me, even when Pansy…isn't. Actually, "nice" isn't even a good way to put it. She's just…well, she's my best friend. And also, Pansy likes her a lot – more than she likes me, probably – and always listens to her, and she's always told her off when she's gotten too over the top. I mean…I'd rather if it were just me and Daphne, but it's not – we've both known Pansy for forever. If I leave Pansy, I'll be leaving her, too…and I don't want to. She wouldn't want me to, either.'
By the end, Tracey's voice was beginning to sound a little desperate. Harry did not know what to tell her, but the least he could tell was that him suggesting that she should leave Pansy had touched a sensitive nerve named Daphne. It seemed like by the way Tracey was acting, that the thought of leaving Daphne was something equivalent to him never talking again to Hermione, Neville, and for good measure, Anna and Tracey, too. He would certainly not want to pay that price for anything.
'I don't know what I can do,' Tracey added in a quiet voice. 'But I won't leave Daphne just for Pansy.'
Neither Harry nor Tracey brought up the subject of Daphne and Pansy again in the next days, and soon enough Tracey was seemingly back to normal, though once or twice in the mornings when she received the post, the difficult expression resurfaced on her face. It did not take a genius to guess at what she was thinking about.
Harry had sent Hedwig away a few days after he had arrived at the Davises, so that she could go on a run to deliver letters and collect replies. Every morning, he eagerly anticipated her return, despite knowing that it would take longer than one or two days to deliver all his letters and collect everyone's replies. Finally, on the morning of the fourth day after her departure, Hedwig swooped in through the kitchen window, several letters attached to her legs.
'Good girl,' Harry said as he untied the letters, petting Hedwig – who responded with a proud hoot. 'You must be tired.'
Hedwig gave an affirmative hoot before fluttering off to her perch. Eagerly, Harry began on the letters, opening Dumbledore's first.
Dear Harry,
I am happy to hear that you are well and enjoying your time with the Davises. It has been difficult in Zürich, which is why I was not able to respond so quickly to your update, but some things seem to finally be nudging in the right direction. If you read the Daily Prophet today, you might see a story about Minister Fudge making an official apology to the Prussians about the Ilse Eisele affair – though depending on whether Fudge managed to influence the paper quickly enough, it may or may not be buried.
In any case, I hope to hear from you again soon.
Yours,
A.P.W.B.D.
Curious, Harry turned to the copy of the Daily Prophet that April had left on the table and flipped through it. The headlining story looked to be a bust of some kind of artefact smuggling gang, but in a small corner of the third page, Harry saw a short blurb with the title Fudge Offers Official Apology. It seemed the news had indeed been buried like Dumbledore had predicted.
He moved on to Anna's letter next. This one, like her previous ones from Marseille, was wrapped in an elegant-looking stationary envelope. She was living quite the life in the south of France off of Hogwarts's funds, and Harry rather thought she deserved it after everything that she had been put through in her short life.
Dear Harry,
No, we are not talking any more about the cognac nor the handsome Austrian man at the club who thought I spoke German weirdly. You are not old enough for me to be telling you this anyway. I made a small mistake which I regret (but not really), and we are leaving it at that.
Marseille has been treating me very well – as you already know. I have a bit of a tan, which is refreshing after all these years of living in places where the sun never seems to come out. We'll see how long this lasts. I'm spending more and more time working every day.
I'm more awed by the discoveries every day. I can only leave it at that in a letter to you or anyone else – maybe one day Albus will let me disclose more information, but that won't be today. It's really a pity that the majority of his archives are going to be destroyed. This knowledge could be so helpful. But I understand. I can easily see this knowledge being dangerous if used in the wrong way.
Some of the books are very old. Some of them go back to the 1400s. Even with magic helping to preserve them, some of them are so fragile that they need to be handled with spells to keep them from disintegrating. Many of them are written in Old French, and I can barely even read Modern French, so it's even more work than usual trying to make sense of it all. It doesn't help that many of his earlier notes are very disorganised. I've had trouble more than a few times trying to find where his calculations are coming from. Some of his assumptions seem very arbitrary. For example, in one of his earlier works, there was a system of equations that should have been unsolvable, but then, a variable suddenly became a constant out of nowhere, which then solved the problem. I don't know where he got that value from – he doesn't explain it anywhere – but I suppose he would know better than I.
You will not believe who I met here yesterday. I was having lunch at a restaurant in the magical quarters, and suddenly, this man showed up and asked if he could sit down across from me. He looked familiar, but I wasn't quite sure from where I met him. And then he introduced himself as Viktor Krum! I know you're not as into Quidditch as you should be, but you have to know Viktor Krum – he's only the most famous Quidditch player of the decade! He was in Marseille with the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team to play a friendly match against the French. We talked for a little bit, and apparently, he's interested – very interested – in arithmancy. If I didn't know who he actually was, I may have thought that he was some student studying the subject. He seemed more interested in it than Quidditch, to be honest. He helped me take a look at the notes I mentioned, but he couldn't figure out the maths, either.
I've been talking too much, but there's always so many things going on here, so indulge me please. How have things been the last week? How have things been going with the Davises? I'm glad to hear that you like Tracey. I remember that she seemed like a good girl the one time she came to me with questions about a class. How is her family? Has his dad returned yet? What have you been doing or will be doing? Have you gone anywhere interesting?
I hope to hear from you soon!
Anna
Harry had little idea who Viktor Krum was, besides knowing that he was a Quidditch player – he was sure Hermione and Neville would both be thrilled, though, to know that Anna had met him. Harry was quite happy to be at the Davises, but a small part of him, hearing Anna's multiple enthusiastic accounts, thought that he might have liked to be able to go to Marseilles, too.
With that, he moved on to Neville's and Hermione's letters. As had become habit, he picked between the two letters randomly, picking up Hermione's first and opening the parchment envelope.
Dear Harry,
Glad to hear you've been enjoying your time at the Davises. Honestly, I had been a little worried, but it seems like I didn't have to. Thank you so much for the gift, by the way! I've already begun to use it. It's been so helpful. I'm trying to read War and Peace right now, and it would be so hard without the glasses. Thanks again!
I wanted to go to the magical town again last week, but mum and dad were both busy, so nobody could take me. I'm afraid I might fall behind on practising magic, but I don't want to risk doing it at home. I've heard that you'll get in a lot of trouble when the Ministry finds out.
I probably won't be able to write for a while. My parents suddenly decided to go to Nice for a week with a family friend of ours. Well, theirs. I don't really like their daughter, Rachel. She's so superior about everything. She got a place at a really good public school, and she just won't shut up about it. She keeps on asking me about my school, and obviously, I can't tell her anything. That just makes her even more superior. It's so annoying. And I'll have to spend more than a week with her! The thing is, my parents know that I don't really like her, but just decided to go all on their own accord without even asking me once. Anna's in Marseilles, and if it were just me and my parents, I could maybe ask her to come to Nice for a day (the two cities are really close), but obviously, that's not possible with Rachel's family also going. It's so annoying.
Hope you've been all right. What have you been doing these last few days? Let me know! I'm sorry in advance if I won't be able to reply right away.
Hermione
Feeling sorry for Hermione's predicament – and knowing quite well what it might feel like to be in her situation from his previous life with the Dursleys – Harry moved on to Neville's letter, wondering at the same time if there was anything he could do to help Hermione out – he was concocting some sort of overly complicated scheme in his mind where, perhaps, Anna would 'accidentally' run into Hermione in Nice. He would have a lot of writing to do later in reply to all these letters, but it was work that he was looking forward to.
Dear Harry,
I'm so tired right now, but Hedwig's been bugging me to finish a reply so that she could deliver your letters for Anna and Dumbledore. I just came back from London. Gran made me sit through an open session of the Ejwent Dexmot, which lasted something like eight hours, with only four breaks of half an hour. Nowhere near enough. I don't know how these politics people do it, but one thing's for sure – I'm never becoming one of them
The first part was pretty interesting. They passed two bills that they've been discussing for several months now. One of them makes it so that viewing memories was mandatory at Ejwent Asztyrajom trials where life in Azkaban or the Dementor's Kiss was an option, then they passed another that would allow the Department of Security to inspect Ejwent Zehwolt members' finances. The bills are interesting, but I don't know enough to explain it here. You can look in the Daily Prophet if you're curious. It should have been front page news two or three days ago, depending on when this letter reaches you.
That took only three or so of the eight hours, though, since they've already debated a lot in the weeks before. After that, they moved on to budget stuff, and a lot of people left because, well, it wasn't interesting in the slightest. Gran made me stay, though, for the whole day. It was the most boring thing, just a bunch of people debating how many Galleons each department 'really' needs for the next month. It ended up not being much of a change from the previous month, but for some reason, it just had to take five hours of debating to pass. Everyone seemed to want to say something that added nothing to the discussion. All I could do was sit in the spectator's box, twiddling my thumbs. What great fun.
You seem to at least be having fun, though. I got your gift. You really fancy yourself a funny bloke, don't you? Wait until I get you back.
What have you been doing these few days with Tracey? Has her dad returned yet? Gran says that he did some business with her several years ago, actually. Speaking of Gran, her schedule might be clearing up a little soon, and we might be able to have you and Hermione over some time. I'll let you know as soon as I know!
Neville
As Neville had predicted in his letter, Harry was indeed curious about the two Ejwent Dexmot bills that Neville had mentioned. He leaned over to the side of the table, where several recent issues of the Daily Prophet were stacked. He looked through a few of them, and on the front page of the second issue he saw, was the headline Memory-Viewing Bill Passes in Dexmot.
Harry skimmed the article, finding some of the jargon beyond his comprehension, but understanding generally what was going on. Apparently, viewing memories used to require the use of a device called a 'Pensieve', which was extremely rare – only three examples were recorded in the whole of Europe in the twentieth century: one owned by the Austrian government, another by the Ottoman, and a final one in Russia. This last one had apparently disappeared without a trace during the civil war, reducing the number of Pensieves in Europe to only two. According to the article, though, the Department of Mysteries, which Harry vaguely recalled from Finding Magic as the research division of the Ministry, had managed to create some kind of device that now allows memories to be viewed without a Pensieve, making such a law finally possible. The article then went on to say that if approved by the Ejwent Zehwolt – which, if the Prophet were to be believed, was very likely – memory-viewing would become a part of trials starting in October.
It all seemed quite reasonable to Harry. As he read on, the article briefly mentioned the second bill that Neville had also mentioned. Apparently, this one had been proposed by an Arthur Weasley of the Department of Security – Harry wondered if he was related to Ron in some way – after a scandal involving a member of the Ejwent Zehwolt, Cassius Nott, procuring potions for the Army from his cousin Maximilian for five times the normal price. This one, however, was a lot more controversial, with the Prophet questioning whether it could be put into practice at all, due to Gringotts's confidentiality policies. According to the Prophet, though, it was very possible that this bill would not survive inspection in the Ejwent Zehwolt, and not become law at all.
Harry, out of curiosity, kept an eye on the Daily Prophet for the next two days, just to see if there would be any more reports about the two laws, but there were no new developments reported. Soon enough, the matter had slipped from his mind as he went about his days, doing the usual things that he did now at the Davises – play, homework, or wandering around Diagon under the supervision of Tracey's mother or father.
The matter of the Ball had, too, been relegated to the back of Harry's mind – that was, until it was the day before. April and Orville were gone the entirety of the day to set up the venue, and Tracey and Harry were left at home to busy themselves. Once more, Tracey's face took on that expression of discomfort and nervousness, and her heart did not seem to really be in what she was doing, whether homework or a game. While Harry now knew the cause, he did not know what he should do or say about it. He gave a few words of 'don't worry' or 'it'll be time', but they sounded rather empty and uncertain, even to him, so he finally decided to simply let Tracey be and try to keep her distracted with things to do.
That night, just as Harry was getting ready to head to bed, he unexpectedly heard a knock on his door. Confused, thinking that perhaps it was Tracey, perhaps wanting to talk about tomorrow, he walked over and opened it.
To his surprise, though, it was not Tracey on the other side, but April. In her hands, she was holding a thick, pristine leather-bound book.
'Are you about to go to sleep?' she asked.
'Almost,' Harry replied. 'But what is it?'
April raised the book to her chest. 'This. May I come in?'
Harry shrugged. 'Sure.'
April followed Harry into the room and sat down on the sofa by the window. She beckoned Harry over, and Harry took a seat next to her.
'What's this book?' Harry asked as he sat down, curious.
'The thing that I promised to show you,' April replied. 'I haven't wanted to look at this for so long, and I was afraid I had lost it, but I've finally found it.'
'Why didn't you want to look at it?' Harry asked, a little confused and perhaps not in the most sensitive way.
'Because…it has to do with your mother,' April answered slowly, sorrow in her voice. 'After…she passed…I asked Orville to hide this away. I couldn't bear the memory of this book. Only now…now that you're here…did I finally want to bring this out again. I thought that you would have wanted to see this, "meet" your mother in some way…'
April flipped open the book. On the inside cover, in loopy handwriting, was a short note. April paused to take a look at it, but quickly, after but a glance and before Harry had much of a chance to even decipher the first word, she resolutely turned the page, swallowing hard.
When April turned the page, Harry realised that this was not a book, but rather a photo album. Pictures – all of which were moving – were inset into the pages. All of them featured a brown-haired girl that Harry surmised must have been a young April, along with a beautiful red-haired girl with green eyes.
Despite having never seen her in his life, Harry was sure that he knew who the red-haired girl was. 'Is that my mother?' he breathed.
April nodded. 'Yes. That's Lily,' she answered. She looked up at Harry for a moment, then back down at the photo album. 'You have exactly her eyes,' she remarked.
Harry looked closer at one of the pictures. The two girls were outside, dressed in winter clothes, while behind them stood an enormous snowman. April – and everyone else who had made the same remark over the past year – was right. Lily's eyes were the exact same as his own, from the colour of the irises to the shape they made when she smiled.
'This one was taken in our fifth year,' April said. 'I remember exactly the day. There was a huge snowstorm, and Herbology was cancelled because nobody could go out to the greenhouses. Lily and I and a few others decided to build a huge snowman – with magic, of course. It was very fun. I remember the snowman lasted until spring, though it got a little dirty by the end.'
April pointed to another picture, one of the two of them at what looked like some sort of party. 'Sixth year. Before Snape, Slughorn used to be the Potions Master. He was a good teacher, but he had a…well, obsession…with making "connections" with students that he thought had something special. There used to be this "Slug Club", that he ran somewhat secretly, filled with his favourite students. Lily was in it, of course – she was probably the top student of the decade, which made a lot of Ravenclaws extremely jealous – but I wasn't. She managed to get me into a few parties, though, and we took this picture at one of them.'
Harry committed all that to memory as April turned the page. 'This one was us revising for O.W.L.s,' she said, pointing at a picture of the two of them in what looked to be the library. 'Those are exams that you take at the end of your fifth year,' she explained for the benefit of Harry, who was no doubt looking confused. 'Lily never revised for anything – she remembered everything in class the first time it was said – but even she had to for these. It wasn't too bad for her – she did maybe an hour or two a day of revision in the beginning and then four or five in the week before. The rest of us were dying, though. It wasn't a fun time in our lives.'
April continued flipping through the photo album, telling stories about Lily as they went along. Harry was, for some reason, surprised at how real his mother was, hearing stories about how they pranked a Hufflepuff boy who was mean to them, or how Lily helped set April up on a date. It should have been obvious to him that his mother, like anyone else, did these things in her teenage years, but only now did the fact that his mother was once a teenager like any other really sink in for Harry.
In the last quarter of the book, a younger Orville joined Lily and April in several pictures. 'We were friends back then,' April explained. 'He wanted to be out of Slytherin as much as possible. The blood-supremacy types had taken over behind the scenes by our sixth year and were making the lives of everyone who didn't support them – or even those who didn't want to support them openly – really difficult. We had one or two friends in common, so we began spending more time together. He admits now he had a little thing for me back then, though nothing like the thing James had for Lily.'
Harry raised an eyebrow. 'What do you mean?' he asked, curious about how his parents met.
'Oh, James had always had the hots for Lily,' April said with a laugh. 'Ever since fourth year, probably – though maybe earlier. The only problem was that he was an arse. Perhaps he thought that the way to Lily's heart was by "impressing" her with displays of magic – and I don't mean charms or transfigurations. His idea of "impressive magic" was picking on first-years, or his favourite, Severus Snape.'
'What did he do?'
'Oh, many things,' April answered. 'And all of them were awful. He dangled people upside-down in the air with spells, flipped their underwear inside-out in the corridors, had "fights" with Sirius Black that looked impressive but really were only flashes of light. He was far from a good guy – probably one of the worst bullies in the school.'
Harry's jaw dropped open in shock. 'W-Why did mum marry him, then?' he asked.
'He changed. A lot,' April answered simply. 'Probably at the end of fifth year, he finally realised that he could not go on acting the way he was acting and changed his ways. He stopped jinxing first-years for fun, stopped picking fights with people, stopped bullying people. He started putting actual effort into his studies, which Lily appreciated much more than him messing around in the library to get her attention. He went from being one of the worst offenders to being a model student, and, well, Lily resisted a little, but ended up falling for his charm.'
'He really changed that much?' Harry asked with some disbelief in spite of himself.
'Oh yeah,' April affirmed. 'James Potter at the end of sixth year would've been unrecognisable to himself just a year earlier. Actually, fifth-year James would probably have bullied his sixth-year self relentlessly.'
April let out a burst of laughter, and Harry joined in gleefully. His mother and father were no longer as distant and abstract as he had once perceived them as, not now that he knew April, who had known them so well.
A question suddenly popped into Harry's head. 'Did you know…me…as a child?'
'I have seen you as a baby,' she answered. 'Only once. You were maybe two or three months old back then – I forgot exactly.'
Her face suddenly turned sad. 'It was also the last time I saw Lily.'
Harry swallowed. 'The last time?'
April nodded. 'The last time,' she repeated in grim confirmation. 'The war had already broken out in the open when they had you, and Lily and James were in the thick of it. They didn't want me to visit after they had you – they were afraid for my safety and Orville's, see – but at that point, I hadn't seen Lily for more than a year, and I really wanted to meet you. James snuck me into their house, where they were hiding, and I saw you for the first time. You were so small – smaller than Tracey was when she was a few months old. I remember you had the happiest expression on your face when Lily picked you up. She handed you to me, and I expected you to cry, but you didn't. You were really calm and let me hold you and rock you without complaining.'
'We played with you for a while,' she continued. 'Then we had tea and talked for a bit. I couldn't stay long, though. This was just maybe a week before they went into hiding, and they were paranoid that something was going to happen to me. That was the very last time I saw them. A week later, they went into hiding under a Fidelius Charm, and I could no longer visit Lily, even though we both wanted for me to.'
There was a long pause. 'I still remember the last thing Lily said to me,' April whispered. 'As we were saying goodbye, she said to me, "I'll see you soon."'
