The Man Who Knew Almost Nothing

Chapter Five

An invitation

When Harry rolled over onto cool sheets the next morning, he opened his eyes and realized that his companion wasn’t there. For a moment he was worried, then he spotted Gilderoy across the room, seated by the window and watching the sun come up. A gray morning light touched his lover’s skin. He looked so angelic, so beautiful. Harry smiled as Gilderoy turned.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asked quietly.

“Of course not,” said Harry, sitting up and stretching.

“It’s pretty outside now. Chilly too, I imagine,” said Gilderoy.

“Sunrise.”

“Yes.”

“It’s warmer under the covers, you know.”

“Harry,” he began, climbing back under the blankets, “what am I supposed to do with the rest of my life?”

“Love and be loved, preferably by me,” said Harry with a grin.

“It was a serious question.”

“You were a writer once. You could co-author my memoirs with me.”

“I don’t know if I’m capable ...”

“All right. You learn to do magic again possibly.”

“Was I ever very good at magic?”

“No, but you can’t be any worse. It’s just a thought.”

“I don’t know. I want to learn, but what if I’m just too, you know, mentally and magically challenged.”

Harry chuckled and said, “It’s possible, but I don’t think you are. Let’s get dressed and have some breakfast. I don’t like to think on an empty stomach.”

After dressing they stood in front of Harry’s mirror together, admiring some of their new togs. In any event, Gilderoy was admiring the clothes, but Harry was admiring the man, who after a night of sound sleep in what both would have easily considered the best of conditions, looked even better than the day before. His eyes were brighter, but not from tears, and his smile was almost carefree.

“Maybe he was right. Maybe I really am what he needs,” thought Harry with just a bit of pride. “Merlin knows that he’s done me a bit of good. I can’t remember the last time I felt this great.”

Harry kissed his companion lightly on the cheek and chuckled.

“What is it?” he asked.

“You, of course.”

“Can I help you make breakfast?” Gilderoy questioned.

“I don’t see why not. And afterwards I’ll write a letter to my friend Percy at the Ministry of Magic and check on the condition of your wand, just like I said I would,” said Harry, leading him into the kitchen.

“Well, that was an unqualified disaster,” said Harry, scraping a bit of pancake mix from the wall near the stove. Gilderoy was seated at the table with his head in his hands. “Not that I’m blaming you ... I’ve had a few things blow up on me too,” he added hastily. “Although never something this simple,” he thought.

“I am sorry,” said Gilderoy.

“I know. I’m not upset or anything. Neither of us were burned. Nothing caught fire.”

“Except that oven mitt,” Gilderoy pointed out, glancing at the smoking piece of fabric in the sink.

“Lucky you weren’t wearing it at that particular moment,” commented Harry. “But the point is it was only a small accident, and it helps me to determine your skill in the area of the culinary arts.”

“Nonexistent.”

“But that can be fixed, especially now that we both know so much more about pancake batter, open flames, and spatulas, right?”

“I suppose ...”

“Come on, Gilderoy, let’s just laugh it off and enjoy our pancakes,” said Harry, looking at the plate of irregularly shaped, not to mention irregularly cooked, items on the table.

Gilderoy raised his head and was about to say something when he suddenly grinned and pointed toward the window.

“It’s Hedwig!” he laughed, leaping up immediately to go let her in.

The owl, always mindful of its duties, flew to Harry first and gave him his morning mail before circling back to land on Gilderoy’s outstretched arm.

“Thanks,” said Harry absently, looking at the two letters. One was from Hermione. The other was a beautiful, formal envelope from the Ministry of Magic. Hedwig had made a special trip from London to pick it up.

Setting Hermione’s letter aside for the moment, Harry opened the letter from the Ministry to find that it was the official invitation to the Defeat of Voldemort Ball and Dinner, hosted by the Ministry of Magic. Harry grinned as he watched small wizarding pictures from last year’s impromptu celebration. He thought he glimpsed himself dancing with Adair Arneau, a visiting seventh year from Beauxbatons, now graduated, in the corner of the ballroom. Ron and Hermione could be seen pouring each other punch, which had been richly spiked, not that anyone had cared. Ginny Weasley was tugging at Professor Snape’s sleeve, trying desperately to get him onto the dance floor. The professor looked mortified. What a wonderful invitation! So much promise, so much potential for fun and mayhem and a jolly good time, Harry thought, glancing up from the pictures and looking at Gilderoy. At least this year, he would have a date.

“Harry, what did she bring you this morning?” asked Gilderoy, who had begun feeding Hedwig little pieces of pancake, much to her delight.

“A letter. And an invitation,” said Harry, passing the latter to Gilderoy, who was seated at the table.

“Oh, how lovely!” he said, squinting at the magical pictures. “Harry! You’re in here ... with a boy.”

“Oh, no,” Harry thought silently. “Yeah, I guess. He was just some guy I met at the dance. I didn’t have a date or anything,” he said, rushing to explain.

Gilderoy closed the invitation and looked at him with complete sympathy.

“And it was your party, in a way, wasn’t it? The world can be so terribly cruel.”

“Well ... I was asked by a lot of girls who didn’t know. Only my friends knew that I liked guys, at least until the end of Quidditch season my sixth year, and even then ...” shrugged Harry. “But this year, I have you.” he said, smiling at the thought of them walking into the ballroom, arm in arm and dressed to kill.

“Really? You want me there with all those people? Harry, what if I embarrass you? I know that I’m not exactly, well, you know,” he said, tapping his forehead.

“Gilderoy,” Harry began, nodding Hedwig away. The owl took the hint and went to perch and preen on a nearby chair. Harry put both of his hands on Gilderoy’s shoulders. “I’m not worried about that, and you shouldn’t be either. You’ve missed out on a lot in life, because of your memories being gone and because you were shut up in that hospital for so long. I won’t let you miss out on anymore of it, especially not because of something so silly as that. Embarrassing me? Not a chance,” Harry told him.

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