Harry Potter and the Flying Squad

The air between Harry and Hermione remained remarkably cool over the next days. Harry felt angry with himself, angrier still with her. When Hermione was hiding something, he and Ron never probed too deeply. No - that wasn't quite correct: he didn't do it while Ron felt less restrained.

But when Hermione came across something, and didn't find out immediately what it was, she could become rather unpleasant. He wouldn't tell, not after what she'd said to him. At breakfast, he asked her how she was doing with her potion.

Hermione glared at him. "Are you interested, or are you practising your conversation skills?"

"I'm - oh, forget it," snapped Harry.

Ron looked surprised. Some minutes later, after Hermione had left, he asked, "What's up with you two?"

"She thinks I - she's got something on her mind about me, but she's wrong. I didn't tell her, and you know how she is when ..."

"Yeah, I know," Ron sighed. "Girls ... Actually, you didn't tell me either, but I think I can wait." As if to prove his remark, he feöö abruptly into an affected pose of nonchalance.

"It's not really important, honestly." After a moment, Harry found the saving argument. "If I told you now, I'd have to tell her, too. Otherwise ..."

"True." Ron was mollified. "As long as it's not anchor man business, it shouldn't be my problem."

"No, it's not," said Harry. "Just old stuff."

Nonetheless, Ron couldn't give it a rest. The next day, when Harry was discussing O.W.L.s with him, Ron said, "What do you think, will Hermione make Head Girl?"

"I'm sure she will," answered Harry. "With eight O.W.L.s? And there's no sign of her slowing down. I wouldn't know anyone else as clever as her - for me, it's just a question of time."

"Funny," said Ron, with a strange expression, "maybe you should tell her."

"Why?"

"Well, she complained about you - said you'd be thinking she was stupid."

"If it's that bad," replied Harry, "I'm sure I'll hear it from her directly. Until then, I'd prefer to leave it untouched."

Ron walked away without further comment, leaving Harry with a bad feeling. The study had barely started, and he already had messed up with Hermione and with Ron.

* * *

The second interview turned out less pleasant than the first. Almyra arrived with an endless number of questions about the zoo accident. She wanted to know exactly which emotions had stirred the magical power, first the talking with the boa constrictor and then the disappearance of the glass pane.

Harry explained how life had been in Privet Drive, with the Dursleys in general and with Dudley in particular. At least, he tried. It was painful for him to talk, and it was difficult for Almyra to understand. Muggle world in Dursley style was unknown to her.

At one point, she stopped the steno quill. "This is off the record, Harry, and I apologize in advance for my question, but ... are you making up something? Maybe for something else?"

"No, I'm not." Harry's laugh was short and bitter. "You can ask Ron - no, better not. But you can ask Hagrid what happened when he found me and took me to Hogwarts. He's seen the Dursleys."

Reluctantly, Almyra started the quill again. She continued with questions about Harry's state after the accident. Harry told her he'd been banned to the cupboard.

Almyra stopped the quill a second time. "Are you telling me you were put into a cupboard?"

"Yes, as a punishment."

"That's hard to believe."

"I don't care if - " Harry stopped himself. "No, it's not true, I do care whether you believe me. I guess that today, I know why. It wasn't so much for the trouble I'd caused, it was because something had happened that could be explained only with the one word that drives the Dursleys into panic: magic."

Almyra watched him. "Do you have some other examples of their reaction to magical events?"

"Oh, you bet - we'll come to that, but none having to do with Parseltongue, so for now, mark it as questionable, or whatever. By the time the study's over, we'll have found an opportunity to talk about the Dursleys and magic ... By the way, what happened to you as a kid when you showed magic?"

"I got sweets."

Harry stared.

"My parents," explained Almyra, "both work in public - that is, under Muggles. My father is an artist at fairs - he's more for the easy style of life, whereas my mother, she's got a reputation as a Voodoo priestess. For her, it was good for business, me walking around and doing some childish magic while her customers could watch. They paid without complaints."

"Sounds like heaven," said Harry.

"Oh - I had to sing for my supper," replied Almyra. "When we find time to talk, we can trade stories - yours about what happened when you showed magic, and mine about what happened when I didn't. Anyway, let's get back to our interview."

She started the quill again. "What did you do in the cupboard?"

Remembering back, Harry said, "I had a lot of time to think about things, there in the dark. That was when I could remember my accident" - he touched his scar - "for the first time."

Suddenly, Almyra looked much more enthusiastic. They finished the other questions in a comfortable atmosphere.

Almyra collected her parchments. "Harry, would it be okay to do some tests with snakes?"

"Sure, why not?" Harry's interest came awake. "Real ones or something like what Snape did?"

"Both ... I don't know yet how to get them. I don't feel like asking Snape - "

Harry had a better idea. "Ask McGonagall. She's already involved."

"You're right. Anyway, that won't be soon; I just wanted to make sure."

---

They went downstairs. Harry almost wished they'd meet Hermione, but she wasn't in sight. He climbed the tower to his dormitory. Before he could give the Fat Lady the password, the door swung open and Ron came out.

"Hi," said Harry.

"Hi. Sirius's back." Ron hurried downstairs.

"Wait!" shouted Harry. "Where is he?"

Ron stopped for an instant. "With Dumbledore," he said without turning, and disappeared.

Sirius! Relief and pleasure rushed through Harry. He turned and stormed downstairs. In the hall, he sat down with the staircase in view, so he and Sirius would see each other immediately. Then he waited.

Students passed by. He saw Viktor going to the office and waved.

He felt tired; the interview had exhausted him more than he'd expected. The lights on the walls were separating into two images, and only after a moment could he focus them again. Suddenly two hands covered his eyes.

A voice close to his ear whispered, "Guess who! Woe you if it's wrong." The hands were female, small, and strong.

"Cho?"

"Lucky you." The hands opened. Cho stepped around. "How was it?"

He became aware that it was the first time they were talking about Almyra's study. "Stressful," he said. "At one point, Al wasn't ready to believe what I said. Thought I was making things up. She's not used to Muggles as extreme as the Dursleys."

Cho nodded sympathetically.

"We decided to exchange some stories as soon as possible. I have to tell Dursley horror stories, and she'll tell Voodoo horror stories."

"Oh, really?" Cho sounded a bit flippant. "And what am I supposed to do while you and Almyra tell each other about your terrible childhood?

It was so close to what Hermione seemed thinking, Harry had to laugh. "You'll be present of course, that goes without saying."

"Sounds better ... You know, I don't mind if it goes with saying."

Harry, now fully awake, looked around. Across the hall, he saw Hermione watching the scene, an expression of disapproval on her face. When his eyes met hers, Hermione turned sharply and marched to the exit. Her gait, after that look, made Harry giggle.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh - nothing."

Cho looked surprised, then hurt.

Quickly, Harry said, "I just saw someone who's got it all wrong - you know, seeing me with Al - "

Before he could explain more, a man came down the staircase. He looked like a business agent: short hair, bearded, elegant robe. Looking at them, the man started smiling broadly. "Harry!"

Harry stared in disbelief. Sirius Black? With dark blond hair??

"See you," said Cho, and disappeared.

---

Harry stood up and stepped forward. "Sirius, you ... I almost didn't recognize you! You look great." They shook hands.

"Good to see you, Harry. Who was that girl?"

"My Squad partner. How are you?"

"Fine, thanks. Does she have a name?"

Harry laughed. "Yes - Cho Chang. She's the Ravenclaw Seeker." He touched Sirius' hair. "Is it coloured?"

"What do you think? Of course - a useful little charm. By the way, call me Simon. Simon Snuffles, Import and Export." Sirius bowed.

They laughed, then found seats where they could sit and talk. In a low voice, Sirius told Harry how he'd been busy looking for Wormtail. Only he hadn't found any trace.

"Someone with that hand should get noticed," muttered Sirius, "but nothing ... Maybe I'm not clever enough for that kind of work. Snape might have been more successful." He laughed humourlessly. "Who would've thought I'd long for Snape's skill?"

Harry asked his godfather how life was outside Hogwarts, with Voldemort and his Death Eaters back again.

"It's like a dark cloud," answered Sirius. "Everything's almost normal. There's no killing every other day, if that's what you mean." His expression grew serious. "If there are killings, they are well covered - in our world and in the Muggle world. He's very cunning, Voldemort. He had to wait many years; he's learned a lesson - especially after you blew his triumph."

Harry couldn't smile at that.

"It's political pressure," continued Sirius. "Sooner or later, people will come and say, 'Let's make an arrangement.' That's our biggest problem, aside from - " Sirius stopped himself. "Dumbledore knows that, of course. If there was someone other than that fool Fudge, things might look different. But Dumbledore can't fight two frontiers at the same time. This stronghold here" - Sirius gestured at the walls around them - "is the reason why Voldemort doesn't dare to strike. It's essential to keep a barrier the Death Eaters can't break."

Harry thought it over. "I wonder what'll happen in summer, when school's off. Will I have to go back to the Dursleys? If students are spread all over the country - "

"That'll be an issue half a year from now," interrupted Sirius. "At present, we have trouble planning four weeks ahead. I know that Dumbledore has something special about that place, er - "

"Privet Drive," supplied Harry.

"Right, Privet Drive. Nobody has ever seen all cards he holds in those long sleeves. Anyway," Sirius grinned, "maybe the two of us have been ordered to hide at some nice place far away. A little island under palms ... Or a mountain camp."

"Or China." Harry was thinking aloud.

"Or China," agreed Sirius. After a moment, he asked, "Any place in particular?"

Harry shrugged. "Hong Kong."

"Of course - what else." Sirius nodded. "The most natural place for any British wizard."

Harry examined Sirius' face, which looked quite casual.

His godfather, as Harry was told, would stay in Hogwarts for two days, three at the most, though without hanging around in public too much. Sirius had booked a room in Hogsmeade.

"I'd like to see a demonstration of those Steel Wings," he said. "If you could arrange a patrol at a certain time, we could meet at the bottom of that hill - you know which I mean?"

Of course Harry knew - the hill where they'd met two years ago. "I'll talk with Viktor," he replied. "I'm supposed to fly schedules in a pattern as irregular as possible."

Sirius nodded; he knew about that.

---

At supper, Ron suddenly asked, "Harry - did you see Sirius?"

"Yes, and we talked," answered Harry, grateful for small to medium favours like, for example, being noticed by his friends. He gave an account of his conversation with Sirius, speaking to Ron yet sufficiently audible for Hermione, who seemed busy with her food - except that, occasionally, her chewing stopped for a moment.

Then Harry remembered Sirius' request.

"Ron - can you talk with Viktor, to put Cho and me on schedule tomorrow afternoon? Sirius wants to see the Steel Wings in action."

"Not tomorrow," answered Ron. "Day after tomorrow's possible, right after double Care. Okay?"

Harry nodded.

"Does Cho already know?" Hermione spoke - to Harry!

"Not yet," he answered cautiously. "Might come as a little surprise to her."

"Sure," snapped Hermione. "Compared to some other surprises that might come to her, this one doesn't matter much."

Ron's face was blank. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh - ask him," retorted Hermione. "Friends and friends' friends are always good for surprises - isn't that so, Harry?"

She jumped up and left, barely avoiding overturning her chair.

Ron watched her leave. "Blah and blah blah are always good for surmises, isn't that so, Harry?"

Harry chuckled.

Not looking pleased, Ron said, "Harry, I'd be grateful if you could get this quarrel straightened out - preferably some time soon."

"I know, you're right." Harry felt embarrassed. "But how can I tell her - if she spits something at me and then walks away? Should I follow her?"

Ron made a face but didn't answer.

* * *

The next day in Charms, Professor Flitwick announced that this would be the last lesson in their current topic. It had been a collection of first-aid and body care spells, including things as useful as hair cutting, nail cutting and polish, but also less desirable techniques like the Vomiting Charm: it would certainly come in handy after someone had eaten something poisonous, but practising that spell had been dreadful.

As quickly as possible, they'd changed to the Sonorus Charm and its counterpart, the Quietus Charm. Listening to students, after they'd successfully raised the volume of their voices, was nice, although the real entertainment came with the failed attempts: hoarsy whisper, croaking, squeaking - most often, only Professor Flitwick could repair it.

The funniest failure, of course, happened to Neville Longbottom. Rather than raising his volume, he'd accelerated his speech. Within seconds, his high-pitched chirping turned a group of orderly students into a bunch of howling, twisting, rolling bodies with eyes watering. They suggested leaving Neville in his state until the end of the class, only Flitwick didn't agree. Then they asked Neville to show them how to do it. At least, nobody seemed surprised when he couldn't reproduce the effect.

Toward the end of the class, the small wizard asked the students whether they'd like to offer suggestions for the next topic.

Hermione's arm went up first. "What about combat and duel curses, Professor?"

Of course - one of Hermione's many O.W.L.s. But she wasn't lucky.

"That's too early, Miss Granger," said Flitwick. "These spells will be discussed only as of next year."

Time for Harry's try. "Professor, can we do spells to conjure up animals?"

If his choice was accepted, he would be able to make serpents on demand - for Almyra as well as for his own O.W.L. To his surprise, this suggestion failed even worse.

"Oh, no, Mr Potter - not before the seventh year. There have been quite some accidents in the past; the beast was out and nobody could put it back quickly enough. No, that's not an option we can consider." Flitwick seemed almost to be shuddering.

Ron's arm came up. "Professor, could we do useful spells for the office?"

Flitwick looked surprised. "For the office? What do you have in mind, Mr Weasley?"

Ron explained how he could use spells to copy parchments, order them into stacks, search for a certain parchment in a huge pile, and so forth. He described some of the functions in his magic calendar and diary, Harry's Christmas present for him.

"Unfortunately," answered Flitwick, "all these spells - as far as they exist - are well-kept secrets of some companies. Copy quills, for example - I know there are some; unfortunately, I wouldn't be able to make a quill copy a written text. I'm sorry, Mr Weasley." The wizard smiled. "If I could do that, I'd be hired on the spot by some other company where I could set the salary by myself ..."

For a moment, Flitwick seemed lost in his dream, then returned to the less exciting reality.

"What we could do is a collection of useful household charms - heating up water, making a fire burn, repairing a broken glass or furniture, and so forth. We did some of them already, but a nice bundle for the practical wizard would still be worth a lesson. Maybe you'll find some of them useful in the office, too, Mr Weasley."

Compared to the previous suggestions, this one sounded pretty boring. Heating up water ... for Harry, water was heated up either by the house-elves, reaching the Gryffindor table as tea or soup, or it was done by some wizard like Lupin, when invited into his office.

Still, the offer was accepted because the only other suggestion, spells to use a wand for something else, found no majority - too many students had already covered their needs through private research in the library. Making light with the wand was old stuff while other tricks like the Four-Point Spell Harry had used in the maze of the Triwizard Tournament were easy enough to learn.

* * *

The discussion had reminded Harry of the work for his O.W.L.s that was waiting to be done. The next class increased the thought - Astronomy, still about star constellations, with Ron in his element while Harry felt quite indifferent.

Today's constellation was Gemini - the twins.

Hearing about the two main stars, Castor and Pollux, Harry's first thought was of course about the Weasley twins, especially since Pollux happened to be another red giant. While Ron relished the news that, for once, the two stars were pretty close to each other, forty-four versus thirty-two light years, Harry's mind was making the connection from twins to siblings.

Sibling wands ... His first Defence O.W.L. would specialize on that, despite the fact that he didn't have the faintest idea what to say. Sibling wands refused to fight against each other, that was all he knew.

Thinking about a first step toward more knowledge, he remembered going with Hagrid to buy his wand, how Mr Ollivander had revealed to him that it was a sibling of Voldemort's wand. The most natural step seemed a letter to that creepy shop owner, asking for help, maybe a reference to some book.

After classes, Harry sat down in Gryffindor Tower to write the letter. The first attempt showed just too many corrections, so he wrote a second and final version.

He was already late for supper; also, this seemed a bad time to send Hedwig with an order. Harry decided to do it after the meal - by that time, Hedwig would be awake and eager to fly. He rolled the letter up and went down.

Seeing the parchment in Harry's hand, Ron asked what it was.

"A letter to Mr Ollivander," answered Harry. "I'm going to ask him for help on the sibling wands issue."

"What do you expect?"

"Oh - I don't know, anywhere from 'No thanks' to a pile of descriptions. After all, he's the expert in wands, right?"

"That's wonderful!" snorted Hermione. "First you do other people's schoolwork, then you let other people do your own, except they aren't the same. Why don't you concentrate on your own work?"

Harry snapped back, "I can ask you the same question."

Ron joined the mood. "Would somebody please explain to me what you two are talking about?" He looked at Hermione.

"Ask him," she said.

Ron looked at Harry.

"I'm not responsible for explaining other people's comments," said Harry, "particularly so if the same people tell me to mind my own business ... Actually it's the old story, those who can't do - teach."

Hermione gasped.

Ron's mouth fell open. That remark could have been his own; considering Harry's standards, it sounded quite sharp.

"Hey, Harry," said Ron soothingly, "take it easy, okay?"

Harry pondered the idea of leaving the table right now, only he wasn't going to flee a battlefield on which - nominally, at least - he counted as the winner. And there was another simple fact that kept him on his seat: he was hungry.

Hermione didn't budge, either. She looked hurt and seemed waiting for him to give in. Not today, Harry thought, there was no reason to feel mercy with her.

---

The clanging of dishes and forks was the only sound for the next few minutes.

Then Harry had finished. He grabbed his letter and rose from his seat; it was time to send Hedwig and also to let off the steam that had accumulated in him. He made some steps, only to find his path blocked, although not by Hermione.

It was Almyra. "Harry - I've been ordered to kidnap you. Cho found a place where we can exchange stories."

"Excellent idea." Harry felt Hermione's watchful looks burning his back. "Let me just talk with Hedwig, then I'm ready."

"Hedwig? Who's that?"

Harry showed her the parchment. "Hedwig's my owl. I have a letter for her."

Almyra's face lighted up. "You have an owl? I didn't know ... can I come with you?"

"Sure, why not?"

Careful not to turn, not to meet Hermione's glance again, he walked to the staircase, Almyra at his side.

"How long has Hedwig been your owl, Harry?" Almyra's voice sounded genuinely interested.

"Since I was here at Hogwarts. She was Hagrid's present, a kind of compensation for the bad time I'd had with the Dursleys. But that's already in the middle of a story - Cho'll give me hell if she finds out I'm telling you without her around."

Almyra laughed. "That would be a hell to share; she wouldn't treat me any better."

They reached the Owlery. Feeling pride, Harry stepped to the bar with the most outstanding owl - his own. Hedwig watched them approaching.

"Morning, Hedwig, old girl, how was your sleep? Look who's here with me - that's Almyra. Call her Al."

Hedwig greeted him with a low hooing, then turned one eye toward Almyra.

Almyra's eyes were shining. "Hello, Hedwig - nice to meet you. What a beautiful girl you are." She raised her arms and plucked the owl from the bar. Before Harry could give a warning, Almyra had the bird flat on her arm, the other hand caressing Hedwig at the neck, the chest - even the delicate feathers at her legs.

Harry stared - not only was Almyra still unhurt, there was no mistaking, Hedwig enjoyed it!

"How ..." He swallowed. "I can't believe it! By now, anyone else would have been a bad case for Madam Pomfrey."

"Not me!" Almyra beamed, stroking the owl, who showed no intention of regaining her dignity. Almyra grabbed an owl leg and held it up. "Here, fix the letter."

Quicker than ever before, Harry put the letter to Mr Ollivander on Hedwig's leg, then stepped back to watch how Almyra - or Hedwig - would end the wheedling.

"Okay, Hedwig," said Almyra, "time for a trip - have fun." With her last words, she threw the owl high up in the air.

The instant before she would start falling, Hedwig spread her wings. Two, three strokes, and she was away.

Harry stared admiringly at Almyra. "Wow! A jump start for Hedwig - I never did that with her. I wouldn't have dared!"

Almyra smiled. "That's the greatest - believe me, Harry."

"Where did you learn that much about owls?"

Almyra shook her head. "That would be right in the middle of another story - let's go find Cho."

* * *

Climbing down the staircase, Harry wondered where Cho might have found a room comfortable enough to sit together. Rooms - they weren't short of rooms, what with the lesson room, the interview room, classrooms, only who wanted to sit there in the evening?

Almyra marched ahead. They passed the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower - actually no, they didn't pass, they did ... they did ...

"Where are we going?" asked Harry in alarmement.

"Upstairs."

"And then?"

Almyra made big eyes. "Through the door. Harry, is there something wrong with you?"

"But that's ..."

"That's why I had to kidnap you, remember?" Almyra couldn't hold her laugh any longer. "Cho thought you'd never volunteer, so we had to use this trick ... seems she was right."

For an instant, the thought of turning and escaping crossed Harry's mind: that was the tower with the girls who called him Young Potter! But it would look just too ridiculous ... and besides, Cho was waiting for them.

He watched anxiously as Almyra reached a picture that showed a man who was sitting in a study at candle light. Angrily, the man looked up. "Who's bothering me while I'm so deep in my thoughts?"

"Give it a rest," replied Almyra. "Winter Green."

The door swung open.

A large room appeared before Harry's eyes, not so much different from their own tower, of course except that he was the only Gryffindor around.

Heads were turning, stopping at the sight of him.

"Hey folks," called Almyra, "behave a little, because we've got a visitor - Harry Potter!"

Other heads wheeled around, and now the entire room was looking at him. Harry found the strength to say, "Good evening, everybody."

"Well, that was the good news," informed Almyra. "The bad news is that he's reserved for the upper classes, and guess who that might be?"

Laughter welled up, and somebody called, "No idea, tell us," then Harry's eyes had found Cho in a corner with empty seats waiting for them, sitting there with a grin that was almost too broad for the small face.

When they reached her and sat down, Cho looked questioningly at Almyra. "What took you so long? Did he resist?"

"Last answer first, or in the sequence of asking?" replied Almyra with an innocent expression.

Cho nearly stomped her foot. "Dammit, Al - "

"We visited another girl. Harry has quite a collection, did you know that?"

Cho's face rapidly developed toward a lightning storm. "Aa-al!"

Almyra wasn't overly impressed. "Her name's Hedwig, a snowy owl. She's a beauty ..."

Watching Cho's face, Harry saw the menacing expression change - almost at once - to sympathy.

"... now sent off with a letter."

The sympathy faded as quickly as it had come. "Oh no, not another letter!" Cho's eyes were at Harry.

"It's to Mr Ollivander - the wand maker," Harry explained. "I'm going to do an O.W.L. about sibling wands, and I asked him whether he knows something that could help."

Almyra looked fascinated. "That's cool - for once something worth the parchment. How did you come across this weird topic, Harry?"

Harry hesitated, glanced at Cho, not finding any support to get off the hook. Sighing inwardly, he said, "My wand has one of the only two tail feathers from a phoenix, and - "

"Who's got the other?" Almyra looked as merciless as the next best scientist.

"Er - Voldemort."

Almyra could only stare. She had lost her speech.

For compensation, Cho had a glitter in her eyes. "Phoenix, eh? Now let me guess, Harry: do I, by some accident, know that phoenix?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. It's Fawkes."

Cho turned toward Almyra. "Isn't he a treasure? From a scientific standpoint, I mean."

Almyra didn't answer. She kept staring at Harry, apparently with her mind far away - Harry had no doubt that she was combining her previous knowledge about his fight against Voldemort with the new facts, coming up with enough information to save him from telling the dreadful story again.

---

"How's your O.W.L. work doing?" asked Cho.

Harry felt grateful for the change. "Good. There are five ..." He explained his topics, and how it came that most of the work was already done.

"Five's a decent number," admitted Cho, "I did five, too."

Harry learned that Cho had achieved O.W.L.s in Care of Magical Creatures - about dragons, naturally, in Herbology about bamboo and its magical powers, in Muggle Studies about Chinese culture, in Potions about Chinese poisoning techniques and how to cure them with magic antidotes, and - surprise - the fifth about Quidditch.

"And Ron?" asked Cho. "How many's he doing?"

"Also five, although his administration thing should count twice."

"And Hermione?"

Was it a secret? Harry didn't care. "Eight."

"I knew it!" cried Cho. "She's the collecting type - the want-to-have-it-all."

Although Harry was mad at Hermione, he had to defend her - here, at least, where she couldn't hear him. "True, but you know, eight O.W.L.s don't come by themselves - "

"Certainly not," interrupted Cho, "she has to work hard, yes, but that's something for the books, a piece from everything. It's impossible to cover eight topics thoroughly, all she can do is scratch a bit on the surface."

"What's wrong with that?" asked Harry. "If it counts as an O.W.L., it's valid, right? I don't think my own ones will go any deeper."

Cho waved impatiently. "Mine didn't either, but that's not the point. Harry, if you want to know what an O.W.L. can be - " She turned to Almyra. "Al, tell him."

Almyra seemed as excited about this idea as, minutes ago, Harry about his sibling wand story.

Cho didn't wait until Almyra felt like speaking. Proudly, she said, "Al did three!"

"Huh?"

Whatever Harry had expected, six, maybe seven - three came as a surprise. He didn't know what to say, looked perplexed at Almyra, who seemed quite uneasy, though not embarrassed because of this small number.

"I was working on a project," said Almyra hesitantly, "actually, I'm still working on it. Last year, it split more or less naturally into three parts, so I had enough for my O.W.L.s and didn't have to waste time on that nonsense."

Seeing Harry's blank look, she explained, "When you do a Graduate Work, nobody'll ever ask you about your O.W.L.s, and I wasn't interested in anything outside that project. The three parts were Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, and Astronomy."

Cho smiled. "Got the picture, Harry?"

"Sure," he replied, "that's not particularly complicated. It's about werewolves - Transfiguration fits, Care of Magical Creatures fits, and Astronomy is the most obvious - lunar phases, what else?"

Cho grinned broader. "That's one of those cases where everything fits so nicely, and still it's awfully wrong. Anyway, this evening is supposed to present a collection of stories, right? So, Harry, what's the weirdest story you can tell us?"

---

Harry didn't know what should be wrong with his conclusion about Almyra's project; her case study proved his explanation, didn't it? But Cho had asked for a story, not for a solution.

The weirdest - this was easy: for himself, it was the story of Hagrid coming to deliver his letter and take him to Hogwarts, storming the hut at the island, bending Uncle Vernon's gun to a pretzel, and then grilling the best sausages Harry had ever eaten.

"... went to Diagon Alley, made a visit at Gringotts, and then to the Eeylops Owl Emporium where Hagrid bought Hedwig. It was the first present I ever got."

Almyra had listened with fascination, her eyes again shining at the mentioning of Hedwig. Now she said, "Harry, I'll never again doubt your descriptions. Nobody can make up such a story - it's so unlikely, it must be true."

Cho said, "That explains why you've been ready to risk body and soul - and I mean yours as well as mine - to save Hagrid ... The li'l bird."

Almyra grinned. "Hagrid has it with birds: owls, hippogriffs - "

"And some other," said Harry, "still bigger."

"Really?" Almyra looked expectantly. "Tell us."

Just in time, Harry remembered the deal. "Oh no - now it's your turn, Al. How's life for a Voodoo child?"

So Almyra told about her childhood in a house with a Voodoo priestess as a mother, with Muggle customers who all wanted the same: love potions, curses on an enemy, prepared with the help of small figures which included some of the victim's hair, nails, or skin, and placed with needles through parts of the body figure, then counter-curses against the work of another Voodoo priest, cures for illnesses ... the common trade of Vodoun.

Often enough, Almyra's contribution had been to tell the victim about the figure in the hands of her mother; that knowledge was an essential part of the Voodoo effect.

"Wasn't it dangerous?" asked Harry.

"Usually not," said Almyra. "Hurting a child - nobody dared to do that. You know, the curses were just a pressure, some pain - my mother wouldn't have done more, unless I came back telling her the person had done something to me. And in addition, I developed my own set of little tricks to keep them at bay."

"Really?" Harry looked at her expectantly. "Can you show me?"

"Oh, no" - Almyra blushed - "not here, anyway, with all the others watching."

Harry felt disappointed. "That's unfair!"

"We'll find an opportunity," promised Almyra. "Besides, our deal was only about stories, right? I think it's your turn again. Tell us more about the Dursleys; they are so weird! All Muggles I've met were eager to see magic. Even if they were frightened, they couldn't get enough."

So Harry told the story how Aunt Marge had come to visit, how she had drunk too much, how she had said one word too many against Harry's parents, and how, suddenly, Aunt Marge had too much volume even for her considerable weight, with the result that she was floating on the ceiling.

"... came the Knight Bus and took me to the Diagon Alley," finished Harry his story.

"What happened then?" asked Almyra. "Didn't you get a letter from the Ministry, because of forbidden magic?"

"No," grinned Harry, "I met Fudge - they were so happy finding me alive and well, because everybody thought Sirius Black was after me, that they dropped it quickly. And they sent someone to put that balloon straight." The memory of Aunt Marge, hanging on the ceiling - he could relish it still today.

Almyra looked confused. "But Black was after you, wasn't he?"

"Er - yes, probably." Inwardly, Harry swore at himself: he, the master spy, had struck again.

Cho had listened thoughtfully, now she was watching his face while keeping her own blank of any expression. "That was the year," she said, "when you got the Firebolt, Harry - and nobody ever found out where it came from."

"Yes - they thought it came from Black, and was jinxed, and I had to wait for weeks before McGonagall was ready to admit it wasn't."

---

Almyra couldn't care less about broomsticks. "He was never found, that Black ... I wonder what happened to him."

Harry held his tongue, still feeling Cho's eyes on him.

"That Black reminded me of a Voodoo creature," said Almyra, much to Harry's relief. "Ever heard of Samedi - the Duke of the Darkness?"

Harry hadn't.

"He's the personified horror for Muggles who believe in Voodoo," explained Almyra. "He can command the Zombies - dead bodies walking around and doing what he told them to do, usually threatening and violating other people ... Zombies are slow and clumsy, just what you'd expect from a corpse, but - you know, the frightening thing is, you can't kill them, simply because they're already dead."

Harry stared. "Is this a myth?"

"For Muggles who believe, it's reality ... I've done a bit of research in that direction. What I found out, that Samedi was a real person - a wizard of course. His Zombie trick was pretty simple but quite effective. He stunned people, so that all Muggles thought they were dead. Then, still before the funeral or afterwards, he came to de-stun them - and to put them immediately under the Imperius curse. That's where the slowness and the clumsiness come from. I guess he had a lot of fun, in contrast to the poor Zombies."

"What happened to them?" asked Harry.

"Well - they couldn't be killed," reminded Almyra, "so the only solution for normal Muggles was to cut them to pieces."

"Eww."

"Exactly." Almyra grinned. "You can imagine how people react if you pretend to be a messenger of Samedi."

Harry watched her attentively. No doubt, Almyra had done that more than once. It was certainly unwise to have her as an enemy; also, it illuminated Cho's remark how she and Almyra had held their ground against the other Ravenclaw girls, especially in the first year.

It was time to go. Harry said good night to Almyra, waved a goodbye to the other Ravenclaw students, then Cho escorted him downstairs.

"You see," she said, "it's possible to survive a visit in Ravenclaw Tower."

"Just barely," replied Harry. "If I'd known that Al used to run around as a Voodoo witch - "

"Oh, that ..." Cho waved dismissively. "It's more show than anything else. Pity she started with that Samedi story - I had you trapped so nicely in a corner with your Firebolt ..."

Harry grinned. For once, he could beat her in that game, even twice in one strike.

"It was my godfather," he said, "and that reminds me: we'll meet him tomorrow at Hogsmeade."

Cho looked suspicious. "What kind of plot is this?"

"No plot. Ron knows, Viktor knows - everything's in good order."

She wasn't convinced. "What's the purpose? Wouldn't it be simpler to meet here at Hogwarts?"

Harry remembered Almyra's answer to Cho's double questions but decided not to use her trick.

"We met already. Remember the guy who came down the stairs yesterday? That's him. He'd like to watch a demo of the Steel Wings in action."

"Does your godfather have a name?"

"Funny you ask. He had the same question about you. I'll introduce him to you."

Cho's eyes met his own. "For someone as full of interesting little secrets as you, Harry, it's amazing how badly you can hide them ... Although, I wouldn't like it any other way."

She put two fingers to her lips, then to his. "Good night, storyteller."

* * *

These were the days of new topics in classes. The next morning in Defence against the Dark Arts, Drilencu announced the topic of Veelas and Vampires as finished.

"What we'll do next," he said, "is an extension of the general topic that could be called 'ruling the willpower of other people.' Veela, as we've learned, rule other people through seduction, while vampires do it through brute force, although in combination with other effects. Now we'll concentrate on ruling techniques that are based on commanding, misleading, pretension, and other approaches to break, bend, or confuse the victim's decisions ... Some techniques should already be known - who can give me examples?"

Almost every arm was up.

Although Hermione had been quickest, Drilencu selected an arm that was seen less often. "Mr Longbottom?"

"The Cruciatus curse."

"Correct - only I forgot to mention that I want to hear the technique and the category. Mr Longbottom, what category is it?"

"Torture, Prof ... oh, I see - breaking the will."

Drilencu made some columns on the blackboard, wrote "Breaking" on top of the first, and wrote Neville's entry. Then he turned. "What else?"

Almost as many arms as before. "Miss Patil?"

"The Imperius Curse - bending, Prof."

Drilencu named another column and wrote it down. "What else?"

The arms had reduced significantly; however, Hermione's as well as Harry's arm were still up.

This thime, Drilencu honoured speed. "Miss Granger?"

"Impostor techniques, using the Polyjuice potion. That's misleading and pretense, Prof - or confusion."

Drilencu looked approving. "That's the first one in our collection which isn't obvious - five points for Gryffindor."

He wrote while Hermione sat beaming, nose high in the air.

As unchallenged as she appeared in her role as points provider for the Gryffindors, today her stance was supposed to send an obvious signal to Harry, sitting next to her, indicating that some students were simply superior.

Just wait a second, thought Harry.

Drilencu was looking at the students again. Harry's arm was up as the only one left.

"Mr Potter?"

"Voodoo techniques, Prof. It's everything: breaking, bending, confusion - the full range."

Heads were turning to him - not including Hermione's, although - he could almost feel how she forced herself not to spin around, mouth agape.

"Three strikes in one, Mr Potter? If you can prove them with specific details, ten points are waiting for you!"

Harry didn't let him wait. "For breaking - well, the usage of Zombies is the best example for that, Prof - a specialty of Samedi, the Duke of the Darkness. Then bending - I'd say the most wide-spread Voodoo technique is the use of love potions. And confusion, that would be the trick with figures to represent the victim, Prof, although it also includes breaking, especially when the Voodoo priest cuts needles through the body of the figure ..."

Other students were staring at him, with a remarkable exception sitting close.

Drilencu smiled. "Very good, Mr Potter. The points are yours - although I'd like to know where you've gathered such a profound knowledge of Voodoo?"

Watch, Hermione, Harry thought, here comes the kill.

Aloud, he said, "It's quite simple, Prof. We have a real Voodoo expert here at Hogwarts, in Ravenclaw actually. Her name is Almyra Benedict."

Hermione's head spun around. She looked at Harry, her eyes getting bigger and bigger. Her hand moved to her chin, the mouth fell open - Hermione as the personified picture of utter astonishment.

"Of course ..." she whispered, "my God, Harry, you're - "

"Sssht!"

Harry had no intention to start a conversation with Hermione here in class, although he really wanted to know what idea had come up in her mind so suddenly. Only he'd just beaten her - ten points versus five, an event rare enough not to spoil the moment.

Also, more than in any other class, he didn't want to appear special - even with actions as innocent as a discussion with the neighbour about something more important than the teacher's words. So it took until they were sitting at lunch before he found out what Hermione had discovered.

---

While eating with good appetite, he saw Hermione watching him - deeply concerned, as it seemed. The change in her attitude was dramatic. He decided to ask her directly.

"What was it you wanted to tell me in the class?"

"I've found out the reason for your behaviour lately."

"Oh, really? And what is the reason, according to your judgment?"

"Isn't that obvious, Harry? You're under the spell of a Voodoo priestess!"

"I'm what??"

"I didn't know, I couldn't see it, simply because I didn't know she can do Voodoo. All the time, I thought it was your own will, although it just didn't fit - "

"Hermione!" Harry's voice was sharp. "Would you please explain to me what you're talking about?"

She looked sympathetic. "Poor Harry - she has cursed you. That witch is trying to catch you for herself. Look - you run around with her, you're neglecting Cho, you're talking contemptuously with other girls - like me, for instance ..."

He stared at her. "Sorry, Hermione, but - you're mental."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, Harry, of course, that's what you're supposed to say, except it's just the spell on you." She looked agitated. "But don't you worry, we'll find a solution. We've mastered worse problems - just let me have a look into the library ..."

Harry glanced at Ron. "What do you think of that nonsense?"

"I don't know ..." Ron seemed to search for the administrator's solution. "What are you doing with her, Harry?" He blushed at his own question. "I mean - maybe there's a simple explanation that would show Hermione that she's wrong - "

"I have a simple explanation," said Harry.

Ron and Hermione hung onto his every word.

"I'm not under a Voodoo spell. Also, I'm not under the obligation to account for every minute of the day. I can spend my time with you, with Fleur, with Cho, with Almyra ... with Sirius as long as he's around - "

"Yes, Harry, sure - it's okay ... calm down ..."

It was a devilish trap. Whatever he would say, it was either proof of Hermione's theory or a giving in to her pressure toward his private business.

Rage boiled up in him. "Hermione," he growled, "in contrast to what people believe, you're not a know-it-all. But you're an unsufferable want-to-know-it-all - and if you don't get your way, somebody else is to blame - "

"Yes, Harry - don't worry." Hermione was all concern. " I know what's making you talk like that ... we'll change it, soon - "

"I'LL CHANGE IT!" He was furious. "Either you stop talking nonsense about Almyra cursing me with Voodoo, or I'll go over right away and tell her."

"Do it, Harry - just do it! It's only good when she knows it's no longer just you, the puppet in her claws!" Hermione turned to Ron. "We have to find a solution, Ron. we can't just go to McGonagall - there's no direct proof, that's exactly the hellish nature of ..."

Harry shot up and stomped to the Ravenclaw table. Neither Cho nor Almyra had finished eating yet. They looked up in surprise.

"Hi. We need to talk, all three of us."

"Can we wait until my dish is empty?" Cho could be very unkind when being interrupted during her meals.

"Hm - yeah, probably ... I'll wait for you in the Entrance Hall."

---

He crossed the hall, angry with Cho because she wasn't following immediately, angry with himself because he had left his food without finishing, although now it was impossible to go back, more than angry with Hermione ... Eight O.W.L.s could drive better people nuts, it was just too much ... Yes, he could explain what he did with Almyra, except it would leave an anger burning forever - he, the one whose will couldn't be broken even by Voldemort, shouldn't be able to stand a nosy pest called Hermione? Ridiculous, almost as ridiculous as her crazy idea -

"Okay, Harry - what's up?"

Cho and Almyra had arrived and were looking at him expectantly, anxiously.

"It's Hermione. She thinks ... well, she thinks Almyra has placed some kind of Voodoo curse on me."

"What?" Two girls, one question.

Harry explained how terms had turned bad between him and Hermione, since she had found him with Almyra after the first interview, what had happened that morning in the Defence class, and how Hermione was busy right at this moment, thinking about counter curses to set him free.

While he spoke, Cho's face had shown first a sneering smile, then a grin, then a broad grin. Then she had started to chuckle. Now she was barely able to stand upright, holding her stomach, shaked by laughter.

Almyra wasn't amused - not at all. "That stupid witch ... If she thinks she can mess with me ..." Almyra peeked around the corner. "There she is! Sitting there as if she's waiting for me. All right, people want to believe what people want to believe - like Muggles, like wizards ..."

She stepped through the entrance.

For a moment, Harry couldn't decide what to do, then he hurried after her. Hermione with a bloody nose from Almyra's fists wouldn't improve things much.

The hall had almost emptied. Hermione sat there, stiffly, waiting for Almyra, an expression of defiance in her face. Harry reached the table just in time to watch the full scene.

"Hello, Hermione." Almyra's voice was neutral. "I just heard you're spreading rumours about me using Voodoo on Harry. Is that correct so far?"

Hermione's look seemed not quite as calm as she would have liked. "I'm not spreading rumours - it's not a rumour, it's a fact. And you should know that I'm not going to sit and watch how your influence on him is getting worse each day."

"Ooooh - isn't that cute?" Almyra's voice came mockingly. "The jealous little kid has lost its toy - that must be Voodoo ... What else could - "

"I'm not jealous!!" Hermione's cheeks were burning. "You're the one who's jealous - of Cho, your best friend! That's the reason! Will you deny you're an expert in Voodoo? And how to use it to your own profit?"

"Listen, you first-generation magic wonder!" Almyra's voice had changed to a cold hissing, her head had moved close to Hermione. "Yes, I'm a Voodoo witch - heir of a long line of Voodoo witches - I'll show you ..."

Almyra's fist came up - slowly, held in front of Hermione's face. Suddenly, she spread her fingers; a metallic sound, and sharp talons, longer than an inch, were sparkling in the light.

Hermione's head jerked back.

"That's just a warning, Hermione - of what might happen if you don't stop bullying people just because they won't tell you everything you want to know ..."

Another low click - the talons disappeared.

"... and if you try to plant some trouble between me and Cho, you'll be sorry - really sorry!"

Harry gasped. For a split second, Almyra's face hadn't been a face - it had looked like a skull, two burning flames in the eye sockets.

Had it really been ... A glance at Hermione's face, chalk white, told him she'd seen it, too.

* * *

Harry sat in Care of Magical Creatures, listening to Professor Grubbly-Plank without hearing a single word she said, his thoughts still on the scene in the hall.

After a last glance to Hermione, who had looked still pale yet more stubborn than ever - "See, Harry, I was right" - he had found Almyra outside with Cho - a Cho seriously in trouble because she couldn't get enough air from all that laughing.

"Did you show her that skull visage?" Cho had gasped. "Oooh - pity I couldn't see her face," and had burst out again.

Harry had said, "Al - please, it won't do any better if you still confirm her in her craziness."

The answer hadn't been exactly what he wanted to hear.

"I can leave her to you, Harry," Almyra had said, "that's just fine with me. Except - if she's messing with me or Cho, she's lifting more than she can handle; you may tell her that."

He hadn't told Hermione. She wouldn't be ready to believe that Almyra could beat her - not with books, not with a wand ... maybe with nasty Voodoo tricks.

For Harry, there was little doubt who'd come out second from a contest. Although he had no intention of telling Hermione about the case study now, somehow he had the feeling it wouldn't solve the problem - she would simply take it for another trick story from Almyra the Voodoo witch.

He sighed, trying to concentrate on the present lesson. Their current topic were snowballs - small, tail-less animals with silvery fur, almost white. Winter time, particularly with snow, was the only season when they could be found outside dark, cool forests, their natural space. They used the snow as cover for their passage holes. Exposed to an enemy, a snowball curled into the shape of a ball, protecting belly and legs. Touching the fur was a bad idea, as a very painful flash would shake the arm, leaving a deep burn mark.

Grubbly-Plank had managed to trap some snowballs. The students were supposed to learn how to handle them with levitation charms.

For Harry, static electricity was quite a common phenomenon, while the idea of using charms rather than isolating gloves was a new and surprising concept. He wondered what snowballs could be used for - so far he hadn't heard anything about their purpose, but then, he hadn't listened much.

Remembering the Blast-Ended Skrewts, which served only as nasty barriers in tournament mazes, he imagined snowballs used as living projectiles, thrown against an attacker - maybe from a broomstick, standard equipment of a Squad member ... Two dust bombs, two snowballs, carried in a weapon belt - provided they could be tamed; otherwise, they would flash already before thrown. A crazy idea, he had to admit ... Although, there were crazier ideas, in heads not far away.

---

After class, he dropped his books in the dormitory and returned to the Entrance Hall. Recently, the Flying Squad had started using a small room as storage for the Steel Wings. It opened to the outside of the building and offered a significant improvement because the Squad members no longer had to carry their broomsticks through halls and staircases.

Since only the branded owner could ride a Steel Wing, there was no risk of anybody borrowing them. Each Squad member had a rack with a name tag on it.

Shortly after the room had been implemented, someone had switched the broomsticks of a team. Nobody had been hanging around to watch the scene of the members trying to mount the wrong Steel Wing. Of course, they all believed it had been the twins, only they couldn't even imagine how Fred and George had managed to move the broomsticks to the wrong racks. Since then, all Squad members knew the registration numbers of their own Steel Wings by heart, and checked them before mounting.

Cho was sitting in the room; she'd been waiting for him. "Hi, zombie," she said, "waddle up."

Very funny.

He stepped out, mounted, and pushed off. When Cho was up, he pushed the Steel Wing, taking the course to the Giants' camp. Ron knew that they were going to meet Sirius; he wouldn't raise a premature alarm.

They passed the camp. Harry changed course and aimed toward Hogsmeade. They crossed the town, much slower than the last time.

He found the lane going uphill, the one leading to the cave where once they'd met Sirius. Suddenly it struck him that Cho might wonder; probably she'd been expecting a meeting in Hogsmeade. He looked around and gestured toward the street.

Cho moved her arm slowly in front of her face. However, she followed.

At low speed, only yards above the ground, Harry followed the lane.

Where the path to the hilltop made a junction, a large dog was lying in the grass, head down, eyes watching the street.

Harry was about to push forward when he noticed that the dog wasn't black. From the distance, it looked more like a Golden Retriever, although of unusual size. Frowning, he slowed more, then remembered that Sirius had coloured himself efficiently enough to keep that colour even in his dog shape.

Harry accelerated.

Reaching the junction at full speed, he arced upwards and sideways. The Steel Wing bolted up. Pulling as hard as he could, he drew a looping. Coming down, he braked and came to a halt just before the dog.

The manoeuver had given Cho time for closing in. She dismounted, looked at the dog, then turned to Harry. "All right, you clown. Where's your godfather?"

Before Harry could answer, the dog leapt up and moved into the bushes.

"Just a second."

Cho looked the street up and down. When a branch snapped behind her, she turned sharply.

Sirius stepped down the path and onto the street.

---

Harry beamed. "Hi, Simon. I want to introduce you to my team partner, Cho Chang. Cho, this is my godfather, he's called Simon Snuffles."

Sirius turned to Cho. "Hello, Miss Chang. Nice to meet you."

"Good afternoon, Mr Snuffles." Cho's eyes were examining Sirius. "Where's your dog?"

"Er - waiting."

"Certainly," replied Cho, "and well hidden, I assume."

Sirius looked at Harry, a tacit question on his face.

"My godfather has several names," explained Harry. "Simon Snuffles is the public one. A more private one is Padfoot - it was my father who gave it to him, when they were together at Hogwarts."

"Padfoot, eh?" Cho's glance changed from Harry to Sirius. "Somehow, that dog looked familiar, except it had the wrong ... Mr Snuffles, did we meet before? Maybe in a train?"

Sirius smiled. "Not really, Miss Chang - although you may have met a close relative of mine."

"A relative who's black?"

While Sirius, evidently better used to the game, didn't move a muscle, Harry twitched. Had she said ... He made a quick decision.

"Yes, he's black - blacker than black. Cho - there's still another name, and this time it's the real one. This is Sirius Black."

Cho's eyes widened. Her arm moved to grab her wand, then she stopped. "What game is this?" she asked, her voice hard.

Sirius made a placating gesture. "No game, Miss Chang - except that my close relative and I were of course the same. You're one of the few people who know about my identity. To put you at ease - Albus Dumbledore is one of them, too. He's also the one who sends me around on various errands."

Sirius glanced at Harry, then continued, "I didn't know how much Harry had told you. I wasn't aware that he'd reveal it here. Anyway, I trust his judgment."

Cho had relaxed. "Me too," she said. "Well - most of the time. But I'd like to know a little more about this hide-and-seek game, Mr Black. So far - "

Sirius interrupted her. "Please stick to the name Snuffles, Miss Chang - for my security. You're right, you need to know more before you can trust me. For the background of the story, I'd prefer Harry as the one to tell you - the important point is, I'm not the criminal which I'm known to be in public, although I can't prove it. Even so, some people believed my version of the events. One of them is Harry, the other Dumbledore. With his help, and thanks to a desperate action of Harry and Hermione, I could escape. Since then, I'm a secret agent of Dumbledore."

"Hermione?" asked Cho, disbelief in her voice. "She helped you to escape?"

"Yes."

"Well, Mr - er, Snuffles, somehow, that's almost more convincing than Professor Dumbledore's part in the game."

Sirius smiled. "I don't know exactly what you mean, although I might have a faint idea. Anyway, I appreciate your cooperation - and I must say, your nerve in this encounter was quite impressive."

Cho's expression didn't change much. "You know," she said, "when with Harry, I always wear a spare one."

Sirius had watched the Steel Wings at their arrival. Now he was eager to see more.

Harry checked the area - no other humans around, a falcon in the sky the only movement in sight. While Cho held guard above tree level, he demonstrated the qualities of the Steel Wing in a sequence of manoeuvers, illustrating the sheer power, the fine balance, instant braking, and the other features.

Then he encouraged Sirius to stun him - more precisely, to try it.

Sirius didn't like the idea.

Harry insisted. Finally, they agreed to try it while Harry, ten yards away, only a yard above ground, was lying flat on his Steel Wing, the broomstick aimed toward Sirius.

The spells hit the broomstick all right but bounced off, deflected from the front shield.

"Okay," called Sirius, "I give up. Come over."

Harry touched down, beaming. "What do you say? Isn't that the best broomstick you ever saw?"

"Beats me," replied Sirius, "I'm no expert. But for sure I'm less worried than before about you flying around." Pointing toward Cho still up in the air, he added, "Especially in such company."

---

Then Sirius told Harry that they wouldn't see each other again for several weeks.

Cho came down to say goodbye. As Sirius was about to step into the bushes, she said, "Mr Snuffles, I'd like to ask another question. Why do you change into a dog? Isn't your new appearance safe enough?"

Sirius grinned. "It's more a matter of convenience than safety, Miss Chang: as a dog, you can walk miles effortlessly." With another step, he was gone.

Harry looked at Cho. "So - what do you think of my mysterious godfather?"

She took her time, then asked back, "Why did you tell me about him?"

"It wasn't planned that way, but then I realized that it's too complicated, always balancing with those names, against you as my team partner, especially since his name is easily confused with his colour - as a dog, I mean ... Besides, for me, secrets always have a tendency to blow in my face."

"Who knows about him?"

"Lupin was the first. Then me, Hermione, Ron, Dumbledore. Since Voldemort's back, the Weasleys and Snape ... Now you."

"Lupin? What's Lupin got to do with him?"

"That's part of the story I owe you. It's the story of four Hogwarts students - Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs. Moony is Lupin, Wormtail is - er, Pettigrew, Padfoot is Black, and Prongs - that was my father."

Cho looked thoughtful. "He's been in Azkaban for years, and then ... What made him come back? How did he manage?"

"That's all in the story, but - basically, he came back to protect me from Wormtail."

"Hasn't been too successful, has he?"

Harry's head snapped up. "He's lived off rats to be near me! Wormtail's escape - that wasn't his mistake. It was ..." He swallowed, then added, somewhat calmer, "He had a chance to kill him. It's been me who didn't let him do it."

Cho looked apologetically. "I'm sorry - I take it back ... Although it's obvious that he was right: you have to tell me that story."

"Sure - but not here."

"Harry ..." Cho hesitated. "What does he mean to you?"

"What - " Harry felt astonishment. "He's what I have of a family."

"A family? After you can count the days spent with him on one hand?"

"Yes. The Dursleys - forget them. The Weasleys - it's kind of family life with them but it's not my family. Sirius knew my parents ... Okay, maybe we've been together only for hours, but - it doesn't matter."

Cho looked away. "I know what you mean."

---

After a moment of silence, Harry asked, "Ready to fly back?"

Cho's look returned to him, a warm smile on her face. "Wait a second, Harry - I guess one trust's worth another."

Harry didn't know what she meant. He watched as Cho reached into her coat and came up with a thing that looked like a glove, only longer. Her left hand went through, then it was at her left sleeve.

She stared into the sky, Harry' glance following hers. Next second, he was startled as a shrill whistle cut through the air.

For seconds, nothing happened.

Then Harry saw it - the falcon was falling from the sky like a stone! No - not like a stone, yet still a controlled dive, wings folded, only the tail feathers steering. When he was sure the bird would crash into the ground, or into Cho, the mighty wings came out, slowing the fall - an instant later, the outstretched legs landed on Cho's outstretched arm. It was still a considerable impact, but Cho seemed used to it as she balanced out with a short bending of her knees.

She looked at Harry, beaming. "Here, that's my surprise of the day. What do you say - isn't she magnificent?"

Harry examined the falcon, which was staring back at him. Dark, almost black feathers, except at the throat and in the face, which showed a light brown ... not brown - bronze, bronze like ...

His eyes wide, Harry whispered, "Cho, is this ..."

Her face was radiant. "Yes, Harry - that's Al! What do you think why I've been so quick figuring out the connection between Black and that dog? I'm so used to Animagi, it's quite natural to me."

Teasing, she added, "Yesterday, we gave you all the information, only you didn't get it right."

Harry protested, "For a moment, the thought crossed my mind - except that I couldn't see how Astronomy would fit to it, while for werewolves, that's an obvious topic."

Cho laughed. "Listen, nobody needs Astronomy to learn about full moon and new moon. We're used to it all our life. But for a bird, crossing through the night sky - I mean for a bird who's not a real bird, knowing the constellations is extremely important for proper navigation."

"Constellations?" Harry felt stupid. "And we do them for months - Ron can't get enough of them ..." Another thought crossed his mind. "Is she - er, is Al registered as Animagus?"

Pride was bursting out of Cho. "That's the punch line, Harry - yes, she's registered, but only as an owl!"

"How ..."

He didn't know what to ask, but Cho was eager to explain. "The first shape Al managed in her project was an owl - for her, it had to be a bird, and owls - somehow that seemed the natural choice. But that was only the first major goal, mastering an Animagus act. The next she did was the second obvious choice - now, Harry, what could that be?"

Harry was lost. "Tell me."

"Dummy - yesterday you saw it all over, remember? The Ravenclaw emblem - a bronze eagle!"

He had to admit, it was quite obvious - provided you could think quickly enough in such strange concepts.

"Then we realized that an eagle is just too big - not for her, but for me; she was too heavy on my arm. That's why she developed another variation for the day, close enough to the eagle but just the proper size for someone of my proportions ... Don't you dare laugh!"

Cho didn't need to worry, he felt no such temptation, just kept looking admiringly at the falcon. "Can she do still more shapes?"

"Not yet, but she's working on it. The next won't be a bird, that's all I'm supposed to say."

Was Almyra trying to become a werewolf? The thought was somehow impossible, but then, who would think of an Animagus with more than one shape? How did it look when the falcon became Almyra?

"Would ... Would you ask her to change? - Here, I mean?"

Cho grinned. "You could ask her as well by yourself, Harry, although the answer would be no. Almyra says - changing, somehow that's like undressing in public."