Rating:
PG-13
House:
Schnoogle
Ships:
Cho Chang/Harry Potter Hermione Granger/Viktor Krum Original Female Witch/Ron Weasley
Characters:
Harry Potter
Genres:
Action Suspense
Era:
The Harry Potter at Hogwarts Years
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire
Stats:
Published: 02/06/2003
Updated: 02/18/2003
Words: 264,404
Chapters: 34
Hits: 87,813

Harry Potter and the Flying Squad

Horst Pollmann

Story Summary:
Fifth year in Hogwarts. Even before terms start, Harry is involved in the defence against an evil attack from the Dark Forces, something which ``later will be called 'The Hogwarts Express Accident' ...``In Hogwarts, many things are different - most of all, the joining of all four``Quidditch teams in the 'Flying Squad', for patrol and exploration services.``For Harry, this looks like a path toward Cho Chang, except that - well, ``maybe this should really be left to the story itself ...``At any rate, expect Giants, Goblins, and house-elves to play their roles in ``this fic - as well as some new characters.

Chapter 34 - A Long Year's End

Chapter Summary:
Harry has to give lots of interviews - first to Rita Skeeter, then to Almyra, and finally to lots of teachers. For his O.W.L.s, of course. This done, he can listen to the Headmaster when Dumbledore awards the last points in the House Cup. Very surprising ones, actually ... And then the Hogwarts Express is there ...
Posted:
02/18/2003
Hits:
2,267
Author's Note:
If this fic is truly English, then it's thanks to the efforts of two people:

34 - A Long Year's End

After the recent days, which had brought moments that had lasted an eternity, the final weeks of the Hogwarts school year went by at an incredible speed. They were filled with work, work, and more work.

Not all of the work was stressful in a physical way, certainly not as much as the learning sessions, which lasted until Harry's head felt like fuming. Sometimes he wished it really would.

For example, when Rita Skeeter arrived for the next interview.

The start of their cooperation had been a bit edgy. Rita had come rushing through the hall to his seat. "Harry - your Cho's refusing to sit an interview."

"That's correct. By the way, she's her own Cho."

The second half of his remark seemed wasted on the press witch. Rita Skeeter had snapped, "I thought we had a deal."

"Yes, we do - the interviews can start as soon as we see a writing quill."

"I said you'd get it. I stand by my word."

Harry arched his eyebrows. "No doubt about that, Rita - except you didn't say when."

Was she smiling, or going to bite?

"Charming little b ... I'll be back."

She'd come back, with the quill. Since then, Ron was floating in Heaven, only muttering whenever Harry or Hermione wanted the quill for their O.W.L. work. When Hermione suggested a direct pipeline from the nearest ink factory to Ron's office, his only reply was, "Good idea - if we can afford the monthly fee."

Also since then, Rita Skeeter had been pestering them no end. She certainly got her share of the deal. Luckily, Harry's friends didn't complain to him, first because he was suffering at least as much as any of the others, and also because Ron was always on alert to hush them up.

However, it was Ron himself who asked, "Harry, what's the difference between Rita Skeeter and a harpy?"

"Hmm ... Maybe none?"

"Oh yes, there is: harpies come in pairs."

Harry took pains not to read the articles in the Daily Prophet. It was definitely better that way; otherwise, the next interview might have turned even more unpleasant. Once, Sirius showed him one of the acceptable outpourings, a very interesting one since Harry couldn't remember any interview that might have provided the source material for the printed result.

Fudge Doesn't Budge

While the political pressure is rising by the hour, Cornelius Fudge, the how-long-still head of the Ministry of Magic, has lost even the tiny momentum he managed in the past - for example, at dinner banquets. At the same time, betting offices in Diagon Alley are doing business around the clock, offering bids for the day and the hour when this caricature of a politician will resign. The best odds, nine-hundred to one, are offered for his stay - if you want to lose money, dear reader, go for that.

Asked where he would place his own money, Harry Potter, famous already for his defeating Voldemort and more famous soon for his key role in the fall of Fudge, said, "I'm not bidding. I would depend on something Fudge has to do - an absurd idea. A year ago, I told him the names of all the dark wizards I saw with Voldemort, and nothing happened. Some days ago, they came and killed my friend, and Fudge is still in office. I can't believe it. But while he's still around, ask him where he placed his own. All I bet is - Fudge will make money from his own dismissal."

The Ministry spokeswitch refused to comment on that. The way we read this, Fudge No-Budge is sharing his odds with nobody.

But it worked. At the end of the third week, it was Sirius again who broke the news, returning from a three-day trip to London. "Harry, it's done. Fudge has resigned."

"Great ... Whoever is next, at least that awful Skeeter woman won't be around any longer." Then Harry remembered the press campaign's second goal. "What about you? Is your name cleared?"

There was a strange expression on Sirius' face. "Yes," he said, "shining like a badge. I owe you and the others, Harry."

"No you don't - it was more than due. Who'll be the new minister?"

"Well, we're going to see a big shifting of chairs, and a few people will take the opportunity and balance out old accounts, so Fudge's not the only one whose head is rolling. By the way, Percy Weasley will be officially assigned for what he's been doing all the time already."

"And Arthur Weasley?"

"Keeps his job ..." Seeing Harry's disappointment, Sirius explained, "He wasn't interested in the thin air higher up."

Sirius seemed surprisingly well informed about the pulls and ties in the Ministry. A moment later, Harry noticed that his question hadn't been answered, which seemed hardly by accident.

"If you know that much," he pressed further, "then you certainly know who'll win the race."

"There's little doubt that it'll be the former head of the Department of Magical Catastrophes. He's kind of a hardliner, but we'll see a movement toward law and order - an obvious effect from the events. And the head of the Law Enforcement Squad, who belongs to that department, will become the new department boss."

Harry watched Sirius' face. "And who'll take over the Enforcement Squad?"

"Erm - that's me, actually."

Harry felt a wave of joy and pride. "Wow! Then you'll get your own Steel Wing, won't you?"

"Maybe." Sirius smiled. "Harry - basically I'll be a police chief, so most of the time I'll be behind a desk. But to some degree, you're right - certain people will be surprised about the places where the police chief will be seen."

Only then, Harry became aware what it meant.

Sirius said, "Look - the past weeks have been anything but normal, and I'm not built for teaching at Hogwarts. But I'll be around every now and then - Harry, I'm sure we can see each other more often than before."

"Where will you take your residence? How do you - "

"A house goes with the job - quite nice, actually, much too big for a single person. I think I should have a look around." Sirius smiled.

Harry remembered the Firebolt, bought from an account that might as well have been down to zero afterwards. "Do ... do you have money, Sirius?"

His godfather laughed. "Don't worry - another side-effect of the campaign was compensation for the time in Azkaban. They'll pay me back five Galleons per day spent in prison - enough for any household I might have in mind."

Harry tried to calculate.

Sirius saw it. "About twenty-two thousand, and the salary for a police chief is enough that I won't be tempted to look for bribes."

Harry laughed. "You and bribes."

"It's a slippery ground, Harry." Sirius was no longer smiling. "Nobody's going to offer something as blunt as money, at least not in the first place. But imagine - some day you get an invitation to a weekend in some fancy villa, and it's very nice, and suddenly there's a girl at your side who finds everything you say great ... That's how it starts."

Harry stared.

Sirius' grin returned. "Not your problem, Harry - and I'll be careful."

* * *

Invitations ... contrary to what Sirius had said, there was indeed an invitation which caused Harry trouble. Fleur kept pressing - very nicely, but also very insistently. Eventually, they agreed to a Sunday afternoon, from coffee till late evening - Harry and Cho, Ron and Janine, though Hermione couldn't find the time, despite the writing quill.

And of course Bill and Fleur.

And Nagini.

Gabrielle inspected the snake with limited interest - for her, it was just another pet animal, not much different from Harry's arm. Harry would score better with his own transfiguration, as the girl made clear while pointing out that her own career at Beauxbatons would start soon, and her shape would be a horse, what else, and it was to be expected any time, once she had settled there.

Monsieur Delacour nodded. "Yes, my sweetie, and then you'll let Harry ride on your back."

This was a new thought for Gabrielle, one that had to be pondered carefully before agreeing.

When Harry told her how he and Cho had fought Voldemort, he became Gabrielle's shining hero again - until she heard that Voldemort had escaped. Her disappointment was unmistakable. "How could you, 'arry?"

He shrugged. "I think it wasn't the right time yet. Sometimes, you have to do one step after the other - imagine, your first transfiguration gets you a horse head and nothing else."

Gabrielle giggled. "An inverse Centaur - that would look funny." At least, she seemed to accept that even heroes, and maybe herself included, had to try more than once.

Monsieur Delacour had obviously followed the press campaign, or the echo that was reverberating in French newspapers. He said, "Your godfather is going to be the chief of police, 'arry - what does that mean to you?"

"His name is clean - that's the good part. Maybe he can earn a reputation of his own. Otherwise - he'll be far away, although we never saw each other very often."

Madame Delacour asked, "Does he already know how to handle those prisoners in your school?"

"That will be his first major task, and not a simple one ... Aside from that, all I know is, as long as Sirius has a say, there'll never be a prison guarded by Dementors."

* * *

Interviews with Rita Skeeter weren't the only ones. But the other interviews happened less frequently, and Harry could be sure that the quill would write down what he'd said: those with Almyra.

Their first act was to repeat the interview about his accident at the age of one. From Harry's perspective, that session wasn't a failure, but no success either. He didn't learn anything new. A green flash, the voices - that was all. Also, he was unable to come up with an early image of his parents; since he'd seen them coming out of Voldemort's wand, that image dominated everything.

Then, still with Dumbledore around, they tried another trance. The effect was null. He lost no contact, no vision, no orientation.

"That's what I expected," said Harry. "Nagini's here - so where should I go?"

Almyra asked, "And what if she's in another room?"

"Oh, drop it! I'm sure, if she was sufficiently far away, I'd travel again, only then her signal would be loud and clear."

Since the dragon meat feeding, Nagini showed a different personality. Talkative, joyful - Harry would have felt little surprise hearing her telling jokes, although she assured him that this was impossible for her, after he'd explained to her what a joke was.

Once, she gave a very decent and careful hint about feeling healthy enough to survive a life of freedom.

Harry asked, "Do you want such a life?"

"No, Master. I only told you because originally you didn't intend to take me."

"Yeah - long ago, wasn't it? Anyway, this issue is settled, although it's good to know you won't starve if something happens."

The presence of Nagini added a completely new twist to Almyra's study. Suddenly, control was the focus, or the absence of it, owing to the involuntary nature of his Parseltongue.

Almyra asked him to speak English with Nagini. Try as he might, he couldn't. Then she asked him to speak Parseltongue with herself. It didn't work any better. Then she put Nagini around her shoulders and asked him to try again. He obeyed - speaking English to Almyra and Parseltongue to the snake.

Harry didn't care. For him, the only important aspect was that he addressed his conversation partners with the proper language, something he hadn't managed similarly well before Nagini's arrival, or not at all.

Almyra speculated whether he could speak Parseltongue to another person with this ability, in particular if this person addressed him that way.

"The only one that comes to my mind is Voldemort," replied Harry. "Aside from the obvious problem - assuming he also doesn't realize what language he's using - then how should we know?

"Cho says on the ship both of you were speaking English."

"Sure, because she was around ... Al, I think that's a dead end - after all, if it wasn't involuntary, I wouldn't be here."

"You're right." Almyra dismissed her speculations with a sigh. "Well, then - all that's missing is an interview with Nagini. After that, we're done."

"Oh ..."

"Yes, oh ..." Looking as embarrassed as Harry felt, Almyra added, "But we're both still around, aren't we?"

"Sure. I still have to finish my Parseltongue O.W.L., and I wouldn't mind some help when choosing the proper pieces from your work."

Almyra beamed. "I'd like it, Harry - after the interview with Nagini."

"Here she is - go ahead, ask her."

Almyra laughed. "I'd like to see your face if I did."

"Why - I wouldn't notice the difference anyway, remember?"

A few days later, Harry translated for Almyra, remembering the scene with Fleur on the Beauxbatons stage, and feeling a twist in his stomach when he became aware that she'd done so for Hagrid and Charlie, both of them dead. Well - if there was a dark spell on translations, it didn't affect the translator.

Almyra wanted to know how it was for Nagini to talk. Normal, said the snake. Could she distinguish between English and Parseltongue? Easily, because she understood the one but didn't speak the other. How did Parselmouths feel to her? Different, simply because they were the only candidates for a master. Otherwise, the emotions Nagini felt were stronger than alterations in language. Did she know a common factor among Parselmouths? No. Did she know how someone could become a Parselmouth? No. What was her own comment on Harry's ability? It was inevitable, although the greatest luck that could happen to her.

Almyra got excited. Why was it inevitable?

Because it was bound to happen, that was all Nagini knew. Could she look into the future? Yes.

Almyra got thrilled.

What did she see? The inevitable. What was inevitable? The end of Voldemort. Could she see details, events, dates? No.

Almyra calmed down. "My feeling tells me there's more - except I just can't find a way to ask the proper questions."

Harry said, "Al, please be careful with this information. The last thing I need is another round of interviews, this time with Professor Trelawney."

* * *

There was still another loose end Harry wanted to tie up - the Ollivander essay. He no longer felt the need for a visit to the National Library; all things considered, he certainly had enough material for his O.W.L. However, politeness demanded a letter to Mr Ollivander.

He wrote the events down - it was really fun with the writing quill, except that the letter didn't bear any resemblance to his handwriting, but looked a bit like Ron's. Was the quill adapting to the most frequent user?

He found Almyra. "Al - I'd like to send this letter."

She smiled. "A pleasure - we'll go flying this evening."

"Huh?"

"Well - I'll turn and come back after a few miles."

With a mix of amusement and sympathy, Harry watched Almyra's nervousness until Hedwig was back three days later. She had a letter from Mr Ollivander.

Dear Mr Potter,
Thank you very much for your extraordinary report, which puts an entirely new light on the issue of sibling wands. I remember something similar described in the old essay - only the two wands had eaten each other until nothing was left. I have little doubt that this has to do with a very close relationship between you and the magical creature which provided the wand cores.

Thank you again for this exciting information.
Yours,
Hazelard Ollivander

Now that was interesting, and a precious piece of information to be used in his O.W.L. And three days ago, Harry had been so sure the essay couldn't tell him anything new.

But it didn't matter anymore. He had enough material; now it was time to finish the papers, which meant passing the quill between him, Ron, and Hermione or - often enough - writing with his own hand like in the bad old days.

This done, the O.W.L. exams could come.

And come they did.

* * *

When Harry entered the room for his first O.W.L. exam, the one about Giants, the first face he saw was that of Grubbly-Plank, the course teacher. To her right sat - no, floated - Professor Binns, to her left sat Harry's Head of House, Professor McGonagall.

Grubbly-Plank greeted him with a smile. "Mr Potter, please sit down. You didn't specify a Trustee for this exam, so I have to ask you now: is there a teacher of your choice who should participate, replacing one of my colleagues?"

"No, Prof. It's fine as it is."

Grubbly-Plank's lips twisted. "Good. Your topic is Giants, quite common this year, although we might expect a few less common details from you, Mr Potter. We have read your paper ..."

Toward her co-examiners, she asked, "Are there any questions left open concerning the paper?"

McGonagall shook her head.

Professor Binns looked up. "Mr Potter, I recognized significant differences in the handwriting of your paper. Do you have an explanation? Other than the obvious one, that someone else wrote it?"

This old bean-counter.

"Yes, Professor - for parts of the paper, I used a writing quill by dictating the text. Those quills don't go as far as taking over personal handwriting."

The ghost looked at Grubbly-Plank. "And this is allowed?"

It was McGonagall who answered. "Yes, Bartholomew - the rule says an O.W.L. and its document have to be the student's own work, created with the tools at hand. In short, it means that if it's your brain, the body doesn't matter."

Grubbly-Plank's lips twisted harder.

"Oh - well, then," said the airy ghost, "please go ahead."

Grubbly-Plank coughed, then she had herself again under control. "Mr Potter, how would you describe the essential nature of Giants?"

"They are ... serious. I mean, they have a sense of humour, and quite a tricky one, really, but they don't talk just to fill a silence. You have to be careful what you say - as a human, you're easily trapped by your own stupid questions. But one gets used to it. They're not narrow-minded in what you're saying, or how you say it, only that you have to be attentive with the names - with the full names, that is."

A scene surfaced in his memory. "As far as I can remember, there's just one occasion on which there's absolutely no choice of words, other than the traditional ones."

"And what occasion, Mr Potter?"

"If a Giant says to you, 'My life is in your hands, from now till death us part'."

Binns got excited. "Did you hear these words, Mr Potter?"

"Yes, Professor."

"And you answered - "

"I will save it in my heart, er - from now till death us part." Harry had skipped the name; however, Grubbly-Plank and McGonagall could guess easily.

Binns turned toward his living colleagues. "That's remarkable, extraordinary, quite extraordinary! I remember, the last time this happened between a Giant and a human was about eighteen-hundred-and - "

Grubbly-Plank tried to pat Binns' hands, and looked perplexed for an instant when her own hand hit the table. "Yes, Bartholomew, certainly - but may we continue with Mr Potter's report?"

"Oh - yes, of course, I'm really waiting to hear ..."

To Harry, the meeting hadn't felt hard from the beginning, and now the exam was easy play. If he'd known what would happen, he would have signed for a History O.W.L., to be examined after this one - with his first sentence, Binns would have been hooked.

"Thank you, Mr Potter. I'm sure my colleagues will agree with me when I say that we can skip our internal discussion: you've passed, Mr Potter, quite excellently so."

"Definitely," agreed Binns.

McGonagall just beamed.

* * *

Number two, following the sequence in which Harry had listed his O.W.L.s on the sign-up parchment, was about unforgivable curses and sibling wands. As he entered the room, he was a little anxious to see the third teacher besides Drilencu and Dumbledore.

It was Snape - a smiling Snape.

"Mr Potter," began the Bulgarian, "welcome to our circle. Your Trustee is Professor Dumbledore, who's present, so would you say the appointments are correct?"

Harry grinned toward Drilencu. "Yes, Prof."

"Fine. Then let's come to your paper, which is a very interesting document. I saw something like a last-minute addendum to the topic of sibling wands. Just out of curiosity, Mr Potter - what was the reason?

"Well - there's an old essay about sibling wands, written by someone in the Ollivander dynasty, and the only known sample left is in the - "

Drilencu stopped him. "We know about it, Mr Potter, and that it was impossible for you to have a look into that document - "

Harry interrupted Drilencu. "Yes, Prof, but I got a letter from the current Mr Ollivander, and this information caused me to extend my paper - sorry, I wasn't able to rewrite it completely."

Drilencu smiled. "That's accepted, Mr Potter - still more so as the information is absolutely fascinating, considering your own experience ... However, let's do it in the proper sequence."

Reading in Harry's paper, Drilence said, "Regarding unforgivable curses in general, I suggest to keep the topic rather short. But there's one question I'd like to ask. Mr Potter, you claim to be immune from the Imperius Curse, listing as proof that even Voldemort wasn't successful when trying."

"Yes, Prof."

Drilencu looked up. "Would you allow me to try, Mr Potter?"

Harry's answer came immediately. "Sure - I mean, yes, Prof."

Drilencu smiled. "Thank you, Mr Potter. In this case, we can skip it - I wouldn't claim a stronger curse than Professor Snape, who told me about your training. But I would like to know how you'd response to a curse from Professor Dumbledore - certainly one of your most trusted persons."

"Absolutely ... Yes, I'd like to know for myself."

Dumbledore shrugged. "Well, then ..." He aimed his wand at Harry. "Imperio!"

Harry felt dizzy, not well at all - had he drunk too much champagne? Couldn't be, he wasn't that stupid, only ... Dumbledore looked a bit funny, but still funnier was that he told Harry to hit Drilencu on the nose. There'd been a time when this seemed a good idea, but now?

"No, why should I?"

An instant later, his vision cleared. Dumbledore looked normal again, except for the unusually wide grin on his face.

Drilencu seemed impressed. "Thank you, Mr Potter - as far as I'm concerned, your claim is proven beyond any doubt. Well, if there's nothing else in the range of the three curses, we can come to the more - "

"Excuse me, Prof, but there's something else."

Drilencu looked surprised. "Really? There's nothing in your paper ... What is it, Mr Potter?"

"That's because I just didn't know how to formulate it. It has also to do with sibling wands, or with my new one ... I can do the Killing Curse, without having mastered it."

Drilencu stared at him. "You can ..."

"Yes, Prof."

"This isn't an assumption - you know it?"

Dumbledore came to help. "One of the Firebolt attackers who had survived, although with a broken spine - actually, it was Geoff McKinnon - asked Harry to end his, how he put it, 'messed-up life'. As it turns out, the changed wand enables Harry to perform a successful Killing Curse."

Snape's eyes, which had widened when McKinnon's name was mentioned, looked at Harry with sympathy.

Drilencu swallowed. "Yes, Mr Potter, you're right - an O.W.L. paper isn't the best place for such details. Anyway, I'm sure the best procedure is to let you give a short summary of the first encounter of the sibling wands, and describe the second encounter on the ship in more detail."

Harry did as ordered.

"... then I found out how I can reduce the super wand to my old one, and was quite glad because it's a bit strong." He illustrated his explanation by performing the change on his wand. "And then I got Mr Ollivanders letter, in which he describes that in a similar case the two wands destroyed each other completely."

Drilencu asked, "What is your own explanation for the different results, Mr Potter?"

"I have none, Prof. Mr Ollivander thinks it has to do with the relationship to the magical creature that provided the core. This would mean that, in the other case, both opponents didn't give a d - um, didn't care about the creature."

"And you do, while Voldemort didn't?"

"Yes, I think that's correct."

Drilencu's face indicated that thinking aloud in an O.W.L. exam wasn't exactly to his taste, regardless of the circumstances. "For your own part," he said, "you can certainly confirm or deny, can't you?"

"Oh, yes, Professor - it's Fawkes, and we're indeed very close."

Dumbledore smiled. "To say the least ... I might be able to cover the other side: when Voldemort was still Tom Riddle, there was nothing that indicated any particular feeling from him to Fawkes, or the other way around. I remember every student to whom Fawkes would come as soon as that student entered the room, simply because there a very, very few. Riddle was not one of them."

Drilencu seemed fascinated. "I'm no expert in magical history, but assuming that Mr Ollivander is our best source, I come to the result that recent events break new ground in the scientific knowledge about wands."

He turned to Harry. "Mr Potter, what you have revealed goes beyond the scope of the course for which I'm the teacher, but I'm certainly glad that you placed your O.W.L. here, so I could watch and listen. By the way, of course you've passed the exam ..."

* * *

The same room, two hours later.

Drilencu was still the course teacher, while the two co-examiners of the previous round had been replaced by Lupin, as agreed, and by a totally unexpected teacher: Professor Trelawney!

Harry looked at Drilencu, at Trelawney, back at Drilencu, and suddenly he had trouble hiding a grin - of course, it had been around Drilencu's arrival when the long-legged witch had started to join the teachers' table more often than ever before - quite regularly, actually.

Drilencu saw Harry's expression, but kept his own steady. "Mr Potter - here we go again. This time, your Trustee is Professor Lupin, who's present, while Professor Trelawney was very interested in your Patronus. I hope the appointment is to your satisfaction."

Harry tried to make his grin look like a smile. "Certainly, Prof."

With the sweetest face, the Divination witch said, "My dear, this O.W.L. was absolutely irresistible - I simply had to come."

Harry couldn't resist. "Because of the Patronus, Prof?"

Lupin examined the table, with his two hands hiding the lower part of his face.

"Yes, it was the Patronus, too," replied Trelawney, "but I have to admit ..."

Would she?

"... all my predictions concerning you, my dear, failed miserably, as we both know well, and such a cumulation of fate against all odds is so highly unusual - I'm really looking forward to what will take place here."

"Oh." Recovering from his surprise, Harry said, "Actually, I for my part hoped everything would go as planned."

"Of course, my dear, I'm sure it - no, after all, I shouldn't say that, should I?"

Somehow, nobody in this room seemed to take the event seriously - until Harry described the exact nature of the memory he used for his Patronus. He hadn't liked the idea, however, as Lupin's example had shown so undeniably, the memory was essential for a Golden Patronus to a degree that he hadn't seen another choice.

Then Lupin walked to the back of the room and took a cover from a rack. What came into light was a motionless Dementor.

"Yes, Harry - our one-time training object. That's the best we could muster."

Harry glanced at the hooded shape, back at Lupin. "Prof - it doesn't feel cold. There's no feeling at all."

"I know, but I tested it - it works."

"Oh - well, then." Harry took his wand, aimed it at the motionless shape, and concentrated. The arc resurfaced in his mind. "Expecto Patronum!"

A golden ball erupted from the tip like a projectile and formed a Centaur as if cast under high pressure. The Centaur took a step forward.

Harry stared. So breathtakingly quick ...

The Centaur turned to him. "There's no danger, Master. Shall I make an end to him?"

Harry's mouth fell open.

Recovering, he saw Lupin's head shaking, and said, "No - leave him as he is, but thank you anyway."

"I'm honoured, Master." With a graceful bow, the Centaur disappeared.

"Oh, my dear - it was so wonderful!" Trelawney's eyes were shining.

Harry stammered, "That ..." He looked at Drilencu. "I didn't expect that ... It was ..."

Lupin came to him. "Harry ... Yes, I knew it - your wand!"

"My ..." Harry stared at his wand - so very familiar, except for the black top. "Stupid of me - of course, the super wand."

Drilencu beamed at Trelawney, then turned to his candidate. "Mr Potter, I don't know exactly what's coincidence here - was it your encounter with the power of Divination, or this awe-inspiring wand? All I know for sure - you have passed."

* * *

It took Harry a second to realize why Viktor was sitting there, framed by Madam Hooch and the Astrology witch, Professor Sinistra. Then he remembered - Viktor had been the course teacher starting a few weeks ago.

"Hello, Harry." Viktor seemed almost embarrassed. "I'm certainly more excited than you - if my counting's right, you've done more O.W.L.s as a candidate than I did as a teacher. Anyway, you didn't specify a Trustee, so - is this round okay with you?"

Harry grinned. "Yes, Prof."

"Stop that nonsense - I'm nervous enough, without you teasing me ..."

"Sorry, er - Viktor."

Inwardly, Harry exhaled with relief. The Transportation O.W.L. was his weak spot, at least compared to the others. Seeing Viktor opposite the table reminded him of Hermione, and he wondered how she was doing - for her, only the Potions O.W.L. would pass itself, while the other seven had to be the result of hard work.

"Okay," said Viktor, "from my point of view, we can skip the Steel Wing part completely - there's no sense in telling each other what we know by heart ..."

Harry froze. Viktor was crushing his only solid bastion and didn't even notice!

"... but that might not be true for all of us." Viktor looked at the Astronomy witch. "What's your opinion, Selena?"

"To be honest - I hoped to learn a bit more about them. I've recently heard the wildest rumours about their capabilities."

"Then, of course, if that's fine with you, Harry."

Harry nodded, seeing Madam Hooch suppress a grin. She had seen through him from the day he'd signed up for the topic.

"Well," he began, "Steel Wing Mark Two, a prototype model which never has been used anywhere else, as far as we know. It's about twice as fast as the fastest broomstick commonly available, which is the Firebolt. But speed is just one aspect - there are other features which definitely prevent a Steel Wing from ever being used in a Quidditch match ..."

He stopped when Professor Sinistra signaled that he'd delivered enough details. "One thing's still unclear to me," said the witch. "How did we get them, if they're not available anywhere else?"

Viktor answered. "Officially, from an anonymous sponsor. But we know that the Goblins gave them to us, in the course of our united fight against the Dark Forces."

"Oh, I see. Thank you, Viktor, and Mr Potter - this was very informative."

Madam Hooch smiled. "Time's running short, Mr Potter - but I'd like to hear your judgment about broomsticks as a transportation device in general - maybe with an example outside the range of racing or combat broomsticks."

She looked as if she was saying, 'You'll get your result, but only after a bit more needling than from the other two.'

Time running short was music in Harry's ears. "In general," he said, "well, it has a few severe shortcomings. If you take, for example, the Omniair DS Twenty-Seven, probably one of the best family broomsticks money can buy, you see that it's badly suited for children. Only with a safety belt, which is not part of the regular equipment, you can - "

"Okay, Mr Potter" - Madam Hooch grinned appreciatingly - "you've done your homework - very good."

Yeah, thought Harry, though it was more French-castle-work than homework.

Viktor looked at his co-examiners. "Well, then - Sylvie, Selena, are we done?"

They nodded.

"All right - Harry, it's over, you've passed."

* * *

"Listen," said Harry to Nagini, who had herself curled around his body, "this is the one that counts - let's make a good impression."

"Certainly, Master."

He opened the door and entered the room.

There were Professor McGonagall, this time in the middle, then Grubbly-Plank, now to her right, and the small Herbology witch, Professor Sprout - only women, looking in his direction, although not at him, their attention completely caught by the snake.

"Mr Potter," said his Head of House, "how thoughtful of you, to appear with the proper - er, snake, and such a beautiful example, really - " McGonagall stopped and looked startled as Nagini was hissing in Harry's ear. "Did she ... did she say something to you, Mr Potter?"

"Yes, Prof."

"May we hear it?"

Harry blushed. "Er - yes, of course. You know, Nagini can sense truth and - er, well, she said you weren't being honest - um, in fact, you were a bit frightened ... Sorry, that's what she said."

The impossible happened: McGonagall giggled.

Grubbly-Plank came to help. "Mr Potter, it shouldn't be entirely new to you that your unusual ability is sometimes a bit rasping on the nerves - in particular when listening to you speak that language."

"Yes, Prof, I know - but I can't hear it, to me it sounds like perfectly normal English, no matter who's speaking, Nagini or I."

McGonagall had found her balance. "We know, Mr Potter. Concerning the basic facts, I'd say your paper covers them well enough ..." She browsed through the pile. "The descriptions here are well - er, selected ..."

She blinked. Next second, Nagini hissed again.

Quickly, McGonagall said, "So I suggest to concentrate on your - er, partnership with the snake. I think that's the proper word, after you have stated clearly in your paper that she isn't a pet animal. And on her astonishing abilities."

"Yes, Prof - although I should point out immediately that these abilities are of course dominated by her own view. To give an example, Nagini calls a lie a lie - for her, it doesn't matter whether it's a joke ..."

"... or a polite formulation," helped McGonagall.

"Er - yes, or a flat-out false statement fully on purpose. However, from the time we met until today I've beeb seeing changes - although I'm not sure whether it's her, learning concepts like humour, for example, or it's me, learning to know her better. At any rate, a true distinction between good and evil is still beyond her scope. She knows the concept of mercy, but her perspective might sound quite awful to us."

"Do you have an example, Mr Potter?"

"Well, most of her experience results from her former master, which is Voldemort, and that's why she might consider killing someone as an act of mercy."

Carefully, McGonagall said, "Sometimes, we have the same view."

"Yes, Prof - but only if the person asks for it."

McGonagall saved further comments while Harry described Nagini's view of the world in general and of humans in particular.

Grubbly-Plank asked, "Can she be violent?"

"Definitely ... She's not poisonous, as far as I know; her technique would be strangling, but in this like in any other aspect, she puts herself totally under her master's control."

"Which is you - so we'd better let you pass, right?"

Harry grinned. Nagini kept silent.

Professor Sprout asked, "What does she eat, Mr Potter?"

"Oh, this and that - mostly mice. Lately, she has developed a tendency to hunt by herself - it's surprising how many mice can be found at Hogwarts - "

"Not at all," muttered Grubbly-Plank.

" - but I've found two suppliers, a cat and and owl."

"An owl?" asked Professor Sprout. "How's that?"

"Well - not really. It's Almyra Benedict - she likes hunting, too, but she prefers the food on the Ravenclaw table."

"And the cat?"

Sensing the glance of her colleague, McGonagall said hastily, "It's not me, Jesamine - beware!"

Now Harry giggled. "No - it's Crookshanks, Hermione's cat."

"Good, Mr Potter. If you could give us an example of a conversation with the snake, then I think we're done."

"Yes, Prof." Harry looked at Nagini. "All right, pal - I guess we're through. What do you think of the three witches?"

"The one in the middle has lost some of her fright, Master. But she's still watchful, in both of her shapes. The one at the left is very self-confident - by the way, she has also more than one shape - "

"Really?" Surprised, Harry stared at Grubbly-Plank.

Seeing his stare, the witch said, "I'm not sure whether I should ask, but - is something wrong, Mr Potter?"

"No - it's just ... Well, as I mentioned earlier, Nagini can see Animagi - "

Grubbly-Plank blushed. "Of course - I forgot. Erm, yes, I have to admit, I'm working on it, only - "

"Prof - for her, you already have two shapes."

Grubbly-Plank beamed. "Oh, really? Now that's good to know, then ... Did she tell you which?"

"No - and I didn't ask. I don't know even whether she can see them - so far, there was no need."

Grubbly-Plank seemed relieved. "Then, just as an act of courtesy, Mr Potter - let's leave it that way."

"Yes, of course, Prof."

McGonagall said, "I'm sure my colleagues agree, Mr Potter - before Nagini unveils our most intimate secrets, you've passed."

"Thank you, Prof."

Walking out, Harry had to fight the temptation to ask Nagini what shape she'd seen, winning only just.

* * *

It was over - he'd passed five O.W.L. exams, and the single one that had made him sweat had been Viktor; only Professor Sinistra's curiosity had saved him from a lot of teasing by Madam Hooch, and from something the students had started to call grace of the lord.

Listening around, Harry could hear about quite a number of grace of the lord decisions. The term showed a remarkable example of bad taste - after the recent events, in which the fifth-years had participated in the fight against Lord Voldemort and his cohortes, the teachers simply couldn't let anyone fail.

Ron arrived. Harry asked, "How was it?"

"Whew - better than expected. Dragons was a bit tricky, until I told the story with the dragon meat for your snake - don't know why, but suddenly Grubbly-Plank was all smiles."

Harry laughed. "But I know."

Ron glanced at him. "Except you're not supposed to tell - I can see it in your face. Anyway, it worked. And can you imagine? Of all the teachers, it's Viktor who's giving me hell? Squeezing me like - "

"You too? He did almost the same with me - it was only thanks to Sinistra that I could spend most of my time about Steel Wings."

"Sinistra was nice." Ron gave him a haughty grin. "The other two didn't have the foggiest idea about star constellations and light speed. It was almost as easy as Administration."

"Who were the teachers?"

"Dumbledore, that was already decided." Ron's grin turned malicious. "Guess who he appointed as numbers two and three? Filch and Loew! It was great, just great - Dumbledore and I had a nice chat, Loew sitting there and listening like a first-year, and Filch sweating as if he was the one who had to pass the exam. Well, I guess that was exactly what Dumbledore had in mind."

Then Ron registered Harry's thoughtful face. "Everything okay?"

"Yes ..."

"Then why are you looking as if Drilencu's cut you short by two?"

"He didn't, although it was in his exam that something happened." Harry grinned. "Guess who's been number three in the Patronus O.W.L.?"

"Trelawney?"

"Yes - and she said something like whenever she predicted what would happen to me, she was wrong - "

"Well, at least she got that right."

" - and then she said, but this exam would certainly go as planned, only she shouldn't say so, and of course - by accident, I used the power version of my wand for the Patronus."

"What happened?"

"The Centaur talked to me."

Ron started to laugh, couldn't stop. "So you - heehee - now you can speak Centauri - heeheehee - is it Alpha Centauri or Omega Centauri?"

Harry managed to answer, "No, just English," before drowning in his own fit of giggles.


They had to wait still a while before Hermione arrived, looking exhausted, but with shining eyes.

"Hey, champion - finished?"

"Yup." Hermione fell down onto a chair, deep satisfaction in her face. "Eight O.W.L.s, and I did it - I really, really, did it ..." Only now, she seemed to realize what she had achieved. There was disbelief in her eyes, a moment later replaced by ...

"Well," she said, "if I'd known how things would go, I should have signed up for nine."

"What??"

"Yes - with Quidditch as the ninth."

Ron stared at her. "Are you mad? You don't know Quidditch from Queen's quark, so what do you - "

"Maybe not." Hermione barely noticed the insult. "But I know the Quidditch teacher."

"Viktor!" Ron spat the name out.

This time, Ron's remark had an effect: Hermione's head jerked up. "What's that supposed to mean? Yes, Viktor - "

"Your little Viktor was grilling us worse than all the others! Unbelievable - as if we'd never run a Squad together. You're lucky you didn't try - the closer the acquaintance, the - "

"HE'S NOT LITTLE ..."

Heads were turning.

"... and what do you mean, run a Squad together? If my memory's correct, there's just one Squad commander, and his name isn't Ron Weasley, is it?"

"Oh, the lily-white lady of the limp-walker has been - "

"STOP IT!"

Ron and Hermione stared - Harry's wand was pointing in their general direction.

"If you don't stop right now," Harry snarled, "honest to God, I'm doing it for both of you. And you know that you're chanceless against this thing."

Their glances went to the black tip, then back to Harry's furious face.

"Ron?"

It wasn't fright, only the certain knowledge that Harry would do it. "I'm sorry, I take it back. He's not limping, and he's not little - a bit dainty, yes ..."

A giggle rose in Harry, but he swallowed it. "Hermione?"

"I didn't say anything that wasn't - okay, yes, it's true: without Ron's office work, the Squad schedule would have been a mess in no time."

"All right." Harry exhaled, trying to cope with his own adrenaline, then turned to Hermione. "What Ron was trying to point out, it might be a good idea telling Viktor that students in an O.W.L. exam don't mind at all talking about what everybody knows - because then for sure they know, too." He told Hermione what had happened in his Transportation exam.

She giggled. "That's good to know. You're my witness, Harry - if the need comes up."

"Need for what?"

"Well ..." Hermione blushed a bit. "You may have heard about a regulation dealing with - er, terms between teachers and students. Now - I'm out of Quidditch for sure, but if the issue is ever discussed, I can say Viktor's meanest to those close to him - ask Harry."

* * *

Listening to Dumbledore's words, Harry studied the decorations in the Great Hall for the end-of-term feast. It wasn't that they looked bad, but white? By tradition, the winner of the House Cup determined the colours and symbols, except no house used white.

So the House points weren't complete yet - small surprise, after so many events that cried for the awarding of points. And obviously, Dumbledore wasn't ready to give any hints by the colour of the decoration.

"... recent events had their impact not only here at Hogwarts but also, and even more, at Durmstrang. This is the reason why Professor Drilencu, our Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, has asked for dismissal. He wants to return and help get rid of the last dark traces on the Durmstrang board of teachers."

Dumbledore smiled. "What he didn't say, but what I'm proud to announce is this: there's little doubt that Professor Drilencu will be the new Headmaster of Durmstrang."

The applause was - well, polite.

"Do I hear some restraint? It can't apply to his person, can it?"

The new applause was considerably stronger.

The Headmaster looked satisfied. "So it's because of Durmstrang, quite understandably so. Well, to change this attitude, Professor Drilencu promised that his first task as the new Headmaster will be the implementation of a portkey link with our own school, which means that the three major schools for witchcraft in Europe will be united soon."

And finally, Drilencu received a roaring cheer.

The large Bulgarian stood up. "Thank you. I know what I'm doing to you - on this revolving door of a teacher's seat, I didn't even last a year. I apologize for that - and for my big mouth at the beginning."

After the laughter, Dumbledore spoke again. "Luckily, we can close the gap immediately, although not quite as you might expect ..."

Did he look at Harry?

"... after discussing the issue with my colleagues, we found that now's the opportunity to break old habits and face new challenges, and to fulfill old dreams. The new teacher for Defence against the Dark Arts ..."

Harry tried to read the face.

"... is Professor Snape!"

The Slytherins were yelling, whistling, and shouting. After a moment of stunned surprise, Harry joined them with his applause.

"Which immediately raises the question, who is the new Potions teacher? And the answer is ..."

Following the glances, Harry knew it an instant earlier.

"... Professor McGonagall!"

Another wave of applause was raised by the Gryffindors, then joined by the other tables.

"And now, the last appointment shouldn't be too difficult to guess. The new Transfiguration teacher will be ..."

"PROFESSOR LUPIN!"

Dumbledore smiled in Harry's direction. "That's correct, but no points for the answer; it was too simple."

Still, a surprise - Lupin, who wasn't even an Animagus? Maybe Harry had missed the latest developments; with his own trouble from interviews, he hadn't asked Almyra if her project had shown any progress.


"Talking about points - the House Cup awaits awarding. So far, the points are as follows: Gryffindor is in fourth place with three hundred and seventy-seven; one point ahead is Hufflepuff with three hundred and seventy-eight; second place is Ravenclaw with four hundred and four, behind the current leader which is Slytherin with four hundred and thirty-two."

Expectant silence fell over the hall.

"Yes, you are right - this is the current state before several events of the past months have been properly rewarded. So let's come to that."

Dumbledore grinned. "First - to the members of the Flying Squad, for protective services throughout the year, I award fifty points each."

The applause ebbed quickly, to be followed by laughter: now each house had three hundred and fifty points more, without changing positions a bit.

"Next - to Mr Ronald Weasley, for administrative services to Hogwarts in general and the Squad in particular, I award fifty points."

Ron's face looked relieved. A second earlier, he'd been tortured by the question of whether Dumbledore had counted him as a Squad member. Harry, in contrast, had felt little doubt, and was counting by himself - Gryffindor had surpassed Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, but ranked still five points behind Slytherin.

"The next award is highly unusual in more than one aspect, but no doubt justified: For outstanding services before and after the attack toward Hogwarts, I award fifty points to a snake called Nagini."

Harry's applause found little company; the others seemed thunderstruck. At the Headmaster's next words, however, his own mouth fell agape.

"Now the question is, what house is supposed to earn these points?" Dumbledore's lips twisted with amusement. "You may think it would be simplest to ask her herself, only bear in mind how much she's prejudiced by the opinion of her master. On the other hand, looking at the houses and their origins, I find it only fair to give these points to Slytherin."

Speechless, Harry watched Bob dancing, then waving at him, with a broad grin on his face.

"As much as we appreciate the challenge between our houses, this year has brought a union between them that's stronger than ever. And there are two people who were the first to close a gap that held for centuries - the one between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Therefore, I award fifty points each to Robert Daunty and Angelina Johnson, whose affection for each other wasn't bothered by such outdated barriers."

The noise was deafening, with two beaming students looking at each other across the distance between the Gryffindor and the Slytherin table.

Harry counted again. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were far behind, but Slytherin was still in the lead with fifty-five points.

"... power of love has done more than unite houses. It has defeated the darkest evil, has made Voldemort powerless against those who are graced with this force. And this is why I award a hundred points each to Harry Potter and Cho Chang."

What with the jumping people around him, Harry could see the Ravenclaw table only for an instant, while the sight of Cho was even more obscured by the Ravenclaw students who were applauding her.

Forty-five points in the lead ... What could still come?

"Also, we have to consider the most extraordinary collection of O.W.L. exams ever seen at Hogwarts. I award fifty points to Miss Hermione Granger for eight O.W.L.s successfully performed."

Harry shouted and waved with the others toward a pinkish Hermione. Ninety-five points in the lead ahead of Slytherin - they couldn't ... Could they?

"That leaves two items on my list. We have awarded the Squad for their services, so it's only fair to award another member of the flying personnel, even though she was not on a broomstick - fifty points for Miss Almyra Benedict."

His hands already hurting from the applause, Harry saw heads at the Gryffindor table busy counting points. However, Ravenclaw was still -

"And the last points also go to Miss Benedict, for her services in the rescuing of Professor Lupin, I award seventy-five points."

The Gryffindors froze and stared at the Ravenclaw table, where all hell had just broken loose. Ravenclaw had beaten them by two points - nine hundred and seventy-nine against nine hundred and seventy-seven!

"Two points!" Harry started to laugh. After four years in a row, Gryffindor had lost the House Cup to Ravenclaw. While the decoration was changing from white to blue, displaying bronze eagles all over, he walked to their table.

Surrounded by students - was it really only months ago that he would have been frozen in horror? - he kissed Cho. "Congratulations - you're the worthy successor."

Then he turned to a beaming Almyra and hugged her. "Super - absolutely brilliant - Al, I'm so proud of you."

She hugged him back. "I owe you, Harry - remember the meditation?"

"Not a point, not a single one. They're yours, and you deserve them."

"True," said Cho, "not a single one - simply because we can't afford it."

Almyra said, "He did it on purpose."

"Dumbledore?" Harry thought it over and had to agree, but felt no objections. "Even so, every point feels right. What poetry - the eagle winning because of an eagle."

Under another storm of applause, Cho kissed him again. "That's nice - you're the best loser I can imagine."

He grinned. "Your compliment's a little sharp around the edges, but thank you anyway."

* * *

Harry's luggage in front of him looked considerably smaller than at his arrival: a large cage was gone. But it was not fully absent from his view - it sat not far away at the top of Almyra's trunk. In compensation, a big snake was curled around his body.

Suddenly, Lupin stood there. "Harry - can we talk in my office?"

"Sure, Prof." Surprised, he followed his teacher and friend.

Fifteen minutes later, just in time for the carriages, he returned, looking thoughtful.

When the Hogwarts Express was rattling along steadily, Almyra let her eyes wander through the compartment and said, "A snake instead of a dog - otherwise, it's the same as the beginning of the year."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Cho, Almyra - plus Nagini, Crookshanks - at first a bit testy because of the snake, now relaxing - Hedwig and Pigwidgeon. On their way from the platform nine and three-quarters to Hogwarts, it had been Sirius instead of Nagini.

And lots of things had been different then.

"Have you heard news from Sirius?" asked Hermione.

"Not directly - but look at that." Harry showed a recent issue of the Daily Prophet, received minutes ago from Lupin.

Enforcement Squad Strikes

Sirius Black, the new head of the Law Enforcement Squad, scores even earlier than his most loyal supporters had predicted. As the Squad office confirmed, two of the three fugitive 'Firebolt riders' have been arrested, while the search for the third is still ongoing. The term 'Firebolt riders' was given to the group of dark wizards who attacked the School of Hogwarts from the air, using the Firebolt racing brooms for this purpose.

Asked for their names, the Squad office refused to answer, pointing out that this information would be kept confidential until the last fugitive was arrested. Known, however, is the name of the eyewitness, a 'Firebolt rider' himself, who volunteered to testify. This is Damian Loew, currently serving a kind of open non-prison sentence at Hogwarts.

Hermione said, "A fresh wind is blowing, after all the time."

"But it's still small beans," replied Harry, "and you know what Sirius is really looking for - Wormtail."

Cho said, "I don't mind if the others are lying low for a while. That's supposed to be vacation time, isn't it?"

Harry was about to speak when the door opened. Bob and Angelina peeked around the door frame. "We're on our goodbye tour. This is our last Hogwarts Express."

It crossed Harry's mind that - a year from now - Cho would be doing it, and then he would have to stand the last year of Hogwarts without her. He dropped the thought quickly.

Bob glanced at Nagini and grinned. "Harry - wasn't that Dumbledore's greatest joke ever? Fifty points for your snake, given to Slytherin - I'll remember that when I'm old and grey."

"It didn't help you much."

"Maybe not, but you were missing those points badly, weren't you?"

"They weren't mine." Harry pointed toward his chest. "I asked Nagini, and she fully agreed with Dumbledore's decision."

Bob laughed. "Considering her abilities of sensing people, that's another proof that you're a Slytherin. Anyway, have a good time."

There were quite a lot of seventh-years wandering through the train, saying goodbye to friends and acquaintances. Dumbledore had declared the official end of the Flying Squad; counting the students who'd finished at Hogwarts, twelve out of twenty-nine Steel Wings would be gone.

The door opened again. The twins stood there, and Lee Jordan.

"Harry, Ron - we'll see each other at home. Cho, you really have to be careful with your Steel Wing - next time, you won't get off so lightly ... Al, you know what's still missing in your collection? A harpy ... Hermione, take care of Viktor ... As soon as our shop's open, all of you'll get an invitation ... Bye."

The twins' words stayed in Harry's mind: "At home" ... Not Privet Drive, instead a small house, bigger inside than seemed possible from the outside, with a ghoul, and gnomes in the garden ...


Hermione was saying, "Talking about Animagi, Al, how's your project going with Lupin? As a Transfiguration teacher, he'll be expected to do more than turn into a werewolf once a month."

Ron said, "That's how we like our Hermione - tactful to the extreme."

After a glance at the spot where she assumed Harry's wand was, Hermione said, "Well, it's just a question. I mean, we know each other well enough that if Al doesn't want to answer, she won't do it, would she?"

Almyra said, "You're right, Hermione."

Cho was the first who started laughing.

Hermione took it good-naturedly. Then she asked, "Harry - you spoke with him just before we left. Did he tell you anything?"

Ron grinned. "I mean, you know each other well enough that if he doesn't - "

"Shut up - let him answer." Hermione didn't bother to get upset, just looked expectant.

Harry said, "We didn't talk about that - I wanted to ask him by myself, but then I forgot."

Cho asked, "Then about what else?"

"About Zen - more exactly, about a Zen master."

"And?"

"The Zen master - he's a friend's friend's friend, says Lupin. He asked around, and this is the result."

"A wizard or a Muggle?" The question came from Almyra.

"A ..." Harry stared at her. "I didn't ask - it seemed obvious to me he's a wizard, but now that you ask - "

"What does it matter?" said Ron. "Zen is Zen - is Zen, that's all I know about."

"Well - um, it matters," replied Harry, "because - he's willing to do a training seminar with me."

"Why?"

"When?"

"Where?"

"How long?"

Since the questions had come from more people than just Cho, Harry saw the opportunity to try it by himself. "Last question first or in the sequence of asking?"

Almyra grinned, while on Cho's forehead appeared a hard crease, not unlike Harry's own scar. "Young Potter - you'd better confess right away!"

"Erm - yes ... One reason for this seminar is that I have to get my super wand under control, and that's why I'm sure he's a wizard. But it's more, it's Zen, and the unspoken hope is that I'll get a handle on how to proceed further against Voldemort ... at least an idea."

"So that's the reason." Cho's eyes didn't leave his face.

"Yes. It starts a week from now, and the first seminar is planned for four weeks."

"Oh, no!" moaned Ron. "And I thought ... Damn, Harry, you really can spoil the best fun."

Cho asked, "And where?"

"At this Zen master's home - somewhere in Japan."

"Japan?" Cho grimaced. "You better not tell my parents."

"Why? And why should I tell your parents in first place?"

"Last question first or ..."

Harry grinned. "Touché - in the sequence of asking, please."

"Because China and Japan is a story of its own. And why my parents? Because I was asked to invite you, and you may run out of small talk on this occasion."

Almyra said, "She was asked, Harry - otherwise she wouldn't have dreamed of - ouch!"

After a while, even Ron could overcome his disappointment by pointing out to himself that two weeks with Harry was still more than could have been expected not so long ago. Harry's - or Lupin's - strongest supporter in the discussion was Almyra, who expressed the hope that Harry might return with some skill from which she might benefit as well.

Then Hermione had the good curiosity to address Harry's second pending problem by asking, "What are you going to call your new - er, I mean, Ron's parents?"

"Good question." Harry didn't know.

They quickly agreed that Arthur Weasley represented no problem; he wouldn't object his first name, and Yes, sir was always a good thing to say. No, the more delicate issue was Molly Weasley.

Of course - one term was kept out of discussion, what with Harry's vivid memory of his own mother.

Cho came up with the solution. "In China, such relationships are quite common, that's why they have quite a number of terms. I'd say call her Ma Weasley. It's close enough, and still a clear distinction from ... you know."

Harry tried it. "Ma Weasley ... yeah, that sounds about right."

Ron grinned. "You know, Harry, when Mum's really upset, all you have to do is forget the 'Weasley' at the end. She'll be putty in your hands."

Hermione said, "And of course, you'll use it to quite an extent."

Slowly, Hogwarts fell behind, and the summer vacation was drawing closer. And finally, the Hogwarts Express reached King's Cross station, came to a halt.

It took Harry a moment longer to grab his luggage, and Cho had the same problem, while the other three managed without trouble and were out of the compartment.

They hugged.

"Six weeks - I don't know how to stand it without ..."

"Me neither ... I'm waiting for the day."

They kissed and murmured some more words that didn't carry far. Then they followed the others.

There stood the Weasley parents, waiting - in contrast to some other people to whom Harry had sent a letter, mustering more politeness than he'd really felt. Thinking of the room that was waiting for him at The Burrow, he had an idea. He reached Hermione and asked, "Say - do you have a fifty pence coin? I have to phone someone."

She had.

"Thanks - you'll get it back. Bye."

He heard the first ring, then a second, a third. Then a man's voice: "Halliwell Moving Services."

"Good evening. Er, Mr Halliwell? You gave me your card last summer - after I helped for a day, and after you helped me move a desk and - "

"Oh - yes, I remember. That you, son?"

"Yes - Harry Potter's my name."

It didn't raise any reaction. "You asking for work, son?"

"No, Mr Halliwell. I need someone to move some pieces of furniture - actually, just those from last summer."

"That's our business. So you're moving?"

"Yes, Mr Halliwell."

A short pause. "Other relatives?"

The man's voice had been pointedly expressionless - quite in contrast to Harry's own when he answered, "No, not relatives. This time, it's family."

---------- The End ----------