Harry Potter and the Magical Tours

Dumbledore asked Harry for a conversation in the Headmaster's office. When they'd taken seats - including Fawkes, of course on Harry's shoulder - Dumbledore gave a thin smile.

"Harry, Hogwarts has got a surprising offer - from a sponsor which never before had an interest in the school."

Harry thought for a moment, but kept silent.

"Your comment on that is very short, Harry. You don't even ask."

"I'm sorry, Professor - I was reacting like toward my sensei."

Dumbledore's smile warmed a bit. "I take it as a compliment; still, I wouldn't mind a normal conversation in English."

"Professor - my silence told you that I had no question, so I knew. Then you'd ask me how much I know, and because I'm not going to lie to you, I'd have to say I know all about. Then you'd ask what I can tell you, and I'd have to say nothing. This is too impolite, and implies too much loss of face, so all I can do is keep silent."

"Hmm ..." Dumbledore seemed not overly delighted hearing these arguments. "Then I have two more questions," he said, "and I hope your answers are as convincing as your hypothetical one. Would Hogwarts be compromised knowing more?"

Harry could answer that immediately. "No, Professor. The chief of the Law Enforcement Squad would be compromised if he had to admit any knowledge, while otherwise, there's no risk."

Dumbledore looked considerably happier than before. "So there's no problem, because we're not going to tell him something he ... Well, the other question - I asked Mr Kenzo first, only his answer was very polite while at the same time maddeningly unclear ..."

Dumbledore seemed the slightest bit embarrassed. "Harry - we'll have three such rooms, as you don't know. How to assign them?"

"Well ..." Harry remembered well what had made him specify this number, only since then he'd found the time to wise up a bit. So he continued, "The number would - just by coincidence - match an arrangement with one room for teachers, one for boys, one for girls. On the other hand, first-time users need assistance for sure - you can hurt yourself without the proper guidance, and you have to get used to the heat ..."

He looked up. "This arrangement seems so obvious, Professor - I'd expect it settles by itself, without rules - while it doesn't cause problems if, for example, Ginny needs a kneading of her shoulders and I'm the only one around."

"Sounds reasonable ..." Dumbledore's eyes met his own. "Temptingly so."

Harry held the stare. "A loose convention would imply there are no locks, and the rooms are open to everybody - any time and any moment ... To me, this seems a good basis to recover there and - er, make room for other people."

Dumbledore's expression was blank. "You seem to have given it some thought - rather quickly after this surprising announcement. I guess you're right, Harry."

---

He was indeed right - while not true, although he wasn't to blame for that. After a long and hard exercise with Kenzo, until late in the evening because their training ranked beyond all public levels, Harry went into the shower of the tower room, as it had been dubbed because the tower platform was easily accessible from there, offering a replacement for a garden with stones in it. Coming out, he saw a figure standing at the hot water tub.

A fleeting instant of déjà-vu - kimono, long black hair, and something else in common. Otherwise, it was Cho. She smiled, bowed silently, after watching him walk over.

"You shouldn't do that."

"I shouldn't do what? Being here, or wearing a kimono?"

Harry kept silent. The water was too hot even for speaking, and a witches' robe represented only one of several alternatives to wearing a kimono. Cho's voice, still more her intonation, would have remind him of the other alternative any time, had it slipped his mind.

Her face, in contrast, looked perfectly innocent. "I thought, after your training you might appreciate a massage."

He entered the steam room, couldn't relax as completely as at other occasions.

Cho was waiting for him at the padded desk, started to knead his shoulders after he had stretched, face down. Her hands weren't as strong as others he remembered, also less experienced. Still, it felt good.

He listened to her breathing from the effort, then heard her command. "Turn."

"That's not a good idea."

"You hold no monopoly for bad ideas. Turn!"

He did.

Cho no longer looked innocent. She examined him. "Did this happen to you with - Tamiko?" She had stopped talking of "her" when, occasionally, the conversation touched upon Harry's time in Japan.

"Once, after the first ... I had a bad bruise, and had to turn so she could handle it."

"I see a bad bruise right now. What did she do?"

"Threatened me with a spell. It solved the problem quickly."

"A spell? How cruel ... I think a potion's a more appropriate cure." Next moment, Cho was on the table, kneeling over his legs.

"Are you mad?? What if - "

"Yes I am, but I took precautions."

A potion she had, and a cauldron of the finest manufacturing, to solve the problem, although not immediately, quite the opposite, while it was good enough to choke any further protest.

He felt powerless, unable to resist, unable to muster any control. Looking into her face, he saw that she knew, had expected as much, had intended this state, and did everything to prevent him from regaining balance.

At least, what she did was cutting both ways.

He exploded, barely avoiding an outcry, in particular as her frantic movements didn't stop. She fell forward, her hair covering his chest, still moving, torturing him.

His hand found its way under the garment, found her, accelerated her. Seconds later, he felt her spasms rise, then fade, then merciful rest.

He used the shower again, mainly with respect to the rule that the water tubs were approached only after thorough cleaning. When he came out for the second time, Cho was gone.

He knew, he would never ask for the particular nature of her precaution, maybe also because there were few alternatives, if any. And of course, Cho would never mention it, nor anyone else.

* * *

Fleur had started the advanced level of her dance lessons, and the first of these lessons answered a question Harry had been asking himself - that about Fleur's assistant in this course.

It was Gérard.

While Harry enjoyed the lessons he and Cho were attending together, Gérard's presence caused mixed feelings. There was no complaint about Gérard's qualification as a dancer, or his obedience when following Fleur's orders - no, it had to do with Harry's knowledge.

His feelings were less mixed when he registered Gérards glances toward the various students, in particular those toward Cho. And any remaining uncertainty in these feelings stopped at once when he registered Ginny's glances toward Gérard, and Gérard's response.

Ginny attended the course - sometimes with Ron, sometimes alone, for example when Janine found the time to join Ron there. Then, Ginny had to look for a partner from dance to dance, and of course the assistant had to balance out for such students.

After some lessons, Harry couldn't help noticing that Ginny tried to come alone.

Thinking it over, he decided to talk with her, and met her outside the school for this purpose. The weather didn't invite swimming, was however warm enough to walk, and sit close to the little graveyard.

Harry came to the point right away. "I watched you dance with Gérard. Switching targets?"

"Well - not exactly, only, there's little progress with Kenzo - beyond a point, if you get my bearing."

"I get it quite well, and that's why I wanted to talk with you. Ginny - seeing you with Gérard doesn't make me happy."

Her voice was cool. "Too bad, Harry."

"It's not because of Marie-Christine - at least not alone. I mean, I can't control what he's doing, so ... Only, the thought of my sister adding to her misery has little appeal."

Ginny kept silent. Obviously, she didn't like his interfering, but couldn't keep his argument out of her perspective either.

"But what's more important, Gérard isn't the right choice for a first-timer."

Ginny showed an ironic smile. "He didn't strike me as the unexperienced type."

Harry responded with a similar grin. "Definitely not, and I could tell you even his preferences. No, the problem is somewhere else. Something in Gérard will poison the memory of this, Ginny - something he'll do, or say, or not do ... All I know for sure is, you'd be better off with Grigorij."

Ginny didn't object. She wasn't blind herself, and she had a high opinion of his judgement. Only she had other feelings, too, as Harry could watch at the next lesson.

He waited for the opportunity, the moment with Gérard and Ginny close together, and out of other people's earshot. When the moment came, he started, "Salu, Gérard ... How's Marie-Christine?"

"Good, I hope. She'll be happy to hear you asked."

"Did she tell you how much I owe her? Cho too, by the way."

"Really? What did Marie-Christine do? Talk with Cho?"

Harry looked into the grinning face. He had found him enjoyable, a long time ago. "It had to do with Voldemort," he said. "Anyway, my obligation is beyond most others ..."

"Ooooh, of course, the - "

"... and compared to that, it might well happen that other things have to be ignored if the need arises - like good manners, or respect toward the teacher and his opinions."

Gérard tried to hide his reaction with his words. "But 'arry - it would be just too ridiculous, and I don't even see a wand in your - "

Harry stared into Gérard's eyes. "It would be very quick, I wouldn't need a wand, yours wouldn't help, and nobody would have the impression it was a joke, Gérard, least of all yourself."

Ginny caught him afterwards, fury in her face. "I take your advice, Harry - but that's all. I didn't ask you to interfere - especially not the way you did!"

Harry bowed.

Which took the wind out of Ginny's sails. "My patience is wearing thin. You know what I mean - it's not about your performance this evening."

"Yes, I know."

Ginny's eyes were piercing, and something else. "Maybe I find a way to our sensei. Otherwise - if you don't like my choice, Harry, you know you can prevent it any time - and fighting won't be required for that."

He swallowed. "If I saw a way - "

"Yes - we all have our problems ... See you."

---

He knew his sister too well to push her remark aside. He had to figure out whether there was a chance, and he didn't lose time.

Kenzo was sitting opposite him, both of them in the lotus position.

"Sensei - a thought is bothering me for quite some time."

"Then it might be helpful to share it with others, Ha-ri."

Harry did the zarei, the bowing toward the sensei in this position. "I'm watching the progress of Ginny with great pleasure - naturally so, since she's as much as my sister."

"And also naturally because she has left most of the other students behind with her skill."

Harry bowed again. "She is very eager to learn from you, sensei."

"Your sister's determination is only matched by yours, Ha-ri."

"And like me, she's eager to be guided further, although not toward the same goals."

Kenzo kept silent.

"I support her in her determination ... I wouldn't know any sensei, or other mentor, better suited to the task."

Kenzo's face was motionless. If it showed anything, then the slightest trace of regret.

"There are many people of gift and spirit here in Hog-wa-tse, so your words might be considered with those of Matsuo Shigura in mind, who warned me you may tend to a bit of flattery."

Harry smiled. "He can see through me. Even so, I'm not alone with my opinion."

Kenzo bowed. "I'm honoured by the trust. It gives me the obligation to teach her as carefully as yourself, Ha-ri - to the possible extent within the boundaries of my obligation as a Hog-wa-tse teacher."

Harry kept silent.

"Certain extents are only possible in a dedicated environment, isolated from other students, and people - like your training in Japan, Ha-ri."

If any doubt had been left after Kenzo's previous words, this remark cleared them.

Harry bowed. "You're right, sensei. I was lucky to be so privileged."

Kenzo showed a faint smile. "The differences between right and true are always fascinating, Ha-ri ... although sometimes not as agreeable as we both may wish - or other people."

* * *

Harry spent some time pondering whether he should tell Ginny about this conversation, and recommend holding out till next summer - the first opportunity for the alternative Kenzo had specified so clearly. Before he could find a decision, other issues moved the problem to the background of his mind.

The first sign was a short notice from Sirius, ordering him to meet in the Law Enforcement office soon, pretty soon.

He hadn't found the time yet to talk about his trip to London, whether with McGonagall or someone else, when Cho came with an issue of the Daily Prophet to him. There was tension in her face. "Look at that, Harry."

It was on the first page:

Harry looked at Cho. "She didn't even lie ... I've been ordered to meet Sirius - now it's clear for which reason."

"Yeah." Cho grimaced. "And Bel can burn that life insurance."

Harry talked with McGonagall to settle his trip, planned for early afternoon tomorrow. After classes, he discussed the issue with Ron. "You're the one with the astronomic numbers," he said. "How are the odds this has nothing to do with our own stunt?"

"So small that you might as well forget them ... This wasn't an accident."

"No."

Ron watched Harry's face. "Does it worry you?"

"Of course!"

Seeing Ron's expression, Harry added, "No - I don't feel guilty, that's not my problem. By accident, we touched something much more important than" - he checked, making sure Almyra wasn't around - "some owls. Killing owls - killing people, those are two different levels."

"Do you think the owl killing will start again?"

"Might be, but I don't think so. It's been the company we caught - those four were just our contacts."

They looked at each other, only now realizing the full impact of this additional common factor among the victims. Ron said, "I can't help thinking that's Voldemort's signature."

"He's not the only one with a taste for revenge. Cho has a few tales in store, about big companies and competition. She says, beyond a certain size, the term legal only indicates that some official paper is involved. According to her, one of the Chinese triads might as well be the power in the background."

"Yeah ... But then, Cho is a bit prejudiced against Voldemort."

The joke was good for a grin, although a short one.

---

Belinda wasn't in her office. Harry knocked at the door to Sirius' office, not receiving a reply. He knocked again, then listened carefully whether some sound might recommend to come later, but heard nothing. He opened the door.

Sirius was sitting at his desk, a glass in his hand. On the table in front of him stood a bottle of whisky, almost empty.

Harry reached the desk. "What's with you? Where's Bel?"

Sirius didn't look up. "I'm saluting her ... She's dead."

"Wha ..." Harry stared at his godfather, terror filling his heart.

"They found her this morning ... in the Diagon Alley, dumped just in front of the Owl Emporium."

"Oh no ..." Harry's knees felt to weak to carry him. He fell into the chair before the desk.

"Oh yes. Cheers."

"Sirius - please, that's not a solution - "

"There's no solution. Wanna drink, Harry?"

"No - and you don't need another."

"Don't get uppish, young man."

Sirius' speech was only slightly blurred, his stare clear and hard. His hand moved the glass with a generous fill of whisky to his mouth. Before the glass could reach its target, an invisible force pulled it from Sirius' fingers and sent it through the room against the wall, where it crashed, sending splinters and splashes everywhere.

Sirius' reaction wasn't blurred at all, nor his thinking, or his bad mood. His gaze had been able to follow the glass before it exploded at the wall. He looked at Harry, showed no surprise not seeing a wand, was up and around the desk in no time.

Harry blocked the first blow, the second, dodged the third to reach Sirius, to be at him, to embrace him.

He felt how Sirius stopped, felt how his godfather started responding to his own hug.

After a moment, Sirius stepped back, turned, his hands on the desk. "Let's go to my place."

After a short chimney travel, they were sitting in a spacious room, now glasses in both hands, none of them holding whisky.

---

Sirius looked up. "Harry - next time, let me empty my glass, okay?"

"No. Definitely not."

Sirius shook his head. "You don't understand. In the next weeks, people will see me slide down the hill, losing control. Eventually, they'll have no other choice than firing me. Until then, hopefully ..."

Harry stared at him. "Maybe in the next weeks. Today, it wasn't a start of your new career."

"Maybe not - but it would have passed as such."

"And you need someone to be in touch."

Sirius nodded, saw Harry's face, and shook his head. "You qualify for quite a lot, Harry, I'm the first to admit - but not as the anchor man for an undercover agent."

"Which makes me the perfect candidate."

"That's nonsense."

"No - it's Zen ... And besides, do you have someone else?"

Sirius thought, wasn't ready to shake his head, however unable to come up with a name.

"I'll train a bit with Snape."

Sirius tensed. "He'll know immediately, or when ..."

After a moment's hesitation, he nodded. "Okay. Severus is reliable, and we might need him. But nobody else, Harry, which means, I quote, no - bo - dy."

"One exception."

Sirius stared at Harry, saw his face, seemed to reconsider a memory, and nodded reluctantly. "One."

"Okay - that works."

"Fine. Now please say goodbye and let me start my career." Sirius looked at Harry, waiting for him to leave the house.

"Did you love her?"

His godfather's shoulders sagged a bit. "Don't know ... maybe I did - maybe I still do. What I'm sure about is this, I'm sick of watching the people closest to me getting killed." He looked up. "Harry - I warn you, if you let them kill you, I'll come after you and ..." Sirius' hands were covering his face.

After a moment's hesitation, Harry walked over, sat down besides Sirius, and put an arm over his shoulder.

"I'll sit here for a while, and listen to you telling me about Bel ... Afterwards, we'll fix some details of the planning, and a code. Then I'll go."

Harry left Sirius' house hours later, saw him again some days afterwards, attending the funeral together with Cho, Ron, and Almyra, who hadn't known Belinda but had shared a week's guard with Sirius.

* * *

For Harry and Cho, the following days were overshadowed by the memory of Belinda McGraw, terrific cop and challenging woman, dumped dead at the entrance to an owl store. It had an impact on their private encounters, added an element of sadness, deepening the emotion of being lucky, together, alive, added also an element of guilt at the thought of Sirius, sharpening the thrill in their young bodies and souls for which life went on, had only just begun.

The same shadow, even stronger, hung over the next event in Hogwarts. The portkey link with Durmstrang was operative.

At the evening of the same day, Dumbledore celebrated a short ceremony before supper, announcing the news and presenting two guests, a temporary and a permanent one. The permanent guest was Boris Stolichnov, Durmstrang's liaison officer in Hogwarts, the counterpart of Hogwarts' own in Durmstrang - their old friend Lee Jordan. Word had it that Dumbledore's first choice would have been Bob, only Bob hadn't been interested in a job so far away from Angelina.

The temporary guest of the evening was large, broad-shouldered, moustached, and known as Kristof Drilencu, ex-professor of Hogwarts, now Headmaster of Durmstrang.

After supper, before he could disappear, Harry was grabbed once more, in the common habit and for the common reason - to find a quiet place for talking. The one for the grabbing was Lupin, the quiet place Lupin's office, while the one for the talk was Drilencu.

"Mr Potter," said the Bulgarian, "after having discussed the issue with Remus first, I'd like to ask you a favour."

Harry thought for a moment before answering. Drilencu's sentence could have been a simple politeness, or a nice joke. Only what he heard was a statement of someone toward whom Harry still felt an obligation, so he couldn't deny the plea, and this someone knew, had consulted Lupin to find out whether the request was reasonable, and was ready to accept the inevitable change of roles - of obligation - that would come with Harry's agreement.

All this would have been obvious with someone like Shigura or Kenzo. Looking into Drilencu's face, meeting his eyes, Harry saw it was, if not obvious, nonetheless true here as well.

Then what could it be? With details to be heard within the next moments, Harry knew it had to do with dark wizards, his experiences with them, his skill, maybe with unforgivable courses, maybe with a Golden Patronus or sibling wands. Some assistance in Durmstrang - the only possible answer.

He bowed. "Will it be French or English, Prof?"

Drilencu's eyes widened for an instant, his head spun around toward Lupin, a question in his face.

Lupin didn't grin. "No, Kristof - I didn't say a word."

Drilencu nodded, looked at Harry again, exhaled. "Please, Mr Potter, don't do this with our students."

"I promise. And please call me Harry - Prof."

Then Drilencu explained how weak a plant the confidence of forces against dark wizards still was in Durmstrang, and that he hoped for Harry's contribution in some evening seminars, as a speaker, as a guest to be interviewed, mainly as the living example of successful fights against the Dark Forces.

"Can I bring someone with me, Prof?"

Drilencu smiled. "I'll be delighted, Harry - and I won't be the only one, no question about that."

"Not necessarily always the same person."

The smile turned to a teasing grin. "Has been a long time since we talked about Veela and Vampires, hasn't it?"

About to protest, eager to resolve the misunderstanding, Harry stopped just in time - Drilencu's face told him the Durmstrang Headmaster hadn't got him wrong at all, this was just a return for Harry's bad habit in skipping the five unnecessary questions and answers, otherwise known as decent conversation.

---

Dumbledore also announced that the three schools would celebrate their union in balls, as expected. Hogwarts and Beauxbatons followed their tradition by covering Christmas and Easter, while Durmstrang had a natural date for its own ball - First of May, day of the workers, more exactly the evening before. This date fit ever so nicely as Easter would be early next year.

Now it was Monday, Harry sat in class, feeling edgy, listening to a droning voice, or trying to. For him, this was the wrong teacher in the wrong place. Social Ethics could have been a fascinating topic, only - Binns seemed just good for killing any enthusiasm in the students. Bitter regret filled Harry at the thought of having dropped Grubbly-Plank, while being stuck with this ghost ... Remembering a lesson about Giants was a painful memory how Social Ethics might have been with this witch as teacher.

It didn't improve his mood either that Professor Binns was more than fond of him, hinting every now and then there were two hearts in Harry's chest. To find an exit for his rage, he tried to give Binns hell in discussions, supported by Ron, whose perspective was pretty much the opposite of Binns' own.

The effect could only be called counter-productive. Binns was delighted of their diligence, while totally unable to transform this feedback into any tolerable method of teaching.

More from opposition than anything else, Harry raised his arm. "Professor, how do wizard and Muggle societies differ in criminal structures?

"Oh, in many aspects, Mr Potter ... Quite a lot, really."

How to strangle a ghost? The hands would not find any grip.

"Such as - Professor?"

"You already mentioned the keyword - structures. The wizarding world has a natural tendency to hide, put into a world which contains more Muggles than wizards. This is a genuine structure for a criminal organization. On the other hand, wizards are quite reluctant to accept global organizations, while Muggles just love them. This is also true for criminals. But may we now return to our own topic, Mr Potter?"

Ron asked, "What about money?"

"There's no difference. Money is a motive for Muggle criminals as well as for wizard criminals - same with a desire for power, vengeance, and other emotions. Now - "

Harry asked, "And techniques?"

"There's an obvious difference, isn't it? A common Muggle tool is a gun, and a bullet can be traced back to the gun from which it was fired. How to do this with a Killing Curse? All you can do is to test a wand with a Priori Incantatem But now, please, Mr Potter ..."

It was maddening. Had Binns simply been stupid and ignorant, the only task required would be to endure these classes. But no, he was full of knowledge, could even set associations - provided you found the right question, and the right time, and it wasn't too far away from Binns' own planning for the hour.

---

After classes, Harry went upstairs, saw Almyra, probably on her way to the Owlery, and followed her.

"Hi, Al. Mind my company here?"

"Er - no." She didn't look at him, was busy with Hedwig.

"How was your trip to London?"

Almyra had used the weekend for a shopping tour, an attempt of getting used to some money, as she'd said, and to give her global network ticket something to do. She had done it alone, after receiving declines from Cho and Harry, who currently found London not the most inviting place, who found the idea of a luxury suite in a hotel quite enticing in general, while with Almyra next door - alone in her room - not too appealing.

"Good," replied Almyra. Then, after some seconds, she added, "I found some nice things."

Her enthusiasm was incredible. "Yeah," said Harry, "It's a hard job, getting used to some money."

A smile appeared in Almyra's face, faded quickly.

"Mind a walk, Al?"

"Not now. It's fine, here."

Was this a denial, or an invitation? Harry couldn't decide, but he could ask. "Shall I go?"

She shook her head.

Harry looked around, found a table, moved up in a single motion, sat there in the lotus position.

A moment of silence. Then Almyra sighed. "I met Sirius."

"Oh ... Was he shopping too?"

"No." After a quick glance toward Harry, Almyra explained, "I visited him."

"Nice house, isn't it?"

"Yes ... We talked."

Harry kept silent.

Almyra sent him another glance, looked away. "Can you do something else, other than sitting there? Talking, for example?"

"All right, then. Was he surprised to see you?"

"No ... Yes, a bit."

"Did he drink much?"

"Not too much, no - only ..."

He waited a moment for her to finish, listening to the echo of her words in his mind, then asked, "When did you leave him?"

Almyra's hands, busy with Hedwig, stopped.

He waited.

"Next morning."

A sound escaped Harry's throat, hearing this after he and Cho had declined just because of the unbalanced grouping.

---

Almyra placed herself on the same table, her legs dangling, her hands under her thighs.

Harry had found the words to say. "For comfort, and to keep him from drinking."

She glanced to him. "Yes ..." Then she issued some kind of half-giggle. "Maybe I wasn't completely unselfish. Sometimes ..."

So there had been no significant progress in this case either. Teachers and their codex, no matter what ...

Anticipating the path of Harry's thoughts, Almyra said, "We aren't much further yet, not in the project nor otherwise. So I felt a kind of freedom, and ... Sirius and I, we've shared a horrible week, and seeing him there ... I thought, if I can help him overcome, some kind of kick start ..."

"Did it help?"

"I hope so." A quick grin. "Otherwise - yes."

Harry sighed. "I hope, too."

Another glance from Almyra, a glance that held, didn't end, didn't fade. Still looking at him, she said, "He told me not to come again."

"In its own, peculiar way, that sounds promising, doesn't it?"

"Harry?"

He turned to her, unprepared for her question. "You and Snape - what kind of training is this?"

He used his skill, earned in Japan and afterwards. "Advanced levels of Defence - things that don't fit in the regular classes."

Almyra was looking ahead. "When ... with someone you have shared a week in a forest, you can feel the difference between sorrow and desperation - or determination, or the lack of it ... or the lack of the lack."

"Of course," agreed Harry, his mind racing, searching for words, finding them. "And then you keep this knowledge to yourself, don't share it with anyone unless forced so, and accept the apparent and the seemingly apparent without asking."

Almyra glanced at him, hope in her eyes, saw his smile, creating a smile of relief in her own face, a deep exhaling. "Well, then - if I had known, I wouldn't ..." A quick grin, then serious again. "How was she, Harry?"

"Great ... Gorgeous, and a fighter. When thinking of her, I tell myself - some day, some day we'll have found the figures in the background, and then ... It won't change a bit, but it helps to handle the memory."

"Did he love her?"

"I asked him that ... He said he doesn't know, maybe, maybe still."

"What do you think?"

Harry looked at Almyra. "Aside from a lot of differences, Bel was the woman you might be some years from now, or might have been when joining the Squad rather than science. Now guess why he told you not to come again?"

* * *

Cho wanted to visit Lleyrin, and Seselith. Harry felt somewhat reluctant to use the portkey link on call, and his schedule was really tight, now that sessions with Snape had added to assistant duties and his own schoolwork, in which the training with Kenzo formed a bottomless pit. On the other hand, he would find the opportunity to talk with Lleyrin about a mysterious issue, and most of all - what was the sense in pondering an idea Cho had in her mind?

This raised the question of presents.

Cho grinned maliciously. "Yours is obvious, Harry, won't you agree?"

"Yes, of course."

Cho looked puzzled. "I'm not quite sure whether we're talking about the same."

"Then maybe it isn't that obvious - might that be, as impossible as the thought - " Harry ducked the blow.

Cho grinned very maliciously. "I'll make you suffer for that. Anyway - as far as I can see, your present is a nice collection of stories."

He grinned at her, until her cheeks turned pink. "A nice selection of stories - agreed. Otherwise, mine will be a bokken."

Cho grimaced. "Of course - leaving me there in the rain. And what am I supposed to come with?"

"Yours has to be the one for Seselith, I think we agree on that. Well, why not settling with the obvious?"

Cho snarled, "What - is - the - obvious, young Potter?"

"Why - a bouquet of juniper, of course."

She looked dumbstruck. "Of course - stupid me."

"Well - I would't go that far, maybe a bit single-minded, recently - " This blow he had to take, but then, maybe he did so on purpose.

It was a strange feeling, wandering down the hill into the valley where they would be dwarfed by the residents any moment now. They had to ask for Lleyrin's address, earning directions and smiles - telling stories seemed very much a Giants' habit.

Seselith was delighted, beaming at the sight of Cho and Harry, beaming still more at the bouquet.

Before they could come any further, a big bundle was there, jumping, dancing, whincing, not letting go of Harry, who had to cuddle it - Fang. The dog looked not the least bit neglected - still, his welcome couldn't have more excited after some months of exile.

Then, sitting at some boxes and cushions, Harry had the opportunity to examine Seselith and to collect data for the concept of well proportioned among Giantesses.

Lleyrin inspected the bokken. "Once you brought me a Bulgarian shepherd's weapon as a present from Hermione Granger, and it turned out the winning element in the first part of a battle. Now I see our weapon - in the proper size for you, after I've seen your own weapon in the second half of that battle. Harry Potter, this is a pattern I have to think about for a while."

"That makes two of us, Lleyrin. In the meantime, I'm busy learning to use it."

The Giant smiled. "In the meantime, Harry Potter, I hope you come with a bunch of stories to tell."

"Definitely, Lleyrin - as far as I'm allowed to tell." Harry glanced at his side where Cho was sitting.

Lleyrin smiled dryly. "No - I mean something new, for ears to hear what eyes can't see." Then, just to calm down a dog which wouldn't stop whining, he seized for Fang, moved him up, and placed him to Harry's feet.

---

Harry spoke about super wands, and how to get them under control, about aikido and kenjutsu, and about The Burrow. Then he said, "I have something else to talk about - it's half of a story, the rest is a riddle."

Seselith smiled. "That sounds like a return for a Giants tale."

"Not on purpose, Seselith - and not as nice." Harry told them the story of the disappearing owls, of a stunt against harpies, a private conversation outside a demolished building, and of a mysterious accident with four victims and a less mysterious one with a dead cop.

Lleyrin had listened silently, motionlessly. "I think the first riddle is a simple one ... This accident reminds me strongly of Voldemort."

"Why, Lleyrin?"

"Because he can't stand the thought of being successfully opposed - not the tiniest bit. As far as I can see, the death of those five people doesn't change anything. How's owl mail working now?"

Harry confirmed that owls did not disappear again.

"Yes, just what I thought. The five people died for vengeance. It's half of a miracle that your two teachers, Snape and Lupin, are still alive - no doubt thanks to Hogwarts, and Albus Dumbledore, and you, Harry Potter." Lleyrin smiled. "But then, they're in good company."

Harry was thoughtful. "I would agree, Lleyrin, only - what bothers me is that the company is so closely connected to Muggles, or Muggle technology, or methods. Voldemort is famous for his detesting Muggles."

The Giant didn't shake his head, simply because this common example of human body language was considered insulting in the valley. Instead, he said, "Voldemort has used Dementors - with little success. He has used Giants, not scoring any better. Now he's giving Muggles a try ... Before you protest, Harry Potter - do you think his opinion of Dementors or Giants is any better than that of Muggles? And he has been tricked by Goblins."

Harry found no loophole in Lleyrin's arguments.

"Assuming you're right, Lleyrin - what's the purpose?"

"This is beyond my scope, Harry Potter. Giants think in valleys, and for good reason" - Lleyrin smiled again - "sometimes in forests, at the most. A worldwide network is a sword of which I can't detect the blade immediately."

"You have declined to accept any link here, Lleyrin."

"Yes, Harry Potter - because nobody could show me a benefit. On the other hand, the disadvantages were quite obvious - tourists, for example."

Cho said, "I hope I didn't do anything wrong by claiming the portable link."

"Oh no." Seselith's voice was very determined. "How else could you reach this house - after all, it's Harry's home as well." Which, of course, was a reminiscense of a Giant in Harry's heart.

"And what if other people use it, Seselith?"

The Giantess smiled sweetly. "Where's the problem, Cho Chang? Didn't you say it's portable?"

A moment later, Seselith hinted that she could see still another story - in Cho's face.

After a short hesitation, Cho told the story of Marie-Christine's analysis and Harry's counter argument.

Seselith wasn't overly impressed. "Fate and destiny are fine and well, but sometimes you can think around one corner too much, Cho Chang. Keep the facts simple. Voldemort wanted to kill Harry in first place, and it's hard to believe he did so because he was waiting for the child's own child."

"Agreed, Seselith - but after it failed, he certainly adjusted his strategy."

"Certainly, Cho Chang - which means fate is only so much, and the rest is taking measures. Sometimes, the riddle of fate can only be solved by grabbing someone near waters." At these words, she smiled at a Giant who called himself Lleyrin the Fist.

Even so, Cho found no loophole in this final argument.

* * *

The new Gryffindor Quidditch team was complete. After talking with Viktor, Ron had asked a fifth-year by the name of Wynton Jeffries, receiving a happy grin as an answer.

They had dropped the idea of an election test. "There's a better way," Ron said, "which will avoid anyone thinking we're practising nepotism, and it will cause less efforts. We'll announce the names, and we'll offer a one-to-one contest for anyone who thinks he - or she - can beat the other candidate."

They made the announcement in Gryffindor Tower.

Nobody challenged Ron. It didn't mean there was nobody thinking he might be a better Beater, only - replacing Ron in a team with Harry, the thought alone was enough to drop the idea at once. Maybe this had to be rated as nepotism, but if so, then at least extreme enough to choke any protest.

Nobody challenged Ginny. A look at Katie and Alicia, when they asked around who wanted to give it a try, had been enough to asphyxiate any attempt.

Hearing Wynton's name, two other fifth-years had asked for a contest, looking sure about the outcome: Wynton moved so slowly, spoke slowly, he just had to be an awful mistake.

Wynton did the first run, between the goalposts while the three Chasers were running one attack after the other, for the test period of fifteen minutes.

The first candidate cancelled his vote without even trying. Yes, Wynton moved slowly, if you could believe your eyes, except somehow he caught the Quaffle if the shot offered any chance. He seemed to know what the Chaser would do, was there, and stopped the Quaffle with his slow arms.

The second candidate did his turn - proabably more for personal pride rather than a realistic hope, at least the results indicated so.

After this test, Katie walked to Harry, "Sometimes I dream ..."

He raised an eyebrow.

She grinned. "... a dream in which I have to do a penalty for us, and it's so tight, the ten points would make or break ... I hope Wynton will never be the goalie in my dream, because then it'll be a true nightmare."

Hearing about a first-year girl as the new Seeker, there had been six competitors. Ron and Harry had scheduled the contest for the next day, before supper.

Waiting in the Quidditch pit, Harry checked the time, then looked at Rahewa. "Was there any confusion about the time?"

She shook her head vigorously. "No, Harry."

"Then why ..." He watched her face. "Does it make sense to wait any longer?"

"No."

"What happened?"

No answer.

"Rahewa - please tell me exactly what you did."

"I spoke with all of them, that's why I know there is no misunderstanding about the time ... That's all."

"What did you say?"

"I went to them, and asked if they were challenging me, and made sure they know the time ... Otherwise, I only said that we'll meet again up in the air."

He stared at her.

She returned his stare.

"And all the time, you were looking them in the eyes, right?"

She nodded, doing it with him.

"Well, I think that's the explanation. I can imagine how that sentence was ringing in their ears." Harry chuckled. "Let's go."

---

With the team complete, Ron started scheduling training sessions immediately, reserving Quidditch pit time, and doing other tasks of a captain. But first, he had a more private issue to deal with. He came to Harry. "Listen, we have something to clarify."

Harry bowed, earning an angry look.

"It's about broomsticks."

"Why?" Harry couldn't follow. "It's no question that I can't use the Steel Wing, not with the risk of touching someone in mid-air."

"Yeah, exactly ... You need a Firebolt."

Harry swore inwardly about his slow reaction. "There's nothing to be clarified. I'll get one from the Hogwarts pool."

"No you won't."

Harry had an idea. "Okay - under one condition."

Ron looked suspicious, very much so.

"We'll do an aikido match. The winner can choose what to do."

Ron looked triumphant. "We both know, I'm chanceless - and that's why you can't offer such a dishonourable deal to me."

Beaten with his own weapon, by a clever chess player. But Harry was a Go player himself, used to tiny pieces and long-term strategies. "You're right, Ron. But I remember something else - and now's the time to draw that card."

"What card?"

"Remember before Christmas? When we had a longer conversation about a present, and shared prices, and our deal? I still have an ob on you - and now's the time to claim it."

Ron stared in disbelief. "You can't be serious - that's the most pervert usage of an ob I ever heard about."

Harry grinned diabolically. "No - it's Zen."

---

In the first training sessions, they realized how much work was lying ahead. Ron, otherwise a good captain, couldn't be called a good trainer, simply because he had to learn too much for himself. Harry and Ron had to find a way for synchronizing themselves, at least enough to come in calling distance to the twins' performance. Ron scored better in finding the optimal position. Harry, in contrast, showed more efficiency in the technique of beating and sending a Bludger the worst course, or best from their own perspective. And they had different opinions - not the best approach for a Beater team in mid-air.

Wynton and Rahewa were unproblematic cases, only that it was Harry who had to train Rahewa, an agreeable task except for the time it took. She never came to ask for the next training, she simply waited in some stasis until Harry would come and say, "All right, light your feet."

With some reluctance, pressed by the lack of time, Harry suggested a combined training, with him and Ron attempting to shoot Bludgers toward Rahewa, or one of them as an attacking Beater and the other as a defending one.

The risk of injuries was obvious, but the first try proved already so successful that Ron dropped his concern. Surprisingly, or maybe not at all, playing opposite roles was a good training for Ron and Harry and deepened their mutual understanding. Rahewa, on the other hand, had a clear preference for pairings in which Harry was not her defender.

Ginny improved too, however slowly. No - it wasn't correct to say she learned slowly. She could perform a triple attack together with Katie and Alicia, passing through the barriers Harry and Rahewa tried to establish, moving fluently, reacting instantly, to finish with a shot even Wynton could only watch helplessly. Then Ginny's eyes were shining, an expression of triumph in her face - to be replaced by sullenness the next moment. She was testy, unsteady in her performance, always good for an outburst of hot temper which found the worst possible target in Katie.

In short, Ginny was a problem. Ron recognized it, had a pretty clear impression why, and spoke with Harry.

Harry spoke with Ginny.

Her answer was - well, honest. "It's nothing new to you, is it? Listen - up there, doing a run with the other two, scoring, or shooting to Alicia and seeing her trick Wynton, can you imagine what that's doing with me? I guess so ..."

"Then ..."

She stared at him. "I'll give it four weeks more with Kenzo. Then ... then I'll ask Gérard, or using my network ticket for a weekend trip to London, or whatever. I'm fed up, with my behaviour in the team as much as ..."

Harry pondered the idea to talk with Fleur, but dropped it. He had all information required to judge by himself; Fleur couldn't tell him anything he didn't already know. And Ginny was serious, no question about that. She had set a deadline, and the clock was ticking.

* * *

"You're mad. Downright mad. I - I can't believe I heard what you just said, and I can't believe you said what I just heard. Not ..."

Harry kept silent.

"What's wrong with you? Isn't it enough that you've solved that problem for yourself? Do you have to walk around to get other people going? Not only that, no - just for good measure, you pick me? For ... for your own - "

Harry stared in the angry face. "She isn't really my sister, but you're right. And that's one of the reasons why I can't do it by myself - although, don't think I didn't get an offer ... more than once."

The face looked in disbelief.

"This is a case of emergency," explained Harry for the umpteenth time. "I'm asking you a favour!"

"Favour? ... Some favour."

"She's asking you a favour - through me, although she doesn't know. My God, she's in a state that shouldn't be totally unknown to you - and in this state, you're accepting trustworthy help gladly."

A piercing stare hit him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Harry held the stare. "Ginny's threatening me with a trip to London. This particular remark gave me the idea ... Please, Sirius."

His godfather sat down. After a moment, he said, "I can't, Harry. The thought of meeting Arthur ... She's just too young."

"She's so young, she has to change clothes after every Quidditch training. Do I express myself clearly enough?"

Sirius didn't answer, which was answer enough.

"She's admiring you. She'd never say a word to me because you're my godfather. But there are enough similarities between you and Kenzo ... And she admired Bel."

The remark softened Sirius' expression.

"Look at it from another angle. Assume you make yourself seen at some places - with her, that is. Wouldn't it be a quantum leap in your efforts to appear as a moral wreck, prone to the bottle and any temptation that lurks around the corner?"

Now Sirius was truly speechless.

Harry took it as an opportunity to outline more details. "I remember a conversation we had, about an invitation to some party, and suddenly there's this girl at your side. Isn't that what you've been waiting for? Then why not showing yourself with a girl at your side, young enough to get photographed for a nice blackmailing?"

"You ... you're insane. I could never - "

"Are you trying to tell me all the stunts Bel performed were before your time as chief?"

"She was an experienced woman who knew what to expect!"

"True. But you should see Ginny in aikido, or in the air. She's as determined as Bel was. Of course she's lacking experience - that's exactly why I'm here!"

"No."

"I didn't say you should hang around with her. Show yourself once - find someone to shoot a picture on which her face is hidden enough, while her age is clearly discernible - and then find a way to make this picture get lost - my God, how come I have to tell you the tricks of the trade?"

Sirius glanced at him. "Severus seems to be a good teacher. I'm glad you're spending at least some time with something other than ... Anyway, forget it, Harry. Just forget it."

Harry didn't think so.

* * *

The air was pretty cool for a walk along the lake, or sitting on the ground. However, Harry had no intention of having this conversation anywhere near or inside the buildings. Not this one.

Ginny looked at him. "Okay, we're sufficiently far away. What's up?"

"I have to tell you something. It - "

"Now that's a real surprise. Who'd have thought it?"

"You. It consists of three parts. After the first part, you'll be ready to kill me."

He had her full attention.

"You shouldn't do that, because then you'd never hear the other two parts. Can I start?"

"Maybe you should tie me first." The thought seemed to have appeal to her.

"Might be, or maybe after the third part. So?"

The remark had the desired effect.

"Well, then ... Some weeks ago, I had a conversation with Kenzo. Very much sub rosa, but otherwise very straight. About you."

Ginny looked thunderstruck. "You did? That was very kind of you."

"Yes. His message was clear: he'd like to do it any time, but never here in Hogwarts, under these conditions. He hinted a seminar like mine - far away."

Ginny's fury grew by fractions of a second. "You didn't tell me! You let me struggle on and on! You - "

"I looked further!"

Was it the sharpness in his voice, or what he'd said? Anyway, Ginny shut up, waiting for his next words.

"I have a candidate. He's still more than reluctant, actually he said I should forget it, but - well, I'm sure your arguments will be more convincing."

Ginny grinned, blushed, looked away. "That was nicely said." She cleared her throat. "Who ..."

"Sirius."

Her head came around. "You're joking!"

"No I'm not!" he snapped. "This isn't funny, and I can't remember a single laugh while talking with him."

Ginny looked hurt for an instant, then her face turned dark red. She looked away.

Harry touched her shoulder. "I'm sorry - didn't mean it. It's only because - but if he wasn't my godfather, and without Bel, he would have been a prime candidate long before ... Do you agree on that?"

Her nod came almost immediately, from a head that didn't turn.

"So it's just a feeling of indecency. Well, before I see you in the hands of Gérard, I'm ready to live with that. Gérard is dangerously immature - in contrast to Sirius."

Ginny was silent for a moment, then asked, "Was this the second part?"

"Yes."

"And what's the third?"

"Before I start with that, I need your answer for the second."

What he heard was something like a cough.

He stepped forward, took her shoulders, and held her close. "Ginny - it's impossible what we're doing here, but we do it with the best intentions. So it must be Zen ... Will you give it a try?"

He felt her nodding.

"Okay then ... Our conversation so far didn't exactly qualify for any public forum, no matter how limited, but - part number three isn't to be discussed with anyone but me. No exception - none."

Seeing Ginny's nod, Harry explained Sirius' goal, and what would be Ginny's role in the scheme.

She looked at him. "Do I need - er, special dresses?"

He laughed. "Heaven's sake, no! ... You have to look exactly what you are - a schoolgirl who shouldn't even know what she's doing there."

Ginny found her grin back. "Sorry - that's an impossible task."

* * *

This conversation had been in the middle of the week. Harry rounded it up with a shorter one in which he advised Ron not to schedule Quidditch training for Saturday afternoons.

Ron grinned, then nodded, totally unaware of what he was agreeing to.

For the next two days, as it turned out, Harry had to avoid meeting Ginny's glance, because invariably she started to turn red. After all, she was still quite young - considering deadlines, that was.

It earned him a few remarks. Ron's question was full of concern. "What's this, Harry - a fallback in time?"

"No, not at all - quite the opposite. Well, come to think of it, maybe it is, only more than expected."

Harry's remark was clear as mud, supposedly so, however good enough to make Ron blush. "Did you - "

"Maybe there's a solution. Let's hope and see - um, I mean, look away."

Ron laughed, seemed relieved, walked off, again totally unaware of what he was agreeing to.

Cho's question was simple and open to all sides. "Harry, what did you do to that poor girl?"

His answer was less simple, not leaving open much, making Cho speechless for a moment. "Nothing - other than indicating someone who'd think differently about that."

Then, of course, there was Katie. "Harry, have you been chasing Chasers? If so, why not me too?"

He looked at her. "Can you be a bit more specific?"

"I'm talking about Ginny, as you know perfectly well. Seeing you, she looks as if ..."

He stared into her eyes. "As if we're sleeping together? We don't."

Now Katie turned red. "I'm sorry, that was a stupid remark. Only - "

"Forget it."

Maybe she didn't, or most likely so. At any rate, Katie didn't ask further about the only that had been hanging in the air, had been pushed off using embarrassment rather than logic.

Then it was Friday evening, and Ginny wasn't seen at the supper table.

Harry saw her again Monday at lunch, avoided looking at her, still by habit and more so than before.

During the Quidditch training at this evening, he was busy with Ron and Rahewa, not seeing much of Ginny, not watching on purpose, noticing nothing unusual, maybe a little lack of concentration.

After the training, Ginny was gone.

The next day, they met in a kenjutsu training, working together, still after the other sennin had left with Kenzo. However, this was no time to ask, not with Ginny's fierce attacks, demanding all of Harry's concentration, while her own faltered for a moment, resulting in a bad hit into her ribs.

She stopped. "Ouch, that hurts like hell ... Harry, can you do a little magic for me?"

"Sure." He made a step.

"Not here. And I won't mind a bit of kneading. I feel like a piece of wood."

He looked at her. She hadn't done this before.

A quick grin. "Scared?"

"Well ... No longer."

"Right." She walked ahead.

Harry gave her time to shower, then followed and showered while Ginny was sitting in the hot water, sat in the tub himself while she was in the steam room. He skipped the steam for his own part, instead burst through the cold tub and dressed, being ready when she returned to lay down at the table, still rosy all over from the heat.

He took the opportunity to test his skill in curing spells without a wand. Satisfied with the result, he started to knead shoulders, arms, and legs.

"I met him Friday evening. He was mad as hell."

Harry continued kneading.

"He wanted to throw me out. I said then I would sit on the staircase."

Harry continued with Ginny's arms.

"He gave me a room. Wanted to lock me in. I asked if this wasn't a bit ridiculous. He said he didn't think so ... Anyway, he locked himself in."

Kneading, Harry had an impression how she'd found out.

Ginny giggled. "Then, Saturday, he seemed a bit desperate. Your ears should have rung, as much as he was swearing at you."

Harry continued to listen and to knead.

"At some point, I asked him whether he was scared. I guess I was trying to challenge him, only he just said yes. Then I said I was, too, a bit, although not of him, and how happy I'd been at hearing that his drinking was just a cover, and how much I felt with him ... and that I was quite inexperienced in - er, undercover work, but - "

Harry gasped. "Did you really use that term?"

"Well - without going into details too much, one word gave the other, and so ..."

"So you've found some convincing arguments."

Ginny giggled. "Erm - no, actually, it was him who found them."

Several weeks later, Harry received a message. In the few lines of unremarkable nonsense, only a single word was important.

Sinker

Someone had contacted Sirius.