Harry Potter and the Magical Tours

With an acute problem solved, Harry tried investing some more efforts and concentration in classes at Hogwarts - after all, he counted as a student here, whose sense of honour required more attention than that of a mere guest with other things in mind.

Which only presented another case of right versus true, because he had other things in mind.

It was no help, either, when Harry was stuck in classes he couldn't care less about - Herbology, for example. Why did he need to know about medicinal plants and how to harvest them? He was more likely to need the cure himself, or cause the need for it, than be the one who created the cure.

Professor Sprout looked angry. "Mr Potter, why don't you leave us alone if you can't distinguish between a tiny cut in the bark and the blow of a sword?"

Harry bowed. "I'm sorry, Prof ... although, honestly, that's what I've been asking myself."

"I could understand if you were trying to carve a heart, but that's more of a wood-cutting there."

Harry felt the pinkiness in his face, less from the grinning of the other students, or Parvati's snorting, more because Sprout was right. And disrespect toward a teacher qualified even less for improving his mood.

He spoke with McGonagall.

The Headmistress spoke with some colleagues - about a student whom they had met once in a remarkable O.W.L. exam. Then she informed Harry.

Professor Grubbly-Plank beamed. "The lost son is back. I can't offer a calf, Mr Potter - actually, I'd like to ask you for a contribution, although a temporary one. Our current topic is Centaurs."

Harry beamed back. "My pleasure, Prof. It's not a real one, but at least we can talk, and everybody will understand because it's English, not Parseltongue."

Then the witch asked him for another favour.

"I'm sorry, Prof, but there's no way. I could ask Firenze, only I know his answer, and just asking would be such a loss of face - please don't make me do it."

Grubbly-Plank, indeed as clever as Harry remembered her, knew a solution to that problem. She had him standing on the stage in the spector room, telling the stories of his encounters with the Centaur Firenze - just a tiny bit edited, while the other students watched the scenes in the large globe, smiling sympathetically at the picture of Cho with her arms in Firenze's mane. Yes, Harry had been able to filter out Cho's remark, while he simply found no way to change this picture, not without creating a bad caricature of two graceful creatures.

Even after the topic of Centaurs was finished, Care of Magical Creatures turned out the right thing to do. Grubbly-Plank announced new topics which, at first, seemed non-magical at all, until she asked if the students had ever heard of an Animagus. The broad grin in the witches' face turned slightly pink when meeting Harry's eyes.

Yes, Animagus level was the long-term target in Transfiguration, like Apparition in Charms. Altogether, classes more and more changed to project meetings, with goals that would, for the most part, be reached only toward the end of the seventh year.

---

This wasn't true for all projects, or all goals. Some of them seemed rather short, or rather permanent, depending on how to look at them. For example, there was a Potions seminar offered by McGonagall: girls only, about contraceptive potions.

Hermione gave little more than a brief grin to the offer; after all, she'd mastered those recipes long before, owing to private research. Her interest grew a bit when McGonagall announced information about latest developments, enough to join an evening seminar.

While not interested in the details, Harry found the topic worth a short conversation, and so asked Hermione about the newest developments.

"Well, they've developed a potion after ... Nice idea, basically, but I can't see an improvement yet."

"Why not? ... Seems quite practical to me."

Hermione looked at him with mix of know-it-better, mockery, and embarrassment. "All those potions," she said, "have something else in common: their taste's awful. Now, the regular type is a cup once a week. Is this answer detailed enough?"

Yes it was, giving another example how easily the mind could drift off from topics in class to something totally different.

Harry also struggled with things in his mind he tried to shake off. For example, the thought of Sirius dealing with unknown people, known only for evil purposes and for a tendency to get rid of anyone causing trouble, or trying to.

Another thought he banished quickly whenever it occurred was that of the next year in Hogwarts. It would be his final one, then with him as a seventh-year who no longer would find a reason for walking over to the Ravenclaw table. The thought was hard to stand - although, in - er, practical terms, the difference might not be as significant as expected, what with portkey links and network tickets to use them ...

Even now, the thought of booking a room for a night in Hogsmeade had limited appeal for him and Cho. A luxury suite somewhere far away, with no known face around, yes, that picture had some thrill. And, at the other end of the scale, the image of a guest suite in Hogsmeade caused a tickling badly suited for public places. Just a sentence like, "I wish I had a wizard picture of, er - Flamel" seemed enough to raise some trouble breathing regularly.

---

With summer gone, they looked for alternatives. One alternative crossed their mind on a Saturday afternoon. After looking at each other, they met shortly afterwards in the storage room outside, mounted their Steel Wings, and jumped up.

The Giants' camp looked neglected, of course, however the huts seemed still intact, more or less. And the barns.

Coming toward Lleyrin's hut and barn, their natural choice, Harry sensed something. Instinctively, his arm signaled Squad formation, then his hand reached for his wand.

Checking around, he tried to locate the origin of that feeling, concentrating on haragei rather than common senses like eyes. So it was Cho who heard it first, signaling him with a hand on her ear.

Then he, too, could hear it. The noise seemed to come from Hagrid's former hut.

They moved closer, still on their Steel Wings, carefully, slowly.

Close to the hut, Harry stopped, relaxed, grinned. Registering his signal, Cho closed in, heard it too, and started to grin by herself. What they heard was music, and the singer had to be French.

Harry whispered. "We must notify them - except I don't know how, without scaring them to hell."

Cho nodded, thought, smiled. "I have an idea." She touched down, followed by Harry.

About ten yards from the hut, Cho draw her wand. Next moment, Harry could watch as something glittery shot through the air, exploded before the hut's window in a soft bang, presenting a rain of green and golden sparkles.

A second later, the music stopped.

No movement.

Cho tried it again. No reaction from inside.

Harry had an idea. It was a little difficult to steady his mind, feeling this hard temptation to laugh, but at the second try, it worked.

The Centaur circled around the hut, glanced through the window, came back. "There's nothing harmful, master."

Harry bowed, the Centaur did something similar, then disappeared.

Seconds later, the door came open, and Ron stood in the huge frame. His voice still a bit shaky, he said, "Good thinking, Harry. Pity I couldn't appreciate the sight, but until I realized what it was, I almost wet my ..."

Harry grinned. "You got it all wrong, Ron - it wasn't yours where this should happen."

Cho was still laughing when another figure appeared in the door. Obviously, certain remarks were challenging French girls beyond embarrassment. Janine looked a bit pinkish. "Mind your own business, 'arry."

He bowed. "Will do ... Just for your information - Lleyrin's hut is a bit haunted, you might stay off."

Janine had regained her balance, and more. "You mean - translucent figures, moaning, cries in the night?"

Cho turned to Harry. "Let's go. This hut's haunted even worse."

* * *

Someone else encountered problems too, although of a different kind, and certainly more related to school issues. This someone was Hermione, and her trouble had to do with her graduate work dealing with werewolf cures.

At lunch, she spoke about her project, that she had done a lot of hard work with analysis, and that she had designed some alternative recipes - on parchment. Further progress required tests.

Ron asked, "How can you know it isn't poisonous? ... Imagine, your test candidate drinks that potion and next moment - arrrggh." Ron illustrated his meaning with two hands at his throat.

Hermione looked at him with disgust.

It took Ron a second to realize - it wasn't his lack of confidence in her recipes, his pantomime had raised the memory of Hagrid and his own brother. He flushed. "Sorry - I forgot."

Harry said, "At least - nobody can say you'd spare your family from your jokes, living or otherwise."

Ron's expression didn't improve. "Harry - that's some masterpiece of an excuse. I feel guiltier than before."

Hermione looked satisfied. "It's all good for you ... But to answer your question - I'm ready to drink any potion by myself first. That should guarantee nobody will die of it."

Ron had recovered, saw his chance for a return. "Really?"

Even Hermione had to grin, approving his score - after all, the implication could almost be counted as a compliment. By herself, that was.

Harry asked, "What would be the effect toward you?"

"Not much," explained Hermione, "since I'm no werewolf. Might be it comes back quickly, otherwise - "

Ron looked disgusted. "That's some table conversation, by all means!"

Hermione saw her chance. "Sorry - I didn't know bodily fluids were such a touchy issue for you."

Harry saw his chance. "Touchy is the word."

Hermione apparently had waited for this joyful atmosphere, and now looked at Harry. "I wonder if you'd be so kind to talk with Lupin. As a test candidate, I mean."

Harry's expression showed sympathy without hope. "I can talk with him, only - I know the answer. It's, no thanks."

"Why?" Hermione looked expectant, innocent, quite scientific.

Harry smiled, holding her stare silently.

"Well," she said, "pretty much what I thought ... In this case, I have to look for werewolves somewhere else."

"And where might that be?"

"Everywhere - I need them, it's as simple as that. The first step will be to ask Lupin if he knows someone else, but that's something I'll do by myself."

Harry felt relief hearing that. A moment later, he became aware that asking Lupin would have been the simpler task, because Hermione told him with a sweet smile, "While you, Harry, might do me another favour instead. I can imagine someone who might know where to find a werewolf, and I think you can, too."

The name that came up in Harry's mind was Sirius Black, reason enough to look blank. "Maybe so, although right now, I seem a bit ..."

Hermione grinned as if hearing a good joke. "Then I'll help you: Rita Skeeter."

Harry's reaction told her that he'd thought of someone else, but before she had a chance to follow this track, Hermione found herself in full battle with pros and cons regarding the Daily Prophet woman. Harry said, "You know her at least as well as I do - it has been you who held her in a glass for a while."

"Yeah, and that's the reason why I might as well forget the idea, if you won't help."

"But I don't see a way to hide that it's for you."

"That's not necessary ..." Seeing another blank look in Harry's face, Hermione felt the need for some more bluntness. "If Rita gets her pound of flesh, she'll do it no matter who's benefitting from it."

Feeling the trap closing around himself, Harry asked, "And what pound in particular did you have in mind?"

"Ooh - Harry, I would leave this completely to you."

Neither her voice nor her expression held the slightest trace of threat, or blackmail. Still, Harry wondered if he was the only one who saw it so visibly in Hermione's words.

---

He didn't want to know, while there was no question - Hermione deserved his help, even if not, she would insist, a prospect which struck Harry still worse than agreeing to her idea immediately. And a talk with Rita Skeeter might yield another benefit - after carefully preparing himself for this conversation with the help of Snape.

He stared at her. "That gives me an ob on you - you know that, do you?"

Hermione nodded, smiled - seductively, there was no denying, surprising him considerably. "What a disquieting thought, Harry - being in your debt."

Ron, too, seemed speechless for an instant. Then he said, "Hey - you never look at me that way!"

Hermione produced a mock version of her former smile. "Maybe because I'm not in your debt ... Maybe the thought won't be as disquieting ..."

Harry was very careful not to raise any challenge with his next words - too well did he know Hermione's reaction to any kind of challenge. "Come to think of it," he said, "Viktor's been very helpful when selecting the new Quidditch team. I might say, it's already balanced."

"It's awful how you mix up business between different people." Looking at him, there was a lot of fun in Hermione's eyes. It was fun, that - wasn't it?

Harry's first station on the way to Rita Skeeter had the shape, size, and position of the Ravenclaw table, for more than one reason. He said, "Hermione's looking for werewolves, as test candidates for her newest brewing. She asked me if I'd ask Lupin ..."

Almyra looked startled.

"... and I said I could but I knew already the answer, which is no."

Almyra looked a bit better.

"She took my word for it ..."

Almyra looked very relieved.

"... only to send me to Rita Skeeter for that."

Startled seemed the wrong word for Cho's expression. "Can't she do it by herself?"

"Certainly - only this time she's been the one who knew the answer in advance."

Too intelligent for such a mistake, too sensible as well, Cho avoided challenging Harry's friendship with Hermione. Her target could be found in a slightly different direction. "And what are you going to trade?"

Harry looked blank. "Dunno ..." A small grin. "Maybe a travel report."

Hadn't been a good idea. "Travel to which place?" snarled Cho. "I warn you, young - "

"Haiti."

"Huh?" Two astonished faces turned to Almyra.

"Haiti - to look for werewolves. They're called loup-garou there, I think you'd find quite a few."

But of course, as glad as Hermione looked, hearing this information, she saw no direct connection to Harry's promise, took it as a balance for Lupin's predicted refusal.

---

So Harry went for his second station, although the topic of press contact didn't strike him as the first topic to be discussed.

Snape looked thoughtful. "So he's made contact. Well, the difficult part is over, in which impatience is your worst enemy. Now comes the simple part in which you just have to stay alive."

Harry looked horrified.

Registering it, Snape looked apologetic. "Harry, you didn't come to hear pleasantries. Although, who'd thought of a day when I was going to wish Sirius all the luck he'll need."

Harry wanted to know how to communicate now, in this phase.

"Don't start something like a two-way mailbox. As nicely as it works, there's just no excuse when caught in the act. And besides, Harry, you'll never make a first-rate spy, no offense intended."

Harry could grin. "None taken, Prof. It's right as well as true."

Snape looked bewildered for a moment. "Anyway - in your case, just do the obvious: visit him in his office. There's nothing to beat a stunt in full public."

"But ..."

"Of course, you can't discuss matters there. While you express concern and reproach him for his drinking, you exchange something written. A pity you're no smoker - an empty pack of cigarettes is a good method - although, if the room's under surveillance ... No, much simpler: you hug him, and in doing so, you shift a paper under his collar."

Snape smiled. "You might train that - but it must be someone of comparable size." It didn't look as if Snape was volunteering for the job of Harry's training partner.

Then Harry wanted to know how, or where, a real discussion could be performed.

"Hmm ... Difficult. Not in his house - you must expect the worst, meaning any regular place is compromised this way or the other."

Harry grimaced, thinking of someone else.

Luckily, Snape couldn't interpret this completely. "Well," he said, "that's how it's played ... You have to meet him at an irregular place, and it must be unsuspicious. And it must be so that you two aren't recorded travelling through links ... Having found such a place, you pass him time and address. Then he'll do something totally normal, and by accident, he'll do something to get rid of his shadow - if there's any. This done, he'll come to that place."

Shadow. Moving the shadow ... Moving away from the shadow, shadowy places - suddenly, Harry had an idea. "Prof - for some other reason, I'll meet that press woman, Rita Skeeter. I was wondering if it's worth a try to milk that source."

Now Snape looked horrified. "Bloody Baron, no! I won't say there's no press who could be trusted, but not with you at one end and her at the other."

"Yeah, I thought so, too."

"Hopefully - in the name of Sirius."

And of someone else. Harry left, thinking about whom to ask as a training partner for passing messages under the collar, before the lenses of some hidden camera.

Cho wasn't big enough, as Snape had hinted so clearly. Almyra? Bigger, yes, although ... Dumbledore was too big, and besides ... For an instant, Harry had a picture of himself and Ginny, dropped it quickly - why didn't he look for men to train with?

Because the issue was just too confidential. Ron, for example, a perfect candidate otherwise, would never stop asking. Viktor? Wouldn't ask, but was too small. Only then, the obvious choice occurred to him.

Kenzo examined his face. "You're walking on paths where the mastering of aikido and kenjutsu may not be sufficient to finish the journey, Ha-ri."

Harry bowed. "You're right, sensei. While basically this is nothing new to me, I'm still in the need of new weapons. My experience is limited to open battles in which you can show your face as it appears."

"You'll find yourself wishing dearly you were in open battle." Kenzo smiled. "But we can't always restrict ourselves to the disciplines in which we excel. This is why it might be wise to devote some of your exercise time to exploring getsumai no michi."

"This term is new to me, sensei."

"You might translate it as the moonlit path or, less poetic, seeing in the dark. It's an attempt of seeing where there's no light, watching where your view is obscured ... In a way, it means developing an inner eye."

Still not feeling any grasp on this path, Harry asked, "Is it comparable to haragei, or a part of it?"

"Comparable yes. Maybe it's an extension - haragei is a technique of orientation, of locating something, at best to qualify it ... Do you know what radar is, Ha-ri?"

"Not really, sensei."

"It's a Muggle technique - like a light of special nature, except there are no eyes to see this light reflected. Muggles use radar to detect the presence of things, for example aeroplanes ... By guessing from the given circumstances, they can have a good estimation of what they found - but if, for example, they see two echos where only one aeroplane should be, they don't know what is the other, and they don't know which is which ... So, haragei is your radar, Ha-ri - and getsumai no michi will allow you to see and to distinguish ... At the end, that is - don't expect success within a few days."

"How is it trained, sensei?"

"By disabling your other senses, especially your eyes, so that you won't be tempted to use them instead." Kenzo smiled again. "But for today, let's keep to something as simple as passing a paper under a collar."

* * *

Sirius' new secretary was an older witch, looking unfriendly, snarling a sullen question into the horn, receiving an unfriendly answer, waving Harry through, only to forget him immediately.

No doubt - a ministry battle-horse.

Sirius looked no longer proper and astute. His dress showed spots, his eyes too. "You?" Sirius' voice offerent hardly suppressed hostility. "That's exactly what I need to cap a glorious day."

"Capping's the term - days and bottles ..." Harry could only hope his performance would pass some listener's test. "Anyway, I didn't come to start a row with my first words ... Hullo, Sirius."

He walked over and hugged Sirius, who looked astonished first, then quickly flashed a warning with his eyes, and finally stiffened for an instant when the paper slid into his shirt.

"Well - erm, hello, Harry - at least you're friendlier than expected, took me a bit by surprise - most people have less words for me these days." Sirius' hand touched his ear.

"Really - but I was trying not to comment on that."

"So then - has been nice to see you, Harry. My compliments to Hogwarts, and the people there - " Sirius' hand wiped his eye, "but if that's all, then good - "

"Wait a second! You might be able to help me with an address - I'm looking for that press woman, what's-her-name - "

"Rita Skeeter?" There was horror in Sirius' voice.

"Exactly - that's her."

"You - of all people? I'd have thought she's the last person on earth you'd be interested - "

"It's not for me - but come to think of it, you might be able to help us too. We're looking for werewolves."

The horror in Sirius' expression faded a bit, then was replaced by astonishment. He said, "It's new to me that Hogwarts is short of werewolves, Harry."

"It is - for this particular purpose."

"Whatever that means ... Anyway, if I know any other werewolf, I'm not aware of it. Skeeter ... Skeeter, where did I store that - wait a second, Harry."

Sirius disappeared in a small store room. When he returned shortly afterwards, he was looking bewildered. "Where did I ... aah - I think I know."

He reached into a drawer, looked at something, grabbed for a piece of parchment and a quill, and wrote some lines.

"Here - that's where you might try your luck ... If not, you have to ask the Daily Prophet people."

Harry studied the parchment, which listed an address he knew perfectly well by himself, while nothing else. Sirius was very careful.

---

After asking for directions he could have described similarly well by himself, Harry left the office, and only outside checked the time; his real meeting with Sirius would come later that day, provided the plan worked out.

Early afternoon seemed to be Rita's breakfast time. She opened the door, showing surprise only for a short moment, reminding Harry of someone tricky and watchful even without the knowledge of aikido.

"Harry Potter, my old pal! If that isn't a splendid start for a day - come in, have a cup of tea, let's do a little chat."

Harry accepted the tea, declined eggs and bacon, of which he saw a lot, studied her. Breakfast time wasn't Rita Skeeter's best, except for her style of conversation, which seemed ready any time.

"How's Hogwarts doing, being on its own again?" she asked. "You don't know, by any chance, where the dark wizards went, do you?"

The dark wizards, held prisoners in Hogwarts dungeons for a while, had been transferred to an unknown destination, and the only public knowledge - identical with Harry's own - was that the new prison should be on some island.

He answered, "No, Rita, and it's quite on purpose that I don't know."

She shrugged. "Might have been, what with your close connections to the Law Enforcement Squad."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Rita Skeeter grinned and swallowed a mouthful. "We're talking about Sirius Black - your godfather."

He had never revealed that to her, while he clearly remembered a scene in Dumbledore's office, and some trick questions from Rita Skeeter. "How do you know?"

"Can you spell the word archive, Harry? Hogwarts isn't the only place where people have to do their homework."

"Okay - but if he knows, he won't tell, and I won't ask. Aside from ..."

"Yeah - he's seen better days, hasn't he? That case hit him at the wrong time and in the wrong place." The woman's eyes scanned his face. "Do you have an explanation for that, Harry?"

"I didn't come to discuss my godfather with you, Rita."

"Certainly not - but maybe, in the course of discussing your issue, we might come back to this one. It's strange, somehow - a man who could stand twelve years in Azkaban is blown off the track from ... Anyway, what can I do for you, Harry?"

"We're looking for werewolves ... I hoped you might know one, or some."

The woman laughed. "Is Lupin feeling lonely?"

Harry grinned, quickly returning to normal when he saw the watchful glance in the woman's face. "If so, I don't think he's looking for this kind of company. No, it's for some research work."

"Research - what in particular?"

Harry just smiled.

"Assume I know some - what can you offer, Harry?"

He felt her stare - in his face, on his body, raising the question whether Rita Skeeter might think of more trades than information. He said, "Rita - we can discuss the price once you have some names, and after those people have agreed to some - er, support of research work."

"No way, young man; my part only covers names and addresses, that's all. Whether they're ready to howl and bite is none of my business."

"Hmmm ... Maybe our alternatives are less expensive, after all."

Had been a hit. "Which alternatives?"

"We've got some contacts to Haiti ... It's said there are lots of werewolves."

"It's said, huh? ... Only it's far away, and you have to travel, and those portkey links are a story of their own, and - "

"Story? What story?"

Had he said too much? Too late he became aware that interrupting her hadn't been the best idea.

Rita Skeeter watched him again, this time only his face. "What I have to say in public, and for free, can be read in the Daily Prophet, Harry. Who wants to have more, must come up with a deal first."

"Save it. We're using the links a lot, and they do the job. If there was something fishy with them, it would have been published, and Sirius would be the first to take measures."

The woman tried to look innocent, but failed. All she could muster was a triumphant smile. "Who said there's something fishy with them, Harry?"

With a face trained better in such tasks, he replied, "Nobody, but you hinted a story, and what else could that be? ... Anyway, I came because of werewolves - that's my only interest."

Rita Skeeter grew serious. "Sometimes, you have to gather information for quite some time, and you have to be careful about what to write, and with whom to talk. Harry, there's one difference between the two of us." She looked at him expectantly.

"One?"

A grin. "Others could be - er, balanced, at least temporarily. The more important difference is this, I'll never underestimate your special habit of meeting weird people and encounter weird situations, while you, on the other hand, underestimate my skill when it's about distinguishing between information for the quill and confessions for an open ear, not far away from a tight mouth."

He kept silent.

"Think it over, Harry. In the meantime, I'll look around, and we may meet again somewhere - here, or in Hogwarts - "

He nodded. "When in Hogwarts, Rita, make sure you're not confused with a bug; lately, it's no good place for bugs."

"See what I mean? You simply don't trust me."

"Funny, isn't it?"

"The last deal we had worked out okay - you got what you wanted, and I got what I wanted."

"True - and it took place after the battle was fought, and the target was just Fudge."

Rita Skeeter escorted him to the door. "As I said, Harry, think it over. You're a lot better in hiding than last time, but still no match for me. Together, though, we could be a hell of a team."

* * *

With the Skeeter visit done, Harry had time to kill before heading for the meeting place. He would arrive earlier than Sirius, to make sure nobody could see them together or at the same time, but even taking this into account there was time to bide. So he visited shops in the Diagon Alley, looked around - Christmas always came quite suddenly, and then you stood there without an idea for a present.

The shopwindows offered nothing that caught his eye, at least not as a Christmas present. However, passing the Magical Menagerie, he had another idea - not for today, only to be prepared ...

Coming out, there were two items hidden in his large pockets - a leash and a leather collar, both of them sized for a large dog.

Then he headed for Gringotts.

The bank clerk could have been anywhere between fifty and three hundred, guessing from his face. "May I help you, sir?"

"Yes, please. I'd like to pass this message to Mr Modragh Moroney." Harry offered the small, folded parchment.

"Of course, sir - please have a seat for a minute." The Goblin disappeared through a door, was back not long afterwards. "If you would follow me, please."

For a managing director's office, the room Harry entered seemed pretty small - but then, Goblins certainly had different opinions about the paraphernalia for higher ranks.

Had this been a face he'd seen in Dumbledore's office? Probably not, although Harry didn't know.

"Mr Potter," said the Goblin, your visit is a honour. And your note told me not more than than it's really you, with this signature."

Harry bowed. "Mr Moroney, I have a little problem, which might be related to a mutual bond, that's why I came to you, and to ask for some help which could be given in this building."

"We'd be glad to assist you, Mr Potter. What kind of help can we offer?"

"In about fifteen minutes," explained Harry, "another customer of Gringotts will come in. His name is Sirius Black. He will ask for an escort to his vault. Now, if Mr Black could be led to a room, rather than to his vault, and if I could wait for him in that room, and then talk with him - for the time it takes to visit a vault and handle things - I'd be very grateful."

Mr Moroney's face didn't move. "Of course, Mr Potter - for a change, it's inside business, while otherwise it's another example of our mutual trust and confidence. I'm very pleased for this chance to offer help so easily."

In the small, windowless room to which Mr Moroney had escorted him, Harry waited until the door opened again, presenting a Sirius who still needed a second to drop his suspicious look.

Then his godfather relaxed and sat down. "That was clever, Harry. So we have ten minutes, fifteen at the most."

"Yes - and this is the most reliable place I know, short of Hogwarts."

"Right. So what's up?"

Good question that, while not funny. "Well, I wanted to hear how things are going - whether I can do something ..."

A mask closed over Sirius' face. "You've done your part, Harry. Now it's going, and the ball's in my field. I'd prefer to keep it that way - your ideas are sometimes a bit - er, unusual, to say the least."

Harry couldn't resist. "Well - some people need a day's thinking to warm up to them."

Sirius blushed a bit, but Harry was the one who felt more embarrassed. "Sorry - what I meant was, at least the ideas are effective."

With a flat voice, Sirius replied, "I'm still trying to see where this remark scored better than the previous one."

Harry suppressed a grin. "What's happening now, Sirius?"

"It's a kind of probation period ... They take their time, there's no hurry - and you were more than right to be as careful as that. We're lucky, having Snape as your mentor."

Harry suppressed a comment that this had been his idea too, and instead asked, "Do they blackmail you?"

"Harry - just don't ask for details, okay? If I think you need to know, I'll tell you."

Harry thought for a moment. "Assume we know who's in the background - could you drop this dance on the high wire?"

"What do you mean? And what do you know?"

Harry told Sirius about everybody's conclusion that Voldemort was the man in the shadow.

"Even if they're right - and the more I think about it, the more it feels true - why should I stop? There are people in the middle, and they're as guilty as Voldemort himself - they might lead me to him."

"To him??" Harry stared at his godfather. "You're not trying to deal with him personally, are you?"

Sirius smiled dryly. "I'll try to call you in time, Harry."

Only now, Harry became aware what had driven him to this meeting. He had felt some hope that Sirius would step out, return to a life of a reputed chief of police.

Sirius saw it. "It's too late now. We shook a tree, and now the nuts are coming down. Either you catch them, or they hit you. If I stopped now, making clear this has been a fraud, it would be more dangerous than carrying on."

Harry sighed. "You know more about that than I do."

"By the way - did you talk with Rita Skeeter?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"She was very interested in you. She made a remark about portkey travel - 'a story of its own,' that's what she said." He told Sirius about Rita Skeeter's offer.

Sirius looked angry. "That woman's poison, Harry - stay off!"

"And what if she really knows something?"

"Doesn't matter. I didn't say she isn't up to her job, quite the opposite, but she isn't reliable. The moment things turn to her benefit, she'll blow it - and pity those who are at the wrong end at that time. What's more, she's used to society scandals and ministry incompetence, or maybe corruption - she isn't aware what kind of people she's trying to catch."

"Then maybe we should warn her."

"No." Sirius' stare was hard. "Any such remark would only make her stick closer to you. If she really has something, then she knows about five people killed - if that isn't warning enough, then I don't know."

There was a knock at the door.

A Goblin came in. "Sirs, Mr Moroney asked me to tell you - the time is over, and this here was left in your vault." He handed a small bag to Sirius, then disappeared.

Sirius looked into the bag and seemed stupefied.

"What is it?"

"Money - at least hundred galleons, if not more."

Next second, Harry knew. "Of course - you've visited your vault. That means - coming out, there must be money in your pockets. Imagine, some street robber came along and found you dry - this visit would look highly suspicious."

Sirius seemed impressed. "These Goblins don't take chances - a good feeling."

"Yes, indeed." Harry grinned. "And I bet - this money wasn't taken from your vault - not if I have any understanding of Goblins in general and Mr Moroney in particular."

* * *

Back in Hogwarts, Harry started the training with Kenzo that was supposed to deepen his sense of getsumai no michi. A training which manifested itself quickly as cumbersome, balancing nicely with a slow progress.

They did the first exercises in large dungeons, totally dark, Harry in the middle of the room and the sensei, walking noiselessly, ordering Harry to locate him, to describe what he did, or how he held his arms.

At best, Harry's success could be rated as very limited - better than zero, while not much.

For his next attempt, Kenzo used a boat party on the lake, in the deepest mist. It worked a lot better, in particular since the noise that was made by the sculls could have come from any direction in a fog as dense as in a steam room, only colder and unfriendlier.

Kenzo ordered Harry to scull in short circles until he had lost direction, and then to reorient himself, using what little sense he had developed so far.

Harry found the direction toward the school - easily, in a way, although he suspected his haragei did most of the work, sensing the presence of people not too far away. In contrast, he wasn't able to determine any other direction, had to find the school first and then, using his knowledge of the topography, to locate the places.

Still, Kenzo seemed satisfied, saw no reason to distinguish too much between haragei and getsumai no michi - and besides, the primary goal was indeed detecting and identifying people rather than anything else.

---

Dense fog reaching down to the ground didn't occur very often. Looking for something better, or more often, Harry found a training method which made him leap forward in his development. Up in the air on a broomstick, with the gravity as the only indicator of direction, became his method of choice.

In Harry's first exercises on his Steel Wing, Kenzo accompanied him. Then Harry began doing it alone - jumping up, flying wild arcs until he could only guess where he was, sensing around, aiming toward a target and approaching it like a pilot using navigation instruments, to dive down and check whether he'd been right.

More and more, he was.

Once on such a trip, Cho gave him company. He could disappear in the fog, fly a circle, come back and pass her closely, inaudible until the last moment, scaring her to death. She couldn't see anything funny in such manoeuvers and decided to leave him on his own in this training.

Harry asked Nagini whether she was interested to come with him. Her answer made clear that yes, of course she would come with him if he said so, after all, he was her master, while at the same time she would never figure out the benefit of cold, misty air, not if she could as well lie on her preferred place just in front of the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room.

During the next weeks, Harry could be found in the air almost every night. If the weather offered a clear sky, Ron collected his team and bullied the Gryffindors in the best tradition of Oliver Wood. When the fog prevented Quidditch training, it was Harry's chance to fly through a shapeless world of thin air, reminding him of dives in the lake. On these trips, he felt no loneliness at all; too clear were the contours of buildings and places in his mind.

Alone - he was the only one in the air, while not alone in the night. In fact, he had some remarkable encounters.

The first occurred in the Forbidden Forest. Harry was gliding through the mist, high over the tree tops, when he felt a presence more familiar than the others he could recognize down there. Stretching out his inner eye, still not good for details though for shapes, he saw a Centaur with a light mane.

He dived down and came out of the mist closely above ground, touched down and dismounted. "Good evening, Firenze."

"Not so good, Harry Potter. The stars are obscured."

"What is a Centaur doing out at night when the stars can't be watched?"

"Watching broomsticks, and their riddlesome courses."

Was it a joke? Centaurs didn't grin. Harry asked, "Could you see me up there, Firenze?"

"That's a weird question, Harry Potter - how can you see something in the mist?"

"Well - erm, normally, you cannot, but up there, I could see you."

"Another strange remark - of course you could see me, the mist doesn't reach down to the ground."

Now Harry felt sure that Firenze was laughing at him without even moving his face. At a loss to find any other meaningful remark, he said, "Well, then ... goodbye, Firenze."

Disappearing in the mist, Harry checked again, stressing his inner eye to the utmost extent. If he wasn't mistaken, the Centaur's face looked exactly in his direction.

---

The second encounter took place near the little graveyard. Coming across the lake, Harry had selected Hagrid's old hut as today's navigation target. Still up in the fog, he felt a presence not far away from the hut.

Someone visiting the graves so late?

Coming closer, he realized that his getsumai no michi had developed farther than he knew - the figure was moving forward, retreating, standing, moving again ...

And then he knew what it meant, and who was exercising down there. He came out of the mist, saw the figure with the back to him, and touched down.

A short gasp. The figure turned in a jump, then had the feet again on the ground. For a split second, there'd been something glittery, then it was gone.

Harry said, "Good evening, Rahewa."

"Harry."

The voice was still a bit shaky - however, considering the circumstances, most other people would be running in shrieking horror by now, as Harry realized, or frozen in shock. "I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't want to frighten you."

"You didn't." A defiant statement.

"Sorry again - what I meant was, I didn't want to surprise you, but calling from up there didn't seem a better solution."

A short grin. "No."

Harre glanced toward the graves. "For compensation, I owe you the story of Flitwick - how he surprised us quite a lot with his rapid-fire spells."

Rahewa seemed very interested in this story.

"But not here - it's too cold, and you're in the middle of your exercises."

In the sparse light, it was impossible to see whether her face looked darker than a moment before.

"How's your progress?" What he'd seen were aikido exercises. Kenzo's classes were open for third-years and up, but locked against first-years like Rahewa, who had found her own method of solving this problem.

"I don't know - I can't judge myself."

"Please show me."

Undeniably, this was quite different from what she'd been planning; however, refusing seemed still worse. Rahewa went through a sequence of basic steps and movements, obviously memorized from watching others in the training hall.

Harry saw great determination, natural talent, and the first signs of wrong timing or accentuation - signs that would deepen if not properly corrected by a sensei. And he saw something else - in her witches' robe, Rahewa was handicapped. He said, "You need proper clothes, Rahewa."

She stiffened. "They'll come when I'll join the class."

He recognized the signs - not from himself, more from a close friend, and some others, all of them pretty red-haired. Canadian immigrants of native origin - certainly not a place where to look for a lot of money. He asked, "Would you do me a favour, Rahewa?"

She looked suspiciously at him, found her thought confirmed in his face, and shook her head.

Harry felt amazed, although not surprised. In years with Ron, he'd learned how fine an instinct poor people could develop, and how difficult it was to help them in such matters.

But he himself had developed a repertoire of tricks. "Would it be okay from the same source where the Firebolt came from?"

Still some hesitation.

"I mean - I just could tell Almyra, but how would that look - carrying you screaming and stomping to Fleur, only to get your measures?"

For the first time, he heard Rahewa giggle.

"Now that this is settled - would you do me another favour?"

Still very suspicious, Rahewa seemed at a loss to see the direction of his thought. After a moment, she nodded.

"If the sensei comes to you - say, in the next days, will you listen to him, and do what he suggests?"

"Yes, Harry."

"Well, then ... See you." He jumped up into the mist. A last check showed him that Rahewa still was standing motionlessly, looking into the direction he'd used to climb up, before turning the first arc.

---

Then, not too long before Christmas, he was flying the old patrol route, coming back from the former dragons' nests, passing the border of the Forbidden Forest, when he sensed two presences - strong and clear, more than vaguely familiar.

Only the shapes didn't form, or didn't fit.

He dived down, desperate to solve the riddle. His orientation was clear; he knew where to look when coming out of the mist - ahead in some distance, for a moment he saw two shapes before they disappeared between the trees.

Two dogs - or wolves.

Harry took his time to think it over, and finally decided to solve the last riddle in a direct conversation. Except it wasn't simple at all to find a few minutes alone with Almyra. Not finding anything better, he went to the Ravenclaw table and asked in the presence of Cho, "Al - mind a walk outside?"

Almyra looked at him, surprised, maybe a bit anxious. "Sure."

Cho stood up. "Let's go."

"Erm - that's not what I had in mind."

Cho smiled serenely. "Doesn't matter - that's what I have in mind."

How to ... yes of course! "Did it ever cross your mind that Christmas is pretty close?"

"Oh ... actually, yes, indeed, now that you mentioned it - "

"All right, then, see you in a while."

Outside, Almyra seemed a bit relaxed. "How can I help you to a surprise, Harry?"

"Well - to tell the truth, you did already, although I don't know if this has something to do with Christmas."

He heard a short sound - maybe a suppressed squeak.

"Some days ago, I was flying the old route. Over there, I felt something and came down looking because somehow it didn't fit. And for a second, I saw two animals you don't see often here around."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Two - that took me quite by surprise, in particular because - I went up again, through the mist, to check the sky. It was half moon, give or take a bit."

"So what?"

Harry smiled. "You're as bad a spy as I am, and fall to the same trap as I did, some time ago, with Hermione."

"Which trap?"

Watching her face, he answered, "You didn't even ask which animals."

Now the trap was reflected in her face.

"Well, I'm not Hermione. I just wanted to tell you. And now, before we get trapped by ourselves, let's talk about Christmas presents."

Almyra swallowed. "No - wait a second, Harry."

He did - about ten, actually, then Almyra said, "The real test is a week from now, but since you've seen us already, I think it's better to tell you. Yes, of course it was Remus and me you saw - "

Harry beamed. "So you've finished your fourth shape - and Lupin his first, or second, depending on how to count. Super, Al!"

"Yes - but that's only part of the story. Our goal goes further - at full moon, he will try to change into that shape on purpose - to prevent his turning to a werewolf."

"You mean ..."

"Yes - on purpose and under full control of his own will. If it works, he'll be able to control it even without that potion. It's a step further, though a big one."

"Oh, yes."

"You see," said Almyra with growing excitement, "if it works, we can go public ... as much as we want, or don't want - it won't be an announcement before supper, but at least something we can talk about."

Harry grinned. "Yes, of course. Well, I won't spoil the secret."

"No, certainly not - although you have to be careful with Cho."

"Yeah ... Besides, while on the subject of first names - "

Almyra, in full human shape, growled, "You aren't curious at all, are you?"

"I wouldn't say so - actually, I'd say I'm really curious - I mean, one secret more doesn't bulge much, does it?"

Almyra laughed. "Well - as this slip has certainly told you, we're a bit farther."

"A bit?"

"Erm - in Hogwarts, things are unchanged, if you get my bearing."

"But."

"Huh?" Almyra's astonishment was almost genuine.

"I don't need Nagini to feel a big but, Al. According to what you said, such a sentence would go, 'But outside Hogwarts' - and so on, and so on."

"Isn't it a bit cold for that, Harry?"

Yes, it was a bit cold for that, as Harry knew perfectly well by himself. Only, he'd heard something in Almyra's voice which he had learned to recognize. Thinking about this riddle, he saw the answer. "Are you a dog or a wolf, Al?"

"A dog - but the difference isn't that big."

"A female, of course."

Almyra didn't answer, started to grin, started to blush.

"My knowledge of dogs is limited, but I know that much - even in such cold weather, there's a certain heat which is just irresistible, literally so - I mean for a male dog, or wolf."

Somewhat pleased, and a bit more embarrassed, Almyra murmured, "You know a lot, Harry - sometimes too much."

"Well - you know, my various trainings have to do with techniques to overcome barriers which cannot be broken by conventional methods. Anyway - let's come back to our main issue."

"I thought we were."

He grinned. "Maybe so, but before hurrying in again, we have to talk about presents - I'm a bad liar, but at least I've learned to work with one half of the truth."