Harry Potter and the Magical Tours

They were sitting in the Entrance Hall, waiting for the Magical Tours service car. This car, a Muggle mini van, would soon take them to the Hogsmeade Linkport. Quite in contrast to the Hogwarts Express, this travelling method presented London as a target that was just a second away - a convincing argument for Harry and Cho, Ron and Ginny, Hermione and Almyra, sitting slightly apart, talking lowly.

Luggage stood everywhere. They all had delivered some parcels, received others, to be opened only tomorrow, at Christmas. Various animals sat on top of some luggage, like Hedwig and Pigwidgeon, or in a lap, like Crookshanks, or snugly under a coat, protected from the cold outside, like Nagini.

In a few minutes, Christmas vacation would start, sharply marked by a portkey travel, would separate them for ten days, split them into four groups, with the Weasley-Potter gang as the biggest and with as many people as the rest.

Weasley-Potter - this was Harry's version of the term, while the others kept to the variation Potter-Weasley as created by Belinda McGraw, who had gone to eternal vacation a while ago.

Harry kept his voice low while asking Cho, "How was your conversation during breakfast?"

Said breakfast had found Marie-Christine at the Ravenclaw table, looking worlds better than the evening before, while not quite as gorgeous as in the night. And Almyra had been curious, as far as Harry could tell from the Gryffindor table.

"Very interesting," replied Cho, "while not quite as informative as some people hoped. Al was beating around the bush, didn't hear enough for her taste ... Then she pushed a bit harder." Cho grinned.

"And?"

"Oh - I said something about a moon which still had been quite full, and asked her how it had been at the teachers' table - with Lupin and so." A friendly smile looked at Harry, not completely reflected in two green eyes.

"And what did she say?"

"Even less than you, but she stopped poking."

Harry chuckled.

"If we hadn't been so - so busy," said Cho, "I'd have squeezed you more, my little darling ..."

He smiled, feeling pleased.

"... but somehow we came totally off that topic ... Not that I feel reason to complain, no, the thought of - "

"Stop it! Please."

Cho smiled archly. "Tsk, tsk ... Is this stressing somewhere?"

"Funny how this feels like blackmailing - and quite unintentionally so, of course, can be only my own fault that - "

"Blackmailing?" An innocent face looked at him with astonishment, splitting into another grin when, an instant later, a soft hissing could be heard from under Harry's coat.

Harry sighed theatrically. "Well then, to feed this greedy mind of yours - "

"Oh - this morning it's my mind, for a change?"

"Hey - blackmail is a mutual agreement, remember?"

"Sorry - I forgot."

Another hissing, hardly revealing news to Harry. He said, "So - I'm not giving you second-source information, only first-hand material - "

"I'm not that picky, mind you."

"I know - but I am, and someone else too. Anyway, some days ago, I saw wolves around."

"Wolves??"

"Yup. Two of them, and it wasn't full moon."

A beaming appeared in Cho's face. "Wow - super." She thought for a moment, then tried her luck. "And - otherwise?"

"As far as I know, there hasn't been a quantum leap yet here in Hogwarts - "

"Quantum leap - that's cute."

"Stop wisecracking, and listen more carefully! Not here in Hogwarts, the school around which you can see wolves ... maybe male, maybe female, maybe - does the nickel drop?"

Cho suppressed a gasp. Right now, gaining the attention of the others around seemed quite counter-productive. Then she nodded. "That fits. Clever girl, by all means."

Harry nodded agreement.

---

"While on the subject ..." Cho looked at him with polite interest. "What are your plans for these ten days?"

"Nothing particular ..." This wasn't quite true, since he already had tried finding an approach toward Sirius, only he wasn't going to discuss this here, no matter how low the voice - and Nagini wouldn't hiss about his own remarks.

"No - visits outside London?"

He bent closer to Cho's ear. "If I'm going to do visits outside London, I'll do them with you ... which doesn't necessarily mean I'm planning them at all."

Cho looked satisfied, and thoughtful. "It's all a bit fresh, isn't it? I don't think it will develop to a habit ..."

"Certainly not."

She looked at the floor. "It was unique ... like a ball once a year."

Harry glanced at her, saw something in her face. "A ball once a year isn't unique."

"No, it isn't." Cho shrugged. "I don't know ... we'll see." Then she grinned again. "Although, the next ball is Easter."

"What I hope most is that we'll see her there with someone else. And that'll end any speculation."

"Yes ... Anyway, coming back to visits - what about those inside London?"

"Hmm ... What about yours?"

"Well ..." Cho looked apologetic. "An afternoon tea isn't exactly what I'm looking for ... An evening is somehow worse - like a promise not fulfilled ... And other models are unrealistic, for this reason or the other."

"I know what you mean - although Ma Weasley already hinted that this could be settled."

"Really?" Cho stared at him. "That comes unexpected - from her."

Remembering a conversation, Harry grinned. "Did you ever count her children?"

Cho looked indignant. "Would you ever talk that way about your own parents?"

An interesting question. "I simply don't know," he answered. "But I was almost quoting her - " he grinned, "while it's certainly wrong to imply anything toward other people with less children ..."

Cho gasped.

"... like mine, for example."

"Sometimes you're impossible."

"Sometimes, impossible things happen."

"Oh yeah ... It's astounding how realistic such impossibilities can feel."

The service car from Magical Tours, which arrived at this moment, saved Harry from an answer. For him, the term Magical Tours alone was enough to stop any leisurely thought, come to full alert, and activate all his senses.

But of course, nothing happened - they said and hugged and kissed goodbye, and minutes later, Harry stood in London with Ron and Ginny.

To celebrate the opportunity, they took a Muggle cab, were stuck in a traffic jam two streets away from London Linkport. After thirty minutes, they paid the driver, left, flagged down the Knight Bus, and reached The Burrow after some minutes in which the only possible jam seemed that of the breath in their throats.

* * *

Despite this being the first day in The Burrow, Harry went to bed early. He suffered from a slight deficiency of sleep. In addition, he could foresee the risk of a longer conversation late in the evening with Ginny - this would come anyway, no doubt, however then with more distance from another evening about which Ginny invariably would ask some questions.

Some time during the night, he awoke - maybe from his senses, maybe from Nagini, certainly not from sleeplessness. A comforting voice whispered, "It's me - go back to sleep" - Ma Weasley.

He did, barely a second later.

He woke again next morning, pretty early for a vacation day. This had little to do with going to bed early - once more, the reason looked like a Weasley, what else in this house, female as well, only younger, her voice less comforting, with more temperament - Ginny, in pyjamas, somwhat tight for a nightdress.

"Get up, Harry," she caroled. "It's Christmas ... Presents."

Harry grunted something.

"Well ... Either you come out, or I'll come in."

Drowsy as he still felt - for a split second, this sounded like an excellent idea. Then he fully registered what Ginny had said, and it wiped off his drowsiness quite efficiently.

"Okay, okay ... Would you please get lost, so I can come out?"

Ginny grinned. "Problems, Harry? ... Somehow I think you'd turn and sleep again the moment I'd close the door behind me."

He hadn't grown up with sisters - or brothers, for that matter - and therefore had no experience how it was to deliver them a bit of teachful spanking, although right now he felt tempted, looking at her.

Except there were two problems - three, to be precise. For starters, Harry had to come out of the bed for that. The second problem was exactly the reason for his reluctance toward this idea. And, worse, he wasn't completely sure what would happen. He wasn't totally convinced he'd find resistance, and while these thin pyjamas seemed suited well for the opportunity, at second thoughts, it seemed suited awfully badly.

And, looking from a totally different perspective - Ginny knew a bit too much aikido to let it happen - assuming she didn't want it happen.

At least, the moment had been sufficient to solve one problem. Harry drove his legs out, realized it was safe to get up, did so.

Still grinning, Ginny turned and walked toward the door, with a slight provocation in her movements, quite artfully so, although the sight of her back was provocation enough, basically speaking.

Only then, Harry took notice of a totally new and unknown piece of furniture - a very comfortable-looking chair, perfectly suited for leisurely reading. So this had been the reason for the visit during the night, which had caused Nagini striking alarm.

He inspected the present with deep pleasure. For someone else, the chair might have looked totally out of place, so close to his battered desk, or maybe the desk would be rated out of place - while for him, this collection created a perfect match, each piece with a precious history.

Right now, however, it was impossible to test the chair because the seat was full with boxes, including those Harry had brought from Hogwarts with the order to open them only today. The day before, he'd stored them on his desk, but the nightly visitor had placed them together with others in one large pile.

---

He started with the new ones, first opening those which he suspected coming from the Weasley parents, in addition to the chair. He was right, finding various clothes, including pyjamas and underwear, in a style that he couldn't help thinking Ma Weasley had consulted her daughter. But then, you never knew.

The pyjamas were finest quality - stirring the memory of some other models, seen only recently. To his surprise, and slight disappointment, he found no sweater.

The evening before, Harry had placed his own presents for the Weasley parents somewhere downstairs, hopefully in places so they'd been found by now. For Arthur Weasley - funny how you could address someone as sir while talking but not in your thoughts - he'd found an organizer similar to Ron's from the past year, only the latest model, with some more bells and whistles. Magical functions in perfect harmony with Muggle items, for example a flat pocket computer with a tiny keyboard, good as a calculator and as an address book. Like several other pieces in his collection of presents for other people, the organizer was of Japanese origin, purchased with the help of Kenzo and from a mail order service. Harry would not be surprised finding Arthur Weasley playing for hours with this piece of Muggle technology which didn't even represent state of the art.

For Ma Weasley, he had found something really cute, and he was looking forward to her comment. A bonsai tree, pretty small, but with a remarkable implementation of magic. About once in a fortnight, the tree grew a fruit, to be plucked in time to make room for the next. The fruit had the size of a walnut, and its flesh was useful as an aromatic spice for soups, or tureens, depending on the personal taste. But the hidden clou was the stone in the fruit.

When opening the stone carefully, Ma Weasley would find a pearl - not quite like in an oyster, however shining equally warm and with a very special colouring. It was only a question of time until Ma Weasley could start designing strings of pearls, to be put together by a crafted jeweller.

The bonsai tree hadn't come cheap, not at all, was by far the most expensive of this year's presents. But nobody knew about that, and Harry could hardly remember another pile of galleons invested so well.

He opened another box. What came out was a kind of knapsack, with some casing for insulation. He felt bewildered, didn't know what to think of it, until he found the small card.

"We'll know in a second," he murmured. "C'mon, Nagini - let's see whether we have to put you on a diet."

The knapsack turned out roomy enough for the snake, in particular since Nagini insisted on keeping her head out, or only protected by the cover flap, so Harry could hear what she said, and she could come out, should the need arrive.

Harry shouldered the knapsack and headed for Ron's room, where he found Ron busy with his own pile.

"Look here," he said, "fits perfectly. Thank you - or to say it with her own words, 'He really has an eye for the details, amazingly practical for a wizard'."

Ron looked proud. "From her, that judgement holds better than many others."

Harry grinned. "Do I have to feel addressed?"

"Of course not ... especially not after your own set of practical advice, given not so long ago."

They smiled at each other. "By the way," said Ron, his hand holding a spector cassette, "That's great - an absolute hit. You can't imagine how this is for me - "

"Maybe I can," interrupted Harry, beaming, "and maybe that's what gave me the idea."

"Yeah ... Thank you, Harry - I'm burning to talk with Grubbly-Plank, for an appointment - "

"Why wait so long? Ever heard of the reader service in the National Library?"

Harry's present for Ron was a spector recording - their Quidditch match against Hufflepuff, a copy of the cutting which had been done in a teamwork of Grubbly-Plank, for the cutting technique, and Madam Hooch, for the selection of the best camera in a scene.

Ginny passed by, meanwhile in clothes, saw Harry in pyjamas and with knapsack. "I'd dress a bit more before climbing a mountain," she said.

Only Ron's presence prevented Harry from retorting that some mountains could be climbed with even less than pyjamas. Although, maybe his expression had told Ginny enough, and again it was Ron's presence which made her look a bit startled.

Ron's thoughts were still at a spector, to be reached first thing next working day. He asked, "Can you put it in yourself? ... I mean, can you control the action or do you rely on someone's help who doesn't know when to slow down?"

In a second, Harry would burst. "We'll talk later," he gasped, hurried back into his room - if Ron could hear him laughing from there, he would attach it to some present.

---

The next box looked very much like a book. This had to be Hermione's present ... correct in both assumptions. Zen - the Kamasutra of the Brain ... Sounded interesting, if only he knew what the Kamasutra was. Well, he would ask her, or maybe the National Library knew more about that.

Harry's own present for Hermione was another item from that mail order service, something of which he didn't know whether the effect contributed to magic or Muggle technology. A twirling-stick with a colouring ring - depending on the temperature in the potion to be twirled, the colours changed from deep blue to light white. Harry would never count as a master in Potions, however this much he knew: temperature was a crucial factor.

A small parcel, soft - Dobby's, as he remembered, who had received socks with luminiscent stripes from Harry. Opening it, he expected socks in return. But what came out looked much better, something he'd wished long before - a face mask, holes for the eyes and the mouth, precious on a broomstick up in the cold air of a winter day.

No doubt, somebody had talked with Dobby. The thought made Harry smile.

Thinking of small figures in Hogwarts, he had to smile again. There was another figure, not really small, except sometimes her eyes seemed as big in her face as Dobby's. Harry had found a way to deliver a present without revealing the origin, something he had inherited years ago, and now was the proper time to pass it further, and Rahewa the proper destination - the Marauder's Map. The map's services had been precious, but with his new senses, he didn't need them any longer, while for her it would be a treasure.

He wondered if she would guess where it came from. The explanation he had attached showed the writing of Ron's writer quill. But even so, or maybe just for this reason, Harry felt little doubt that Rahewa would figure it out.

An envelope with a card inside came next. He opened the card and read.

She was crazy - definitely so, lacked any feeling of decency, quite typical for people with too much money. Without even thinking, Harry knew what it was, only could be, after he'd told her the story of his deal with Ron about the Firebolt.

He had ten days to find out what to say, before meeting Almyra again. And then he would find out how she liked his own present - a small cylinder attached to a thin chain, looking very much like the capsules found around the neck of dogs. Only, this capsule was silver rather than brass, containing a white powder rather than an address or phone number. Harry's card explained how to handle it and why to be careful - the Giant's dope from Lleyrin, left over from the Battle of Hogwarts, was nothing to fool around with.

By now, three small boxes were left. Two of them looked a bit more familiar, so the third had to come from inside the house, most likely from Ginny. Harry unwrapped the box, started to grin after a moment, and took the flask out.

Centouros, said the engraving on the tiny bottle.

He examined it from all sides, then sprayed a bit on his throat. He was still sniffing when the door turned open and Ginny came in. Seeing her face, and registering the exact moment, he asked, "Have you been listening?"

He didn't get an answer to his question, was pretty sure nonetheless - after all, the hissing of the sprayer was not to be confused with Nagini talking. And her own question, a bit anxious, gave confirmation enough.

"Do you like it?"

"It's something totally new, but so far, the scent is quite appealing. How did you select, by the name or by the scent?"

"Both, actually ... When I saw this name - and then tested the fragrance ..."

"It will be quite a surprise ... Thank you." He bent forward and kissed her. Sensing her reaction, he stopped quickly, stepped back, and said, "Time for breakfast, huh? Except for one question: do you like mine?"

His present for Ginny was a small hand-bag. To the outside, it looked elegant, otherwise perfectly normal, while inside it had a partition that could be found only when knowing what to do, and this partition seemed to offer the same room again. Only the weight could indicate that there was more than met the eye.

"Oh yes - it's great ... Thank you."

Ginny made no efforts to leave the room. Watched by her, Harry started to unwrap the next box. After a few seconds, a wide grin was spreading his face. When his hand came up, presenting another flask, Ginny gasped. An instant later, her expression changed to deep disappointment. "Oh, dammit."

This sample showed a Kanji character and the imprint Samurai. There was also a small card, to be read later - right now didn't strike Harry as the best time.

Ginny sighed. "Well - it had been such a nice idea."

"Why?" He grinned. "Yours has some competition - after all, that's nothing new, is it? But I won't drop it, that's for sure. Imagine - after using hers once or twice, the next time I come with yours. It will drive her crazy."

Ginny looked at him with a mix of hope and disbelief. "Really?"

"Yes, really. And if she complains, I'll say, it's something new, and for once, I won't have a bad start."

Ginny giggled, looked at his last box, and giggled again. "Open that thing, please. I have a feeling."

He did. When his hand came up this time, they both started to giggle, to laugh, almost rolling over, loud enough so Ron came in to see what was so funny.

In the box had been a card from Fleur, together with a small flask, showing the title Clair de Hune - the light of Mars.

* * *

Christmas at The Burrow was wonderful ...Hanging around lazily, eating, talking, playing with some presents, although there was quite a collection which still had to wait. A Firebolt, for example, or two alternative perfumes, or a spector cassette. Even so, they found enough to do, and the anticipation was a good feeling by itself.

Arthur Weasley did exactly what Harry had expected, sitting at a table and playing with his new toys, among them Harry's organizer. Ma Weasley had gasped when Harry showed her how to pluck the fruit from the bonsai tree, how to free the stone, how to open it carefully, uncovering the pearl inside.

She had also looked pleased when he thanked for his presents, still more so when he confessed that the absence of a certain item had come quite unexpected, and Ma Weasley had promised to add it in time - an ordinary sweater, hand-knitted, something money couldn't buy. It wouldn't take her long since Harry was the only one holding this tradition precious.

The twins came to visit in the afternoon, and brought - surprise, surprise - an impressive sweets collection. They got excited when hearing about Ron's spector cassette. Harry's present for them, a guest book for the shop which addressed the customers with wisecracks of the slightly offensive kind, had caused quite some delight, although Ron outperformed him easily with the promise to lend the cassette for a few days.

Ma Weasley found some remarks about sons taking their time to present candidates for future daughters-in-law. The twins grinned, referring to a hard time with a new shop, referring to an order of priority in which presentability to parents ranked less high than from the perspective of the parents themselves.

They liked their mother too much to give an obvious reply. They had come to visit - in contrast to Percy, who seemed too busy, either with work in the Ministry, or with his obligations toward the Clearwater family, claiming that one could be found only at one place at a time, and Penelope had insisted.

The son with the most promising state regarding daughters-in-law came the next day, together with his candidate, in time for lunch, to stay until early evening, not reluctant at all to discuss matters such as weddings, and households, and alike. In fact, these topics were on Bill's agenda, for example in a conversation with Harry.

But first, Christmas issues had to be discussed. Fleur asked Harry how he liked her present, said she had hoped he would wear it on her arrival. So he went upstairs, followed by Fleur who couldn't figure out why Ginny was laughing madly, who didn't look disappointed at all, seeing the collection of three flasks. She sniffed at them, beamed. "Your women have a fine taste, 'arry - although that's nothing new, after all."

"Fleur! I dearly hope you'll give such remarks only if nobody else is around."

"I took care, didn't I?" Fleur looked at the collection. "Could easily have been more - four, for example."

Harry preferred not to reply on that.

Fleur looked at him, smiling thoughtfully. "It amazes me each time anew, 'arry, to see you embarrassed when talking about it, while - "

He interrupted her. "Yes, it's amazing - more than that. And now let's change the subject."

Thank God, she did, mentioned his own present and how much she was looking forward to using it. Like the previous year, several people had joined for that, and it gave another example how magic and Muggle technology could be mixed to astonishing combinations - in this case, to a set which included a tiny magiphone, to be fixed on a robe, and four small speakers in the shape of balls. The speakers could be placed somewhere, but they could also float in the air, and they could be addressed separately. When used during a dance lesson, for example, Fleur could send different commands to four corners of the room, or to four different couples, depending on how she used it.

Also, Fleur gave a report how delighted a certain eleven-year-old had been at finding a delicate kimono in dark blue with a silvery pattern, perfectly matching a long mane of silvery hair, and that Gabrielle was walking around mostly in this garment since yesterday.

With her measures gained in the course of preparing for the ball, it had been easy play for Harry, ordering the proper size with the mail order service.

---

Then they walked downstairs to meet Bill again. Bill had a few serious questions to Harry.

"Some time soon," he began, "I'm going to claim my request. And before doing so, I wanted to talk with you."

"I know what you mean, but you're dealing with Goblins much longer than I, and much more often."

"Yeah, sure. But even so, most of the time it's ordinary business. I read that book about Goblin requests - "

"Oh, that." Harry nodded sympathetically. "Yes, I read it, too."

Bill looked thoughtful. "A bit scary, isn't it?"

"A bit?" Harry snorted. "That story about the wizard and his mountain castle - it gave me the creeps for quite a while."

"I can imagine." Bill seemed having his own creeps right now. "But you've found a remarkable solution, to say the least. While my own ... I'm trying to find the proper form - you can't imagine how many versions I've tried already."

Harry felt surprised. "But isn't it quite simple, in a way?"

"Simple??"

"Yes - you have a Classified one, and you want to marry Fleur and found a household. Isn't this the perfect match?"

Fleur thought the same.

Bill was more reluctant. "Yes, of course - in a way. Only, it looks so selfish, especially compared to yours."

Harry shook his head. "I think you look at it from the wrong perspective. When I claimed mine, it felt totally selfish to me. Only afterwards I realized that for the right purpose and with the right challenge included, there's nothing wrong with being selfish."

Bill groaned. "Then please tell me how to combine purpose and challenge when all I have in mind is something as selfish as a house, or money, or I don't know what."

Harry felt wise, and experienced, and very grateful this wasn't his own request. "Listen - it's a Classified, which means everybody expects you to be selfish, right?"

Fleur nodded, quite some time before Bill did, too.

"Then all we need is the proper formulation and a bit of challenge - I mean, sure, every word's counting a lot in this letter."

"Really?" Bill's voice would have qualified him as a Weasley even without the red hair. "It's good of you to tell me, I wouldn't have guessed by myself ..."

Harry giggled, joined by Fleur.

"Bill," said Harry, "maybe you should ask Fleur to trance you a bit when writing that letter."

Bill didn't answer, only Fleur started to giggle more seriously.

When Harry looked astonished, Fleur said, "Guess what, 'arry, we tried already. Only - each time, we lost all interest in writing letters."

After a moment, the flush in Bill's face could as well have come from the roaring laughter he'd joined, seconds after Harry and Fleur. And suddenly, still chuckling, Harry saw it. "I know what you have to do. It's not even my own idea - it's Fleur's."

Bill looked blank. Fleur looked simultaneously pleased and blank.

"You want a house and some money. Everybody knows that - which means, anything else would be a surprise. Right?"

Bill and Fleur nodded.

"Wrong."

Bill and Fleur looked uncomprehending.

"You want to integrate a human and a Veela in a place of happiness, using a Goblin request to make it possible, so that your children can be raised in the respect of different races and cultures."

Fleur was on him, hugged him, kissed him on the cheeks. "You're a genius, 'arry!"

"Why me? It was your own idea - at the ball, remember?"

Fleur nodded. "But yes ... It has been a very creative event, hasn't it? Funny how you need someone in addition to see the obvious."

Bill didn't understand completely, about which Harry was glad, didn't care either, was excited to write a letter right now, at least a version to fix the idea, while the fine-tuning might come later. Then he looked up, beaming. "Harry, I owe you."

"No you don't. It's impossible for someone called Weasley ... still more for a Weasley who's going to marry Fleur."

As pleased as she was, Fleur had to ask, "Is it possible to raise the impossible?"

"Oh yes - you may ask Marie-Christine ... Well, come to think of it, you may not."

* * *

Next day, with the shops open again, Harry and Ron went downtown. Their first stop was the National Library where they spent two hours, first to get their spector cabin settled, then to watch a Quidditch game.

They both knew every minute of the game, still - somehow, it was among the most thrilling presentations they'd ever seen. When it ended with the picture of them both, Rahewa on their shoulders, Ron looked up, his eyes shining.

"Whew ... By the way, those two could make a living with that stuff."

"Grubbly-Plank and Hooch?"

"Yes."

"They did an excellent job, that's true. But how many people would buy such cassettes?"

Ron kept his point. "This thing has future. Currently, only few people could afford a spector. But in a while ... There's more than just Quidditch to be recorded."

"Well - until then, they have a living as Hogwarts teachers. And while on the subject - I'd like to pass by on the Quidditch supplies."

Almyra's present was still unknown to Ron, with the effect that he showed no interest, instead wanted to start over the cassette for a replay. They agreed to meet again in The Burrow.

Quidditch Quality Supplies was full. There seemed to be quite a few customers who had received cards at Christmas, rather than the real thing. Harry had to wait some time, for him no problem at all, not on this vacation day, in this shop which, even for someone used to a Steel Wing, never lost its fascination.

The young clerk asked him, "Can I help you, sir?"

"Yes, please. I've got a message something's waiting here for me - my name is Harry Potter."

"Oh ..." A quick glance at his forehead. "Of course, Mr Potter - just a moment, please."

The young man returned with a bundle of exact the size Harry had expected. So his assumption was true.

"Sir," said the cleark, "if you would please express our apologies to the lady once more - she was quite upset, understandably so, after all, at this time of the year. But you see, they just couldn't finish it in time, although it's only been a few days - anyway, here we are, sir, and that's your new Firebolt Two, with compliments from our house."

"Firebolt Two?"

"Yes, sir!" There was pride in the young man's voice, kept loud enough so bystanders could listen; selling a top-of-the-rank broomstick was an event even on such a day. "This is the latest version - and that's why it took a few days more. The Firebolt in general is - "

Harry wasn't interested in this part. "I've been using a Firebolt for three years."

"Really, sir? Then you must be one of the first customers - the model is not older than that."

Harry confirmed yes, he was.

"Now the Firebolt Two, sir, surpasses the base model quite a bit. It has - "

As well trained as the clerk seemed, Harry felt no patience to hear the twenty minutes version of that sermon. He asked, "Is it faster?"

"A bit, yes, sir, although that wasn't the main goal in the new development. Practice shows that the maximum speed is rarely the determining factor in make or break, while - "

"Practice? What practice - " Harry realized in which style he was talking with the young man. It might be exactly what the clerk expected from his customers; still, for someone with ethics trained in Japan, it was unforgivable. He bowed.

"I'm sorry. I've interrupted you several times. But, you see, I'm really not a beginner on a broomstick, and for me a Firebolt ranks in the middle class - okay, upper end of the middle class."

His apology had produced a pleased smile in the young man's face. His last words, in contrast, raised disbelief. "Middle class? Excuse me, sir, but the Firebolt is top of the pop in racing broomsticks."

"That's true ... which doesn't mean there isn't something else, still faster."

Suddenly, the young man's smile got excited. "I've heard something ... Sir, if we could talk for a moment in an inside room, maybe a cup of tea - you're the first I met who seems to know more."

Were Steel Wings a secret? Not really, or no longer - only the channel through which they had arrived. Harry followed into a small room and accepted a cup of tea.

"Sir - I've heard about some prototypes, and that those models had an impact on the development for the Firebolt Two. It's just rumours, those people are sparse with such background information."

"Oh yes, they are. Let's see - where has the new model really been improved?"

The sales sermon was gone. "Acceleration, sir. They really kick you in the - er, back, if you'll pardon the expression."

"Can they still brake instantly from full speed?"

Now the young man looked very interested. "You really know details, sir, no doubt. Yes, and that was the limiting factor for the speed, except that we're not supposed to tell this, that is, not to a normal customer."

"Yes, I can imagine why." Harry hesitated, then said, "Well - to put it simple, I own one of those prototypes you were talking about."

There was awe in the young man's face. "Please, sir ..."

"They're called Steel Wing Mark Two ..." Harry explained the more public features of this combat broomstick, concentrating on speed, acceleration, safety belt, leaving out features irrelevant for Quidditch.

"Is there a way to find them, sir?"

"I don't know - honestly. We got ours through a confidential channel, and we never figured out details from the other end."

The young man was ready to believe this immediately. "I wish I could have a look at them, see them in action ..."

From expert to expert, so to speak, Harry offered, "Tell you what - after the Christmas break, if you find the time to visit Hogwarts, it won't be a problem."

"Oh, that would be very kind of you, sir."

Seeing the hope in the eyes, Harry added, "But I have to tell you in advance - these broomsticks are personally branded - nobody but me can fly mine, for example."

The young man looked stupefied.

"Well - erm, please keep it to yourself, but the reason is, they are no sports devices, and because they kick when touching another body, you can't use them in Quidditch."

"But ..." The young man was at a loss.

"Well, the truth is - they are combat broomsticks."

Suddenly, the young man remembered stories about a Battle of Hogwarts, about Harry Potter playing a role in them, and about dark wizards and other unpleasant details. In short - he was backpedaling as fast as he could.

Harry smiled. "My invitation stands. Anyway, it was an interesting conversation - you're the first I met who'd heard anything about them."

"I'm a fanatic with broomsticks ... Thank you for this fascinating information, sir. Maybe I'll find an opportunity to visit you - although, in a way, it seems ridiculous, somehow all broomsticks look the same, wouldn't you say so, sir?"

Harry shook his head. "Not after you've seen a Steel Wing, no."

* * *

Before returning to The Burrow, Harry decided to visit the Magical Tours office. The new year would start in a few days, and according to what he remembered, their network tickets had to be refreshed, or prolonged, or whatever.

The office had no information about those tickets, saw no possibility to activate them for the next year. The lady suggested a visit in the headquarters for this purpose.

It came as a surprise, but somehow, it wasn't really. Harry decided to think it over, maybe to discuss the issue with Ron. At least, he didn't feel like visiting this building while his hands had to hold a large bundle with a Firebolt Two.

This bundle took Ron and Ginny quite by surprise. Ron seemed still more pleased than Harry - small wonder in a way, since he no longer felt guilty when using Harry's old one, without sharing Harry's guilt at the thought of such an expensive present. And looking at it from the perspective of a Quidditch team captain, Almyra's present seemed the best Ron could imagine.

Harry described the scene in the Magical Tours office and asked the other two for their tickets, so he could run an attempt for all three during the next day. Ron looked thoughtful, however saw no reason to stay off, and no reason to discuss details while Ginny was listening.

Ginny brought her ticket late in the evening, without leaving Harry's room immediately afterwards. Harry felt no astonishment; he had expected this conversation, although not as an opportunity.

"Did you try Cho's perfume, Harry?"

"Samurai? No, not yet."

"What would she think hearing you've tried mine and Fleur's, but not hers?"

"Dunno ... I mean, I can imagine, but I didn't plan to wear them every day - only for special occasions."

Ginny shook her head. "This stuff is ageing, Harry. So, unless you have a special occasion every other day, you should consider using it regularly. By the way, how are you planning to use the three?"

"Uhm - maybe by association. For example, Fleur's when dancing, yours at festivities ..."

"And Cho's?" Ginny had a sparkling in her eyes.

"Oh - we'll find something."

As old as the joke was, they both had to laugh at that, and Ginny saw the opportunity to start the main topic on her agenda. "Wouldn't this lead to obvious conflicts, Harry?"

He couldn't follow immediately.

"Well - according to these categories, you would have used mine for the Christmas Ball, right?" Ginny watched how the nickel dropped, and waited for an answer.

Which was short. "Could happen, yes."

"Did it?"

"How could it? I've got those perfumes only yesterday!"

Ginny looked impatient. "You know what I mean."

"Yes."

"Yes to which question?"

"To both."

Ginny drew a grimace. "Dammit ... How do you people manage? When trying to find a place at Hogwarts - say, am I too stupid to see the obvious?"

Harry chuckled. "No ... It was more by accident than by anything else. I mean, it's not a regular option - and it started with Gérard's bad manners."

"It's clear as mud. Could you be a bit more informative, Harry?"

"Well ..." Harry searched for a clear course between the Scylla of rejecting Ginny's demand and the Charybdis of revealing too much. "Marie-Christine was in such a bad mood," he said, "that Cho didn't want her to go home in that state - she looked a bit, well, not exactly suicidal, but ... Anyway, Cho got a key for a guest suite from Fleur."

"That thing with a salon and six rooms?"

"Erm - no, another one, only one room, aside from the salon, I mean. I knew it already - I hid there during the story with Lupin."

"You knew it ... Shouldn't surprise me, because you know - " Ginny stopped abruptly, seemed to have found a gap in some calculation, and looked at Harry. "Did you leave Marie-Christine in the salon, or was it the other way around?"

"That's none of your business."

To nobody's surprise among the small number of people present, this argument didn't help much. Ginny insisted.

Harry refused.

She moved quickly to his desk, took the Samurai flask, and sprayed him. "Tell me - or I'm going to spray you from head to toe."

The scent was heavy. For a moment, both sniffed. Then Ginny came closer, very close. "Now?"

When in doubt, keep to the truth. "Marie-Christine was scared to be alone. Then Cho offered her company. She should pick her choice."

"And?"

"She couldn't decide."

"Well, that wouldn't have been my problem," explained Ginny. "And then?"

"Then I said there was room for the three of us."

Ginny stared at him. There was no disbelief, only expectation, and something like hunger. "And there was."

Harry exhaled. "Yes."

"And who was in the middle?"

He hesitated a moment too long.

"It was you, wasn't it?"

"No - not exactly ... It changed a bit."

"Changed a bit ..." Ginny's breath came ragged, maybe from rage. "Because poor Marie-Christine felt suicidal ... Did she feel suicidal afterwards?"

This he could answer easily. "No."

"I guessed as much ..." Ginny thought for a moment, and just when Harry hoped the topic was over, she asked, "What I can't get straight - how does Cho fit in this - er, scenario? If your description was halfway correct, she was the driving force more than anyone else."

"Ginny - it's a bit more complicated than it seems. Both Cho and I owe Marie-Christine a lot, for something with Voldemort - don't ask me what it is, but we owe her. And in that room, when Marie-Christine wanted to have proof that she has a desirable body, contrary to what that fool Gérard thinks ... It was something unique."

"Unique? I think it was more of a triple."

Something in his face told her the remark had hit more truth than expected. She came again closer. "Harry, I'm suicidal too."

"No, you're not. You have no reason."

This new chair was roomy, enough so she could climb up, kneeling over his legs. "Okay, maybe I'm not. But I need some company."

"You know my answer. It's no."

Her mouth was on his ear. "You can't leave me in this state."

"I'm sorry, but I cannot change it."

"Yes, you can. Stroke me, Harry, please ... I don't want to do it myself - not today."

He tried to shake his head.

"Please, only this time. It was stupid of me to squeeze you, but now it's too late. I'll never ask you again, Harry, I swear."

"Ginny - "

Her voice was pleading, close to tears. "I mean it. The thought is torturing me for quite some time. I know - we'll never do it really, but I'm sure - if you do it now, I can check it off, and think of something else. Please ..."

She sounded desperate, touching a nerve beyond passion, or the lack of it. "If you'll ever ask again - "

"I won't. I swear." She started to tremble before his hand had found its way under her skirt, inside thin panties, parting soft, wet lips. The ragged breath changed to choked gasps, a strangled groan, then he felt her already twisting, accelerating.

Almost to her peak, his soft caressing changed to a hard pressing. She arched forward against his hand, against his body, suppressing a louder groan, holding for a few seconds, before he felt her body relax.

A trembling sigh in his ear. "Thank you ... That was a rescue at the last instant. Harry, from now on I'll love you as a brother, nothing else."

He felt no surprise about the message underneath. "And if not, you'll keep it to yourself."

Her head jerked back, she was staring into his face. "You know too damned much ... Well, maybe it's not that complicated. Anyway - yes, this chapter's is closed."

A moment later, she could grin. "Which doesn't exclude private conversations, does it?"

"Up to a point."

Ginny grinned deeper. "Talking about points ... I hope we didn't switch roles, a moment ago."

"Don't worry - it's not that bad."

"Hey - that's not exactly a compliment."

"Now give it a rest, will you? I said it's not that bad, I didn't say it left me totally untouched - quite the ... But I'm not in that bad shape you've been - not after this end of terms."

Satisfied with this answer too, Ginny said goodnight and left the room.