Harry Potter and the Magical Tours

Concentrating on his schoolwork - this had been Sirius' advice to Harry. Well, easier said than done, because in the days and weeks that followed Harry was trying to keep track of a political battle. The battlegrounds included the Ministry, the press, probably also public discussions. The nominal question looked complicated enough - was a chief of police allowed to do what Sirius had done? Underneath, however, different wings in the political scene tried to use this scandal to their own advantage.

Harry did something Professor Binns had recommended quite often, and his Head of House occasionally - he became a regular reader of newspapers and magazines. He subscribed the Daily Prophet and Magical Times, the two newspapers which represented the opposite positions in the fight. The Daily Prophet took Sirius' side - not by coincidence, as Harry knew perfectly well, while the Magical Times, as the voice of the conservative wing, ferociously demanded the dismissal of this intolerable chief of police.

In addition, Harry subscribed Spellweek, a magazine of politics and society, for itself claiming a neutral journalism - something which simply didn't exist, as Harry became aware with the recent events, known to him in most details, as an informative example.

It took a few days before the public fight started in earnest. Until then, Harry met several visitors, although not all of them had to do with the Police Scandal, as the affair was dubbed soon afterwards in the Magical Times.

The first two visitors arrived the day after the fight in Middle Station. They came for the same purpose though not together, and not with the same intention either. The first of them was Mr Spinbottle, a tiny old wizard who looked very much like Professor Binns but only to the outside, as his first sentences made clear.

He introduced himself as Sirius' lawyer, formerly Rita Skeeter's lawyer, and temporarily Harry's lawyer, too. Mr Spinbottle confirmed his first two roles by giving the proper password - Daisy Chain - and by quoting the first line from Rita Skeeter's letter.

"Mr Spinbottle," asked Harry, "why do I need a lawyer?"

"You'll get another visitor soon, Mr Potter - actually, I expect him any minute. It's a solicitor from the Ministry. I suggested to Mr Black to let that man do the interrogation because he belongs to the other side - I mean Mr Black's opponents in the Ministry," the lawyer added after seeing the bewildered face of Harry, who had misunderstood the term other side.

"I wasn't aware that I'm subject to a police inquiry."

"You're not, Mr Potter - but while giving your statement, it would be in the best interests of my client to do it under my guidance."

---

When Mr Donovan, the solicitor, arrived half an hour later, he didn't look pleased seeing Mr Spinbottle, not surprised either. They were sitting in Almyra's interview room, and Harry learned a new technique of interview.

Mr Donovan asked a question.

Harry looked at Mr Spinbottle.

Mr Spinbottle nodded, and Harry answered to his best knowledge.

Or Mr Spinbottle advised him to answer the question to a limited degree, and Harry did so.

Or Mr Spinbottle answered by himself, stating that this question was irrelevant in the context of the inquiry, and Harry kept silent.

Mr Donovan had quite some arguments why his questions were indeed related to the issue, had some short rows with Mr Spinbottle, while Harry kept watching and listening. The solicitor also had a few tricks in store how to trigger angry remarks that would reveal a bit more, only they didn't catch.

For example, he wanted to know how an ordinary Hogwarts student was able to walk into that mine and find a man in a maze of tunnels. Harry mentioned advanced techniques of intra-sensory reception, referring to his teacher Mr Kenzo for further details.

Mr Donovan expressed the opinion that this was bullshit, and mentioned alternative methods - a pre-arranged setup to kill that man because he knew too much, dark magic since everybody knew that Harry Potter had learned just too much from Voldemort.

Harry listened politely. "I'd say your arguments are contradicting each other, Mr Donovan."

"I don't see why."

"Well - first I'm an ordinary Hogwarts student, and now I'm the public version of Voldemort. Somehow it doesn't fit, does it?"

Mr Spinbottle looked satisfied, while Mr Donovan dropped the issue in favour of questions about the months before. "Mr Potter," he asked, "how often did you meet Mr Black since the day Belinda McGraw was found dead?

"Twice, without counting yesterday. No - three times, the first meeting was in two parts, first in his office and then the real meeting."

"Where was it?"

Mr Spinbottle intercepted.

Mr Donovan insisted.

Harry saw no problem. "It was in the Gringotts' building - with some help from the Goblins."

Mr Donovan made a sour face, hearing about Goblins. "And the second meeting?"

"Was in a hotel - the Regent."

"Mr Black claims to have been under permanent surveillance. How did you shake off his shadows?"

Harry was quicker than Mr Spinbottle. "I used a trick."

"Oh, really? And which one?"

"I may want to use it again, that's why I'd prefer to keep the details to myself."

Mr Donovan looked contemptuously. "I think it was no trick at all, Mr Potter - the shadows were involved, after Mr Black had won them to his side, or the other way around, and the only trick was to meet when the proper persons had the surveillance shift - only that all traces of this scheme disappeared quite nicely in Middle Station."

Harry kept silent.

"I'd like to hear your comment on this theory, Mr Potter."

"No you wouldn't - it's too impolite."

After some more unsuccessful probing, Mr Donovan let Harry sign his statement and left.

Mr Spinbottle smiled. "Very good, Mr Potter, you could've done it almost alone. Now please excuse my hurry in leaving, but I want to see Mr Donovan's face after the official part - and if he's angry enough, he may spill a remark or two."

* * *

The next visitors arrived a day later, this time together because they worked together. If Harry had seen right, sitting after lunch at the Gryffindor table, they had come down from the staircase to Dumbledore's office, or maybe from the guest suite.

A man and a woman, both young, somewhere between twenty and thirty, approached him. "Mr Potter?" It was the woman who asked.

"Yes?"

"My name's Deborah Beckett, and this is my partner Paul Sillitoe. We'd like to give you a message from Mr Black."

And quite obviously, the woman wouldn't like to give the message here in public. So Harry asked them to follow. Passing the Ravenclaw table, he asked them to wait a second, went to Almyra, and asked for permission to use her room.

Almyra nodded, while Cho was examining the two visitors, her face not quite neutral - however, she kept silent, with them so close by, and this was exactly what Harry had intended.

While climbing the stairs, the young man asked, "Has this been Miss Benedict?"

"We'll reach that room in a second," replied Harry, "then we can talk."

After sitting down, the young woman said, "The message is short, Mr Potter, although we hope our conversation will take a bit longer. Mr Black asked us to tell you, 'Daisy Chain'. Mr Sillitoe and I work for the Daily Prophet, and we'd like to ask you some questions."

Harry looked into two faces, registering friendliness, curiosity, and quite some professionalism. "Excuse me," he said, "I'll be back in a moment." When he returned, Nagini was around his body.

While talking with Nagini, Harry continued watching the two faces. What he saw was astonishment though no disgust, and what he heard from Nagini satisfied him enough to continue - better, to start with his part in the conversation.

"I hope it wasn't too impolite," he said, "but I had to check your - er, credentials."

"Oh - and how did you do that, Mr Potter?"

"I asked the snake. Her name's Nagini."

"Hmm ... what did she say?"

Harry smiled. "She said it's true what you said, Mrs Beckett, and that you and your partner are trustworthy."

For a short moment, something like fright ran through the woman's face, then she had gathered herself again. "Well - in this case, I hope we can drop a bit formality. May I call you Harry? I'm Deborah, and this is Paul."

The two journalists seemed a trained team, with well defined roles - for example, when interviewing men, even as young as Harry, it was Deborah who spoke - smiling, using her charm as well as other pleasant attributes.

Harry smiled back, at the thought of another interview that would invariably follow - with Cho.

Aloud, he said, "That's fine with me, Deborah - Paul. By the way, Nagini can't read thoughts, only intentions, or emotions. And she'll inform me if you're telling a lie."

Deborah swallowed, however managed to keep her smile. "Thank you for the warning, Harry - although we didn't intend to lie to you."

Hearing Nagini's comment, Harry grinned. "That wasn't completely true - but it's okay, this isn't my first interview with journalists. Nagini is very picky with the truth."

The young man spoke. "We don't lie on purpose, Harry."

Harry laughed. "No - it goes with the job, I know. Until recently, Rita Skeeter was my contact to the press."

This contact, especially Harry's last conversation with her, represented one of the topics in their questions. Deborah and Paul outlined what Sirius had told them already - maybe they had planned to do so, while for Harry it looked more as if Nagini had impressed them quite a lot, and they had quickly changed their tactics, another sign of some experience in the job, and a style slightly different from that of the late Rita Skeeter.

Listening to the outline, Harry realized that Sirius had told them all details of the story, from the disappearing owls to the fight in Middle Section. It surprised him a bit.

"Sirius is trusting you a lot, or is he just desperate?"

Deborah smiled. "Both. Mr Dumbledore contacted our boss, our boss informed us, and we visited Sirius - with another keyword."

Harry wondered if Deborah was dropping formality by habit, or only with selected people. But another question was more urgent. "What keyword was it?"

A quick glance to Nagini. "Hippogriff."

Harry grinned. "Okay - then I know why Sirius didn't hold back anything."

---

No matter how different in style - Deborah's expression made clear that she had sensed another story, and that she would jump for it at the first opportunity. However, other things were more important now, and Harry answered many questions, until it was time for the training with his sensei.

"I'm sorry, but in a few minutes I have a lesson with Mr Kenzo. How shall we continue?"

Deborah was interested to watch, and probably also to interview another person involved in the story, while Paul wanted to use the time for a trip to Hogsmeade and the Magical Tours office there.

Harry informed Kenzo, who had no objections, then he concentrated on his exercises.

After the lessons, he used the recreation room, changed clothes, and returned into the Great Hall. He found Deborah still sitting there - alone.

He walked over - partly from politeness, partly from curiosity, partly also because it was much more pleasant to talk with her than with Rita Skeeter, and for more than one reason. "Where's Paul?"

"Back to London. I'm going to follow soon, but I had a few more questions" - she smiled - "if you're ready to answer them without your snake."

Harry laughed. "Sure - I'm not totally helpless without her."

"Sirius said something in that direction, although that's not what I had in mind. Harry - what does Hippogriff mean in this context?"

Thinking about the question, Harry used his own senses, in particular his haragei, to scan for motivations. What he felt was not too detailed, however seemed somehow familiar. He asked, "You want to have some background about Sirius?"

"Yes - that's what I hoped for."

Aside from haragei, there was an excellent method for gathering information. It was called direct question, and sometimes it worked. "For the articles?"

"What else?"

And sometimes it didn't, or not immediately. "I could imagine another reason - in particular since the important facts about him can certainly be found in the archive."

Deborah watched Harry's face. "And if there's another reason?"

"Then I would answer your questions - as much as required to ask him the rest personally."

She smiled. "That's fair ... What is he for you, Harry?"

He shrugged. "He was a friend of my parents, and now he's my friend ... He escaped from Azkaban to save my life ... He was living off rats for the same reason - does this give you a picture?"

"Yes, I think so. What kind of man is he?"

"He survived more than most people could stand, without losing his spirit. To quote himself, he's fed up losing the people closest to him, so right now he might have developed an aversion to let somebody come closer - although I hope this will change."

"Well ..." Deborah looked thoughtful. "That's indeed an information you won't find in the archive. Now that he's finished his undercover task successfully, what do you think will be his next task? To look for the people behind the plot?"

"Up to some point, yes - naturally so, as the chief of police."

"And why not further?"

"Because as far as we know, the one in the background is Voldemort - and that's my job."

* * *

As expected, later the same day Harry had to stand another interview - by Cho, about these two people, in particular about that woman with whom he had "talked so nicely," sitting in the hall. Harry answered by telling the truth, which always seemed a good idea, and by leaving out remarks about personal interests, which also seemed reasonable in this uncertain, or maybe premature, state of things.

Saturday afternoon, he had still another visitor - the broomstick fanatic from Quality Quidditch Supplies. Harry called Ron, admonished his visitor not to talk about Firebolts Two - still a secret with respect to the next Quidditch match against the Slytherins - then they went outside to run a few tests - a race contest, for example.

Harry was sitting on his Steel Wing, Ron on the original Firebolt, and the young man - Ernest Galbraith his name - on Harry's Firebolt Two. Counting "Three - two - one - off," they pushed as hard as they could.

Ron fell behind immediately, not surprisingly so, as the original Firebolt's acceleration could not cope with that of his successor, not to mention the Steel Wing. The young man almost could follow Harry - until the Firebolt Two had reached its maximum speed, then Harry zoomed away easily.

Harry and Mr Galbraith did a second test, in which Harry tried to leave the Firebolt Two behind immediately. It was possible - theoretically, since the Steel Wing offered enough resources, only that Harry could not activate the full power without losing control.

Finally, they ran a test with the two Firebolts. Ron accelerated to full speed, with Mr Galbraith keeping pace, and Harry following to see what was happening. At Ron's signal, Mr Galbraith accelerated to his own maximum speed, slowly getting away from Ron.

The speed advantage offered by the Firebolt Two was not remarkable. Only in combination with its acceleration, this new broomstick could outperform its predecessor significantly. They did one last test - hundred yards apart, Ron in front and Mr Galbraith behind, they pushed simultaneously at Harry's signal. Within seconds, Mr Galbraith had reached Ron's position, surpassed him, and sped out of reach.

Flying to Hogsmeade, they delivered Mr Galbraith at the Linkport. Of course, before returning to Hogwarts, they had to make a stop in the Three Broomsticks - probably, this name would never again match as well as now, and a butterbeer seemed the right medicine after a few races through cold air.

Ron said, "I was trying to find a better Bludger strategy for the next game, only I'm no wiser than before."

"Maybe the Slytherins won't try the technique of the Hufflepuffs."

"Oh, yes, they will. It worked too well."

"But the Firebolt Two will help in that regard. Those people are right, the acceleration is much more important than the final speed."

"Yeah, okay ..." Ron looked dissatisfied. "Even so - I'm sure there's a counter strategy, only I'm too blind to see it. Maybe I should ask Viktor, except to me it feels like cheating."

Listening to Ron's remark, Harry remembered a conversation. "I know whom to ask, and it's definitely not cheating - Fleur!"

"Huh?" Ron stared in disbelief. "Harry - Fleur knows about Quidditch as much as Nagini about dancing, no offense intended - "

Harry laughed. "We might be surprised - by Nagini, I mean." He told Ron about the conversation with Lupin.

"Hmm ... Could be - maybe she really can see something we miss to notice because we're too close, and all we have to do is to translate her suggestions into Quidditch manoeuvers ..."

A moment later, Ron seemed very interested in hearing what Fleur had to say - by coincidence around the time his glass was empty. He urged Harry to finish his own, so they could return to Hogwarts.

---

They were lucky - Fleur would leave an hour from now and had decided to clean up her desk until then, a task she felt more than ready to drop in favour of a conversation with her two oldest dance students.

"Quiddi'ch? Me?" Fleur laughed. "That's a good joke - why not just Parseltongue, then at least it's two against one, and I'm with the majority."

"That's exactly what we're looking for," assured Harry, "a bloody amateur ..."

"Oh - thank you."

"... who can think."

Fleur smiled. "All right, I feel addressed. So what's the problem for which I might have a solution?"

Ron explained how the other team would keep the Bludgers away from them, simply because they were too good, in particular Harry with his frightening accuracy in shooting.

Fleur asked, "What is the effect?"

"Basically, it's like Quidditch without Bludgers, only the Chasers and the Quaffle - and the Snitch, of course. It's not too bad because our Chaser team is good - but our Beater team is better than the others, and this advantage is lost."

"Hmm ..." Fleur smiled. "I have a tendency to compare everything with the things I understand best, and one of those is dancing. Now, in dancing terms, it sounds as if you're dancing with a partner, and you could do all kinds of turns and figures, except your partner is trying to keep both of you to the basic steps. Does that sound right?"

Both Ron and Harry agreed yes, it was exactly like that.

"Well then, what can you do? You could dance with another partner."

No, they couldn't - for the running match, people would be very surprised to hear the Gryffindors weren't ready to play against the Slytherins.

"You can force your partner to do it - in dancing, it would look bad because the partner doesn't know these figures, but if I understand right, that's just what you want - to look better than the other side."

It was true - but how to force them?

"Well - in dancing, the first question would be about the guiding, I mean who's the man and who's the woman."

Harry was already translating Quidditch into dancing. "You could say the side with the Quaffle is the man - that's the team which is guiding in that moment, while the others can only react."

Ron said, "As long as we have the Quaffle, it's not so bad ... Harry is guarding the girl with the Quaffle ..."

Fleur was grinning.

Ron looked confused. "Well, all our Chasers are girls, so what's so funny?"

Fleur assured it wasn't funny.

"... anyway, in this phase, we don't care too much if they play gobstones with the Bludgers - only when it comes the other way around, then we need Bludgers to stop them."

Fleur asked Ron to describe these manoeuvers in more detail and listened while Ron outlined a standard attack and a standard defense for her.

"Well," she said when Ron had finished, "from this perspective, all I can see is that you have to become even better, like in a dance where you have mastered the steps themselves, while your body motion is still not elegant enough. What I mean is, if 'arry doesn't keep guard until the girl scores, but starts hunting for a Bludger a moment before, it should be possible to get that ball before the others are coming with their own attack, isn't that so? It's a kind of fine-tuning, but I don't see anything else."

Ron saw what she meant, however he had expected more.

Fleur was grinning again. "As I said before - I tend to compare with the things I know best. So, if dancing isn't the proper comparison, let's try the other one."

There was little doubt what Fleur meant.

"Keeping Bludgers away from you - that's like a person refusing to be your lover, right?"

Was it? Ron and Harry weren't sure, while Fleur was. "Yes of course. In this case, you must make yourself more attractive, more interesting - more promising, that's how you have to look."

It sounded familiar enough, but what did it have to do with Bludgers?

"My God, translate it back to Quiddi'ch! If the others keep the Bludgers away because 'arry is too good, he must put in some failures - enough to make it look promising to bring them back into the game."

Ron looked disbelieving. "Are you serious?"

Fleur nodded. "Let's say 'arry can send every Bludger the right way. Then, as long as it's not urgent, he sends them the wrong way - not exactly to the other Beater, but he doesn't hit an opponent. Only when it's important, he hits right. You invest something, because it's harder for your Chasers to score, but you earn more since it's still harder for the others to score."

Ron asked, "But won't the others realize quickly that these are fake failures?"

It was Harry who answered. "No - all they'll see is that I miss every so often, reason enough for them to give it a try. I mean - maybe, at some point, they realize that I never miss when it counts, but it will take time, at least till the end of the year."

Fleur laughed. "It's a classical trick - there's this young man, famous for sleeping with a girl the first evening. And now there's this girl, and she simply refuses being invited to dinner. What can he do? He invites some other girl he's not interested, makes sure the message goes round it was only dinner. He does the same with a second girl, a third - until his real target sees a chance to come out un - er, unharmed, so to speak ..."

Ron listened in fascination. "Fleur, this comparison doesn't fit. If the girl won't be interested, somewhere deep inside, she would never accept the invitation."

"Of course not. But look at your opponents, I mean the other Beaters - isn't it the same with them? All they want is to send Bludgers toward your teammates. Like that girl - it doesn't object being laid, not at all, only it mustn't look so obvious."

Ron looked at Harry. "All right, you've got the message. Leave the previous girl early enough to hunt another one, and while doing so, look as innocent as you can."

Harry nodded. "Okay. I'm glad this is about Quidditch."

Fleur grinned. "Glad?"

"Sure - in Quidditch, Cho is competition, so she won't hear about this conversation. Imagine - Ron tells her yes, we went to Fleur, and she explained to Harry how to leave early enough to hunt for another girl - "

Ron laughed. "A Bludger would look friendly in comparison."

* * *

The battle in the press kept on, and things didn't look good for Sirius. Harry recognized how the Daily Prophet tried to open another front, with articles about Wesley Warrington and his tax problems, however, this newspaper stood pretty much alone with its thesis that this was a scandal and more important than anything else.

Part of the reason was the lack of hard evidence. Mr Warrington denied any trouble with the authorities, and the Tax Department did not comment at all, which could be interpreted either way as they never commented in public.

Then Harry read about Sirius being investigated by a committee. The Daily Prophet expressed the hope this would end all rumours, while the Magical Times stated that Mr Black's dismissal could only be a question of time.

And all the while, Harry found nothing about Magical Tours in the press.

Some days later, he had an opportunity to ask - Deborah Beckett came for another visit, for another interview, suggesting to do it in Hogsmeade during a lunch that wasn't surrounded by ears growing bigger with every word spoken.

Harry found the idea great - not that the food would taste better in the Three Broomsticks, but right now, talking was more important.

"There's no way," explained Deborah, "because we haven't got any hard evidence. If we'd start a campaign against them, we'd be sued next morning."

"And what about the owls? And what about this jump artist?"

"Do you have proof that they killed a single owl? No. Knowing is one thing, but proving it is something else. And this man - you saw him in an office, and he seemed to be an assistant of that manager, so what? This manager would be deeply shocked, hearing his assistant was a criminal, would be very glad to be informed about that - "

"But the Daily Prophet started campaigns with less than that in the past, so why not now?"

"We have another problem," replied Deborah, "and that's more important than facts and proofs. Magical Tours is popular, so people won't like hearing that they're fishing in muddy waters. That's why we have to wait until there's something that simply can't be discussed away."

She looked sympathetic. "We - that is Paul and I - we didn't forget, Harry, and we'll follow any track that looks promising, or only interesting. But we work for a newspaper that makes a living from being sold. Nobody cares about Warrington, so we can pester him with nothing, while Magical Tours is everybody's darling - "

"Not everybody's!"

Deborah smiled. "Okay - with a few notable exceptions. Of course they're dirty - you know it, I know it, Sirius knows it - "

Sirius was the other keyword Harry was interested in - and as far as he could sense, Deborah too. He asked, "How is it going with Sirius?"

Deborah's face went expressionless. "You mean his chances to keep his job?"

"Um - yes, that too."

She stared at him. "And what else?"

When in doubt, use the truth, even if it wasn't right. "Well - things outside his job. Private life, for example."

"And what makes you think that's a topic to be discussed here, between you and me?"

Harry felt his cheeks go pinkish, although it wasn't embarrassment - more from a kind of unbalanced intimacy, and the only way he saw was to balance out the difference.

"If you won't discuss it, we won't. But you should know - the moment the topic of Sirius came up, I received a message through my haragei, and since we're sitting here alone ..."

Deborah's cheeks didn't look much different. "What did the message tell you?"

"It's not like a statement, but it was enough that I won't be surprised if you'd ask some more questions about him."

"And you would answer them?"

"Maybe not, depending on what it is, but - er, I'd consider them very positively."

"Well, then ..." She looked up, looked down again. "Pretty bad - in both aspects. Unless there's a small miracle, he'll be suspended soon. And otherwise - it's like hitting a wall."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Deborah looked at him. "Harry - you said you'd answer questions, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then ... how was she?"

---

He didn't need to ask about whom Deborah was talking. "A bit older than you. Good-looking, very challenging - she had fun teasing me, or Ron. And she was a cop, a tough one."

Deborah played with her fork, probably the best way to handle the food. "Did he love her?"

"I asked him that myself. He said maybe."

"And what do you think?"

Harry remembered the conversation with Fleur, about methods to appear more promising, only that - as far as he knew - here the opposite problem was waiting for a solution.

"As I said the last time - I think he's scared to let someone come too close to him, and it's no help either if this someone is digging in an area where another journalist got killed."

Deborah had a short laugh. "You mean my chances would be better as a cute little kitchen woman?"

Harry had to smile. "No, not really. I wish I could go and find Voldemort and make an end to him, because then Sirius would know that he may have a chance for a normal life."

Deborah nodded slowly. "That puts things into proportion."

Harry didn't understand.

She smiled. "I was sitting here and couldn't believe that I'm discussing my - er, love life with you, a seventeen-year-old. Until I heard you saying that, and knew every word is true, and then I knew it's perfectly okay, there's no one else better suited - "

"Except Sirius himself."

"Yeah ..." She sighed, then grinned. "Maybe, for a change, we should discuss your own love life."

Harry twitched. "I don't think that's a good idea. Cho will squeeze me about this lunch, but so far, I can say I didn't do anything wrong."

Deborah laughed. "Isn't it obvious that I'm no competition for her?"

"No. I'm not going around spilling other people's secrets, so Cho doesn't know that we discuss Sirius outside the professional scope ..."

Deborah looked appreciative.

"... and as long as this is the case, it's not obvious at all."

"I feel flattered. So, in case of an emergency, you're allowed to tell her."

"Thank you, but I think I can handle it without that. Although it crossed my mind whether I should tell someone else."

"Someone else?"

"Yes - Sirius."

Deborah gasped. "For Heaven's sake, Harry - that's not what I had in mind. If I can't deliver the message myself - "

He shook his head. "If my assumption is right, he's got the message already - that's exactly the problem."

* * *

Two days later, both the Daily Prophet and the Magical Times brought it as headlines: Sirius Black, head of the Law Enforcement Squad, had been suspended from his duties, as a consequence of the running investigation about his recent activities.

The same afternoon, Harry travelled to London, using his global network ticket. He hadn't been sure whether Sirius was still living in that house which belonged to the job. He found him there, learning that Sirius still had his job, and thus the house - but of course only during this formal phase, which probably wouldn't take long.

"How long?"

"Politicians don't do things in a hurry ... Two weeks, maybe three."

"And then?"

"Then I'll need another house ... And another job."

Harry saw a chance. "That's all?"

"Isn't that enough?"

"No, I don't think so."

Sirius looked uncomprehending. "What else do I need then?"

"Some new - er, acquaintance."

Sirius looked angry, to say the least. "Oh, yes, of course ... And you'll provide it, right? Because that's quite a habit of yours."

Somehow this was unfair, and Sirius looked embarrassed enough, having spilled his anger toward Harry, except ...

"Maybe it is, by accident."

Sirius' embarrassment was gone. He eyed his godson suspiciously. "What's that supposed to mean? Harry, who is it this time? Don't come along with another case of emergency!"

Harry giggled. "No, I don't think so. Anyway, I guess you know already."

It was a full-scale hit, with Sirius' face giving proof beyond doubt. "Harry," he growled, "do me a favour, okay? Mind your own business."

"That's what I'm doing, only that somehow you're involved - or maybe the other way around."

Sirius stared at him. "Did I really get it wrong? What the heck are you talking about, Harry?"

"I'm talking about Deborah Beckett - "

Sirius nodded vigorously. "I thought as much, and that's why I said - "

"I heard you! And I was going to explain why it's my business too - will you listen?"

Sirius turned his eyes toward the ceiling. "Why not? I've got all the time of the world, no office work ... go ahead."

"Okay. I didn't have to say the name, you knew already, weren't surprised at all - "

Sirius snapped, "You won't believe it, Harry, but I don't need you to realize that a woman's interested in me. Except I'm not interested in her - as simple as that."

Maybe it was true, only ...

"Would you repeat this when Nagini's around?"

Sirius gaped at him.

"Okay, that's answer enough. I know what it is, and you know it too."

"No I don't, but I'm sure you'll tell me."

"You're scared, that's all."

Sirius tried to laugh, failed. "Scared - of this woman?"

Harry shook his head. "Not of her. Remember what you said to me after Belinda's death?"

Sirius didn't know what he meant.

"About the people closest to you ... if I knew where to find Voldemort, I'd go and fight with him right away - he's a threat for you more than for anyone else."

It wiped off Sirius' anger. "C'mon, Harry. Maybe you're right, but it would be a stupid idea to confront him now, only because you think it might solve a problem for me."

"I've got more reasons, but it doesn't matter - as long as I don't know where he is. Anyway, there's no sense in living a life in suspense until that time."

Sirius chuckled. "Why not? After all, I'm suspended."

"You know what I mean!"

"Yes I know, and I'll think about it. But first, I want this thing settled - this way or the other."

* * *

Harry returned to Hogwarts in low spirits, desperately trying to come up with an idea for a small miracle - failing that, a big one. Sirius losing his job, this was a depressing thought, a personal insult, and most of all, it ended any chance of finding Rita Skeeter's murderer. Harry felt a limited obligation toward her, and a considerably stronger belief that the trail might lead to Voldemort.

This downcast mood kept on until the next morning, when something started that electrified him, sent a thrill through his mind because - for the first time since his last encounter with Voldemort - he saw the faintest outline of a strategy, should he ever meet him again.

The reason was Apparition.

Madam Hooch, the Charms teacher, led the Gryffindors along the lake until they reached a plain between trees, about two hundred yards long, well outside the zone that rendered Apparition impossible.

For starters, she apparated from one end to the other, and back again. Then she made some jump-apparating - steps of twenty yards, one after the other in rapid succession, finally reaching the end of the area.

It looked very funny, and the other students laughed how Madam Hooch was stepwise shrinking to the horizon.

Not so Harry - since her first Apparition this morning, his mind was whirling in excitement.

The moment before Madam Hooch made her apparition jump, Harry felt a clear echo in his haragei. Assuming it wasn't specific to her, he would be forewarned if someone was attempting to disappear through Apparition. And he knew immediately - if there was a way to extend this knowledge to some action, Voldemort would not escape him again.

His excitement grew even stronger when he felt something else while Madam Hooch was doing her sequence of fun jumps. The feeling seemed strangely familiar, torturing him because - at first - he was unable to identify it.

Then the witch zoomed back toward the students, raising even more entertainment among the others. And almost with her last jump, Harry remembered. This feeling was - somewhere, somehow - similar to what he'd felt in the void, tranced by Almyra, sent out to talk with Nagini.

Madam Hooch found herself surrounded by the other students, who asked her to do another jump sequence. "No," she said, "this was just to give you something to laugh, and to raise your spirit for our next exercises - it will be stressful enough until you'll reach that point."

Harry stepped forward. "Prof - please, could you do another single jump to the end?"

The teacher looked expectant. "Yes, Mr Potter, but why?"

"When you jump, I can sense something. I want to check again."

"Okay, why not?" Madam Hooch turned and looked to the trees at the end of the plain.

Harry sat down quickly. If he was right ... He felt the signal, very short, rapidly increasing - in the last split second, he did what he had done in the void: he followed.

Madam Hooch stood before him, was about to turn ...

"Prof?"

She jumped again, only this time with her body. "Mr Potter? Where are you?"

"I'm here, Prof - can't you see me?"

"No - dammit, what are you doing? How did you come here? Where are you?"

"I followed you, Prof - but I think it was only my spirit that could follow, while my body is probably still at the other end."

"Well, your spirit has brought your voice, because I hear you loud and clear" - she looked suspicious - "that is, if it's your voice I hear. After all, you might as well talk in my mind."

"I don't know, Prof. We can find out later - first I'd like to know whether I can follow back."

"And what if not?"

An interesting question - it could have been frightening, only Harry had travelled through the void too often to be scared.

"You're right," he said, "maybe first I should try returning alone."

Not being there - the thought was enough. For a fleeting instant, Harry felt like pulled from ropes of rubber, then his spirit had found back into his body.

---

Ron was bending over him. "Harry - are you all right?"

"I'm okay - I just followed to the other end."

"Oh, really? Only you forgot your body, but one can't think of everything, right?"

Just at this moment, Madam Hooch reappeared a few steps away. She came closer. "How did it work, Mr Potter?"

"I came back alone, Prof. All I had to do was to wish myself back."

She giggled. "That's good to hear. And now, please stop scaring me like hell, and do one step after the other like a good student."

However, after she had recovered, Madam Hooch was at least as expectant as Harry himself to see whether he could follow through multiple jumps.

He could - all he had to do was concentrating as in the first pursuit, to orient himself in following.

The funniest moment came when she returned to the place where his body was waiting: pursuing Madam Hooch, Harry saw himself sitting on the ground, motionlessly, glassy eyes, staring into nowhere. Even as close as his spirit was then, it linked with his body only when he let go.

There was an interesting difference between that and his visits to Nagini - or maybe, it was no difference at all. Harry's vision kept hooked to the person he was following. When Madam Hooch walked a few steps, she stayed in his view, while he felt as if turned on a disk, probably an imaginary feeling because the mind refused to believe that the perspective could change without turning a body, or at least a neck.

Back in the school, Harry could hardly wait until he found an opportunity to talk with Snape; pursuing a wizard through Apparitions was a technique taught in Defence against the Dark Arts.

"If your mind can follow, Harry - okay, your spirit, then the most difficult part is done. The rest may still be hard work, but then it's only a question of time." Snape grinned. "Apparition pursuit is a rare art, but somehow, it doesn't surprise me at all, hearing you have it built in, because it fits so nicely with all the rest."

Defence would start with this topic soon. Only - Harry couldn't wait. He scanned the list of all people in his mind who might be ready to walk with him through the cold air outside, jumping around in Apparitions. He found one candidate - Viktor.

Before he could ask, Ron stopped him cold. "We need all the time for Quidditch training - the match against the Slytherins isn't far away, and you know that we have to fine-tune our technique, don't you?"

Ron had fun. "Remember what Fleur said: first you have to learn to leave the girls ... If you can handle that, you may learn how to follow them - although, Harry, what's the sense if your spirit is all that's around?"

* * *

The prospect of Harry's unexpected ability felt so promising that even the news in the Daily Prophet could not damage his mood. Sitting at the breakfast table, Harry read an article which seemed to seal Sirius' fate as an ex-chief of police. If this newspaper admitted that a dismissal was likely, then - so much Harry knew about press and politics - it was as good as decided, only that politicians always needed a few weeks before going public.

An owl came down to their table.

For a moment, Harry felt sure it brought mail for him - until the owl landed in front of Ron at Harry's left side.

Ron, in contrast, hadn't the foggiest who might write to him. Harry and Hermione watched his face while reading. It changed from anxious expectation to surprise, to joyful expectation, to joy, to pleasure, to a radiant beaming. Ron looked up, eyes shining.

Hermione could wait no longer. "Ron - what is it??"

He offered the letter. "Here - read yourself." While Hermione started reading, Ron turned to Harry. "I need your help."

"What for? To get your face straight again?"

"No - for a Goblin Request ... a Personal."

"Wow - super, Ron! For Middle Station?"

Ron nodded, and a moment later, Harry had the opportunity to read the letter by himself.

Hermione asked, "Harry, what's the range of a Personal?"

"When I spoke with McGonagall, her example was a four week's vacation trip to any luxury resort in the world."

Hermione turned to Ron. "Do you know already what to ask for?"

"I'm not sure - but I have an idea."

"That's fast. Did you expect something like that?"

"No, not at all - " Suddenly, Ron realized an astonishing discrepancy and looked at Harry. "Say - why didn't you get something similar? We were there together, and if courageous performance is the criterion, then at least you should get the same, if not more."

Smiling, Harry shook his head. "No, Ron. It would be insulting."

"Insulting? Honestly, I don't feel insulted - not the least bit."

"Of course not - why should you? But there's a bond between the Goblins and me, which has been sealed with a Privileged - sending me a Personal now would mean the bond no longer exists, or at least they won't expect me to honour it. No, they did right."

Ron looked disappointed. "And that's why you don't get anything?"

About to laugh, Harry stopped. An idea had crossed his mind - for something that might turn out much more precious than a nice present like a Personal request, and still in the sense of his bond.

Ron had watched his face. "What is it?"

"I have an idea. Maybe they can help Sirius, and that's something I can ask within the ethics of the bond."

Hermione looked hopeful. "You're right - and this is probably his last chance."

Ron glanced at his letter, then at Harry. "Maybe I should ask, based on this request."

"No - yours is supposed to be an expensive present, and you should use it for this purpose. But don't you worry, I'll ask them, and I'm entitled for it - Sirius is so deeply involved in the fight against Voldemort ... My God, why didn't I think of it before?"

Hermione knew. "Because it's too obvious."

It wasn't that obvious, and Harry was unsure if the Goblins could do anything. He had to wait till after lunch, used the time to decide what to write, and to whom. According to his feeling, Urion should be the right person, only he didn't know where to reach the Goblin with the many names. Then he realized - he could send the letter to a known address and still refer to the Task commander.

And so he wrote.

Then he went to Ron's office, looking for a mail capsule. What he found first was Ron, dictating a letter into the writer quill, or at least parts of a letter that seemed quite difficult.

Ron stopped, apparently relieved. "Harry, you're the one I was looking for ... I need your help - for a letter to the Goblins."

"That's a coincidence - I just wrote my own."

"Can I see it?"

"Sure." Harry offered the parchment to Ron, who nodded enthusiastically after reading. "Yes, that's good. If they know something, I think they'll do it."

"And you? Do you know what you're going to ask for?"

Ron looked embarrassed. "Erm - yes - er, please don't take offense, but, er, you know, that's what I really want."

Astonished, Harry glanced at his friend. "Maybe it helps if you tell me what it is."

Ron inhaled deeply, then he found the courage to confess. "A Firebolt Two."

Harry grinned, started to laugh, and stopped at seeing Ron's face. "No, I'm not offended, not at all, I mean, I would have the same wish - but maybe not for a Personal."

"Why not?" Now Ron was anxious. "Is it too much?"

"Certainly not. It might be too little - but why don't you buy a Firebolt Two with your own money, and use this request to the full extent?"

Obviously, Ron had done this calculation by himself. "Without the request, I'd never done it; it would have looked so, so - you know what I mean. And now, if you say it's too little ... what if I simply ask for money?"

Harry made a face. "It's possible, only it doesn't look good. They expect you to ask for a present, not for money."

"Yes, that's what I thought, too. But if I buy the Firebolt with my own money, I'm dry." Ron grinned wryly. "I've been dry too long; I'm not going to reach this state again. But I want this Firebolt, and I want it fast."

Harry smiled. "You mean, yesterday would be soon enough?"

Ron took him seriously. "Exactly - in a few days, we have the match against the Slytherins, and I want to make sure that we'll win, that's why I need it now ... Harry, I don't care too much about four weeks vacation - sure, it would be great, with Janine and myself under palms - "

"Or cedars ..."

"Yes, whatever ... but there's time for that in the future, while the Quidditch cup's running now."

Harry remembered Oliver Wood. "Does this happen to all Quidditch captains?"

"You mean this craziness?" Ron giggled. "Could be, only I was crazy already before I got the job."

"Well, then ..."

In spite of his craziness, Ron was still reluctant. "But you said it's too little."

"Yeah, a bit. It's no serious problem, only - " Harry stopped, then started to grin.

Ron saw it. "You've found something - what is it?"

"It's the old story - the obvious that's too close to see it."

"Harry!!" Ron looked desperate.

"This is the second request that falls into the Weasley family, right? I mean, not counting mine because it was before ..."

Ron nodded eagerly, at this moment giving a damn for delicacies such as inherited brothers and the times before.

"... then put it at this hook - don't ask for a Firebolt Two, ask for the proper help to the Weasley family to win this tournament."

"Huh?" Next instant, Ron saw it too, a wide grin spreading his face as well. "Of course - there's nothing that says I should be the only one benefitting ... Harry, you're the best request expert I know."

"Big deal - how many experts do you know?"

Ron grinned excitedly. "Only one, but that's enough. I can't wait to see this broomstick - and I can't wait to see Ginny's face if the owls come down ..." Anxious again, he glanced at Harry. "What do you think - will they be fast enough?"

"You can make sure by yourself - write them that the next match is two weeks from now, and that it's crucial."

They had to wait until supper, knowing that Hedwig would not start earlier. Then Harry and Ron walked together to the Ravenclaw table. After greeting Cho, Harry looked at Almyra. "Ron and I, we have thought carefully about a serious problem, and we've found the solution."

Examining the two faces, Almyra looked suspicious. "You're up to no good - I can see it."

"No, it's really a long-standing problem, but our united genius was able to develop this revolutionary concept."

Cho didn't know any more than Almyra, only her own curiosity was growing faster. "Then tell us!"

"Erm - sure, but you have to hold Al - she might be a bit jumpy."

Cho stood up, put her hands on Almyra's shoulders. "Okay - now spit it out!"

"Well, it has to do with mail, and owls. You know, with one letter, which means one capsule and just one leg, the poor owl's always so unbalanced ..."

Cho's hands were pressing harder at Almyra's shoulders, and for good reason.

"... but now we've found out how we can make the owl sit straight - er, fly straight ..."

Cho's arms were about to fail - Almyra was coming up.

"... the answer is two letters!"

Harry and Ron quickly put their capsules on the table, then went running off, giggling madly, while Almyra stopped after a few steps, shook her head, laughing, taking the capsules to go upstairs and to send a well-balanced Hedwig toward Gringotts.

* * *

The next days showed a highly unusual pattern, for Harry as much as for Ron. Breakfast would be the first highlight - Harry studying the Daily Prophet for any development in the Black Scandal, as the press had finally decided to name the affair, while Ron was sitting, chewing, looking mostly upward to watch incoming owls.

After sharing a common disappointment, for their individual reasons, they joined classes, which provided another highlight only for Harry, and only if it was Charms with Madam Hooch or Defence with Snape. Harry deepened his expertise in Apparition pursuit - still restricted to his spirit, however with a routine that worked better every day.

In the evening then, Ron would chase his team through the air. Of course, the other Gryffindors realized immediately that Harry's Firebolt, as ordinary as it looked, was something special, and Ron admonished them to keep their mouths shut until it was too late for the Slytherins.

Ginny asked her brother why he was looking so stressed when the conversation in the team came to Firebolts Two.

It was Katie who answered. "Because he'd like to have one for himself - and it's driving him crazy that the model wasn't available some months earlier, because then Rahewa's would have been another Firebolt Two."

Harry wanted to know what Rahewa herself was thinking.

"It came at the right time - so that I could practise, and catch the Snitch against the Hufflepuffs."

Harry recognized a certain similarity between Rahewa's style of answers and that of Urion the Urbane. If they had a point, they made a point, period.

Then came the morning of the mornings. Opening the Daily Prophet, the headline was hitting Harry's eyes.

"Yipee!!"

Faces were turning to him - such an untidy excitement early in the morning. Harry passed the newspaper to Hermione - she hadn't been quicker than Ron, she was only less tolerable when waiting.

"Sirius is saved! The Goblins helped."

"How?? What did they do?" Ron was hanging over the table, trying to read the newspaper upside down.

A moment later, Hermione was done, and Ron could read. He was still reading when a sound in the air made Harry look up.

Owls were coming down - four toward Ron, four more toward Ginny, delivering two long parcels of a familiar size and shape.

"Yipee!!"

The shout had been Ron's, while Ginny looked stupefied at her own box, didn't know what to think of it, knew even less when it was opened, showing the glittery polish of a Firebolt Two. She came over, looked at Ron who was still busy reading a letter, looked at Harry. "I got a - "

"Psst - other people are listening!"

Right now, Ginny couldn't care less. "And Ron too. Can you tell me where they - I mean, who's responsible for that?"

"No."

Ginny didn't believe him - small wonder, with Harry's face grinning from ear to ear. He said, "Ask your brother - your real one, I mean." Then he took the newspaper, eager to show Cho and Almyra the good news.

From the Ravenclaw table, while Cho and Almyra were reading together, Harry could watch two Weasleys, one hanging around the neck of the other, but only for a moment before Ginny hurried back to study her own present, and to read the letter again.

Heading for the classroom, Harry turned to his friend. "Okay - one problem is settled. Now you only have to find the proper words to explain it to Janine."

"To explain what?"

"That you dropped a four week's vacation for two persons in favour of a stupid broomstick."

Ron shook his head, beaming. "There's no problem at all."

"You mean she'll understand, and not complain?"

"Why complain? You were so busy with the news about Sirius that you missed the finer details. The Firebolts weren't all - they came together with an invitation to the next Quidditch Council - one week in Hawaii, first-class hotel, everything, you name it."

"For two people?"

Ron looked happy. "Not quite - one for each Firebolt, but Ginny had the decency to give hers to me, for good balance, as she said."

Preoccupied with his new toy, Ron didn't object when Harry cancelled today's Quidditch training for himself, to be used for another trip to London.

Sirius was at home, opened the door. "Harry - that's not a real surprise, I had the feeling I might see you today." Inside, Sirius asked, "Did you pull some strings?"

"I wrote a letter to Urion."

Sirius looked embarrassed. "Thank you, Harry. I don't know how to - "

Harry interrupted him. "Save it - tell the Goblins."

"Yeah, sure, but you don't understand. What I was trying to say - " Sirius hesitated again.

"Is there still another problem?"

"Er - not really. Only that I should celebrate with you, but I'm sorry - we have to delay that. To be honest, Harry, I'm in a bit of a hurry - you've found a bad time to visit me."

Harry examined his godfather, started to grin. "Are you invited?"

"No, not exactly."

"Did you invite someone?"

Sirius nodded.

"Here, or in a restaurant?"

Sirius regained some balance. "Harry, don't take it personally, but - please get lost."

Laughing, Harry hugged him. "All right - see you." At the door, he turned. "If anything can beat the news of this morning, it's this. Please say hello from me."

Sirius tried to look innocent. "To whom?"

Only, Harry had already closed the door. From Giants and from some Japanese people, he had learned: there was no sense at all in answering stupid questions.