Harry Potter and the Thunderstruck Muggles

A small island in the northern hemisphere, called England. A small town near the capital, called Ottery St. Watchpole. A small house of ridiculous dimensions, called The Burrow. A small garden at the backside, in dire need of water and a caring hand - here we find Harry Potter, sitting in the grass, a brilliant-green snake close to him but in full sunlight, while Harry prefers the shadow, watching some gnome holes in fair distance.

Every now and then, a quick movement at some hole, a head like a chestnut, on a body like a potato, comes up for a moment, glancing around.

And bang, comes a cannonball of water - from a gnome perspective, that is, while the thing isn't bigger than a hazelnut, splashes the head or misses, although very close.

The head disappears quickly, of course. After a hit, it is nicely coloured, because the water is saturated with a colouring ink - initially red, then Harry has changed to yellow, to blue, now he's trying a mix to produce the Gryffindor colours, scarlet and gold. Until tomorrow, the colours will be gone, since Harry doesn't really share Ma Weasley's feelings toward the gnomes. It's just a game.

A pretty stupid one. But if you're bored as much as Harry ...

At the beginning of vacation, the world looked great. The first major event was a family conference in which Harry, supported by Ron and Ginny, told Arthur and Molly Weasley that he had come across the better half of a slim million. Better than the other simply because it could be found in Harry's vault - only days ago, the money had arrived through a channel in which Mr Chang, Harry's most likely future father-in-law, had played a nice game with a dark wizard.

A slightly censored version of this background was part of Harry's explanation to the Weasleys. Then he expressed his strong determination to share with them as much as possible, and that, for starters, Mr Weasley might go looking for a comfortable family car.

Ma Weasley took the shock quite well and showed an open mind when her children suggested a shopping day to celebrate the warm rain. In sharp contrast, however, stood her ironclad refusal to accept anything close to a direct money transfer. A shopping day - gladly so, presents okay, but only so much. And she warned her husband not to have funny ideas; after all, who needed a Muggle car if there was chimney travel and Apparition and portkey links.

Arthur Weasley nodded, nodded again later when Ron and Harry informed him that they might look around by themselves, would then come to the Ministry to get his opinion about one model or the other. There wasn't a rule in the Weasley household which prevented Harry from buying a Muggle car, was it?

The next day, the Weasley-Potter gang, including Ma Weasley, spent most of the daylight hours in the city, and some money in some shops.

One of these shops was called "Swashbuckle Sweets." The owners, Fred and George Weasley, were happy to hear the news, remarkably stubborn otherwise. Yes, they would accept a shopping tour sponsored by Harry - if they ever found the time, that was, while otherwise the only effect Harry could achieve was a loan contract with him rather than with Gringotts, five grand, interest zero, to be paid back within the next five years.

At Gringotts, Harry made some transactions - five grand for the twins, the same for Ron, based on the agreement they had closed in the Three Broomsticks, the same for Ginny. Then they spent some time waiting until the newest invention for financial transactions in the wizarding world was prepared, one each for Harry, Ron, and Ginny: a GALA, a Gringotts Account Liquidity Affirmation.

To the unknowing eye, a GALA looked like a double-sided picture which could listen and answer. The picture on the front side showed the account owner, smiling friendly and saying his or her name. The picture on the back side showed a Goblin. When asked whether Gringotts would honour a bill of a certain sum, the Goblin picture answered "Yes" or "No", depending on the sum and on the current account balance.

A Muggle would have called this a credit card, missing the point entirely for several reasons. The card didn't offer a credit line. It couldn't be faked. And maybe the most significant difference - when losing or omitting the card in a shop, the Goblin started shouting with a high-pitched voice.

A GALA suited worlds better than walking around with a heavy bag of galleons. For Gringotts customers with an account above hundred grand, the thing came for free. For Gringotts customers in the company of Harry Potter, it also came free, no matter which account balance. For other people, receiving a GALA came shockingly expensive.

Then Harry visited the Ministry, to deliver the first pile of glossy brochures in Arthur Weasley's office, and to talk with his godfather about an Apparition license.

Sirius looked sour. "Why can't you run the normal procedure like any good citizen?"

"Because it takes forever," explained Harry truthfully. "This ministry is a bunch of time thieves, some notable exceptions granted."

"And why do you come to me, who has sworn to fight corruption and nepotism - "

"C'mon, Sirius, do you know any license coach who's ready to do an Apparition contest with me?"

Harry's godfather had never before asked the question himself, felt nevertheless sure he wouldn't find any, and agreed grudgingly. Two days later, Harry's Apparition jumps showed an invisible though important improvement in quality: they were legal.

---

But a merciless God was sanctioning small sins immediately, and only this could be the reason why, suddenly, things started going awry.

With Cho nowhere in reach, running wild somewhere in the United States, Harry took measures to get the Haiti trip going - planned to look for werewolves, as test candidates for Hermione's Wolfsbane project. However, as it turned out - from Harry's perspective, the trip marked the first flop of these weeks, supposedly the best in the year.

Mrs Benedict was a remarkable woman, much darker than Almyra. She welcomed Harry but made clear that he could forget about searching for Haitian werewolves by himself. Yes, once the contact was closed, he would be introduced as a trusted person to run errands for Hermione. But to find them, Mrs Benedict would contact a witch friend there - the only chance, as those loup garous had developed a deep mistrust against any foreigner, simply in favour of survival.

Remus and Almyra, on the other hand, were quite friendly in their way - making clear they could do perfectly well without Harry, in these best weeks of the year.

Then Ron said goodbye to fetch Janine for a three-weeks' trip to the Camargue, with some day tours to small, unremarkable towns - Cannes, Monte Carlo, Nice, San Remo, St. Tropez. The Camargue had been planned long before, while the day tours were a nice add-on, based on an increased level of liquidity.

Then Arthur and Molly Weasley went to a vacation trip also in France - a day or two with the Delacours, but mostly in and around Paris, with a magnificent house in the Goblin quarter as their operation base.

For several days, Harry and Ginny spent larger parts of the daytime hours around the public swimming pool, only to realize that, especially after returning home, they were the wrong company to each other. Not that they couldn't talk - they were talking a lot, only that was all they could do with each other. And from one day to the next, it struck both of them more and more unsatisfying.

Then Ginny took her GALA card, her linkport network ticket, Harry's knapsack filled with the most necessary things, and went for an adventure tour. First, however, she made him promise to tell nobody, particularly not Ma Weasley. Harry wasn't worried to know her travelling alone - a witch at the age of sixteen, knowing enough aikido to discourage anyone who wasn't her choice, and with enough built-in attributes to encourage the others, only Ma Weasley would have gone frantic.

And that left him alone in The Burrow.

Aside from his snake, of course. Only Nagini wasn't particularly talkative, as long as nobody was spreading lies or magic. Not knowing any better, Harry went to the swimming pool alone.

It was worse than before - suddenly, the place seemed full of girls with long legs, tight swimsuits, and inviting smiles. Some of them had even nice faces.

Still - Harry saw no reason for starting an adventure trip of his own.

It was so unfair - the first real vacation of his life, no Dursleys, no duty, free time en masse, and what was the effect? All revved up and nowhere to go ... He wanted company, fun, sex, with changing priorities along the hours of the day. Failing that, he wanted a task to kill the time, a hobby to enjoy, good enough to spend hour after hour until feeling tired enough to sleep.

Hobbies ... His hobby had been the hunt for Voldemort; now Harry felt a desperate need for some replacement. What were the hobbies of other people his age? Sports - he had finished a Quidditch cup only recently. Cars - what a nonsense, if you could apparate, fly a broomstick, jump through linkport gates. Girls - in a way, this came closer to the point, but only so much. First, the plural seemed definitely overkill. Next, girls were nice, while women ... Damn, why didn't Cho send a message, more precisely, an address and a time? Fool that he was, falling in love with a girl - woman, whatever - who was this one critical year older than he himself.

Marie-Christine crossed his mind. Several times, Harry was seriously tempted to go finding her. Only - he knew exactly what would happen, and so far away from her, his mind won the competition against his young, suntanned, unemployed body.

And this was why Harry could be found sitting in the garden, at a loss to come up with anything more intelligent than shooting water balls in gnome holes.

* * *

There was another movement. Harry felt so bored, he missed by several inches. It was time to think seriously. Hadn't he received a thorough education how to see humour in desperation?

Ways and goals ... If your path is misted, move the steps you can see. Except he couldn't see any step, maybe because there was no mist but brilliant sunlight. If this wasn't a Zen riddle, then he didn't know. Moving to some place he knew, and to think again - well, maybe it was a help. What place did he know? Big question, really.

Harry grabbed Nagini and put her around his chest. At the last instant, he remembered to fetch his swimsuit, then he stood at the Hogwarts Express platform. Maybe a hard exercise in the training hall, and then a diving tour through the lake, to clear his mind.

The school looked deserted - nobody outside, nobody in the Entrance Hall. The Great Hall was empty too.

Harry passed the staircase to Dumbledore's office. Should he pay a visit? No, the Headmaster didn't cross him as the best mentor for overcoming boredom. Most likely, this wizard didn't even know what it meant.

A voice behind him said, "Freeze, buddy!"

He hadn't heard this voice before - not this broad accent. Funny as it sounded, there was some determination which made him stop, not moving - only checking with his getsumai no michi.

A figure behind him, unfamiliar ... A woman, for all he could sense, with a wand pointing at him. Now she moved closer, and now she was looking around. The short moment of distraction was his chance.

He went down, rolled around, way off the white flash that bounced into the walls, and held his arms pointing. "Expelliarmus!"

The wand whooshed through the hall into his hands. Harry came up, stored the wand to have his arms free, and stepped quickly toward the woman - not exactly the attack stance, however in perfect balance, arms ready to defend, to strike, to send a spell.

Big, broadshouldered, sun-tanned, light-blond, open face, not really thick, although with ten pounds less, nobody would have called her thin. Watchful eyes, not looking scared, no fright either in what he sensed. Carefulness, of course -

"You don't bother with a wand, do you?"

"Sometimes yes, sometimes no. Who are you?"

"Funny question! You're the intruder, who are you? What are you doing here, sneaking around this staircase? What about this snake?"

According to the rules, he had the wand, and she was supposed to answer. Maybe nobody had told her the rules. When in doubt, ask. "Last question first or in the sequence of asking?"

After a second, the face split into a broad grin. "Hey - that's good, sonny, hehe - really ..."

For such a large body, she was awfully fast, and there had been almost no fore-warning in his haragei. Her leg came up in a step-kick, aiming exactly toward his groin.

He stood a bit too close for side-stepping the kick, and it was too late for jumping back. In a light side-twist, Harry's own leg came up, hitting the woman's ankle hard and deflecting the kick away from him.

This would have been the moment for his counter-blow. Instead, he retreated a step.

"Stop that nonsense! Who are you?"

The woman bent down to rub her ankles, but all Harry could see was a perfect position for a jump. Reflexively, he retreated another step.

She glanced up. "You a kung fu champion, or what?"

He kept silent, for reasons of combat psychology as much as because he didn't know what she meant.

The woman came up again, the ankle was forgotten. So it had really been a preparation for a jump. Maybe she was a kung fu champion. And now she said, "All right, mister. The game's over - gimme that wand back!"

Some people could see no reason, not without a wand pointing at them. Harry drew his own and pointed. "For the last time - who are you?"

She curtsied in a mocking bow. "Samantha Sheridan. Nice to meet you, sunnyboy."

"And what are you doing here at Hogwarts?"

"Guarding the school from intruders with snakes - sometimes with success, sometimes without - otherwise, I'm a teacher here, and I'm still waiting to get my own answers."

A teacher? Uh-oh. "What course?"

"Animals - what's that crazy term - er, Care of Magical Animals, I guess that's it. And this was my last answer, now it's your turn."

"Care of Magical Creatures?"

"Yeah - I knew there was something wrong. You seem to - "

"Can you prove it?"

She stared at him in disbelief, then her arms came akimbo.

"Listen, sweetheart, I don't have to prove anything. Now either you turn me into a rabbit, or I'll come over you like an eagle out of the sun. You've got one more chance to tell me who you are."

"Who hired you?"

The woman glanced at Harry's unmoving wand. "A flagpole called Albie - and a lady with funny glasses."

Harry's giggle rose, unstoppable. He just had time to pull out her wand and to offer it back, this way avoiding a heavier attack, before he was twisting in a helpless laughter.

---

When he had sobered up sufficiently, the witch was standing there, her wand again pointing at him - but somehow, it seemed more a precaution than a serious threat.

"There's nothing like a good joke, hon. And now, you'll answer me in a hurry, before I turn you into a rabbit, just the right size for that snake. It's beautiful, by the way."

"It's a she - her name's Nagini. I'm a student here, and I was on the way to the training hall. My name's Harry Potter."

Samantha Sheridan grinned. "See, it works - very good, in perfect reverse order ... Can you prove it?"

Harry looked perplexed. His name hadn't raised any reaction, and his prominent scar didn't take her attention at all.

"Now?"

"You may ask someone ... Or I could describe the building from ground to top, or list the teachers. Maybe - "

"Harry Potter, eh? I guess I've heard that name before, except I don't remember in which context."

Only now, Harry remembered his GALA card. He took it out, with slow movements under the witches' watchful glance. "Here - that should be good enough."

She studied the picture. "Rich parent's kid, are you? Great, just what I like ..."

He stared again, while the corners of her mouth dropped.

"... either way, son, you better leave now. It's vacation, and I don't tolerate snakes in the building."

"You don't what??"

"Is there something with your ears, young man? Get lost!"

Ignoring her, Harry turned to Nagini's head on his shoulder. "Say - is she serious?"

"Yes, Master. A bit upset, not very much. She doesn't like snakes, but in contrast to other people, she knows them - rattlesnakes, that is. Maybe she had some bad experience with them."

"Rattlesnakes - how do they look?"

"Brown, or sand-coloured - "

The woman interrupted the conversation. "What's this, boy? Are you talking with that snake?"

Feeling his anger rise, Harry replied, "Yes, what else?"

"Now that's interesting! Never heard of that before - what were you talking about?"

Didn't this woman know anything? "I asked her about you. Nagini says you know snakes, but only rattlesnakes, and that's why you don't like ..."

The woman looked delighted. "A mind reader - isn't that cute? ... Well, under these circumstances, I guess we can make an exception."

Calming down at once, and remembering some manners, Harry said, "I really hope so - Nagini's been living with me for the past year. Although - she can read only emotions; maybe with snakes, her accuracy is higher than usual."

"That's okay, hon. Where did you find her?"

"She was Voldemort's snake. He left her when escaping."

"Voldemort? Yeah, I've heard that name before - actually, I guess together with yours. Some desperado wizard, eh?"

Harry wondered whether he could trust his ears. "Yes, that describes him, in a way. You're not from here, are you?"

Samantha Sheridan grinned. "Do I look like that? Hopefully not. No, Texas's my home - you know, Don't mess with Texas."

Harry didn't know. "But I did already, didn't I? By the way" - he bowed - "I'm sorry, Prof."

The woman laughed. "Prof? That's good - " She stopped, looking surprised. "I guess you're right, and I should get used to it. Anyway, it's still vacation - call me Samantha, short version Sam."

"Sam??"

Samantha looked wondering. "Yes, sure. Only if you call me Sammy, you're in trouble, son."

"All right, er - Sam. Please call me Harry."

The witch nodded. "Listen, Harry - you seem to know a lot more about this crazy school. I can offer a deal: I provide a few T-bone steaks, grilled of course, and some beer, and you'll give me a tour of the background here."

* * *

Samantha came from a small town near Abilene. With both parents Muggles - farmers - she had lived on that farm until she felt the wide space narrowing around her, especially around her underemployed brain. Samantha's next station had been another farm, until she realized the horizon wasn't widening this way. Then she had taken the job of a deputy sheriff.

Around that time of their conversation, the first two steaks were ready. Harry took his own, admiring the size, the thickness, and the taste. Then he watched in astonishment as Samantha was putting two more steaks on the grid. He asked, "Do you expect more people?"

"No - why?"

"Then who's going to eat those?"

The question sounded pretty stupid to Samantha; but then, Texans seemed used to answer them. "Us, you dummy. Don't tell me you'll stop after one small steak."

"Maybe not, but definitely after this wagon wheel."

Samantha didn't believe him; at any rate, she wasn't going to stop after hers.

All this took place in front of Hagrid's old hut. Samantha had adopted the place immediately, feeling more at home than ever since she had left Texas to widen her horizon.

Harry watched her rapidly diminishing the large chunk of meat. "Did you learn to fight there - as a deputy sheriff?"

"Some more tricks, sure, but I didn't start at scratch. On a farm in Texas, and probably other states too, a virgin is someone who can run faster and fight meaner than the boys."

"Oh ..." Harry was ready to take it for a bad joke, only Nagini kept silent. But maybe this had to do with Nagin's own piece of raw meat, still visible from the bulge in her body.

Sensing Harry's uneasiness, Samantha grinned and waved dismissively. "It's another world. Where did you learn your own kung fu?"

"Kung fu? Is this another technique?"

"Dunno - in Texas, you fight with guns, or with fists - you may use your head too, or a jack handle, while anything else is called kung fu. Far-east stuff."

"Mine is called aikido. I learned it in Japan, but that's just where it started. For the past year, I practised here at Hogwarts. Mr Kenzo is the teacher, a Japanese."

"No kidding? I figure I'd give it a try." Samantha glanced at him approvingly. "To be honest - it's quite a while since someone has blocked my kicking at such a short distance."

Harry nodded. "Yes, I was too close, and you can hide your intentions quite well."

For some minutes, they discussed combat without weapons, and Harry explained the meaning of haragei as the sense for detecting intentions, and jaho as the hiding art, in which Samantha seemed to be an untrained natural talent. Then Harry asked, "How was it, being a deputy sheriff?"

"Not bad, for a while. Then I dropped it."

"Why?"

Samantha grimaced. "Maybe I had seen all that could be seen there ... Like a sheriff who was on the payroll of the local fat cat, or some people who thought a woman deputy was for dessert and for free. Anyway - I moved into the city."

The city, that was Forth Worth, and from there to Houston, jobbing here and there, learning still more kung fu tricks, for interest as much as for sheer need.

"And how did you find your way here?"

Samantha smiled. "Pure luck, as the whore said ..."

At that time, Harry had some experience how to stare for just a split second, swearing to himself that he would find the courage to ask Samantha for this joke everybody seemed to know - obviously the one Charlie had mentioned some time ago at a Beauxbatons ball.

"... when I realized that I couldn't find my place there, I put an ad in some overseas newspapers, here and some other places where you get along with English" - she interpreted his expression correctly - "or something close. And then I got a mail, if I was interested in a job as a teacher, and I answered yes."

"What did you write in the ad?"

"Twas something like tough lady, gets along with animals, not afraid of work - that style. And then I saw that man, Santa Claus after a long diet, and I had a feeling - well, here I am."

Harry chuckled. "Oh yes, he can do that with people, giving them a feeling."

"Tell me about him, Harry."

He beamed. "Dumbledore's the greatest wizard - that's what all students think. But he's more, especially for me. If I give you the long version, I won't be finished until midnight."

"Go ahead. I can listen, and tomorrow's another day to feed you with steak and beer while listening."

"Really? It's a deal."

And so Harry started to talk, about Dumbledore, about other teachers, about Hagrid, who had built the hut and now was lying in a grave nearby, about the Battle of Hogwarts, about Giants, Goblins, keeping to an overall picture and avoiding too many details about his own role.

It was indeed near midnight when Samantha said, "Let's give it a break for today, Harry. If you'll come tomorrow, you'll find me here as promised, except then I might squeeze you a bit harder; there were a few empty spots in your story, and I'll be damned if they don't fit exactly your shape. By the way, how are you travelling?"

"Apparition - and a short walk because it works only outside the Hogwarts sphere. The train platform is the closest point for jumping."

"Apparition, eh? Quite a habit for sixth-years, and I better don't ask for your license - "

Harry interrupted her with a beaming. "You may - it's two weeks old, signed by the Law Enforcement Squad chief personally."

"Then he must be a relative of yours."

Naturally, from a corrupt sheriff's deputy.

"No," protested Harry, "but he's my godfather. Well, at least I'd stand any test or exam."

Samantha nodded. "No doubt ... See ya' tomorrow."

* * *

The next day Harry came back, early enough for a real training session in the hall. Samantha was interested to join, until she realized what it meant to go through the basics - walking, falling, balance. Then she said, "Come to think of it, Harry - if you find a short cut to some nice kicks, gimme a call. Otherwise, you'll find me outside."

Harry had brought a large salad bowl - green food seemed a bit scarce on Samantha's table. He said, "Please don't tell Dobby - he'll be deeply insulted to hear I came to Hogwarts with food from outside."

"Dobby?"

And this was the opening for today's contribution of stories. For Harry, it felt strange how easily he could talk about his own roles in the encounters with Voldemort, with Lucius Malfoy, even his time in Privet Drive. There was something in Samantha which understood, and weighed, offering sympathy without pity, acknowledgment without admiration.

When he talked about the Dursleys, Samantha's eyes looked at him as if to say, Tough, hon, but at least, you weren't beaten up, or just a bit by Dudley and his scums. When he talked about the fight deep down in the Hogwarts dungeons to rescue Ginny, the same eyes said, Good job, buddy, they were relying on you, and you didn't let them hang - I hadn't expected less. Samantha looked far too young for appearing motherly, Harry didn't feel like confiding in her - just presenting the facts, trading a story or two for a T-bone steak, and if he didn't get two of them in return, then only because he was stuffed to the limit after the first.

These eyes ... They had seen the bad, and they had seen the worse, were able to recognize quality, could laugh while that big mouth didn't move.

When he told about the patrol exam and the scene with Firenze in the Forbidden Forest, Samantha's calmness was gone. "Centaurs, and one of them is your pal? Harry, you just got yourself a job."

"Did I?"

"Yep - tomorrow evening, we'll go into that forest, and you'll get me around, and introduce me to that Firenze."

Harry looked at her, tasting the words as much as the intention. Had this been a plea? A command?

Samantha's mouth grinned. "If you do that, I'll pay back - no matter how the bill's looking."

A joke - except that Samantha took her jokes as seriously as her threats. Harry laughed.

"All right - and there isn't a bill, or if so, then it's been paid already."

Now Samantha's mouth turned wry, although her eyes were laughing. "You didn't warm up much for the offer, sweetie, did you? Who's the girl that beats a Texan thoroughbred?"

"Her name's Cho, and she's the one who's responsible for the job offer, because she took two teachers with her to found a company. But that's only part of the reason."

"Don't tell me you shy off from a teacher while school hasn't started yet."

Harry smiled. "Neither that, nor the opposite. No - if there was a deal behind, I'm pretty sure Firenze would sense it, and we'd never see him. Even so, I can't guarantee anything."

"That's understood, but we'll meet him - trust me."

Somehow, Harry did, was nonetheless curious. "What makes you so sure?"

"Oh - I have a way with horses, and I have a way with men."

"I bet."

"And there's something else. I'v been around here for some days, was sitting outside into the night. And one evening, somebody was watching me from within the forest - for quite a while."

"What did you do?"

"Waiting, what else? ... Didn't show up." Samantha grinned. "A horse would have come looking, but men are shy animals."

"You think so - after all you've told me about your jobs?"

"Oh yes, Harry. Only shithouse flies come swarming."

* * *

Sleeping late. Breakfast, though only after jumping to the next newsstand for buying a Daily Prophet - these people were too stupid to get a vacation address settled, and Harry's press contacts didn't help the least. Hanging around for a while in The Burrow, some reading, some cleaning up, and whoosh, was he back at the Hogwarts Express platform.

A thorough training session - alone, which limited the possibilities, but there was no end to honing your balance, in particular before and after kick jumps aiming as high as a standing man. Then a short flight to the place at the lake - who would walk in this heat, especially when sweaty from bends and kicks and jumps and blows? Swimming, diving - Harry decided to get himself some Gillyweed, diving for almost an hour would be fascinating, in particular since no hostages were waiting to be rescued.

And out of the water, drying, dressing, back to the school, where Samantha was about to start the grill. He could settle to this rhythm. After all, his first real vacation was no total loss.

Except today the rhythm was changed. At dusk, they walked along the Forbidden Forest. The former dragons' camp was their first target. Harry pointed to the deserted hut.

"Here - that's where Charlie and this O'Shea were living. And over there, that was the first dragon nest - the others are a bit farther this way."

"Aren't herding well, dragons, eh?"

"Oh, they did, in a way. It was like a firing battery, in the battle - they were side by side and blocked the dark wizards entirely, until ..." Harry's voice trailed off.

Samantha went into the hut, came out shortly afterwards, then walked toward the remnants of what had been the sleeping place of a Swedish Short-Snout. Harry watched her inspecting the place closely, checking the last traces - burn marks at the trees around, smaller growth of underbrush, maybe a horny scale in the grass.

Samantha came back. "Does the school have pictures of them?"

"Pictures? None that I know of." After a moment, Harry clapped his forehead. "Baah - stupid me. Of course I have pictures, lots of them."

Samantha watched him. "Don't worry - even so, most people would take it for a head, and what's inside for a brain. Where are the pictures, Harry?"

His finger touched his temple. "Here. Ever seen a spector story?"

She hadn't, spectors and the parts of Texas Samantha had seen were two different worlds. Harry explained the principle of spectors in general and of the story translation in particular.

"Sounds good," agreed Samantha, "to show something that's difficult to explain, or that's just too beautiful to put in words. Otherwise, my choice would be a normal tale ten times out of ten."

"Why?"

"To watch the storyteller. According to what you said, you can't do that with this movie globe."

"You could, only then of course you'd miss the story." Thinking her words over, Harry said, "But the last days, you were looking into the fire most of the time, when I was talking. Somehow that doesn't fit."

Samantha grinned. "I can look like a horse - my viewing angle stretches almost to my back. But don't tell anyone."

About to laugh, Harry stopped, wishing he'd come with Nagini. It could only be a joke, except maybe it wasn't. Either way, Samantha had made her point clear.

---

They wandered through the forest, roughly the direction Harry and Cho had taken with their broomsticks high above the trees. It was a bit eerie; sensing around, Harry felt presences, somewhere, in some distance. None of them felt like Firenze, he was sure of that - since they had met in a misty night, during his training for the getsumai no michi, Harry knew exactly how this Centaur would appear in his haragei.

Walking ahead, he checked his companion - without turning of course, only through his inner senses. Samantha seemed fully occupied to inhale the forest with eyes and ears and nose and skin and whatever she could muster in addition - and there was more, he felt sure of that. Maybe it wasn't haragei, but then, this was just a name for a sensoric system not well represented in common language.

They reached a small opening. Maybe it had been here where Harry and Cho had paused, maybe not - either way, it looked like a good place to sit down and wait for a creature that would appear like a visitor, to behave like a host.

Harry sat down and took the lotus position.

Samantha watched him doing so, then she sat down in the campfire position - knees up, arms on them, head resting on the arms. She kept as silent as he himself, very much what he had expected.

According to his feeling, half an hour had passed when he sensed a presence, familiar, not too far away. Focusing on it, Harry almost gasped - if he wasn't completely mistaken, his haragei had received something like an answer, and the meaning had been, Back off - the first remark he ever received this way.

He obeyed. His hand touched Samantha, then made a circling movement to indicate that, somewhere around them, someone was waiting as silently as the two of them.

She nodded, otherwise motionless.

Firenze let them wait. With his haragei back in wide-angle mode, Harry could confirm that the Centaur was neither moving away nor coming closer.

After ten minutes, Harry felt sure - this was a teasing game.

Fire had to be fought with fire. Harry's wand came out, pointing in the general direction where he suspected Firenze. He concentrated, recollected the picture at the graveyard. Then it came as just a whisper: "Expecto Patronum!"

A golden cloud erupted, formed to a Centaur which immediately pushed forward, ignoring bushes entirely, trees mostly.

Samantha hadn't gasped, for sheer self-control. He could feel how her mind jumped at the sight of this appearance.

Seconds later, the Patronus came back. "There's no harm, Master - quite the opposite."

Harry bowed. "Thank you."

With a last graceful movement, the Patronus Centaur disappeared. At the same moment, Harry could feel another Centaur approaching - a real one. Then Firenze appeared between the trees and stepped closer.

Harry stood up. "Good evening, Firenze. I'd like to introduce you to Samantha Sheridan. Samantha is the new Hogwarts teacher for Care of Magical Creatures."

Samantha was standing, too. "Howdy, Firenze. How are you doing?"

"Mostly without care, but this may change."

Samantha chuckled. "I'm from Texas; the horses there are less funny. Come to think of it, the men too."

For an instant, Harry expected the Centaur to disappear - he himself would never have talked with him that way. But then he remembered Cho's words. Here again, Firenze seemed to accept remarks of this style, provided they came from a woman.

Firenze turned to him. "Harry Potter, can't you find anything better in your vacation time than strolling around Hogwarts?"

"Yes, somehow ... The rest of my family's somewhere else - suddenly, I had spare time in excess. And then I met Samantha."

"You should enjoy the break - it'll be over soon."

Harry felt startled. "Are you talking about school, Firenze?"

The Centaur looked up, toward the sky. "Mercury's nowhere seen, Venus lost in clouds ..."

Harry was waiting to hear that Mars was bright tonight.

"... while Saturn's ruling the sky. This is what the closer planets tell us - so much for a lesson, Harry Potter."

Provided you knew what it meant. At least, Harry knew better than to ask directly. He said, "It tells you more than me, Firenze."

"If my reading's right, you'll know soon by yourself - and many others too. You have faced an enemy, a single one, powerful, unique, and you have made predictions fail. Can you do it again, when there are so many?"

"Enemies? I know only one, and this one's lying low, since the last time we've met."

"But alive." The Centaur looked at Samantha. "Be careful in this forest, Samantha Sheridan. Not everybody living here may respond well to your caring. Good night." Seconds later, Firenze was gone, from their view as well as from Harry's senses.

---

Walking back to the school buildings, Samantha asked, "So what did he tell us, Harry? I've heard statements before that were more to the point."

"Well - for a Centaur, he's pretty direct. He's the only one I ever heard giving something like an explanation. About the forest - the other Centaurs avoid human contact, but they're not really hostile, while the giant spiders - I didn't tell you about them, did I?"

"Are you kidding?"

"No, I'm not. Anyway, at daylight, they won't come out - it must be really dark, and they live farther inside the forest."

"And what was this about the planets?" For the first time since Harry had met her, Samantha seemed a bit self-conscious. "Planet-reading's never been my strongest, so if you could translate it for me, Harry ..."

"Well, don't ask me for details, but Mercury stands for the quick mind, Venus for love, and Saturn - that's supposed to represent bad luck in big style."

"Aha ... In other words - there are only blockheads around, you may start singing Bye, bye, love, and because misery needs company, a similar fate expects the blockheads too. Is this about what he was trying to say?"

"Dunno ..."

Harry didn't go for the joke, Firenze's words kept running through his mind. "Something else is more interesting," he said. "So far, Firenze was more the action type and didn't bother much with looking into the sky and complaining about fate, while now he's doing just that."

"Yeah, but it started only after you asked him for more information."

"I didn't ask him; I only said it was telling him more than me."

"No, sweetheart. Remember? He spoke about a break that'll be over soon, and then you asked what he was talking about. I mean, everybody knows when school's going to start again, so I figure it was quite obvious he meant something else."

"So I asked a stupid question. Well, that happens."

Samantha laughed. "Maybe that's what he meant when talking about Mercury - what do you think, Harry? ... Harry? Do you think?"

* * *

"I'm sorry, Mr Potter - six pieces is all we can offer. We'll get a refill, of course, but don't expect it before the end of August. This is summertime, and since those linkports are around, lots of people go for vacation in places like Hawaii or the Maldives, and suddenly they all need it. The supply has never been that big ..."

The witch from Dervish and Banges, the wizarding items store in Hogsmeade, looked inconsolable, not being able to provide the ten pieces of Gillyweed Harry had asked for. It was a bit strange - this behaviour would have fit a house elf, not a small-town saleswoman.

A moment later, though, Harry knew why. It was when the witch said, "Hundred and thirty-two galleons, Mr Potter."

He gasped. That expensive? So with ten, he'd scored as the customer of the month, probably did even so. He offered his GALA card.

"Oh, that's nice. I heard of them, but you're the first customer who comes with such a thing." The witch spoke with the Goblin, who promised to honour the bill, while Harry was musing about old habits and new fortunes. Even with two diving tours a day, all year long, he would spend less than the return of investement per year.

At Hogwarts, he asked Samantha whether she was interested in joining him on a diving tour. He showed her the Gillyweed; then he had to explain how it worked and that gill-breathing would last for about three quarters of an hour. But Samantha waved him off. "No, thanks. Water's dangerous, Harry - look what it does to a good bourbon, then you know."

The water felt wonderful - less at the sun-heated surface, where Harry found it difficult to breathe sufficiently through his gills, more so at deeper levels, where his eyesight quickly narrowed down to twenty feet, fifteen, ten. Nevertheless, his getsumai no michi provided him with a clear sight of this underwater landscape.

He was floating over a forest that stretched ahead, gently sloping downhill, a soft wave of dark green with no discernible end. It was only weed, but from his position six feet above, Harry could imagine a fantastic jungle of bizarre trees, hiding all kinds of creatures, up to the size of full-grown dragons.

For the small-form life underwater, probably it was a jungle. From Harry's own perspective, Grindylows were the only creatures in the weed he had to be careful about. He was swimming without his wand; however, it should be simple enough to keep them at bay with spells from his webbed hands, used only to balance out or to change direction - with his elongated feet alone, he was making sufficient speed for this idle journey beyond any particular task.

The green wave sloped deeper. Harry kept his level, letting the green disappear below, out of eyesight. This was his first exploration, a waterspace patrol - he had no intention to meet merpeople today, was only interested in an effortless, weightless space travel.

The giant squid came to his mind. Would he sense it with his haragei? From its intellectual level, the answer was probably no, but then, haragei was an early-warning system for minds as much as for dangers. Anyway, the only presences he felt were deep below - greyish-green figures with shark-like teeth in their faces and spears in their hands. One of the next days, he would visit them, and knew already what to talk about, if there was an opportunity. He would ask them whether there was any trace left of four dragon cadavers, and if so, he would inspect their skeletons, to save the image and to record it onto a spector cassette.

The air seemed thinner ... This was of course nonsense - just the first sign of the fading effect. Harry sped up, climbing rapidly toward daylight. When his head broke through the surface, he was already back to lung-breathing and had spent the last half minute without breathing - simple enough for him, who could keep his breath for almost two minutes.

The only nuisance - he found himself in the middle of the lake.

---

Fifteen minutes later, he reached the lakeshore, not exactly powered out but feeling the strain in his arms and legs. In his next dives, he would be more careful about the time spent.

Samantha wanted to see the dragon pictures before the usual evening meal of grilled steaks, grilled potatoes, and salad - Harry's contribution. Once sitting outside, she didn't feel like walking through the school buildings again.

Reaching the spector room, they found it locked. Harry asked, "Do you have the key for this door?"

"No, but that won't stop us. Wait a minute, I have to fetch my little collection of - "

"Don't bother." He didn't even sit down - training was the key.

Click.

Samantha's eyes had widened a bit. "That's neat, buddy. I'm glad I met you after my time as a deputy - you'd given me headaches."

After some trial and error, Harry had the spector running in story translation mode. Samantha sat downstairs, close to the sphere, while he sat before the camera, collecting this thoughts, and telling his encounters with the dragons - the first task in the tournament, visits to Charlie, and finally the battle scenes. Thanks to a mental training not so long ago, in preparation for a wedding present, he knew how to fill the story quite literally with contours, colours, and depth.

On their way back to Hagrid's hut, Samantha looked thoughtful. When the steaks were broiling on the grid, she said, "I'm used to horses. These dragons ... riding a dragon, that would be something, won't it? By the way - it was great. What an awful luck, that you didn't know what to do at home."

Staring at the grill, his mouth already watering after the long journey through the lake, Harry's only comment was, "That's how I see it, too."

Coming home, he found a small sheet of paper glued to the door. It told him that there was a letter waiting in the box - both sheet and letter delivered by the Magical Tours postal service.

When opening the letter, Harry felt grateful for the reminder at the door. Without that, he would have found the letter only the next day, around noon, returning from the newsstand. And then, the time schedule would have been more than tight, according to what he was reading.

The letter came from Cho. She expected him for Saturday in the Palace Hotel of Santa Monica, California, USA - in spitting distance from Hollywood, the centre of Muggle movie business. As the letter revealed, it had to do with an invitation to a party, apparently very important for her own business. And she expected him early enough so they could go and buy a decent Californian Muggle dress for him; or maybe two or three, this might not be the last party.

And Saturday was tomorrow.