Harry Potter and the Thunderstruck Muggles

The next day, Harry had made up his mind about what to report from his Haitian trip. Also to whom: he would talk with Hermione, of course, and with nobody else. He would report everything - with one little exception, that was.

This problem solved, he was facing another - Hermione wanted to hear it right at the breakfast table.

Harry refused to reveal details and only confirmed that he'd delivered the flasks. For the rest of the story, he put Hermione off until after supper, claiming the need for a private conversation - outside, where else.

Hermione, who could sense exciting news even without haragei, agreed quicker than expected.

After supper, Harry wanted to use his favourite place for conversations, but no way. Hadn't he said private? Well, what was private in a place this close to a Texan bigmouth? The place at the lake was private, and they could combine it with a swimming - after talking, what with the food just gulped down, and especially because Hermione wasn't going to wait any longer before hearing the details.

Harry watched her strip down to her swimsuit, remembering the last time he'd seen Hermione like that, remembering also Samantha's remarks. Well, maybe the mentioned regularity didn't do much against Hermione's bossiness, but otherwise she looked great.

And she saw him watching. "If we had music, I could add the right movements to do a real striptease for you, Harry."

He grinned. "What's the sense in that if you stop with the swimsuit left?"

Challenging Hermione ... She made a step toward him, and another. Then, very slowly, she moved her hands up her body, came to rest on the knot that was holding the strip around her neck, started to work on it.

Harry stared up, seeing her expression, her half-open mouth, her prominent mons still closer in his view.

Voices, somewhere near.

Hermione stopped and sat down. "Some privacy ... Okay, Harry, let's talk. I darkly remember that's why we came here." Her voice was a bit breathless.

Harry's wasn't; for compensation, his mouth felt dry.

"I met Madame Dussolier. She's so fat, she'd be enough for three witches. There's a young man, Benoît, who does the work. He guided me to the two candidates. The first, Caprien Marût, is about twenty-five and a street rat. The other, Fabrice Armodéc, is an older man with a lot of money, a big house, a young woman who's not his wife, and with more than one desire - he wants to be paid with conversations and stories. He was really happy to see me."

Hermione looked thunderstruck.

Harry grinned wryly. "I agreed - to stay for dinner the next times, and to do my part. By the way, he'd like to meet you."

"Really? What for?"

"That's basically up to you." When Hermione's questioning look didn't fade, Harry decided to quote from memory. "He said he could adapt quite well to the - er, conventions of his guests."

"I see ..." This peculiar expression was back in Hermione's face. "Should I go?"

"Certainly - once you can apparate. He has style, that's for sure."

"Style, huh? And what if I don't want to wait until I can apparate? I mean, his place is really private, isn't it?"

"Definitely. It's the topmost point on the Ile de la Tortue, about two hundred miles north of Port-au-Prince."

Hermione dropped her sex-fever attitude - assuming it had been an attitude. "Two hundred - say, how did you travel?"

"With broomsticks." Harry had to describe the journey from Saint Marc to Gros-Morne, and from there to the Ile de la Tortue, and of course Hermione was asking more, and he had to confess that he'd bought a Firebolt Two.

A rare moment: Hermione staring at him, speechless.

Harry went for the opportunity to explain the background. "Well, er - you know, er - no, you don't know, but I've got some money. Actually, I'm rich, so to speak. That's why buying a Firebolt Two doesn't mean anything - it was just the quickest method to proceed further." He summarized the story of Mr Chang and Mr Crownshield. "I didn't intend to keep it a secret - I just didn't know how to tell."

His own embarrassment seemed nothing, compared to that of Hermione. "Harry, I didn't know that. I thought those people could be found some streets away. This wasn't part of our deal - of course I'll pay that money back, except that I'm not sure - "

"Stop it! As I said, I don't know what to do with so much money. If there's anything that exceeds the planned deal, it's me telling stories to that Armodéc. For this, don't be surprised if I'll come back to you for some more coaching at the end of the year."

---

Hermione looked at him. "I really would like to coach you a bit, Harry. Not necessarily at the end of the year, that is."

Harry's stare wasn't exactly disbelieving, more the opposite. "Hey, what's wrong with you? Did Viktor swear some vow of chastity?"

"Not at all - and there's nothing wrong with me, that's what I'd like to show you." Hermione's expression lacked any seductive smile, and maybe this caused still a greater impact on Harry, together with her next words. "I mean, you can feed a cat, and still she's going to hunt mice - in particular such a lonely one ..."

Except that this place couldn't be called lonely any longer - with people not too far away, laughing and splashing through the water. Harry wasn't sure whether he should be grateful for that, or disappointed. He said, "Maybe this isn't the best moment to discuss another issue that's nagging me, but ... Monsieur Armodéc wasn't sure whether he wanted to lose his werewolf state. He said there's a pay-off from that - an unusual virility for his age, as he put it."

Hermione smiled. "Maybe I really should visit him."

"Whatever - but can you tell me whether it's true?"

"Interested, Harry? ... I'm a bit surprised, after all I've heard, this - "

"No thanks - maybe in twenty or thirty years, while now - " Harry stopped, realizing that he'd fallen for Hermione's joke trap. "Just tell me what you know. I feel somewhat reluctant to ask Lupin, or Almyra."

Hermione laughed. "So we've found something you're scared of. All right - yes, there is a side effect, but maybe not quite as sensational as you'd expect. Werewolves are highly resistant against common illnesses, or weaknesses - but, to give you an example, if you'd continue your training year in, year out, the effect would be very much the same. Lupin's just too young to be a reliable witness. This Armodéc must be past fifty, maybe sixty - for him, the benefit is more obvious, so he can play the game more often than you'd expect otherwise. Good for him, and for his woman. How does she look, Harry?"

"He has taste, no denying."

"Maybe we should visit them both - you at full moon, me before or after. What do you think?"

With more determination than he felt, Harry answered, "I think you should go for a swim, or a dive, to cool down - no, wait a second, there's something else I wanted to ask you."

"Ask away, Harry." This purring - was it really the same voice which had quoted Hogwarts rules about alcohol?

"It's about money - as boring as that." He earned a grin. "Well - erm, I was trying to spread a bit of my fortune among friends and relatives, and now that I've finally managed to tell you ... Erm, yes, er - would you mind accepting five thousand galleons? That was what Ron and Ginny settled to, you know."

Hermione's answer came immediately. "Minus the Firebolt, of course."

"You're not serious, are you?" Harry felt almost angry.

"Only joking." Hermione looked very pleased. "But you know me, I had to ask ... Thank you, Harry, that's very kind. No, I don't mind at all - it's not what I had in mind, but - "

His opportunity to pay back. "More? Ten thousand?"

He had her - Hermione was blushing.

"No, you took me wrong - " She stopped, seeing his grin. "Okay, okay."

"And I'd like to do the same to Viktor, only I don't know how. If I ask him, he'll say no. Do you know a way?"

"You're right. Let me think it over - I'll find a way to persuade him."

Harry grinned. "Do that - better him than me, if you get my drift. Now let's go for a swim."

---

Coming out, walking to their place, he lowered his voice. "Did you have a look at the other people? I don't think there's anyone from Hogwarts. Who are they?"

"Maybe from Hogsmeade?"

"That's unlikely. You know what - I think these are Muggles. How come they appear at this lake, all of a sudden? That's the last thing we need here."

Hermione, towelling herself, gasped. With a soft pop, the air closed into the space where, a second before, Harry had been.

He came back five minutes later. "I checked around. These are really Muggles."

"How do you know?"

"First, haragei. It's no proof, but almost. Next, I didn't recognize anyone, and whatever they were talking about, the school and the teachers didn't come up in that. They're talking about other things - if they're talking, that is. But mostly - and that's the best proof - they're not talking much because they're quite busy with each other."

"That's the trademark of Muggles? Well, looking at us, you're right, but it's not too late. C'mon - "

"Hermione - please! What's happening here?"

"They were looking for a place, and they found it - that's all." Only Hermione didn't believe her own words.

Harry didn't either. "They're looking for a place all year long, and they did so last year, and the year before. But they never appeared here. Something must have changed."

When taking their broomsticks, suddenly they felt like thieves in the night, did it quietly, jumping straight upward, to be out of sight before flying back to Hogwarts, two questions working in Harry's mind.

The first - how to deal with Hermione, should they ever meet at a truly private place. More important was the second - what had made the Muggles appear at the lake?

* * *

Visiting dragons should be the next major item on Harry's agenda. He wasn't really looking forward to it, kept asking himself Ron's question - how thick had someone to be in order to volunteer for that? But he didn't say it aloud, not with such a clear memory of the scene in class.

Ellesmere - not to be confused with Ellesmere Port, which was considerably bigger - had no linkport of its own. The closest one could be found in Newcastle, leaving about forty miles to be travelled westward somehow. This meant of course another broomstick ride, the Knight Bus would not respond to downflaggings that far away from the capital.

What might be a good time for visiting a dragon?

"Right after you've signed your last will," answered Samantha, "and just before you think better of it."

"Early evening," said Almyra, "after they're fed, when they're hanging around lazily like any other animal with a full stomach. Problem is, this might be too late in the day for visitors - after all, those people from the National Dragon Foundation are Ministry employees."

Harry decided to arrive in the early afternoon. It should give him time to talk with someone, to establish the contact before coming close to a dragon, otherwise these people might be a bit careless with unwelcome visitors.

Out of Newcastle, he followed the road westward, cutting short bends and slopes. An hour later, he saw the town appear that had to be Ellesmere. A dive down, checking the signs, confirmed it.

And now? Walking through the streets, asking for the direction toward a dragon camp didn't sound like a good idea - Muggles might not respond well to such a question.

Harry raced skyward, getting higher and higher until he had the town and the surrounding landscape in view. Studying the topology, he felt confident having found the location - a forest, climbing up a hill, seemed the only possible place for hiding a dragon camp.

Diving down, approaching the forest, he recognized a wire fence and signs every hundred yards. Coming closer, he could read the next sign.

Harry grinned. The sign also showed a skull, however more impressive were the scorchmarks on the board and the post. It should be good enough to keep other people away.

Following a path uphill, he came to a deserted shack and a barrier, painted red and white, showing the same sign. He passed it at low speed, sensing around. Moments later, he reached a small stone building. According to his haragei, there was someone inside.

---

When a man opened the door, Harry first thought a Goblin was standing in front of him. Small, thin, ageless face, a large mark from the forehead to the left ear that had to be a souvenir from a burning. Then Harry registered the normal-sized fingers and the finer bone structure of a human.

"Good afternoon," he said. "My name is Harry Potter, I'm a student at - "

"Harry Potter?" The man glanced at Harry's forehead and recognized the scar. "By golly! You're really the one, ain't'cha?"

"Er - yes ..."

"Now that's the day - Harry Potter here at this place, the ass of Wales as people call it, except it's not true, because it's the ass of the whole damn United Kingdom. Nice to meet you, Harry, Rex is my name, Rex Ballantine, only I'm not related to the scotch factory, ruddy shame, that is, call me Rex - my friends use to call me Tyrannosaurus Rex, and they still can laugh about that every day anew."

Harry knew why, suppressing his own laughter. He offered the letter written by Almyra and signed by Dumbledore.

Rex, the smallest king-size dinosaur, read it, then looked up.

"What a nice collection of long words - I could read it forever, without getting any wiser. Harry, old boy, just tell me why you're here."

"Erm - to study dragons."

"Now isn't this the surprise of the year? Who'd guessed so, after all?" The human gnome still grinned, with eyes suddenly looking sharp. "Harry, old scum, you've seen dragons for months, and you've seen them die, in the Battle of Hogwarts. Stop playing around the bush with your old friend Rex, and tell me straight away!"

"I - how do you know about me, and the Battle of Hogwarts?"

"If it's about dragons, I know. If it's about nosy young students who answer questions with counter questions, I won't rest until I know. So then, noble boy, would'cha - "

"Er - sorry - er, Rex. I'm here because ... Well, I want to do an Animagus for a dragon."

"Animagus, huh?" For some moments, Rex was really silent, while he moved Harry inside and let him sit down at a kitchen table. "Cup of tea?"

Harry accepted.

Rex was spooning sugar into his cup, seemingly lost in thoughts. Just when Harry felt sure he should wake him up before the sugared tea would change to tea-soaked sugar, the man stopped.

"Yeah, that'd be something. Has never been tried before, but it'd be the ideal dragon guard - "

"Never been tried? The books say it's impossible - that means, someone must have tried, and failed, don't you think so?"

The man chuckled. "Harry, old bean, don't trust books you didn't write by yourself. Imagine - there's this problem, and you don't know how to solve it, and what's more, the only way of figuring out's scaring you like hell - then you wait till nobody's around, to arrange things so that you can say it's impossible ... And the next one who's writing a book about that is facing the same problem, scared too, and he'll read what's written in the first book, and so on ... That's not what they teach at Hogwarts, I guess in order to save something you students have to find out by yourselves."

---

So this Rex Ballantine was the third person who believed it possible, or maybe the fourth, if Lupin could be counted, toward whom Harry had mentioned the idea for the first time. A promising sign. Harry asked the man which dragons he could offer.

"Not more than three, right now. Since the Muggles have started making trouble, we've been moving dragons to more remote places - although you wouldn't think there'd be a place more remote than this one."

"Trouble? What kind of trouble?"

"Our cover doesn't work any longer - not as good as before. People come through ... Recently, we had a visit even from the Royal Air Force" - Rex chuckled - "an officer who wanted to see a flame-thrower, hehe."

Muggles coming to wizard places ... The same problem, here like at the Hogwarts lake. It was strange, only Harry had come to talk about dragons, not Muggles.

Resuming his answer, Rex said, "Yeah - three, two Common Welsh Green, both male, and a Hebridean Black, a female. I'd recommend the female, Harry, old potato."

"The female - as a preparation for transfiguring into a dragon?"

"Aah, that's still basic work, isn't it? But then again, wouldn't it be a real surprise if you turned into a dragon girl, Harry? But seriously, the two males are a bit edgy - they can smell the female, which is close to the heat, and at that time, dragon boys are a bit indiscriminate with other boys, hehe ... While the female is quite smoochy, which is a real luck, because ..."

They were walking into the forest, and this unfinished sentence seemed a good reason for Harry to stop cold. "Because?"

"Well - her name is Carrie ... Carrie, the devil's youngest daughter, that's her full name, hehe."

Harry wasn't inclined to move a step further.

"Ah, c'mon, relax, Harry, old pumpkin - okay, she's a bit crazy, that's why she's got that name. It's the title of a Muggle movie, that's all. Have you seen that movie?"

"No, I'm afraid not." Although Harry was more afraid not knowing why a female dragon would be named after it.

"Well, it's about a girl. She's not crazy, but her mother is, while the girl has it more with fire, hehe, you really can say that, Harry, old pumpernickel ... C'mon - that close to the heat, they don't burn you, which is the major difference between dragon girls and those with two legs, a real joke, isn't it, but then, dragon girls don't use their legs to burn you - although, at closer inspection, what the others burn you with is no longer called legs, what do you think, Harry, old butterfly ..."

Harry wasn't listening any longer to Chattopourus Rex, his attention caught by an enormous reptilian head, with two incredibly large eyes looking at him, greenish-yellow, the vertical pupils contrasting sharply ... An unblinking stare, from such beautiful eyes.

For a moment, he was completely transfixed. Then he walked forward, toward another serpent, a flying one, as the Chinese called it, hundred times larger than Nagini, a serpent with legs, and wings, and ears - incredibly small at this gigantic head, and soft, in contrast to the horny surface of that endless snout, as the touch of his fingers told him.

"Hello, Carrie ..."

From his mind through his body, through his hands on a calm body, one spirit made contact with another.

---

Strength ... A sense of heaviness, deepened by the memory of flying through the air on these mighty wings, powerful strokes, rapidly draining a force limited even in this body which was fearless against everything, with no natural enemy - except of course those small creatures to which this spirit was bound by affection ... Sort of loneliness, or sadness - maybe a feeling of being doomed, as a race rather than an individual ... A vague feeling of desire ...

Harry smiled. "Horny inside as much as outside, are you? Well, you'll have to talk with Rex about that, unless you take it in your own hands, which is more likely, I guess."

He walked along the body and inspected all details, starting with the legs, as far as they were visible, halfway buried under a stomach on which the scales turned from deep black to light grey. He touched the wings, feeling the skeleton structure with the skinny sails in-between, then the long tail, powerful enough to blow a small house into pieces, and back on the other side, reaching the nostrils, which looked more like exhaust pipes than openings for recognizing scents.

"Say, Carrie, how good can you smell? Oops, sorry, how could I forget - of course, your tongue, like snake, like dragon, isn't it? Would you be so kind to open your mouth? Just for a moment, to let me have a look?"

Carrie wouldn't. What Harry felt was more a sort of amused stubbornness than indifference. She was lying, period.

"Okay, okay - if a girl doesn't want it, there's no way inside, isn't that so, Carrie? Although, someone told me, if a girl says no, then ... Yeah, okay, you didn't say anything, that's why."

Rex' voice interrupted this semi-conversation. "Harry, my boy, tell me - what are you hissing all the time? You know how you sound? Like my old teapot, the one with the broken pipe."

Harry stared at him, then started to laugh, and turned back to look in these big, beautiful eyes. "Hey, Carrie, did you get me? Is Parseltongue close enough to Dragonese?"

There was no answer - none as clear as a response from Nagini. Still, what he had done in the last half hour hadn't been a monologue.

Returning to Hogwarts, he met Hermione, who looked at him expectantly. "How was it, Harry?"

Intimate enough not to talk about in public, not even with a supporter of the dragon transfiguration project.

"Well - I met a dinosaur. His name's Tyrannosaurus Rex."

Hermione eyed him, trying to decipher this message - knowing for sure it wasn't a simple, stupid joke. "Really? What did he say?"

"He said I shouldn't trust books."

And miraculously, the suspicion faded from Hermione's face. "He's right, definitely - you won't believe what a scrap I found in Potion books, from stupid mistakes to downright nonsense. They're too scared to give it a try, and then they write some bullshit, hoping nobody'll ever check it ..."

* * *

Lupin, somewhat tenaciously, reminded Harry that his visit to the Transportation Department was due. Lupin also expressed his concern that without this visit, Harry's portkey programming project might be unlikely to proceed.

Harry didn't feel like it. And because they were alone in Lupin's office, he just replied, "That's a lot of p's, Prof."

"Then call it triple-p, but get moving."

"If I had to pee, I'd get moving, rather than tripple around."

Lupin stared at him. "That's a funny way to ask for a rewriting of that recommendation letter. But I can do it, Harry, no sweat - although then, you'd be better off without the letter."

"Baah - blackmailing, quite typical for a werewolf, even for a cured one, exactly what's in the old saying: you can dress a wolf in sheepskin, or you can make him a Hogwarts teacher, but - " Harry ducked, barely avoiding Lupin's tickling charm. "Stop it! You'll get trouble."

Playfully, Lupin shot more spells, inches too high. "Really? From you? From Dumbledore?"

"No - from Almyra."

Grinning, Lupin stored his wand. "You could be right - but you just gave me the keyword. I'll tell her, Harry's wetting his pants at the thought of visiting the Transportation Department, unless - "

"Yeah, okay, you mobby. May I have that letter?"

"Mobby?" Lupin weighed the letter in his hand. "First you tell me what this means."

"Erm ..." Harry smiled friendly. "Basically the same what I said before, er - it stands for Master of bad blackmailing."

Lupin watched his face and seemed to notice something. "Very clever. And now tell me what it really means."

"You don't want to know, Prof."

"You don't want that letter, Harry?"

"Okay, okay. Give me the letter first - no, I won't cheat."

Holding the parchment, Harry said, "You mobby - that's short for you moron, bloody blockhead, you." He raced away, using his full aikido skill in ducking and jumping - Lupin's tickling charms were no longer aimed too high.

---

Mr Clifford Caruthers, chief of the Technical Services team in the Transportation Department, differed in many ways from Dogan Defreak, who held a comparable position at Gringotts. First, Mr Caruthers was human, not Goblin. Second, his office was considerably larger, filled with many insignia of rank. Third, Mr Caruthers saw no reason whatsoever to smile at Harry. Which could be explained easily: he wasn't glad at all to meet Harry.

"What do you need portkeys for, Mr Potter? From what I've read, you prefer the linkports of Magical Tours, isn't that so?"

"Are there any others around?"

It was definitely the wrong answer from the perspective of Harry's project, Mr Caruthers' reddening face told him that much.

"This is just what to expect from someone who gave that interview - but I don't need to hear this in my office. I'm afraid our experts are too busy right now to offer help in some childish project. Maybe later in the year. Good after - "

"Did Warrington do it all by himself?"

The face turned purplish. "What??"

Harry felt more than ready to explain. "I'd think there was a technical report involved when Magical Tours came along to find all doors open - for example about the frequency of the safety checks ... Pity it was just Warrington who had to suffer."

Mr Caruthers was gasping. "You ... you ..."

"Or did you think this was some undercover investigation? No - just a childish project, but it might be a good idea, I mean an official one, with an article or two in the - "

A trembling hand was pointing to the door. "Get out! Now!"

"It was a pleasure, Mr Caruthers. You're dirty, so much's for sure. I hope we'll see each other again."

Yes, the man was dirty - the feeling of guilt had been too strong in Harry's haragei.. Only that it would be impossible to prove, only nobody cared any longer, least of all Harry himself, because something else was more important - he had messed up his project start thoroughly.

Lupin would roll over from laughing.

What now? Should he go to Sirius?

No. Sirius would listen to his description, would believe him that Caruthers had played some role in some plot, would tell him to forget it - and then he would roll over from laughing. Somehow, the nicest people could have fun seeing Harry steamrolled once in a while.

Arthur! ... Arthur Weasley had his own contacts, was an insider, certainly knew people with sufficient knowledge to give him a decent start. And he wouldn't laugh.

Walking down the corridor, another door sign caught Harry's attention: "Laboratory". No names, not even a room number, the Ministry spent half of its time making sure no outsider could find his orientation in this maze. Even so, considering the location, this had to be the laboratory of the Transportation Department.

The door opened, almost by itself, and Harry was inside.

A large room, tables in the middle, workbenches along the walls, various power tools - a surprising lot of Muggle technology. Otherwise, the dusty quietness of a church, save for the smell.

A newspaper fell down, presenting a face which showed mild disinterest. "Lost your track?"

"Er - no, I think I'm right here. I was told I'd find someone here who could tell me about portkey programming." Maybe it wasn't the truth, at least it wasn't a direct lie either.

"Portkey programming? You've found a great time to ask for that, young man, really, by all means."

"Why - er, what's wrong, sir? Are you too busy right now?"

"You joking? Did I look like that?" For a moment, the man looked suspicious, then relaxed, missing any sign of sneering in Harry's face. "I wish I was - only that right now it's dead season for portkeys."

"How's that, sir?"

"Damned Muggles! Appear everywhere, touch everything - and wham, off they go because it was a portkey. And along comes ole' Artie, giving us hell because his people have to clean up ... What a mess."

"Artie? You mean Arthur Weasley?"

"Himself personally, yep. It takes a lot to upset him, but then - oh boy. You know him?"

Harry's slight flush came from amusement as much as from guilt. "Er - yes, I do, actually."

The man examined him more carefully. "You're no Weasley, so much I can tell - Arthur has a very characteristical fingerprint, if you'll pardon the expression ... Who are you?"

"I'm a Hogwarts student - my name's Harry Potter."

"I'll be damned ..." The man stared at him, at his forehead, showing a nod at recognizing the lightning-shaped scar.

---

Harry's mind was racing, desperate to find the remark which would save the situation. He couldn't find any.

The man was up, looked around, looked toward the door. "C'mon - this's no good place to talk." He walked to a small poster at the wall that showed the picture of a blonde woman in dire need of some clothes, looked at his visitor again, and waved impatiently. "Come here!"

Harry moved closer, not knowing what to think.

"Touch her left tit."

Suddenly it dawned on him. His hand touched the flat paper, and next moment, Harry stood in a dimly lit room, instinctively making a step forward, just in time before the man arrived.

"Okay, Harry Potter, have a seat. By the way, I'm Ray, Ray Purcell, born in hell - call me Ray, that's okay."

Harry giggled, listening to this rhyme which came fluently, no doubt honed in phrasing over years. "Hello, Ray - er, call me Harry, that's my parry."

The man looked very pleased. "You have a quick mind, Harry - well, shouldn't be a surprise, after all I've heard. Say, what's the real purpose of your visit? There wasn't anyone who's sent you, was there?"

"Well - I really came because of portkey programming. But I was sent to Mr Caruthers, and I spoke with him, only - er, the conversation didn't go well. Then - "

Ray chuckled. "Didn't go well - no sir, how could it? Say, Harry, why didn't you find a way to get rid of this asshole too? He and Warrington, that's two of a kind - or was, whatever's the right tense."

"I didn't know - until today. But it wasn't me who got rid of Warrington, it was Voldemort."

A nod. "After listening carefully to your report, huh? Say, did you really hear Warrington confess a murder?"

"Yes - together with two other people."

"The only surprising part for me is that he did confess - must have been some trick of yours, Harry ... Anyway, that's past, and now we're here to talk about portkeys. Although" - Ray looked admiringly - "Harry, I take myself for an expert in that, but this Voldemort, there's no doubt he still could teach me a lesson or two. Warrington's accident - for me that was a portkey trick."

"Really? Yes, you could be right - he likes portkeys to kidnap people, or to build death traps."

At Ray's insisting, Harry had to explain the trap in the Triwizard Tournament, also the manipulated mailbox which had sent Sirius into the hands of Voldemort.

"And now you're here to learn how to stop him? It's a tricky business, Harry, a portkey is an almost perfect trap."

"For people, yes," agreed Harry. "But I have a snake - she can sense portkeys. I mean, she can sense magic, and if she senses magic in a doorhandle, it's clear what it means."

"A snake, huh?" Not moving a muscle in his face, Ray added, "And a kangaroo as a shopping bag, and a penguin for the ice cubes in your whisky ..."

Harry giggled again. "Honestly! Her name's Nagini - she was Voldemort's snake, until we met. You know what Parseltongue is? Well, I know it, I'm a Parselmouth."

Ray studied his face. "Surprise, surprise ... Do you have still more surprises, Harry?"

"Dunno ... Well, to play as openly as possible - Arthur Weasley's my - er, step-father, in a way, because I live in the Weasley family, and Sirius Black's my godfather. Now you know all about me, Ray."

"And when does your uncle become Minister of Magic?"

Ray watched with interest as Harry was bending in a bad fit of laughter. "Save it, Harry - the joke wasn't that good, by all means."

"No - hehehe, you don't know, hehe, Uncle Vernon's a Muggle, and scared shitless of magic." Harry was roaring again.

---

Then he had calmed down, and Ray had his attention when he said, "To understand portkeys, Harry, you must know how to apparate."

"I know - I have a license. Go ahead."

"Yes of course - what else. But what's more, you need to know about Apparition Pursuit - now don't disappoint me, Harry ..."

He didn't.

"I have to admit - the one who sent you here knew what he was doing. All right, Harry - the rest is pretty simple. A portkey, that's an apparition jump, wrapped into a pursuit jump, and both together nicely placed in some boring item. Basically, that's all - give or take a detail or two."

Harry nodded. "Makes perfect sense, Ray ... And for the few minutes left, you'll give a detail or two, and I'll take them, okay?"

For the next hour, they were discussing the concept of suspending spells in objects, with Harry realizing that - to some degree - portkey programming wasn't really different from producing trick sweets like those of the Weasley twins. He would have to train this elementary technique before proceeding further to the specific aspects of portkeys.

In addition, he became aware that Ray would give him a hard time in a jump competition like the one he'd done with Madam Hooch. The outcome would be open, and definitely tight.

Then Harry thanked Ray for the information, promised to return once he had mastered the art of storing charms in objects, and - challenged by the environment - made an apparition jump directly into Sirius' ante-room.

Jessica had a jump start without broomstick. "Harry! Can't you knock at the door like other people?"

She was probably right, only that Harry remembered another woman who might have smiled at him, might have said how wonderful this idea was, if not for her boss - and lover - who might call any moment.

Sirius wasn't pleased either. "It's not improving things if you scare her, Harry."

"Is it then if I don't?"

"Maybe not, but right now I've got enough other trouble, so please be a good boy and try to behave like a perfectly normal wizard, okay?"

"Trouble? What kind of trouble?"

"Muggles. They appear everywhere, you won't believe what a nuisance they are."

"That's funny, because that's exactly why I'm here. They appear at the Hogwarts lake, too, and I wanted to ask you if you know something that has changed." Getting excited, Harry added, "And what's more, I just spoke with a guy from the Transportation Department, and he said they can't work properly because of Muggles. Sirius, what's going on there?"

His godfather grimaced. "I don't know ... Harry, it's as if they've detected us."