Harry Potter and the Thunderstruck Muggles

So Harry was free, at last. Free? A laugh, only he felt more like crying. But he didn't, hadn't, not even on his way back to the school, although his eyes were burning, his stomach filled with acid, his heart hammering, his mind whincing in pain.

He wasn't free at all. Love offered no switch for turning it off, no door that could be closed.

He was imprisoned worse than ever, because it had been his own decision to throw away the key. Yes, granted, this key hadn't helped a bit during the recent months, while now Harry found himself sitting in an invisible cell, unable to escape.

Danielle, for example. Nominally, by way of self-deassignment, he should be free now to accept her offer. Now, this offer was the last thing Harry had in mind.

Danielle knew it. "H'arry, you can't keep that way. Since you're not ready to die, and since I'm obviously no alternative either, just go and tell her you're sorry, and you can't live without her."

Harry almost jumped. "Huh?"

"Who? The one who's breaking your heart, or did you break hers first? I don't even know her name - "

"Cho Chang." Almost mechanically, on a conditional reflex - from what Harry knew, nobody was suited better for discussing such painful matters than a French woman.

"Cho Chang? Okay then, call her to come - "

"She won't."

"Then go to her - and if she doesn't let you in, you'll sit at her door until she does."

"I won't."

Danielle Crouchard smiled. "You're nice, H'arry, and attractive - and a bit stupid, and more than a bit stubborn."

So he was stupid? Fine with him, he'd never claimed to be a genius - just someone with a special fate, and a few special skills, most of them stolen from a dark wizard, easily recognizable because they worked flawlessly while anything that resulted from his own hard work was lacking precision ... A depressing thought, though not as depressing as the thought that he and Cho ... the picture of her, sitting in the chair - it would not fade.

Harry in a bad mood, the morning after returning from Groucho Spectors, that wasn't particularly new. So it took his friends some time before they registered a change in quality.

Ginny was quickest - a clear sign of her growing skill in haragei, maybe also for some other reason. Only that the obvious topic to be discussed seemed too delicate, so Ginny kept silent, just watching him.

When, at supper, Harry still didn't look any different, Ron took all his courage. "Harry?"

"What?"

"How - er, was your meeting?"

"Can't you guess?"

"Probably so. I thought you'd like to talk about."

"No."

"Was it that bad?"

For an answer, Harry just glared at his friend.

---

He was unable to think straight. Maybe a hard training ... It turned out a mess: he had no balance, no timing, no spirit, nothing. He couldn't walk, couldn't jump, hurt himself at falling. So what, pain was relative.

Sitting in the hot-water tub, he was crying. So what, certainly no place suited better than here.

He should visit Deborah, to talk with her about methods how to track down sources of false information. But he couldn't - not in his state, unable to concentrate on anything else.

He took his Steel Wing, jumped up, flying around aimlessly, mindlessly, feeling numb from the sharp wind, numb inside.

He touched down at the former dragon camp, to work on his portkey accuracy. Ridiculous - as if he could muster any precision now.

The lesson from Almyra resurfaced in Harry's mind, given here at this place. Being just a sphere - no body that was aching in every fibre, only a clean, crystal-clear structure, no emotions, just -

The world around him faded. He was alone in a void, not feeling anything, just being ... and free, totally free, for a fleeting instant not ruled by the world outside.

Then he was back again.

Harry couldn't even feel surprise. Somehow, all factors had clicked together. His former efforts, his encounter with a spirit that had lost its body for a while, his deep misery, creating a mood in which a bodiless sphere appeared as the most desirable state.

Only it didn't last - he was back in his misery.

Could he reproduce it? Not at his first attempt, not at the second either. Then he realized, this little spark of excitement from having mastered a step in his Animagus project was blocking him.

Abandon all joy. Abandon all fear. Abandon your presence - just be. And here it was again, the void, this magnificent all-purpose existence, all too short. And back.

Once more, just to be on the safe side. Yes, it worked; he had caught the trick. It wasn't simple, he would have to work on that before he could find this narrow entrance while in a state of joy and excitement. But Almyra had been right - his experience with another void seemed quite helpful. Or was it the same?

Flying back, Harry became aware that his transitions had been something like a high-speed meditation. He could think clearer than before, could examine his situation more objectively, could see from a third person's perspective what he'd done.

He'd been awfully, astonishingly stupid.

But not he alone.

* * *

There was a certain kind of freedom, after all. Harry just gave a damn for Rosetta Rushmore and her stupid little complaints. As if they had any significance now. However, Rosetta seemed more reluctant than before in picking at him. At any rate, Harry had no trouble leaving the school for some visits in London. Mr Spinbottle was his first target.

"There's no change, Mr Potter, no dramatic one, that is. A bit worse every week, which means, the clock's ticking definitely, I'm afraid. Did you have some success in your search for - er, a new place for the girl?"

"Yes, there are candidates - more than one, although I didn't ask yet all of whom I have in mind."

"That's good to hear. I'd recommend to ask the others soon, Mr Potter, while there's still time - without the immediate pressure, you know what I mean."

"Yes ... Mr Spinbottle, how's the legal situation for candidates?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well - er, does it play a role if they're married, or not yet married, or if it's a single person, or a family?"

The lawyer leaned back in his chair. "It's not my specialty, but I did some research and looked for decisions in the past. As far as I can see, Mr Potter, if the basic conditions are met - I mean, above twenty-one, no criminal record, a home, regular income - then the girl herself has the first saying. Yes, a couple would take preference over a single person, a woman over a man, but a clear vote from the girl would rule out such differences. Most often, the children are too young for that, and then said differences take effect. What's the state of your candidates?"

"All kinds - married couple with children, married couple without, unmarried couple, single woman ..."

The lawyer smiled. "It's quite a list, really, I have to say - as sad as the story is, at least I have this good news in case Mrs Lightfoot would ask me."

"Well - Mr Spinbottle, it was actually another reason why I wanted to meet you ..." Harry explained what the lawyer should do with a loan and with a twenty-six percent share of a prospering company.

It earned him a sharp glance. "Do you know what you're doing, Mr Potter?"

Harry sighed. "Yes."

"Do you want to hear my comment - I mean my legal advice?"

"No."

Mr Spinbottle nodded gravely. "That's what I thought. I hope you don't feel offended if I'm asking you for a written order - giving away a quarter of a million is a bit outside the scope I'm taking verbally. If you can spend a few minutes, we'll have it ready."

No, Harry wasn't offended, could follow the argumentation, and felt grateful for a lawyer who really left his comment unsaid.

Fifteen minutes later, he had sized down his fortune by half. The other half was held in escrow by Mr Spinbottle, until Groucho Spectors would take over one part, Cho Chang the other.

So Harry had been stupid. But this was the wisest thing he'd done in a long while. As of now, whatever would take place would be just between two people. If anything would take place, that was.

---

His mind a bit easier than before, Harry went to the Daily Prophet building, where Paul Sillitoe informed him that Deborah wasn't expected back within the next two hours.

Too long to wait here. Too short to jump back to Hogwarts. Maybe he could use the time for some Christmas presents.

Walking along shops, Harry realized that he was lacking any spirit, any imagination. And with a sharp twist, painful as the stab of a knife, he became aware that his list was one entry shorter than recently.

Maybe a visit in Swashbuckle Sweets. The twins said hello, then went back to their work - Christmas coming soon was hot season for them.

Maybe a visit with Ray, born in hell. Harry didn't find him either, found Mr Caruthers instead, no, was found by him, leading to a conversation that was as short as unpleasant. Harry couldn't even muster the energy for a nice, threatening insult in response.

However, Mr Caruthers' remarks about some damned Muggles had given Harry an idea for a present. Muggle technology, wasn't this something obvious for Arthur Weasley? Thinking about alternatives, Harry saw something which seemed still more obvious and would cover at least one other person, although the thought felt quite hurtful. Still ...

Harry found a supplier, gasped a bit at hearing the price, and knew that he had to come with a story that looked perfectly true - as long as he kept some recent events to himself. He paid with his GALA card and left detailed instructions where to deliver, and when, then it was time for another try in the Daily Prophet building.

Deborah had arrived a while before, had time, and had no questions about Harry's dark mood when hearing his request.

"Tracking down the first appearances of those reports - Harry, this alone's an awful lot of work. It means scanning the archives of the important Muggle newspapers around the world - twenty, at the least. Then - contacting the authors, they'll be very reluctant to talk about their sources - well, okay, in the meantime everybody knows that most of them were crap, but that won't make it simpler, quite the opposite ..."

Deborah thought for a moment. "Paul's the best researcher I know. I'm sure he'll help, but it's too much for him alone - I can't ask for such an amount of work."

Harry said, "Deborah, I'm ready to invest everything I can offer - time, money ..."

"Hmm ... It will cost money for sure - travel expenses, bribes every now and then ..." Deborah examined his face. "Say, would you be ready to hire people? Paul himself, for example?"

"Of course - if he'd be ready, that would be super. He can fix his salary, and a premium, whatever."

Deborah smiled. "Then let's ask him, because your own time - Harry, going through newspaper archives needs some expertise, so your own time won't do much good."

At least, Harry's knowledge about journalism was accurate enough to ask, "Should we discuss it here or in a restaurant?"

Deborah grinned. "You may ask him, but my evening's already fixed, so let's do the basics here."

The challenge seemed to have more appeal for Paul Sillitoe than the money. He said, "It'd be a fulltime job, Harry, which means I could start in a week or two. You'd have to pay my standard fee, plus expenses, and you'd have to tell me how high I can go in bribing people - "

"Unlimited - I mean I'd leave it to your judgment."

The journalist looked pleased, then glanced at Deborah. "I've got a first-rate reference, huh? For quality and trustworthiness ... That's nice to hear."

Harry said, "And a premium - if we can locate a source."

"A premium?" Apparently, Paul wasn't totally immune to money. "How much?"

"Erm - ten thousand galleons?"

The researcher beamed. "Well - that'll make the old bones moving. Harry, it's a pleasure doing business with you."

When they were alone again, Deborah said, "That's generous, Harry. I like seeing Paul strike some gold, but you should be a bit more careful with your money."

Harry's smile was bitter, though maybe just for himself. "I'm very careful with that money, more than you'd believe - but this premium's placed just right."

* * *

Work was a dope, good to keep your mind busy, good to soften the pain all over your body. Who'd mentioned a broken heart? Nonsense, Harry's kept working flawlessly. Love hurt - yes, that was true, but when it did, it did so everywhere. Even that would be under control soon, with a few more sessions in the training hall ...

Then it was Transfiguration, and Harry informed his young teacher that he had mastered the sphere state.

Almyra beamed. "Hey - super, Harry, that was a quick one! What made you reach the breakthrough?"

"Well - er, somehow ..."

Almyra lowered her voice. "Whatever - come into my office for a demo."

Harry nodded, still busy to find an innocent explanation for his breakthrough.

Almyra grinned. "I hope you remember how a sphere is demonstrated, do you?"

"What?" Harry blushed.

"Only joking - although, that's a typical example for this unbalanced - " Almyra stopped herself. "This isn't the right place for discussing the issue." Examining Harry's face, her smile faded. "Say - for such a step, and for this particular topic, your excitement's pretty limited. Something wrong?"

"Erm ..."

As short and unfinished as this answer seemed, apparently Almyra had heard enough.

"Harry - come into my office after supper. I have the feeling this'll be a longer conversation. Looks like an opportunity to pay back some debts."

Harry felt more than startled, looking forward to this conversation. "I wasn't aware you owing me."

"Maybe not from your perspective ... Maybe it wasn't you I had in mind." Seeing him twist, Almyra smiled again, making it clear that this was another joke - and probably with a nucleus of truth just like the previous one.

Harry's contributation to the conversation at the Gryffindor table scored barely above zero, not exactly to the surprise of his friends. When Ron asked him for a game of chess, or maybe Go, after supper, Harry excused himself with the meeting shortly afterwards.

Suddenly, Ron and Hermione looked very relieved.

Harry said, "It's about Transfiguration."

They nodded - yes of course, however without changing their expression.

At this moment, Harry saw it - remembering his friend and step-brother, how Ron had been walking through Hogwarts, seriously believing no one but himself knew about his worried state. And he, Harry, had been the one to explain that nobody, repeat nobody, ever had mastered the art of hiding troubled love ... Only that Ron had been at the better end.

So they knew - except for some details. Harry giggled.

Two heads wheeled around, staring at him in disbelief.

He giggled again. "Sorry - I just realized, er, well, I mean ... you know what I mean, don't you? It's ... I could as well talk openly about - er, only I can't."

Two sighs, almost in unison, like a strangling taken off. Ron said, "So it's about more than Transfiguration, huh?"

"I guess so, yes. No, I'm sure Transfiguration will be the smallest part."

And he wasn't wrong. Entering the office, Harry saw a bottle of red wine and two glasses - highly unusual equipment for Almyra.

She registered his glance. "I'd have preferred a phoenix, but that's still out of reach for me, and who knows - maybe it's just Fawkes with this calming quality for you. So a glass of wine is the closest I can offer."

Harry could smile. "Fawkes, yes. But I'm - er, prepared enough." Anyway, he accepted a glass, just to oil the vocals.

"All right, then ..." For a short moment, Almyra seemed to gather strength. "How is it - between you and Cho?"

Harry told her, summarizing the former encounters with Cho, going into detail on the last meeting of Groucho Spectors, leaving out some aspects, maybe important ones, however not leaving out Marie-Christine. But then, this hadn't been a detail.

---

Almyra listened, her expression changing between angry disbelief, pained amusement, and stunned astonishment.

Harry finished, "I met Spinbottle yesterday. The papers are signed; the stuff's now in escrow."

Almyra, her chin resting on her folded hands, looked at him with something that might have been admiration - for true grandiosity in messing up.

"Well - can nobody say that money's an issue for you. That's not the reason for your trouble, certainly not."

"I'm not so sure."

"You're not sure?" Almyra had a short laugh. "Isn't it obvious what's the problem?"

Harry shook his head. "Not for me."

"Harry!" Almyra's glance was reproachful. "You're having an affair with another woman, then Cho takes measures to stop that, and you explode. How about that?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "That's your view of things?"

"Not the complete one, but ... that's at least where the immediate problem's buried."

The blood rushed into his face. "Okay, so it's all my fault. Be it! Who cares? The story's over - this way or the other."

Almyra was up, came around the desk and leaned close to him, her hands on his shoulder. "Easy now ... Aren't we brother and sister?"

"Yes." It came growling.

"Okay, brother ..." Almyra waited a moment, until she saw Harry's face lighten up a bit. "Tell me your version."

"It ..." Harry stopped. "It includes a few details you're not supposed to know, but without them, the picture's just incomplete."

Almyra nodded expectantly. "I love details I'm not supposed to know."

"All right, then. From what I can see, the trouble started at the end of last term, when I gave her that loan, because then, I didn't hear anything from her until the end of vacation. Then I got an invitation to a party. It was a mess ..." Harry described what he'd seen at that party, and especially what he'd heard afterwards from Cho.

Walking back to her seat, Almyra used the time to recover from her surprise. "And then?"

"Honestly, Al, I could live with that, I mean - only at that day, it was just the cream on the cake, so there was - er, nothing. And then I was waiting again - and waiting, and waiting. Yes, Marie-Christine and I, we did it ... but it wasn't planned as a habit, only - "

"Only there's a strong tendency to fall into a habit, huh?" The question came with a smile.

Sister or not, Harry preferred to keep a certain fever private. "Well - I mean, with Marie-Christine, that wasn't really new, if you know ..."

Yes, Almyra knew what he meant.

"... and believe me, we were both second choice to each other, but if you're waiting forever, not hearing anything, not knowing what's going on - the next time I saw Cho was when she came because they were broke. And then I bought myself in - that was the biggest mistake, I think. I wasn't allowed to speak freely in the meetings, only yes and no, except it didn't work - of course not ... Yes, I kept to it - was upsetting her even more ... And then she lured Marie-Christine away, and at the last meeting ... Al, I don't know why we couldn't see each other once a week or so, but - whatever reasons she had, living her life and messing into mine - I wasn't ready to accept it any longer, and I still don't."

---

Almyra looked thoughtful, then curious. "By the way - do you know who's Marie-Christine's first choice?"

Harry inhaled. "Yes."

"Okay, it's none of my business - "

He interrupted her. "If it was that simple. It's Cho."

For a moment, Almyra was speechless. Then a small grin spread her face. "Well, that woman has many talents, by all means." She glanced up at him. "What do you think? Now that ..."

Harry shrugged. "Ask Cho - the question's only on that side. Al - even if they do it, or did it, honestly, that's not the reason why I went berserk, really. Quite the opposite - if Cho would have said, I called her for myself, then I'd have seen a motive I could understand."

"So she knew - about ..."

"Yes - since she knew about our affair."

"Well, well ..." Almyra grinned. "And it would have been a nice compensation for your own side-stepping, right?"

"Yeah, maybe so." When in doubt, play openly. "I don't really believe that Marie-Christine and I - that this is what's upsetting Cho most. Not after ..." Harry let the sentence trail.

"Then ..." Almyra looked in his eyes. "Harry, was there someone else?"

"Well ..." He swallowed, only he had no choice - not if he wanted to present the complete list of troubles. So he told Almyra about the two cases that seemed to count so much even without his intention.

There was no word for the expression in Almyra's face. "Oh brother ... by and by, I get the picture."

Harry's cheeks were burning. "The one was a trap, nothing else. The other - I told Cho already that this was the only way I saw, and that I stand to what I did - I'd do it again."

Almyra, who once had been the recipient of another cure, said, "You might be right, Harry - but Ginny?"

"She's a sister too. Turn it the other way around - there aren't that many for whom I'd have done it."

"The noble - " Almyra stopped, blushing. "Sorry, that was unfair, Harry, should nobody know better than I."

He could grin. "It's okay - and besides, I heard that already - the full sentence, and more."

Almyra's expression was still guilty. "Yes, I can imagine. At least, you see, that's what's more dominant in a woman's perspective."

Which was a great help for him, really. After a moment, Harry said, "Okay, there's sex involved, but still it has to do with the money. For me it's a Zen riddle - without that money, Cho couldn't have started the business; with that money, she's going nuts. Maybe it has to do with her father, that he gave that money to me, not to her - "

"So it's Mr Chang's fault?" Almyra's voice was mocking.

Harry laughed. "Sounds wrong, somehow - although, what do I know about fathers and daughters? Especially Chinese ones."

Almyra nodded. "Yes, could be. Cho's power-hungry, that's for sure. And with a successful father on one side, and the world's most powerful wizard at the other - "

Harry's hand came up. "Now, now - "

Almyra stopped him short. "No, Harry, it's true - yes, Dumbledore still knows a lot more tricks, and so does Remus, but that's just a matter of age, and experience. In terms of sheer force, you've left them behind for quite some time."

Harry couldn't feel pleased. "Did me a big favour, didn't it?"

Almyra laughed. "No, but her. It saved her business - that's the problem, Harry."

He nodded in desperation. "I guess you're right - beware of those who'd have to be grateful ... Tell her I'm sorry about that."

Which gave Almyra a fit of laughter, releasing the tension, although Harry couldn't join wholeheartedly.

---

Almyra recovered. "You want me to help, Harry?"

"That would be good. Question is, what can you do?"

Almyra looked surprised. "Talk with her ... talk with you, what else?"

"Fine. And then?"

"What do you mean, and then? See what happens - see whether we can repair the broken chinaware." Almyra grinned about her play of words.

Harry didn't. "And then what? Assume the last meeting never took place, then what's the benefit? We're back to square one, except we didn't shout at each other. Al, if the super-long Chinese pardon ritual would be all that's required, I'd go through it, and gladly so. But - nobody's going to hang me out of the window, to tremble in the wind, and then tearing up any jacket I'm using to keep warm. I've been treated like dirt for fifteen years by the Dursleys - I don't need nobody to continue!"

"Harry!" Almyra looked startled. "You don't mean that!"

"Don't I?" Harry's voice turned hard. "If it's a help, I'll make you a spector recording of the Groucho meetings so far; maybe that'd illustrate what I mean. Imagine - Remus would move to, say, New York, to start some business, and you help him with your savings, and for all you know he's just an apparition jump away, except you don't hear from him for months ... Think it over; it might give you an idea what I mean."

"At least I wouldn't start an affair."

Harry calmed down. "Good for you - I mean, for him."

Almyra thought for a moment, then grinned. "Although, maybe I'm the blind, talking about colours."

Harry smiled. "That was nice - thank you." Then he caught the opportunity. "Say - this Armodéc claims that werewolves have an - er, unusual virility as a side-effect from their condition. I'd like to hear your comment on that."

Almyra's face was a bit pinkish. "Yes, I bet."

Looking innocently, Harry said, "But if it'd be true, then why would they need this booster dope?"

"That's what I'm ask - " Almyra stopped herself, glaring at Harry. "You and your tricks!" Then she laughed. "Harry, I'll make you pay for that - there's still the issue of your sphere, remember?"

He blushed. "Let me try just so - I never had a test with so much on my mind."

"Coward - taking all the benefits, and squeezing little girls ..."

There was no challenge like from a woman. Within seconds, Harry stood there, naked, totally unembarrassed as he concentrated hard to reach this state of equanimity ... And there it was! The void, for a fleeting eternity, then he was back. "Now?"

Almyra beamed. "Excellent!" After a moment, she added smiling, "Harry, with this demonstration, I honestly can tell Cho she's doing a big mistake."

"Ha, ha."

Almyra giggled, surprising him. "We probably look like kids, playing doctor games." Seeing Harry's astonished glance, she added, "You know, showing each other private parts ... Did you never do that?"

"With whom? Dudley?"

This time, they were both caught in a longer fit, Harry still more handicapped because he was simultaneously trying to come into his clothes.

"Okay, Harry." Almyra looked serious again. "I'll try my best. Just for the record - do you still love her?"

"Guess what? No, I don't, it's hurting only eight hours a day, not twenty-four, so who'd call that - "

"Shut up!" Into Harry's astonished silence, Almyra said, "Answer me, so that I can quote you, if the need arises."

"Yes, I love her, and it feels like hell without her, and I'd like to know why she made it feel like super hell with her, for the past months."

Harry stared at Almyra. "Now you can quote me."

* * *

If he was right - if money played a role, then maybe he would hear from Spinbottle that the other side refused to accept the presents - at least one of them. But there was no such message.

Thinking it over, Harry had the feeling - more than ever before - that Cho's father indeed played a role, that there was a challenge running, maybe as long as Cho was alive. If not, then Cho could not possibly accept the loan and the twenty-six percent share without developing an incredibly large guilt complex.

Which didn't mean she wouldn't.

During the next days, Harry worked almost exclusively at his Portkey Programming project, for three good reasons. The Poison Ball project was forbidden, and right now, Harry didn't feel like stepping out to other schools, to bang around with nitroglycerine. The Animagus project had just completed a major milestone, reason enough to give it a break. To be totally honest, he felt a bit scared of the next step - turning into a dragon. The project was scheduled till the end of term, so why haste?

His portkeys, on the other hand, were in dire need of improvement. And now seemed the right time to work on them - relentlessly, with a fierce energy, the way Rahewa had trained water balls some time ago. This style of work wasn't his strongest, no sir, only work was all he could do, and there would be a reward - once mastered, Harry would pass the duty of the Haitian trips back to Hermione. Might she find fun on the Ile de la Tortue. However, until then, hard work was lying ahead.

Stupid, boring work.

Harry stopped cutting corners. He increased the jump distance only when the previous one was mastered safely. And slowly, steadily, he could program his test stool for more than a few inches, a few feet, a few yards, half the distance through the former Giants' camp. Pretty soon, he would try a portkey to the former dragon camp - and hopefully another one back, otherwise, he was in for a longer footwalk.

Somehow, it was surprising how far you could get with this approach.

---

Then, suddenly, Rosetta Rushmore was gone.

Her disappearance wasn't noticed immediately - not by the students. But one evening, Dumbledore had another short speech just before supper, and at that time, Rosetta's seat at the teachers' table looked already empty.

"My dear friends," said the Headmaster, "without trumpets, pipes, and drums, a new era has begun for our school. As of today, Hogwarts is an integrated part of the European Magical Education Council - a congregation which also includes Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. This has a few interesting effects."

Dumbledore beamed. "One of them is that Hogwarts is no longer under the jurisdiction of the British government - neither the Ministry of Magic nor any other. As a consequence, our guest until yesterday, Mrs Rushmore, has left since there is no longer a base on which she could operate. In short - British Muggles have no saying here."

Never before, as long as Harry could remember, had an applause been so loud, and so long, and so unanimous.

"Another consequence is that every student from here is entitled to take courses in the other two schools, and vice versa. Of course, the language has to be mastered - you can't expect English classes in Beauxbatons. We assume that exchange students will occur on a broader base only as of the next terms, but it's possible as of tomorrow."

That was something - only too late for Harry. He wondered if any student here would visit courses in Durmstrang. Maybe Grigorij.

"Also starting with the next year, we will see some adjustments in the courses. All members of this European council are supposed to offer the same base courses, with some optional enhancements. And last but not least," Dumbledore smiled, "are there some adjustments in rules and regulations. The most popular one, I might guess, is that students of sixteen and older are allowed alcoholic drinks ..."

Another tumult, shouts, whistles.

"... not including liquor with more than twenty percent alcohol. You won't be surprised to hear that in this, our French friends had the loudest saying. I, on the other side, won't be surprised to learn that this change just legalizes a common practice."

Grins all around. As if any of those students, for whom the new rule was relevant, had any doubt about Dumbledore's detailed knowledge of what was going on in Hogwarts.

Ron looked at Harry. "I know someone with a shopping list - that's me. And I know someone who'd reach the shop in a minute or so ..."

Harry peeked around. "Where?"

It wasn't exactly the most ingenious joke, but Ron and Hermione were looking joyfully nonetheless. Harry and joking - had been a rare event, recently.

Two days later, Rosetta Rushmore came back.

Before the general groaning could blow all reasonable limits, Dumbledore hastened to explain that Mrs Rushmore now had the state of an observer without command authority. This would change when, some time in the future, politicians at European level could agree upon something as complex as ruling between Muggles and wizards. In other words, maybe in ten years, or two hundred.

Rosetta was entitled to watch and to ask questions, period. Sitting at her old place, the woman moved no face when students and teachers didn't bother to lower their voices while commenting on that.

The next day, on his way to the Giants' camp, Harry saw her in the hall. He couldn't resist. "Madam, I think you haven't seen yet our Poison Ball project at work - would you be interested to watch?"

A thin smile. "Thanks for the offer, Mr Potter, but there's nothing particularly magical with explosives."

Then Rosetta surprised him. "But I'd like to ask you a few other questions, if you could find the time ..."

"Yes?"

"It may take a while, so if we could do it in my office - but I didn't want to interrupt your project work."

Curiosity was a strong motivator. "No, we can do it now - I can organize my project time quite freely."

"Yes, I had the impression." But it came with a smile.

---

In the office, Harry still felt suspicious - such a politeness, all of a sudden. Was it really just her new status?

"Mr Potter, someone asked me to send you greetings." The smile hadn't lost Rosetta Rushmore's face.

"Greetings?" Then Harry's face lighted up. "They have to come from Mrs Goodridge, I'd say."

"Right. She was quite impressed from your performance in that talk show, and she asked me to tell you, she could imagine you playing a role in the dealings between our two sides pretty soon."

Seeing Harry's face, Rosetta Rushmore showed a grin. "Well, that was the message. Now to my questions ... They have to do with the other schools in this European council, more specifically with the fact that for you, they're a few steps away while for someone like me, it always means hours of travelling, if not more."

Harry nodded. "Yes, of course - the linkports don't work for you."

"Exactly. It's a real nuisance." The woman hesitated. "Mr Potter, I was told this magic can't move us - Muggles, I mean. Er, frankly, I never could stop thinking this is just an - er, favour returned, so to speak."

Harry couldn't suppress a short grin. "Yes, Madam, I see what you mean. But as far as I know, that's not true - by accident, I know a bit about Magical Tours, and I know their managing director, a Mr Boonhill. If they could do it, they'd have done so already, and now they'd make profits like crazy - I mean, returning a favour could be a motive for other wizards, but these people have no such - er, concerns."

Rosetta Rushmore examined Harry's face. "I didn't know about your connections - I asked you because you're the only student who can - er, apparate, yes. Seems as if there's a coincidence."

"Yes, in a way, it is." Not that Harry felt like telling in which way.

"Mr Potter - how does it work?"

The question, and the way it was asked, had a disarming quality. And perhaps Rosetta Rushmore benefitted from a state in which even offering peace to her was a kind of compensation for Harry.

"I wish I knew," he said, "maybe then I'd make better progress in my portkey project. I know how to do it; otherwise - what I can say is, you don't jump. Everybody talks like that, but it's wrong. You think yourself to the destination, and then you make your body follow, so it's more a pulling, or summoning as we call it."

"How can you learn it, if you don't know how it works? And how come you're the only student with that skill?"

"Oh - I was a bit quicker, because I just inherited it from Voldemort ..."

Yes, Rosetta Rushmore knew the name.

"... so I didn't have to work on it like the others, but my classmates will be ready in a while."

The Muggle woman digested that. "I still can't see - actually, that's my biggest problem with magic - how can you do it without knowing how it works? All you know is a spell, right?"

"No, it's a bit more. The spell ..." Harry scanned his mind for an example, then said, "You know, if you have a knife, you can cut, slices of bread, for instance. But if you're untrained, you can cut your own fingers, or the slice is too thick, or misshaped. Learning spells is hard work. But why a certain spell has a certain effect, and only with a wizard - Madam, I'd recommend to ask Professor Dumbledore. I don't know the answer."

Rosetta Rushmore looked frustrated. "I did already."

"And what did he say?"

A sad smile. "He said he could take lessons on a violin for decades, but he'd never come any closer to someone like Menuhin. He said, if you can tell me why, you've found your own answer."

Harry beamed. "Yeah, that's him."

And now, feeling the wave from the woman, he realized what was driving her - political ambition, yes, but more still a deep envy, the desperate wish to be magical - a witch.

And she had seen the recognition in his face, and like any good politician, Rosetta Rushmore took the opportunity to its best avail. "Then why can you do it without a wand? Not even Menuhin can play without a violin."

Harry shrugged. "I learned from a Japanese teacher. He said the magic's inside us, the wand is just a help. Maybe it's like with that man - the music's inside him, I don't know. To some degree, it's certainly true - you know, when wizards are really upset, they can do things just so. But for me - maybe it's another gift from Voldemort."

Rosetta Rushmore sighed. "You seem to get a lot from that wizard."

"Yes, but I didn't volunteer for the deal. I guess it's just because that's the only way to destroy him. I mean, in a metaphorical sense, he can be destroyed only when he's destroying himself, and I'm just the tool" - Harry grinned - "you know, like the violin."