Harry Potter and the Thunderstruck Muggles

Even with his Animagus project in hold, Harry had to visit some dragons and a dinosaur near Ellesmere. The dinosaur, as it turned out, was no longer the smallest creature around, at least for a while: Carrie's dragon gooslings had hatched out only days ago.

Four skinny lumps, consisting only of wings, heads, and tails.

And of large snouts, open all the time, hungry all the time, squeaking all the time. Poor Carrie could hardly follow their demands.

Rex had tried to help her feeding, with half-cooked chicken wings and meatballs, approaching Carrie's pre-digested baby food as close as possible. With very limited success, as he confessed.

"Harry, old drumbone, be careful! Carrie's mean as hell, and edgy, and suspicious - got me a bad burn - and the chicks, confusing you with the food, small as they are ..."

Small, yes, except you could almost watch them growing. Harry remembered well how quickly Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback had gained size. Armed with two large buckets of chicken wings, he walked toward the nest. He had his approach ready: he would come openly, talk with Carrie first, to see how things developed ...

The mother dragon stared at him, head up, eyes unblinking, nostrils pointing at him.

Harry sent a wave of sympathy. "Hello Carrie, old girl - congratulations, that's a fine collection of babies you've got there ... I just came to help you a bit, I mean if you don't mind, if you'd let me have a look ..."

Carrie still didn't move.

Harry came a bit closer, then stopped. If she would send a firejet now ... He sat down.

"Here I am - with the most delicious chicken wings you can imagine - look here ... Let me send you a cloud of that smell, although, to be honest, it's more your babies who are supposed to smell, and come closer ..."

As gentle as he could, Harry sent an air ball toward Carrie's mouth, then another one aimed lower, where he could see some small bodies whirling, dog-sized, tiny compared to their mother.

And Carrie had sniffed the smell, seemed to relax a bit - until a moment later the second wave had reached the gooslings, who started moving toward the source, a bit unsteady, yet very interested.

Now Harry could only wait, and hope.

Carrie didn't push her babies back. Instead, her head followed them, covering the bodies, until Harry found himself face to face with her. He took a handful from a bucket and held it up, touched her horny lips.

"Here - check it, it's all good for your small ones. Okay?"

And then they had reached him, and Harry was just too busy feeding, had no more time to think anything other than filling mouths before their impatience would send him anouther cloud of smoke, and another rush of burning sparkles.

Then came the critical moment - the buckets were empty.

"That's it! No more - here, look, everything's empty." Gently, Harry pushed opening mouths around, to send them toward their mother - thank God, with some success.

He stood up and touched the gigantic head again. "Okay, Carrie-girl - it's a greedy bunch you've got there, must be a hell of a job; now it's yours again."

The dragon mother pushed and nudged to collect her babies back into the nest, giving him time to retreat.

---

Watched by Rex, Harry moved his wand here and there over his skin, curing minor burns from the bigger sparkles, realizing that his clothes were done, with this interesting pattern of burn holes.

Rex said, "She likes you, Harry. You might come every day; take over the feeding for me."

Harry promised to do his best, then jumped back to Hogwarts. In the afterthought, he felt a strange weakness in his knees - those seconds when the dragon gooslings had been coming closer, and Carrie's head too, and nothing, nothing but trust and confidence had been protecting him from a firestorm ... Be careful with women, Fleur had said, but somehow he got along with them, in particular with dragon ladies. Real ones, that was.

"Harry! Since when are you supposed to dance on a vulcano?"

Turning around, Harry saw a grinning Almyra - in Muggle clothes! A linnen-coloured pantsuit, a light-pink blouse, quite classy. Almyra looked as if just returning from a journey, and somehow, Harry had the distinct feeling he could narrow down the shop's location to a few square miles.

"I met Carrie and her babies, and fed them - which doesn't mean you're wrong." He stepped closer. "Al, you look great. If Gerry's Fashion had woman clothes, I'd have said I know where that comes from."

"Clever boy - almost right." Almyra turned around, like a model in a fashion show. "Those Muggles know how to dress ... Harry, can we talk?"

"Do I have time to change clothes first? This combination reminds me a bit of the beauty and the beast."

Almyra looked pleased, then grinned. "Might be that's fitting better than you'd think - might be you should keep it, because you look great too, with peeping holes here and there ... You could start a fashion line, or maybe your Gerry could."

"Yeah, that's exactly what I need. See you in a few minutes in your office, okay?"

In contrast to him, Almyra was still wearing her travel suit when Harry reached the office. But she had dropped the jacket, and he could see that the blouse was quite thin, and that Almyra wore something lacy underneath.

He looked appreciative. "All right - I, for my part, got rid of the peeping holes."

"What a pity! Anyway, yours weren't that expensive; those people take an arm and a leg for a little piece of silk, unbelievable - "

"Right - robbing poor little girls ..."

"Exactly." Almyra's smile faded a bit. "You just gave me the keyword, Harry. I had a longer conversation with another - er, poor little girl."

"Aha."

"Yes aha. According to what I've heard, you haven't been entirely honest with me - your own description was lacking some details."

"So? Which ones?"

"For example, your list of - er, women. There was something missing."

"Who?"

"Has it grown so long that you already forgot? What about Deborah?"

Harry grimaced. "My God, that's an old story - and that's been last year. Did Cho tell you more than the name?"

"Er - yes."

"Okay, then you know how it happened, and why, and that it's nothing to be listed forever, because ... I left it out because I didn't think it still plays a role, not after ..." Harry didn't finish the sentence, feeling sure Almyra could do it by herself.

She could. "Even so - Harry, it's quite amazing to see how the list is growing and growing - six names, if my counting's right."

Harry felt his anger rising. "Do we count names, without considering the circumstances? Al, the list of those who I rejected's growing still faster - as if that means anything."

"Really? Then list a few, if you please."

---

He stared at her in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

An affirming nod.

"All those groupies, for instance - Sally, in particular. Whenever I visit Armodéc, I have to make sure I'm left alone - staying overnight or not. Stepping back in time - Katie, for example."

"And stepping forward?"

"Danielle, for example, if you really have to know. I wasn't planning to tell it around, really, but if this bean-counting ..."

Almyra almost giggled.

"... is the only method to clear the issue, then okay, let's count them."

Almyra's hand was playing with a pencil. "Cho seemed to have the feeling there's someone else."

"No, there isn't." Feeling curiosity by himself, Harry asked, "How come? And who should that be?"

A slight embarrassment in Almyra's voice. "She said, when she asked you the last time, you refused to answer."

"Huh?" After a moment's thinking, Harry's face lighted up. "Yes, I know what you mean. No - at the end of our dinner in the Three Broomsticks, after I had told her everything, with this grandiose result, I said she shouldn't ask me again because I wouldn't answer again. That's all - she asked me again, only I didn't answer."

Almyra kept silent.

Harry stared at her. "Al - I never lied to her. I never lied to you - not now and not before. And that's why I don't have the intention to swear on every second sentence - either that's agreed between us, or we can end this conversation right away."

Almyra looked startled. "No - I mean, yes, that's agreed. I believe you, Harry, I'm sorry if - "

"It's okay." He waved impatiently. "I guess Cho developed this habit because for those movie people, lying is the norm, and a word of truth comes just by accident. Anyway, this counting is ridiculous - I'm not counting on her side, I'm not asking what's happening now there ..."

Almyra blushed a bit.

"... because that's not the point. And besides," Harry grinned wryly, "I know Marie-Christine well enough - would be just a matter of time anyway."

Almyra gasped.

"In a way, it's even some comfort - imagine, Cho would have abandoned sex altogether - that would be a problem."

Now it was a real giggle.

Harry sighed. "I wish I could laugh too. Did you only discuss my malbehaviour with other women?"

"No ..." Almyra's face showed some relief to change the topic, only to gain a new worry at once. "You were right, Harry - money plays a role, more exactly your intrusion into the Groucho business - in her business, as she said."

"Yeah, obviously so. But I gave it all to her, and the events with Helix - what does she expect? I can't make it undone, and besides, didn't she benefit a great deal?"

"Sure, only it doesn't matter. Just your involvement - "

"Al, that's totally unfair! I don't know where Groucho would stand without that - as far as I know, they'd have ceased to exist!"

"Certainly." Almyra looked somewhat desperate. "Cho's the first to admit - but that's exactly the problem. She said, I know I'm unfair, but where's it written that I have to be fair?"

Now Harry gasped, again remembering Fleur's remark.

"That's the state." Almyra exhaled deeply. "It was a first step, Harry. I'd say, you'll have other visits with Carrie, and I'll have other ones with Cho, if you get my bearing."

Harry nodded. "Thank you. You're a true sister."

"Like someone else," Almyra grinned, "but the other one would be badly suited for the job, that's for sure."

* * *

Since full moon would fall into the Christmas break, Harry travelled some days in advance to Haiti. And he did it a bit earlier than dinner time - he would not stay overnight, but he had promised to come with his Go set and to teach his host the game, something to take place in the late afternoon.

Monsieur Armodéc had a new flower of the night. Well, not entirely new: Beatrice. She had opened the door for Harry, had welcomed him with a smile, and now she surprised him again. While Harry and Monsieur Armodéc were sitting opposite each other, silently staring at the Go board, Beatrice did very much the same.

Women playing Go was nothing new to Harry - after all, it had been Cho who taught him the game. But somehow, he hadn't expected this silent patience from Beatrice. More - for all he could sense, it wasn't simple politeness that kept her on the chair, and her eyes on the developing lines. No, Beatrice seemed to have her own thoughts, particularly so about the proper strategy against Harry's lines which, little by little, were taking on the shape of a strangler snake.

Because Monsieur Armodéc had trouble - more than, for example, Ron at the comparable time in his development as a Go player.

Which didn't worry the host. He was a good loser. Sitting over the hors d'oeuvres, Monsieur Armodéc said, "Honestly, Harry, it comes totally unexpected for me. After the games we played against each other in chess, I felt pretty sure to score a little better than that. And I have to admit, my first impression, after you'd told me the rules - I can't remember when I missed the point so badly, because after ten minutes to me it looked like children's play."

Harry laughed. "Oh yes, you're not alone with that."

"I wonder what's wrong with my strategy. Maybe I'm lacking the required standing. Maybe this patient scoring, point for point, looks too cumbersome to me. You know, a sharp attack, wasting all resources to knock down a king, that's more my style."

Beatrice said, "You're not alone in that either."

Monsieur Armodéc grinned - a rare event. "No, my dear, definitely not." He turned to Harry. "Maybe I see the game from the wrong perspective. For me, it looks like collecting property, real estate in particular. This has never been my strongest - sure, I keep myself in a state that this life of leisure and luxury isn't at stake, but otherwise ... What do I care if there's a single galleon left, once I'm dead and gone? Collecting another million and still another one, that's something for other people."

He looked pointedly at Beatrice, back at Harry. "Also property in a wider sense ... Seeing a dinner, my only thought is to sit down and enjoy - I don't worry which spoon has been stirring which pot in the past. I like having dinners, joining dinners, sharing dinners - as simple as that. What do you think about that, Harry?"

Harry showed a tiny smile. "I think that my joining this dinner ends with the dessert. Aside from that - if it's really your belief, fine, only it makes you neither more admirable nor more despicable than someone else. Only special - and I could imagine it makes you lonely, too."

For a moment, Monsieur Armodéc's smile faded. Then it came back. "But I have Beatrice."

Harry suppressed the remark which had crossed his mind first, about paid company. Instead, he said, "If I'm not entirely mistaken, Beatrice would like playing Go - and I could imagine that her style covers more than sudden attacks ..."

As if he didn't know for sure.

"... and to make this possible, please accept that Go set in the other room as my present - a Christmas present, if you want."

The young woman beamed. Monsieur Armodéc said, "That's very kind of you, Harry. These stones, and the board - very beautiful. Are you sure?"

"Yes, sir. I still have a travelling set at home, and I know where to find a replacement, so it's not really a sacrifice."

"Thank you, Harry - that's a wonderful present. And I'm glad to hear that you'll find another one - you know, for me the value won't be diminished, knowing it was one out of hundred in your property ... I'm just not the type to appreciate sacrifices."

Beatrice smiled. "I do - small ones, that is."

Under different circumstances, Harry might have enjoyed this kind of twin-level conversation full-heartedly. But with the current state of things, he felt more relieved than sorry when it was time to leave.

However, Monsieur Armodéc surprised him once more, presenting a small bottle. "Harry - let me return the favour. This is my present - no, it's ours, because it was Beatrice who had the idea. It's a very special drink, but she said you know how to handle it."

Back in Hogwarts, Harry stared at the bottle. Somehow, nitroglycerine seemed harmless stuff, compared to that. At least the two liquids had something in common - small doses did the job thoroughly; using more would be just a method to leave deep holes in the environment.

But then he registerd a major difference - try as he might, Harry couldn't imagine how to use this drink to good effect. Certainly not in the near future.

He took the next opportunity for an Apparition jump to the Tokyo Linkport - the easiest method to close the gap his own present had left. Scanning through the shops, he was very pleased to see some other items - very nice ones, to be used soon, since Christmas wasn't far away.

* * *

A real test still in the old year - Harry felt determined to do it, to pass it, and to consider this as the Christmas present toward himself: sending other people through a portkey that was programmed by himself, just from a former camp of Giants to a former camp of dragons. He was ready.

Would be interesting to hear what the others thought - the ones he intended to send through. When in doubt, ask. He asked during lunch.

Ron examined Harry's face. "Am I the first one? Or has anyone else tried before?"

"I went through again and again. And I have someone else already - I don't think the sequence matters."

"Who is it?"

"What a stupid question," said Hermione. "Dreadnought Lightfoot's her name - more or less, I mean."

The said one seemed to watch the conversation from farther down the table. Not that she was looking in their direction, only Rahewa's ears darkened a bit at this remark.

Ron glared at a pufferable blow-it-all. "And what about you, genius at fork? Will you join the party?"

"I wasn't asked."

Harry stopped laughing about Ron's reply. "That's changed now - you're asked too, no question about that."

He shouldn't have laughed, or maybe a moment earlier. Hermione said, "No thanks ... It's too cold outside, and if the others come through, I'm sure I wouldn't show any different result ... As I said, Harry - the portkey to Haiti, that's my ticket."

Ron took the opportunity. "That's true friendship - ha! Chicken out, at such a memorable opportunity! You'll be sorry for that."

"I bet." Hermione didn't look that way. "And besides - that's true confidence, after all, my first jump will be much farther."

Ginny had listened. "Am I invited, Harry?"

"Yes, of course - I'd have asked you in a moment, you were just quicker."

"Which only shows" - although looking at her two brothers, Ginny seemed to be addressing someone else - "that there are different kinds of quickness: quick to answer other people's questions, or quick to forestall them ... quick to say no, or quick to say yes."

She wasn't the only one to play that game. Also looking at some brothers, though not her own, Hermione said, "And some people would be better off not saying yes so quickly - girls, in particular."

Until her chair had crashed to the floor, Ginny stood already at Hermione's seat, one hand grabbing Hermione's jaw, the other ready to strike, flat, hard. "You've got three seconds to take that back. One ... two ..."

"Three."

It was Hermione who had finished the countdown - with a fierce defiance in her face. It should be her last remark for the next few minutes.

Ginny's hand, flat and hard as a spade, shot forward, hitting Hermione's solar plexus.

As short as the strike had been - Hermione's face lost all defiance, and colour, turning bluish after a moment, until - a painful eternity later - she could catch breath again, in short, sobbing gasps, while her hands were pressing her stomach, long after Ginny had returned to her place, had caught her chair, to sit down and resume eating.

Ron had watched Hermione's recovery, his face not showing the slightest hint of pity. He turned to Harry. "That reminds me of a lesson I had not so long ago. Pain is a very skillful teacher, especially if the lesson's given in full public."

Hermione glared up. "Your sister - "

She didn't come further, was interrupted by Harry. "Don't say it, Hermione - look at my arms: one more word, and you'll have a water ball in your face."

Hermione glanced at his pointing arms, then looked him in the eye. "You'd be expelled for that."

Harry nodded. "Yes, probably."

Something in his voice kept Hermione silent, avoiding this particular challenge. Maybe it had been the thought of his services in Haiti, only Harry didn't think so. For him, who remembered a training session about vulnerable spots of the body, there was little doubt - Ron had been right, pain could indeed be called a skillful teacher, and the solar plexus an attentive student.

* * *

They met after the last class of the day, to finish the task before supper, using the last day of the light. The weather was even nastier than predicted by Hermione - a sharp wind, driving a thin, icy rain into their faces. On a broomstick, it felt still worse, though only for moments, until they touched down between the remnants of huts and barns, torn apart by nitroglycerine balls.

"This weather's good for one thing," said Ron. "None of us will waste a second to jump through - just to get out of the rain."

Rahewa's glance at him could only be called contemptuous, while Harry scanned around for a suitable item. Not that it mattered, could be anything, but his first serious test ... Then he saw a milk can, maybe even the same he had used for exploding water balls. This should be the right omen.

A moment later, he was done and stood up. "All right. Just touch it, that's all. Who's going first?"

Ron said, "What the heck ..."

Even that was too much, left him only second place. Rahewa stepped forward, touched the can - and disappeared, creating an almost inaudible pop when the air closed into the emptied space.

About to touch the can, Ron was stopped again from Ginny's voice. "Is she still alive?"

Ron looked at his sister, saw her malicious grin, muttered an angry sound - and disappeared.

Ginny said, "Harry - please don't forget to follow. That joke wouldn't be too nice." An instant later, she was gone.

He might as well have apparated, but for the sake of the ceremony, Harry touched the can - to appear near the hut of the former dragon camp, almost bouncing into Ron.

Then he was patted, and hugged, and pushed, had to endure some congratulations - short ones, it wasn't the least bit warmer here under the trees.

Harry selected a larger piece of wood, reminding himself to return and de-program the piece before someone else, by some accident, would touch it to encounter the shock of his life. Then he said, "Okay - here's your ticket to ride. Ladies first?"

Rahewa disappeared. Ginny disappeard.

Ron looked at Harry. "That's the right place, and the right day. All that's missing now - it has to work."

"Yes, sure. What - "

Harry stopped, gasping. Ron had disappeared, which looked very natural - only that the piece of wood was lying on the ground, some feet away.

Ron could apparate!

Harry quickly disempowered the wood and apparated to the other camp, to find a beaming Ron. "Super - fantastic - brilliant, Ron! Congratulations!"

The two girls looked at them, at each other, then Ginny caught it first. "Ron - did you ... Have you ..."

Rather than answering, her brother disappeared again, and was back some seconds later, to be hugged by a beaming sister.

Rahewa came closer, her face showing a mix of reluctance, joy, and envy. "Congratulations, Ron. I wish I could follow."

Ron gently ruffled some black hair, at this moment feeling safe from bad replies - with a knife, for example. "Thank you - I'm sure, you'll set a new speed record, what with that bad company you're permanently found in."

A short glare, then Rahewa looked pleased. Niceties Weasley style counted for her as something to get used to.

At supper, reaching the Gryffindor table, Harry and Ron found a tight-lipped Hermione sitting there. With a voice as frosty as the weather they had escaped, Hermione asked toward Harry, "Was your test successful?"

Ron answered. "Oh yes, in more than one sense. You should have come with us; maybe it would have worked for you too."

Hermione stared at him. "Answering other people's questions, huh? So at least I'm not alone with that."

Harry kept silent.

Hermione asked, "Aren't you talking with me any longer?"

"Did you take back what you said at lunch?"

"I didn't find the opportunity - and besides, she's more than balanced out, I'd say."

It was again Ron who answered. "Ginny, yes."

Hermione looked at him, at Harry, swallowed, swallowed again, looked at the table. "I'm sorry."

Harry's voice sounded considerably louder than required for the short distance. "Ginny, did you hear that?"

"What?"

Hermione didn't wait for another invitation. "I'm sorry - my remark took the wrong direction, it was just the first thing that crossed my mind, at that moment."

Ginny smiled sweetly. "That's okay - and please excuse if my hand took the wrong direction, you were just the first thing that crossed its path, at that moment."

Hermione sat through the laughter at the table with all the composure she could muster, however unable to avoid two burning cheeks.

Harry felt the moment right to give it a rest - and the final touch. "Erm - to answer your question, Hermione - it wasn't quite successful."

She looked somewhat grateful, more astonished. "What?"

"Yes - we reached the dragon camp okay. But on our way back, the portkey didn't work for Ron."

"Are you joking?" Hermione looked at Ron. "Why not? How did you come back, walking?"

Ron grinned maliciously. "It was my mistake. I didn't touch the thing - I apparated back by myself. As I said, you should have come with us, might have worked for you too."

Which seemed more than unlikely - Ron had just used the opportunity to present the result of hard work, of many hours spent on Apparition while Hermione had worked on her Wolfsbane Potion project. Even so, Hermione had lost a race - beaten by a Weasley, and somehow, this was harder to stand than another blow from another member of the same family, given at the same table, some time earlier that day.

* * *

It was supposed to be a highlight of the year, had qualified for this role at least in the two years before. However, this year's Christmas Ball - Harry's fourth - was threatening worse than the first. He simply would have avoided to join, had there been a chance.

But there was Gabrielle.

Rahewa seemed ready to drop it, to cancel the Grass Dance presentation. Maybe with respect to her mother's state, maybe with respect to Harry's state - he hadn't told her a single word, and still, Rahewa seemed to know exactly what was going on. Yes, she loved dancing, and she liked joining a ball, but sorrow and symphathy together would have weighed more.

But there was Gabrielle.

And so Harry never saw a realistic chance to avoid the Christmas Ball of Hogwarts completely. When asked in advance, he said he would be there only for his own dance group, and maybe for organizational purposes. Not more.

Which was a pity, somehow. Many a girl could imagine being invited by Harry Potter, now that this little Chinese devil wasn't constantly seen near him. But no.

Ginny had just one question. "Harry, are you going to join the ball?"

"No. Only the dance group."

"I see."

Danielle was a bit more direct. "H'arry, are we partners for the ball too?"

"If it's about organization, fine with me. Otherwise - no."

But that wasn't what Danielle had sought. Apparently, she could master the little bit of organization by herself.

And so the big day came, for Harry restricted to its second role - marking the end of term in the old year. Next morning, after a last breakfast, the students would travel home.

Harry even wore a new dress for the occasion, bitter irony that it was. But the old one didn't fit any longer, more from an additional year of aikido training than from additional growth. He would have used it anyway, looking into a mirror was none of his common habits, not generally and certainly not in the recent weeks.

But there was Gabrielle, who made him promise to go shopping, after she had insisted on a test performance with dresses and all, and after she had seen Harry in his old dress.

And while his dancers had to fight nervousness and stage fright, Harry felt calm, thinking of his own performance, and desperate, thinking of the moment afterwards.

His crew appeared better than ever. Small wonder, with one more year on their shoulders, with the gained confidence, with the traces of a slowly awakening sexuality. But there was an additional quality in Rahewa's movements. The Grass Dance, expression of coming and passing, of birth and death, suddenly had a new dimension for her.

And everybody could watch it - in these last seconds, when Rahewa was left as the only figure on the grass, in her last movement, when the body had already stopped, desperately seeking another second of joy and movement, before it collapsed to the ground, sending a goodbye in this last instant before the lights went off.

Harry had to recover from watching, did so just in time to let the grass disappear before the lights came on again.

And he wasn't the only one spellbound. It took a second before the first, hesitant applause could be heard. Then it came roaring, thundering.

Danielle met him behind the stage, where Harry waited for his dancers. "Oh H'arry, it was so beautiful! I saw it at Easter in Beauxbatons, but I didn't remember how good they are. This girl in particular - she's far beyond her age, a true natural - "

Harry smiled. "Go tell her - say, did you get smoke in your eyes?"

---

Of course, he couldn't leave right now, had to sit with his crew for a while. He used the opportunity to talk first with Gabrielle, to hear how Fleur was doing.

Fleur had recovered quite well. She and Bill lived in their house again, although not quite as before. Gabrielle reported that there was a guard of two Goblins at the house, day and night, that the guards escorted Fleur on shopping tours and other occasions. She was known as the witch with the dwarfs, also as a woman with a hot temper and little patience with Muggles, their clumsiness, their stupid rules. And the two dwarfs at her side were choking protests in the throats, giving a damn for Muggle laws, looking mean enough so that even the flics, when called by a complaint, showed little intention to press the charges.

Fleur and Bill would be in the Delacour castle over Christmas. The Weasleys were invited, all of them, plus girlfriends, boyfriends - as far as present and ready to follow the invitation.

Then Harry talked with Rahewa, felt little surprise to hear that she would stay in Hogwarts for the Christmas break. Rahewa said, "Our apartment - I don't mind cleaning the mess my father has left there, but I don't mind leaving it as it is either. From here, I can travel to the hospital even faster."

"I did the same until a year ago, although for different reasons." Then Harry asked the question which was lingering in his mind. "Rahewa - do you want to come with us? To the Weasleys? You know that you'd be ..."

The answer came fully as expected, only quicker. "No. Thanks for the invitation, Harry, but ..."

There was no sense in pressing. Too well Harry could remember his own feelings. Even so ...

"Okay, I can understand that. I would've said the same, at that time. But listen, I've got a present for Ginny, and I'm pretty sure that we'll need a fourth person, so if I come ..."

Yes, for an afternoon, maybe even a longer one, it was okay, Rahewa would come with him when he arrived to catch her. Suddenly, these coal-black eyes could look at the world with considerably more joy.

Since he was hanging around anyway, Harry felt obliged to dance with the girls in his crew, which didn't take too long as the sense of obligation seemed mutual. And since the others were sitting near by, he also danced with Janine and Ginny. It took a bit longer, was almost fun, in particular since they both had the good sense not to ask for Cho.

Which of course meant they knew perfectly well what was going on.

Then Harry was done, and it was time to leave. A last look around. Heading toward the exit, he froze in mid-step.

For a split second, he thought he'd seen a very familiar black mane, then it had disappeared behind larger figures. Cho? If it was her, she had come incognito, in a way - there'd been nothing similar to a red dress.

Definitely not - every red spot in his vision was reason enough for a sharp glance, since entering the hall.

Harry pushed himself through the crowd toward the spot where he'd seen - imagined? - the long mane, scanned around, with eyes, senses, everything.

Nothing.

He stormed out, to see whether a lone figure could bee seen walking toward the Hogsmeade linkport, had to temper himself - he almost mounted his Steel Wing to do a scan patrol more thoroughly than ever before.

But the path was empty. Of course - he knew the gates timetable by heart, for trans-atlantic links, that was.

He strolled back into the whirling mass of ball guests, smiling, laughing, moving, blocking his way, damned idiots. He fought his way to a staircase, then to another one. Guest suites - could this be a possibility? And if so, which?

He didn't find the courage to knock at the doors. No answer at all seemed the best answer he could get. What if some strangers were opening? Excuse me, did you see a Chinese girl, very pretty, otherwise with the manners of a hatching dragon? And what if it was herself who opened the door?

Harry felt like in a time travel, four years back into the past, when the thought of being addressed by that girl had been enough to let his heart fail a beat.

---

He trotted back into the hall. Had been an imagination, wishful seeing ... Almyra would know, which didn't mean she would tell. Of course, he could spy on her, what with his haragei, combined with a trap question. Could he really?

Approaching the teachers' table, he was grabbed by Danielle. "H'arry - nobody's supposed to look like that on such an evening. C'mon, let's dance, and then you'll drink a glass with me, and then the world may look a bit friendlier."

Oh yes, fat chance for that.

After a few steps, Danielle looked at him. "H'arry, this is not a dance, this is an insult. Please do me the favour and let me think I'm a woman."

"I'm sorry - my mistake."

"Now that's a relief, really, I was worrying quite a bit ..."

Harry could smile, concentrated more on the dance and his partner. Danielle was right with her reproach, he would have bowed, hadn't it been totally out of sync with the music.

Then she pulled him to the teachers' table, ordered him to sit down, and not to escape while she went to fetch some glasses of champagne, muttering about such remote places like here, where you had to walk for your own drinks.

Seeing the other people, seeing Almyra, Hermione, their smiles - somewhat amused, somewhat cool, although for different reasons, Harry felt like his own snake, having outgrown the old skin but, somehow, unable to don another one, fitting better.

Danielle was back, ordered him to drink, and Harry reminded himself to be careful, remembering Jean-Baptiste's explanations. Misery and alcohol - a hellish combination, never to get really drunk, only deadly sick.

Politeness demanded to dance with Hermione. Politeness demanded her to accept. After some steps, Harry suppressed the temptation to quote Danielle, only with inverse meaning. Instead, he asked, "Still mad at me?"

"Yes, I am. I know that I did wrong, but it wasn't necessary to teach me such a lesson. Not for such a stupid remark."

Hermione's bluntness felt refreshening. "You're right, in a way ... Let me tell you so much - it wasn't intended as a lesson for you, if you know what I mean."

Quick as ever, even while dancing, Hermione asked, "You mean - by some bloody accident, I stepped into the biggest greasepot I could find?"

Harry grinned. "That's a perfect description."

Hermione looked a lot friendler than before, and a lot more curious, giving Harry reason to point out, "No, that's all I'm saying. If you want to know more, talk with her."

"Yeah, sure, she can hardly wait to tell me."

Harry laughed. "Probably not ... But I happen to know, somewhere deep inside, you have a sympathetic soul, and if that's switched on, it's hard to resist ... Take it as a challenge."

"How come your compliments feel so edgy at the corners?"

Remembering a similar remark, given by someone else, not to far from here but some time ago, Harry's smile faded.

Hermione sensed it. "Another greasepot? ... Sorry, me and my talent - "

He shook his head. "Not your fault. C'mon, let's just dance."

Politeness demanded to dance with Almyra. Politeness also demanded not to ask direct questions, and as a result, after the dance Harry wasn't any wiser than before.

---

Danielle came with more champagne, her speed in emptying glasses clearly exceeding Harry's own. He asked, "Are you sure this is a good idea? I'm not trying to tell you how to celebrate a ball, but - "

"You better not, young man, since you're not trying to tell me how to celebrate something else." Danielle's speech, as well as her choice of words, made it clear that his advice had come a bit late anyway. "H'arry, this place here's a rat trap for a woman like me."

"Why's that?"

"Look around - every man that's worth making a move is already in someone else's hands," Danielle grinned, "or he's useless because he can't stop thinking of someone else ... There's just not enough men, tha'sse problem, 'arry."

"Hold on - next term will be better, from what I know, there'll be some new courses, and some of the new teachers will be men. Would be just too unbalanced otherwise."

"Hopefully. In the meantime ... I guess I'll have a look at home over the break, to see whether I can get my own special Christmas present." Danielle giggled.

More from sympathy than from interest, Harry asked, "What about Kenzo?"

"Yes, what about him? ... He's a very reserved guy, somewhat difficult. I just didn't know how to - er, express myself. It's a shame, 'arry, a woman like me." Danielle giggled again.

Harry didn't feel like giving a suggestion. Not his business for sure, and Danielle seemed too advanced in her march toward next morning's hangover to be an attentive listener - more likely, she would answer with a remark loud enough to be heard along the entire table, and that was exactly the missing item in his collection - he couldn't imagine that such a conversation, overheard by Almyra and reported to someone else, might improve his score.

This someone ... Had she been here? Had he, by some accident, missed a short moment in which the impossible could have been within reach? If it had been her, why had she left before meeting him?

Had he done something to repel her? What had he done a moment before? He'd been dancing, with - Ginny! Had this been the reason? Ridiculous, really ...

It had been a bad mistake to follow Danielle's invitation. Harry was sitting there, feeling miserable, wishing he was somewhere else, at the same time feeling obliged to stay as the only one sober enough to represent the organization team.

But Danielle had more standing than expected. After a while, she caught herself, sighed, and said, "Okay, time to earn my money ... I'll get me a large glass of water on ice - what about you, H'arry?"

"Do you need help in supervising the rest?"

"No, thanks - it's a self-runner, at least that's better here."

Which gave him the opportunity to leave, to have another walk outside, checking around, inhaling the fresh air, feeling like the loneliest person under the sky, seriously tempted to walk right now to the Hogwarts Express platform, to reach a place where it was late afternoon, and to face whatever would happen.

Instead, he walked inside.

* * *

Next day, after a late breakfast, students were visiting each other to exchange Christmas presents with friends before closing their luggage, and to wait for whichever service - the cart to the Hogwarts Express platform, or the service van of the Hogsmeade linkport.

The same was true for Harry. He could of course have jumped, and Ron too, but there was still Ginny, and it was no question that they would travel together. And besides - for the way to the jumping point, they could imagine something better than carrying their luggage by themselves.

The list of presents to be exchanged was shorter than the year before. And the list of people to be met was still shorter, because one of them had to receive two.

Harry met Almyra in her office.

"Hi, Harry - you're just in time, I'm almost done." Almyra reached down and came up with a voluminous box. "I don't have to tell you - not opening before Christmas morning, okay?"

"Thank you." Harry weighed the box, surprised by its weight, having no idea what he might find inside. Then he placed his own present on the table - a very small box. "The same is true for this here - although, in a way, it's somewhat incomplete. But I think it should be finished after Christmas."

Almyra examined the tiny box, took it, weighed it, shook it. "Thank you, Harry - you make me really curious, in particular since it's so small." She looked a bit suspicious.

He laughed. "It's no jewelry, that's all I can tell you - this is Remus' realm. Anyway, you'll find out."

Almyra seemed relieved. "Well, then ..."

"Wait a second, there's something else." Harry deposited another box at the table. "I don't know when you'll meet her, but then, this isn't exactly a Christmas present. It's for Cho."

"Oh ..." Almyra showed surprise, and a slight embarrassment. "That's - well, I had thought ... you know, twenty-six percent of Groucho would have been sufficient as a present by any standard."

"No - it's not a real present."

Which perplexed her completely. "What is it, then?"

"It's ... I got a present from Armodéc, after I gave him my Go set. It's a bottle of that stuff - the bottle's in this box."

Now Almyra looked seriously embarrassed.

"There's a letter inside, but you should know too, Al. I don't see myself using that stuff ever again. But since Cho is determined to blame me for that, I thought I should give her a chance to find out by herself what she's talking about."

Almyra glanced at the bottle as if expecting it to bite. "You think that's a good idea?"

"She can do what she wants - the letter leaves no doubt about the effect, so can nobody say she wasn't forewarned - in contrast to myself."

"I wouldn't do that, Harry."

He stared at her. "You think it's unfair? So what! I'm fighting fire with fire ... Will you give it to her?"

Almyra sighed, looked unhappy. "Yes, okay."

"Thank you, and a happy New Year. Bye."

As short as it was, the letter inside had taken him some time. In a way, it was the first letter he'd ever written to Cho, and although nobody would have called it a love letter, looking at these words, he didn't think it was anything else:

His last station was Rahewa. He expected to need Ginny's help for calling the girl from its hiding in a dormitory, but when he reached the hall, a skinny figure came hurrying. Somewhat out of breath, impossibly a result from these few yards running, Rahewa said, "Harry - I've been waiting for you. Erm - that's for you."

A box, thin, about ten inches, delivered from a trembling hand and with a bloodred face.

"Thank you, Rahewa." Harry simply grabbed her and hugged her, feeling how the embarrassment left this body with its first signs of what would become a woman's bosom. Then he took out his envelope. "And that's for you. I have to tell you - it's not the present itself, just an explanation. But when you read it, you know why this is the only method, and how we'll do it."

"Thank you." Rahewa looked at the envelope with a suspicious expression, reminding him of Almyra some minutes ago.

"It's no money." Harry grinned. "That's all I'm telling you - no, just one more hint: it's very, very personal."

And of course, Rahewa was at a loss to guess, looked relieved as much as perplexed, at any rate happier than before.

Walking away, Harry beamed to himself, imagining how Rahewa would look at Christmas morning, almost alone, when reading that letter, only to wait impatiently for him. He beamed still more at remembering how it had been for himself, with only minutes of forewarning from Hagrid.

Because the envelope contained an invitation to a shop in the Diagon Alley: the Magical Menagerie, to look around, and then, finally, of course to buy a pet animal for Rahewa, after she had taken her choice.