Harry Potter and the Thunderstruck Muggles

Hearing the last remark from Hattie the hangman's bride transmitted into the loudspeaker, it took Harry a lot of self-discipline not to storm up the hill and right into the building. Wormtail there - then Voldemort was there, too, and all Harry had to do was ...

Francesco's presence helped him to gather his senses. They worked as a team, and no matter how the final encounter would take place, the next steps had to do with team coordination. Even so, Harry was trembling in suspension while they waited for Rahewa to come downhill the half-mile, to the place where the panel truck was parking.

Then Rahewa had reached the car, climbed the front cabin after checking around to make sure nobody was watching, and squeezed herself through between the seats, into the panel cabin.

Despite the narrow space, Harry grabbed her, hugged her hard, for relief, seeing her unharmed, and as a surrogate for his urgent desire to stomp in a war dance - impossible inside, unthinkable outside.

Rahewa beamed. "Silver paw - that's him, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's Wormtail. We're dead right."

Francesco had dropped his earphones and looked at Rahewa. "You're some girl - giving an old man a heartstroke. You should come to Pinkerton, except then I have to resign to get a day or two older."

Rahewa nodded, acknowledging the message, unsurprised, unflattered, uninterested. "What now?"

"Pictures of the house," replied the Pinkerton detective. "Front, side, back - then off to Boston."

Three hours later, the crowd who was waiting in the Boston flat heard the door open - Francesco arrived with his prey, the result of careful walking, of a tele lens, and of a well-maintained contact to a photoshop.

Initially, Harry had intended to accompany Francesco, while the detective had only laughed. "Young hotshots to blow my cover, thank you very much." So Harry had apparated back to Boston, calming down while the others arrived, and using the time to think about strategies for the final blow.

Then he had sat down on the rug, lotus position, to meditate - no, to develop his plan. Only half awake, in the special sense of the word, he had registered how Rahewa was joining him leftside and, some time later, Almyra at the other side.

Now Harry's vision cleared and returned to the room in which he was sitting. He rose and stretched his legs, then joined the others, who had busied themselves inspecting the shots on the large table. They showed a weather-beaten building from three sides.

"No way from the back," said Francesco. "It's nearly built into the hillside."

Lupin looked at Harry. "Do you have any idea how to attack?"

"Yes I do." Harry smiled. "Let's find something to eat, then I'll explain."

While they were waiting for the mind-numbing quantities of pizza Francesco had ordered, Harry studied the pictures. A three-storey house, lots of large windows, a small balcony, another one - and a very large one, almost a platform, reminding him of the tower platform at Hogwarts, which had served so well in two battles.

It was this memory which closed the last gap in Harry's planning.

---

Eventually, minor leftovers and a huge pile of empty boxes gave testimony of the accumulated pizza capacity from nine people. Lupin said, "Well, then, Harry - what's your plan? Going inside and ask for Cho?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"First I'm going to kill Voldemort."

The others stared at him. Then Marie-Christine asked, "And how will you find her?"

"Afterwards."

Almyra said, "What if you can't find her? What if she's not in that building?"

"I don't think she's in the building anyway. Remember how it's been with Sirius? He was held prisoner somewhere else. I don't think Voldemort has changed his technique."

"But then ..." Almyra looked alarmed. "You take the risk that you'll never be able to find her, Harry ... Please think it over, you must - " She stopped, silenced by a gentle hand from Lupin on her shoulder.

Harry looked at Almyra while speaking. "I've made two promises. The last one was to Voldemort: never again to negotiate, to come for a kill the next time. The older one's the promise to Cho: to come back to her after it's done. All the time, we thought it means something like coming home after the battle, only now we can see an entirely new meaning, this coming back to her ... Anyway - these two promises span up the range of my strategy, they mark the fixpoints. I have to keep them; otherwise I'd fail. It's ... I just know."

Harry saw Lupin nod in agreement.

He continued, "The task is somehow impossible - forcing Voldemort to tell me where Cho is, killing him, saving her, or the other way around. I've been thinking it over and over for the last two hours. There's no way to do it ... That means, it's a Zen riddle, and a Zen riddle has no solution."

Almyra had heard Harry often enough droning on about this topic. Even so, she barely mastered the urge to scream in despair.

"You must laugh it away."

Almyra knew. Only she couldn't remember how it worked, laughing.

"In terms of aikido or kenjutsu," explained Harry, "this is a well-known situation. Your enemy presents a challenge, and you know you can't master the challenge because that's impossible - just - no - way."

Ron asked, "And how do you win, then?"

Harry looked at his friend, a shining in his eyes. "You ignore the challenge. You master the master of the challenge."

"And then?"

"Then you make do with the situation at hand, how it looks afterwards."

Almyra still looked desperate, but it was Marie-Christine who said, "All right, 'arry. And how?"

Harry told them what he himself planned to do, and what the others were expected to do.

Lupin said, "It's daring, no less, but ... And there's still a minor problem - I don't know that spell." He turned to Almyra. "Do you?"

"No." Almost a sob.

Several people looked at Hermione. She shook her head. "Me neither."

Harry felt like screaming when he realized that they had to delay the attack, that there was no way of jumping to Salem now - unless he was ready to try it without this particular twist.

Lupin had obviously followed his thought and looked at Harry expectantly. "It means a full day, right?"

"Yes." Harry swallowed. "But we need that - it's the only way I can see to trick him into believing."

For a few minutes, the others were straining their minds to offer an alternative. No one found any.

They rose - to return to Hogwarts, have a few hours sleep, and then attend a very special lesson from Dumbledore, a lesson to be held outside, probably in one of the two abandoned camps.

Harry looked at Marie-Christine. "Back to Santa Monica?"

"Oh no - I'll learn with all of you, and I'll be here to do my share, when it's time."

Harry nodded and went out to program the portkey back to Hogwarts.

In the school, running at British time, it was long past midnight. The others headed for their dormitories, after Lupin had promised to fetch Dumbledore for his task and to wake them in due time. Marie-Christine turned to Harry. "Can I do something to get you ready for your task tomorrow?"

"Something?"

"Anything."

Harry smiled. "I know. It was meant as a joke - wasn't my best, somehow. But no, I'm ... not relaxed, but balanced. I know what to do, and I need all my energy for that ... Thanks for the offer."

Marie-Christine smiled back. "Maybe it's been more a plea than an offer, but I guess you're right. Good night, 'arry."

* * *

Dusk was falling over Salem. In the fading light of the day, the house on the hill stood painted sharply against the sky, still light toward northwest while the darkness came crawling from the flat horizon over the sea in the southeast. A slight breeze from the seaside moved the bushes on the hillside behind the dark, neglected-looking building.

A while ago, the last birds had disappeared from the sky. Right now, however, a single bird could be seen, rather large, certainly no seagull. It sailed across the sky, as if circling along an imaginary line whose center would fall right onto the roof of that house.

Quiet, otherwise. Downhill, the first lights could be seen in the windows. The distant traffic's noise hardly reached this peaceful spot, playground for a dozen or more cats in the small front garden. Even their occasional hissing against each other had fallen silent.

Some of the feline heads stirred.

Before they could discover the cause of their startling, a flash, almost spherical, hung in the air right in front of the windowed brick walls. A split second later, a deafening bang rolled downhill and up into the sky, sending the cats spinning toward cover like black and grey sparks shooting out from a firecracker.

The last fragments of the broken windowpanes were still falling, pinging lightly as they hit metal, when a second flash erupted, slightly lower at the front of the house, and a second bang mingled with the echo of the first. This second explosion stripped quite a few leaves from the evergreen bushes near the entrance, while it avoided ruffling a single cat's fur - there weren't any left after the first shot higher up.

The last trail of smoke dissipated in the sea breeze. But now the air filled with clouds of black shapes - small, winged, fluttering toward the house ... Bats.

Through the broken windows as a figure visible, in motion, screaming in rage, yet apparently more toward the inside, while the first bats reached the openings, to disappear in the house.

More clouds appeared, pretty low, had to climb some height to approach the windows.

Suddenly a second figure appeared on the platform up below the roof. A man - staring at the clouds, waving a wand with one hand, the other, somehow discoloured, clutching to the railing. The man seemed almost helpless, facing this large number of winged targets.

Moments later, a second figure appeared on the platform. Taller and thinner than the first, this man stood calm, his wand pointing at the clouds. A white flash erupted from his wand, and the closest cloud was gone, leaving a sphere of empty air.

With some more flashes, the man cleared the house front almost completely. New clouds were fluttering closer, in a moment they would be within reach of these flashes which meanwhile erupted from the first man's wand as well.

But next moment, the two figures stopped, for an instant like frozen in shock, staring into the sky behind the clouds, where another winged shape had manifested and was coming toward them.

A dragon.

* * *

Harry felt the power in his wings like a stream of hot oil rushing through pipes. Even though he had decided against using the last brain booster, his mind was as clear as his vision - determination filled his senses and drove him forward.

A dragon's view was no less than magnificent. Harry saw the two figures waking from the moment of stunned disbelief, no longer caring about the bat clouds, their attention quite obviously at him.

Voldemort's wand came up, pointed at him - no, slightly higher. A ball erupted from its tip, dark-yellow fume whirling, whooshing in a flat arc toward the largest bird ever seen in Salem's sky.

A short moment of stalling and a slight side-swing was sufficient to avoid the hit. Thanks to his nearly full-circle view, Harry could watch how behind and below another ball came shooting, to meet the yellow fume low above ground, merging into a harmless conglomerate of chemicals.

Another ball had erupted from Voldemort's wand and grew in his view. Harry danced it out, ignoring its fate past his dragon body. The scene ahead took all his attention.

The next ball, no longer ballistic, was a direct shot toward his gigantic shape, already too close for side-stepping. Harry's dragon head moved a bit, then a jet of fire erupted from his nostrils, met the fuming ball, closing around, sucking it up, burning the acidic fume to oxides that were meaningless for dragon hide.

Harry was pretty close to the platform - any second now, the spot with the two men would be within reach of his roaring firestorm.

He saw Wormtail staring up in frozen horror.

Harry's wings spread and stiffened, as though next moment his dragon body would touch down on the platform, no doubt crashing it to debris.

There was rage and disbelief in Voldemort's face - a distorted grimace, full of hate, lips baring clenched teeth. In Harry's view, Voldemort's wand was reduced to a tip, point blank to his head, his eyes ... A flash erupted, green, this deadly green, which closed the distance at thought's speed and hit right between Harry's dragon eyes ...

White-hot pain. All his senses were screaming, burning in a state beyond sensation. He was linked with Voldemort's mind, was simultaneously target and origin, remembering again, suffering again a previous occasion with such a timeless, all-encompassing instant that seemed not willing to end.

A scream ... someone was screaming, though not in Harry's ears. Definitely not his parents - this couldn't possibly be a human voice, it sounded worse than a Dementor's high-pitched shriek at dying ...

The link broke.

Harry's vision returned. Still a dragon, he was recovering quicker than any human-shaped body could have mastered. He saw Voldemort collapse and fall down like an imploding structure.

Wormtail was staring at the crumpled figure, apparently numb with disbelief. Just when Harry's front paws had reached the railing, Wormtail recovered from his shock and was about to turn and flee, or maybe shrink into rat shape.

A red flash from above hit him and stupefied him. He collapse only feet away from Voldemort's dead body.

Where the flash had erupted, a young woman, moments before still a falcon, inspected the path down from the roof to the patform. Looking at the dreading dragon body, she shrank to a falcon again, ready to take off.

His head at the rear end of the platform, the front part of his torso filling the space, his wings flapping against railings and housefront, Harry aimed for the sphere state, reached it, and shot through into his own shape.

The momentum sent him flying, then falling. He rolled around and came up in a single motion, an instant before his head, human again, might have crashed into the old brickwork.

His wand ready, he looked around, all his senses on alert. But there was no immediate danger. Just an unconscious Wormtail.

And there was Voldemort, his misshaped mortal body dead as dead could be. Only a corpse, no presence else, no more ... The Dark Lord had ceased to exist.

* * *

Coldness hung in the room. It was small wonder, with all windows at the front side blown to pieces, and the cold air of an April night in Maine creeping through every crack, even into this room at the backside, with its window unruptured and its door closed.

Though unsuccessful in keeping the cold out, door and windows were good enough to keep a rat in.

There was little furniture, nothing to give hide for a rodent of the human kind, guarded by two large black dogs. Although - this particular rat still had human shape, and still was stunned.

In the other rooms, Hermione, Ginny, and Rahewa were busy placating an old bitch, also her cats. They kept to the safe part of the house - Harry had warned them not to touch anything outside the woman's territory before he had found the time to fetch Nagini and check with his snake for hidden traps, portkeys in particular.

Ron, Marie-Christine, and Francesco Lopez worked outside, to satisfy the curiosity of authorities that might come to investigate the explosions, and chase off any unwelcome spectator.

Harry turned to Wormtail, inhaled deeply, and pointed his wand. "Enervate."

The man came awake, groaning. He looked terrible, considerably worse than Harry remembered from that small Caribbean island - the last year hadn't been friendly to Voldemort's servant, and the evening so far had done little to improve his appearance.

Nor would the next half hour.

Peter Pettigrew, known as Wormtail, recognized the two dogs, with their amber eyes staring at him in unblinking guard, and twisted.

Harry became aware that Wormtail would surely confuse one of them with Sirius Black. He saw no reason to resolve this misunderstanding, in particular because he felt certain that the female dog would be fastest to attack, would make the killing rip through the throat.

But not before they had gathered all information they needed.

"Hello, Wormtail."

The man was all flickering eyes, trembling hands, and a sweaty face. "Er - hello, Harry. Is ... is Voldemort - "

"He's dead. Dead and gone."

A hesitant stare into Harry's face, then something like fresh spirit swept through Wormtail's stance. A kind of submissive admiration in his face, he looked up at Harry.

The white flash of the Cruciatus hit him without forewarning.

For the next two minutes, Wormtail's screams filled the room while his body twisted and jerked on the floor.

Harry waited until the sobbing had ebbed so that he could be heard with a normal voice. "Where's Cho?"

"I ... I don't know, Harry. She - "

The man was screaming already while Harry's wand came up, sending the next Cruciatus, this time for thirty seconds.

The whimpering wouldn't stop.

"Wormtail, you're just too loud. In two minutes' time, these two friends of yours will spill your blood all over here - and if you're going to transfigure, they'll do it right away. You have two minutes left. Use them as well as you can."

Harry leaned back.

Wormtail kept wailing still for a few seconds, slow to realize that Harry wasn't going to ask him any specific question. Then he gasped, registering his mistake.

"Harry - Harry, I swear, I don't know where she is. Yes, she was captured by Voldemort, and I saw her, and she's been in this house, but ... He put her in some kind of prison, there's no way in, and no way out. Nobody can pass around all the traps - you can't even come close, Voldemort himself included. Believe me, Harry, that's all I know ... Could be in the cellar of this building, or in - I don't know, in England where we've moved out, or ... He took her out twice a day too feed her, and ..." Wormtail stopped, a mask of horror in his face.

Harry stopped himself not to ask - how had Cho been taken out?

Wormtail hurried on. "... and then he summoned her back into her cell, but he says it's a suite, the Queen Suite he calls it - er, did call it, I mean ... I never saw it, but I know there's a bathroom ... And yes, there's no window, she complained about not seeing daylight ... And ... And she's not - not ..."

"Your two minutes are over."

Wormtail was twisting in spasms. "No! Harry, no please no, don't let them get me ..."

The flash cut the plea silent and sent the man into stupefaction.

Harry nodded toward the two dogs. An instant later, Lupin and Almyra stood before him.

"I'm going to fetch Nagini. Then we'll scan the house from top to bottom."

* * *

Two hours later, Harry slumped down into a chair, sending up a cloud of dust as well as a cat next place - the animals had quickly found their way to the warmer spots in the house, though they were still edgy and ready to jump at the slightest clank.

They had scanned the house thoroughly. Yes, they had found a few traps - mostly portkeys, plus some poison bombs ready to blow at the faintest touch. But at each new passage, Ron's first step had been to send a miniature ball of nitroglycerine - a "safety pill," as he called them - to blow in the air, the pressure sending off any touch-sensitive trap. And Nagini had sensed all the portkeys, to be disempowered by Harry. Fortunately, you didn't need to know the destination for that.

The chance that one of them would lead to Cho's prison had unanimously been rated as that of a snowball in hell. In contrast, the chance to die at the other end rather suddenly could be taken as a given.

After all the little bangs through halls and corridors, Hattie's house looked about as inviting as ground zero, but now it was a safe place.

Without any trace of a prison suite.

Harry closed his eyes. He was hardly seeing any dark nothing and knew the world around him was real, but still, somehow it felt familiar to the void. Then be became aware why - desperation was lurking somewhere, in a sense close, but not here, not now, not before ... He refused even to think of defeat.

One promise kept, one to go.

"Okay, Harry - the house is under control, we can check that off the list. What comes next?"

Harry opened his eyes. Ron stood in front of him, staring coldly into his eyes.

Harry smiled, acknowledging his friend's intention as understood, accepted, not yet necessary. "I'll jump to Hogwarts and get a few things - a drink in particular."

Ron nodded, then went off.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry was back with a small bottle in his hand. He found Almyra in Voldemort's office, now the cosiest room with its huge fireplace in which some pieces were burning without falling to ashes. Almyra was scanning through books and folders.

Looking up, she noticed the bottle. "Time to get drunk?"

"Only me. When I say 'Ready', send me into trance, okay?"

New adrenaline seemed to rush through Almyra. She watched Harry raise the bottle and gulp the ice-hot liquid down.

"Ready."

Her wand pointed. "Mesmerisio."

The void opened. Harry's presence shot out, beaming, radiating, filling this zerosphere with his self.

And there it was - a steady pulse.

He contracted, trapping it, grabbing it, making touch, all in a single fluid thought.

Without hesitation, he pierced.

It wasn't succumbing, hardened as he pushed.

Don't master the impossible challenge ...

Harry stopped his attack instantly, then did the Zen trick - without letting go, he ignored the barrier.

A room ... Not spacious, though more than a cell. A door at the other side, probably to the bathroom Wormtail had mentioned. There was a bed. On it, fully dressed, lay a figure, long black mane, her face a tense mask - suddenly startled, her eyes flickering ...

"Cho!"

"Harry?"

"Yes, it's me. Can you see me?"

Her face scanned around in a frenzy. "No. I think I don't even hear you, but ... Where are you?"

Harry had nearly said Here. "I'm in Hattie's house, with all our friends."

"All? That means - "

"Yes - Voldemort's dead. He died from his own Killing Curse, sent against me."

There was hope in Cho's face, still mixed with disbelief. "How did you make him try?"

"What he saw coming was a dragon. He didn't know it was me."

"A dra - " Cho's expression, for an instant at the edge of hysterics, lighted up in a wild grin. "Harry, you're ... I'm speechless."

"Don't. Do you know where you are?"

"No."

"How did Voldemort get you to and fro?"

A mask closed over Cho's face. "Summoning."

"Into Hattie's house?"

"Yes."

"Well ... Anything else that might give a hint?"

The mask was breaking; then her face steadied. "There are no doors to anywhere here."

"But the water from the bathroom goes someplace, right?"

A smile, gone. "Of course! I didn't ... Clever Potter."

"Okay, Cho. I'm running on dope, and I have to use the time. I'll come back ... I love you."

The face softened, which seemed to call tears waiting somewhere. "I love you, Harry."

---

Without even thinking how to exit, he faded out, back into reverse, into his living self.

The late Voldemort's office filled his vision. "Here I am."

Almyra gasped. "Harry - that's been a quick one. Fifteen minutes."

He nodded. "Greetings from Cho."

This gasp was more a sob. "Thank God! How - "

"Later, Al. Time's running. Get - " Harry stopped, seeing Almyra's widening eyes. "No - sorry, she's not drowning or something of that sort; it's just that I have to use the doped state. Where's Wormtail?"

"Next door."

A minute later, they had him in the office and dropped the stunned body on the rug. Without waiting for Almyra to transfigure, Harry sent the de-stunning spell.

The man came awake and realized that he wasn't dead.

"Wormtail," said Harry, "tell me every detail of what happened from the moment Cho was caught. And talk fast."

"Er - yes, Harry ... Er - we had the portkey in place, and we thought it would take till her lunch break until she'd appear, and I was still preparing things here - "

The door opened; Ginny stood in the frame. "Ah, here you are. Harry, what - "

The figure on the rug disappeared. From its spot, a rat was scurrying toward the open door.

Harry saw Almyra transfigure into a dog, saw her leap, looked at the door, in which Ginny was at a loss to get the events in order, and realized that the dog would reach the door too late ...

Rage and fury boiled up in him, his stare piercing the rat.

Next instant, the rat was twisting at Harry's feet, keeled over, struggling to get on its paws.

"Al, here!"

The dog stopped, wheeled around, and reached the rat with a single leap. Its teeth closed around the animal's neck. A sharp jerking of the head, and another, then Harry heard the snap when the spine broke.

The rat, dropped from the dog's fang, was falling to the rug, never reaching it - with a thump, Petter Pettigrew's dead body hit the floor, his head dangling at an impossible angle toward the right shoulder.

There was a sound from the door. Glancing over, Harry saw that Ginny finally had closed the door and now was staring at the corpse.

The dog disappeared. Almyra stood there, her face grim. "Harry, did I mess up?"

"No, you didn't."

She was looking at him, obviously unbelieving. "How did he come from the door to the middle of the room?"

Reconsidering the last seconds, Harry said slowly, "I figure it's been me who ..." He stopped, fighting a wave of surreality, his mind coming to the only possible conclusion, while Almyra's face showed his own feelings like in a mirror.

Voldemort had served him a last present ... Summoning.

He and Almyra were looking at each other, seeing the same thought in the other's face that was forming in their heads.

Harry filled his mind with the image of the room he'd visited minutes earlier, his heart already full with the longing for the person on the bed, his spirit reaching out ...

A squeak. Ginny stared at the person who was sitting on the rug, recovering from the shock, glancing up, still fighting to accept what her eyes were telling her ... Cho.

Almyra was closer but chanceless. In a single motion, Harry flung himself at Cho's side, grabbed her, pressed her to himself, feeling how the slackness in her arms gave way to purposeful flexing.

Still, Almyra was second, winning easily against Ginny, who came flying, to prop herself against Cho's back while trying to embrace all three of them together.

* * *

Harry looked around in the spacious living room. They were in Cho's bungalow, for him the first visit, and that was the reason why they had been forced to use the car for the route from Groucho to this show-off piece up in the hills.

Cho's car. However, Marie-Christine had done the driving. Cho had been unable to enter through the driver's door.

They had left Hattie's house pretty quickly, considering the circumstances. After the others had joined them in the office, while excited chatting was still filling the air, Hermione had glanced at Cho, had stopped in mid-sentence, and whispered something in Ron's ear.

Then Ron had said, "Okay, folks, party's over." Toward Harry, he had added, "You and Cho and Marie-Christine - off to California, now. Leave this to us."

Harry, feeling numb and dizzy in the aftermath of the dope more than from the events, had obeyed. He had even left Nagini behind, after Rahewa had promised to take care of her.

Now he was sitting here and watched as Marie-Christine busied herself doing her nurse bit for two zombie-like figures.

For him, who felt tired, so tired, too exhausted even to close his eyes.

For Cho, who kept staring ahead, mechanically following Marie-Christine's orders.

Then Harry's nurse guided him into a guest room and told him to hold still while she was undressing him. He couldn't even remember whether he'd managed to climb under the cover.

He came awake from an alarm clock, for a moment unable to realize where he was, or where this damned alarm came from. With arms like lead, he touched around.

Was no alarm clock ... Was an alarm all right, but it ringed only in his mind, not in his ears. Next second, he was awake.

In his underpants Marie-Christine had left him, he headed for the door, stepped out, and looked around. He saw other doors and a staircase. Following his senses, he opened one of the doors.

Yes, Cho's bedroom. Cho was in bed, murmuring and groaning. Coming closer, Harry saw that her pyjamas were wet from sweat, her face also. Or maybe from tears.

He reached her and touched her shoulders. "Cho?"

She came up screaming.

He pressed her against his body, then it took him a moment until he could find the mental energy for a calming wave.

The scream ebbed and turned into sobbing. Then the sobbing stopped. Without looking up, Cho said, "Okay ... I'm okay. Please leave me alone."

"The hell you're okay."

"Well, maybe not, but better. Please go."

It startled Harry enough to come fully awake, to register something familiar in this scene ... There was still some dope in his brain, had to be, because suddenly a rapid succession of events, remarks, and expressions clicked into place.

Rather than answering, he walked to the other side of the bed, lifted the cover, and climbed in, careful not to touch her.

"What do you think you're doing here?" It was still a far cry from the Cho Harry knew, while at least a promising sign.

"I'm here to be here."

Without a word, Cho climbed out and walked toward the door.

Her arm reached for the handle when, suddenly, she found herself lying on the bed again, this time on top of the cover.

She came around like a cat, claws outstretched. "You bastard - " With an inarticulate snarl, her hands came down on Harry.

He used his hands to cover his eyes, nose, and lips. Otherwise, he kept passive, feeling how sharp nails were cutting his flesh and tearing off small pieces of skin.

---

After a while, Cho stopped, breathing heavily.

Harry took his hands from his face. "You couldn't do that with him, could you?"

The blow came fast, for Harry still like in slow motion. He moved his face just an inch, so as to take it with his cheeks, not with his nose. Then he went into double cover again.

The blows came weaker. Then Cho collapsed onto him, her face buried at his shoulder, small sobs ripping through ther body.

Harry put his arms around her. "And I know why you couldn't do anything."

"Why?" It came flat, bare any emotion, hardly a question.

"Some days ago, Armodéc was found dead - killed by a vampire. He must have met Voldemort - to tell him that he couldn't find out where I was heading, and to offer a deal for compensation. And Beatrice told me that Armodéc stole her two bottles of ecstasy potion."

A shudder ran through Cho's body. Harry held her tightly, without sending another wave.

Cho's voice sounded muffled, carrying a trace of disbelief. "And this together with finding me in a nightmare's enough to think - "

"No, there's a bit more. There was something Wormtail didn't say, then your face in that room when I asked you a question - and I'm still under brain dope, don't forget. But most of all, it's ..." Harry's voice trailed.

"It's what? Mind-reading?"

"No. I know how this emotion feels - that of a girl that's been sexually abused with more, or with something other than simple rape."

Another stiffening, then Harry felt her relaxing a bit. After a moment, Cho's voice was slightly more vivid. "Is rape simple?"

"Beats me ... No, Samantha says, it's not, but compared to humiliation, it is."

"Clever Potter ... I never would have told you, would have died first."

"Yes, I know."

"He ... he said it's not just rape; the idea was to get his own super wizard child, after his plan to get ours failed so badly. That's why ... He didn't catch me as a hostage for his protection against you, or maybe for both."

After a moment, Cho continued. "He did a poor job. He needed that stuff for himself almost more than ... Even so, all he managed was ..." Her voice broke, then she started crying seriously, while her arms held Harry with all the little force she could muster.

He waited until it had ebbed a bit. "Come under the cover - you're getting a cold, with this sweat-soaked pyjama. Best you take it off."

Cho stiffened. "I can't - I feel like screaming at the thought of my bare skin against - "

"Then change into another one."

"Close your eyes, please."

"Okay."

Harry heard drawers being opened, closed, heard Cho go for the bathroom, then saw her return. She came into the bed, moving carefully closer. "Let's try - hold me, Harry, and please don't be upset if - "

"No, I'm not. Actually, I'm too tired to get upset, or anything else in that direction."

"That's good."

They were lying at some distance for a few minutes, then Cho inched closer, huddling toward him. "It's you ... it's you, and you're the one who killed him."

"Did I? ... I wonder if it's true."

"Oh yes, you did. When I was lying in that room, I thought, Harry has tracked him down, he's close, it's a matter of days. That's what saved me from going nuts."

---

"We've been lucky - I mean that it happened while I was sitting in your office. And there's been still more luck - what with the right search pattern, and the dope ..."

"Luck? ... It was fate."

"You're probably right."

Another pause. Then, "Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"How ... how does it feel for you - the thought that he's - he's been inside me?"

"It's something ... The physical bit itself is meaningless; if that's worth any thought, I could even say it's been my blood he used. Sure, I'd like to kill him for that, but it's too late."

His joke didn't catch with Cho. "But ... I wanted it, I was pushing him to go on - "

"Of course you did; there's no defense against this stuff."

Another silence.

Then a thought came up in Harry's mind, a weird similarity, and the thought was so strong he couldn't suppress an inaudible chuckle.

"What's so funny? I want to laugh too."

"Maybe it's not funny, just crazy, but ... A minute ago, you said, inside me. And then you said that about pushing him. When - when he tried to kill me, in a way he was inside me, too, only it was my mind. And I had to push him, too - it wasn't easy at all ... It's crazy - forget it."

"No, I won't. It's not the least bit crazy."

"Yeah, maybe not, but there's a big difference. I did it on purpose while you - you had no choice."

"I wonder if you really had a choice, but I see your point. So you think mine doesn't count as intention?"

"No, definitely not."

"It's hard for me thinking that way. The idea of ... right now, I can't imagine doing it with you, Harry, the thought alone's giving me - "

"Shshsh ... That's only natural. Don't push it."

Another pause.

"But I don't want to feel that way."

Harry stroked Cho's back. "I know a doctor. He happens to have some experience with such cases. Right now he's a bit out of combat, but that's no problem anyway since you should expect some days before the thought stops making you feel like throwing up."

"This doctor, what would he do?"

"He'd use patience, and sympathy, and some other senses."

"And if that's not enough?"

"Well ... This doctor has a Veela shawl, ever heard of that? And he has a bottle with a sensible version of that potion ..."

He felt Cho going tense.

"... which doesn't switch off your mind, keeps your own will intact - anyway, that'd be a last resort, I could imagine the doctor finds a way without that, maybe just the shawl."

A shorter pause. "Strange people you know. How did that doctor come across that bottle?"

"Together with the brain dope. After Armodéc was found dead, that doctor went back, and found a Beatrice who's been left without a sickle, and told her she'd find an account with enough money to start her business as a potions witch. Well, and she gave him these two bottles in exchange."

"So that's how the doctor went broke."

"He wasn't aware then - and besides, what he gave her hadn't been enough to ... But I figure he didn't feel sorry. The first glass of the brain dope helped him to his first transfiguration, and the second helped him to break through into a room with a lovely princess - "

"Ah, I see - dragons, princesses ... a fairytale."

"Yeah, kind of." Feeling Cho calming down, together with his own tiredness, sent Harry close to falling asleep.

"Then how come this doctor knows so damn well how the sensible version of that stuff works?"

The blow out of nowhere.

This time, though, it sent a rush of joy through Harry. "Yes, I've been asking that question myself, so I asked him about that. And he said - he said, he'll tell this story, but only to a girl, not to me, and only after this girl has managed to - er, seduce him successfully ... That's what he said."

"Then he shouldn't hold his breath, waiting for that."

"Yeah, he's been aware of that. But the doctor said, it's a trick because - he said, if there's ever a desire that can compete with sex, then it's curiosity."

"You mean - no sex, no story?"

"That's right - er, that's what he means. And this particular doctor is famous for holding his promises."

Harry heard the smile in Cho's voice. "Clever Potter - er, doctor, I mean."