Harry Potter and the Thunderstruck Muggles

The phoenix sitting on Harry's shoulder looked like death warmed over, which meant that exactly this event, in the literal sense of the word, was due soon. Still, bird and boy seemed at ease.

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, couldn't claim the same state for himself - strange as it seemed, now that a dark cloud had faded forever. This mood had little to do with the issue at hand, more with Dumbledore knowing that their conversation would cover more. However, the item to start with was the request Harry had issued, something simple, compared to the clearing of several other issues.

"A sick leave of two weeks, Harry? You don't look sick to me."

"I didn't say I'm sick, Professor."

The long-haired wizard, for the last twenty-four hours the unrivaled champion of the magical world - or so this world thought, without himself agreeing any longer - registered how the joke was presented without the slightest hint of a smile. This was answer enough for him.

"And if I don't agree, you're going to leave without my permission. Am I right?"

The green eyes, which kept staring into the Headmaster's face, darkened, unblinking. "Yes, Professor."

Suddenly, Dumbledore laughed out loudly. "That's a Zen joke, if there was ever any."

The hard stare softened. The young face with the prominent scar - lightning-shaped until recently, but now symmetrical and resembling the pictogram of a preaching messiah - showed bafflement.

"I would be forced to expel you, Harry, less than three months before your end of terms in Hogwarts. Minerva - Professor McGonagall - would never forgive me, not in a lifetime." Dumbledore chuckled. "So I can keep her good mood only by bending the rules, more shamelessly than ever."

The young face looked self-conscious. "I'm sorry, Professor."

"Don't - I'm joking, because that's the least I have to do. It wouldn't seem fit if the Headmaster was found jumping and dancing through the school, yelling in triumph, what do you think?"

Harry's face lighted up in a beaming grin. "Maybe you should try, Professor."

"Yes, maybe ... For the record but off the record, yes, Harry, you have my permission, and please tell her my best wishes for a quick recovery."

"Thank you, Professor - and I'm sure she will."

The Headmaster nodded. "And there's a quid pro quo - in exchange for this favour, you must allow me to go public with the events."

Harry grimaced.

"You know why. It's for the morale of the wizarding world, for the support of the good forces, and to encourage those who still have to fight some dark wizards. Voldemort was the worst, though not the only one."

"Yes - you're right, Professor."

"It will be published as what it's been - the work of Hogwarts students and teachers, with you, Harry Potter, as the centre force."

"And with Muggles - Francesco Lopez and his people."

The Headmaster beamed. "Yes. At long last, Voldemort has done us the greatest service - he's brought the two worlds together, has united them in the fight against his own evil. This process can't be reversed, and I believe that's progress."

"Me too - and Ron, and of course Cho ... I don't know anyone who'd like to turn back the wheel."

"Oh, I do." Dumbledore grinned maliciously. "And I really should think you'd know some of them too, quite - "

"Arrggh ..." Harry slapped his forehead, grimacing again at the thought of the Dursleys, his relatives who were likely to develop an ulcer from this coming together. "Yes of course. Sorry - I'm still a bit slow - I was only looking at the wizarding side."

---

The Headmaster grew serious and forced himself for the next sentences. Not that he expected reproaches - certainly not from his young conversation partner, only that meant he would have to stand his own judgement even in the future.

"Anyway, it's too late for those separatists, or racists. Harry, your task is performed, you're free to guide your own life. This is the time to ask you for forgiveness."

Harry looked flabbergasted.

"Yes - for my own doing in this matter. I always felt like a tool of fate, but I certainly did my share in steering you toward this encounter."

Recovering from his surprise, Harry grinned. "That's okay, Professor - only Cho would probably like to run you through the Chinese pardon ritual, no doubt in the long version." The grin deepened. "I never saw that version."

"I'm ready for it, in public, if that suits her."

Harry giggled at the picture. "I'm sure she takes your will for the real thing - but I for myself still have a few questions."

The Headmaster smiled. "Today I won't flinch."

"Why did I have to live in Privet Drive?"

Dumbledore looked astonished. "I thought you know, Harry. Someone had to raise a baby boy in the first place. You should develop your magical power against the strongest opposition I can imagine, short of violence. Then your fame - it had to be kept off your knowing, so you could grow without this burden ... You had to learn the perspective of the Muggle world - actually, I thought it would be your task also to bring the worlds together. And last but not least, you had to experience injustice, to know how it feels, to become the most determined crusader the world ever saw."

"Hmm ... And what about special protection there?"

The Headmaster blushed, raising astonishment in Harry, who never before had witnessed such an event.

"I have to confess - there hasn't been any."

"What??"

"Yes, Harry. At first, there was no need. Then, later - after thinking it through, I realized that whatever I'd do would be insufficient, so I just did the greatest bluff of my life. There's only one defense that's indestructible - you've been taught enough bushido to know the answer, do you?"

After a moment, Harry's eyes widened in understanding. "The one that doesn't exist."

"Exactly ... and it held."

Another giggle rose from the young face. "That's ... brilliant, Professor."

The Headmaster smiled. "In all humbleness, I tend to agree."

"My blood in Voldemort, Professor - what was the effect?"

"Now that's really obvious - he couldn't kill you without killing himself."

"But he tried less than an hour into his new body."

"He was blinded by rage, Harry. And maybe he wasn't quite as clever as he thought he was. But eventually, he realized."

"Then what about - er, the love between Cho and me?"

"Harry - he couldn't kill you without dying - does that mean he couldn't kill you?"

For an instant, Harry looked perplexed.

"Your love was the winning factor, the advantage Voldemort never could compensate. It's as simple as that."

"Okay ... Then, my last question - you said my letting Wormtail survive formed a bond. Which bond should that have been?"

Dumbledore looked solemn. "Nothing in particular - except that you weren't likely to feel guilt, once the day would come, while you were much too young for comdemning someone to death then. I said it to console you, Harry - another bluff, you might say."

"But in the end, it was Wormtail who led us the right track."

"Yes it was, wasn't it? Only - do you really think I could foresee all the details, Harry? I hope you don't suspect me of divination."

Harry giggled again. "Erm - well, no, Professor."

When his most remarkable student had left the office, was safely away, the Headmaster allowed himself a cunning smile while he walked to his pensieve to store a few treacherous memories. No, he hadn't flinched - but what if the boy had come with his snake?

He, Dumbledore, would stand trial any time. It was just that, by habit, he disliked the thought of telling all his tricks of the trade. After all - this young man was his closest competitor, no denying that.

* * *

Harry used the supper table to sit with his friends, to exchange beaming grins, and to hear about the details he'd missed. Hattie the hangman's bride had obviously sided with Voldemort, so nobody felt pity when leaving the house in that damaged state. Still, they had found quite some money in Voldemort's office, had handed it over to the mean old bitch as a compensation.

They also had found proof of Voldemort's role as the brain behind the Dementor attacks, and Francesco Lopez had promised to inform the two FBI agents. It hadn't been much - brochures of the six parks, a few notes, nothing that would hold as evidence in front of a jury. But then - if Ellis and Chipman couldn't see the relevance of amusement park brochures in the office of the darkest wizard ever, they had to be thick beyond measure.

And this wasn't how they'd struck Harry.

Hogwarts hummed with excitement. None of Harry's fellow warriors had seen reason to hide their knowledge. Students were looking at him, toasting to him with their cups, almost hooraying.

Harry grinned wryly. "Dumbledore will run it through the press, with all he can come up with."

Ron seemed looking forward to that. "Anything we should keep out, Harry?"

"No - just the FBI connection ... And don't forget to emphasize the cooperation with the Muggles."

Hermione said, "Don't worry. Francesco will be the hero of the Muggle world."

"Yes - and make sure Deborah gets her exclusive interviews."

Ginny grinned. "Can we send her to Santa Monica?"

"I'll come over to Hogwarts for that."

Ginny's grin faded and made room for a worried look. Harry's expression could be blamed for that, although he felt sure Ginny's own haragei would have told er enough anyway. When he glanced at her sharply, she looked away.

Seeing Rahewa farther down the table, Harry felt a rush of guilt; the deal with her father was still pending. After supper, he hurried to her.

"Rahewa - sorry for the delay, I'll handle the deal first thing tomorrow, and then we'll talk, okay?"

The dark eyes were sparkling. "There's nothing wrong in letting him sweat for a few days." Then the eyes grew more concern. "How is she, Harry?"

"Probably her old self in a little while. I'll be off for two weeks to help her, but I'll be around at supper or so."

The girl nodded. Her old self - young as she was, Rahewa could translate this message.

"Harry!"

He turned and saw a Texan thoroughbred closing in on him. Reaching his place, Samantha said, "You're a damn hero, did anyone tell you that?"

Harry grinned. "Now that you mention it ..."

"Come with me - I have to show you why you're my own hero in particular."

With some surprise, and more than a bit flattered, Harry followed Samantha into her office. What he saw there made him smile broadly.

Snape.

The teacher returned the smile for an instant, then became serious again. "Harry, I want to tell you something, only I can't find the words."

"That's - "

Snape's wave stopped him. "No - let me try. Harry, until yesterday, I was pretty sure that I'd die soon. I didn't really believe I could escape Voldemort's revenge - actually I wondered that I was still alive. For all I knew, I was condemned - and thanks to you, this is past. Harry, I owe you - "

"It wasn't me alone! It was a Hogwarts task, and Muggles have helped, too."

Samantha looked like the proverbial Cheshire cat, except that there was a lot of cat behind the grin. "Harry, let me explain what he's too shy to confess - until yesterday, he refused to make a serious move toward a decent woman, said he was doomed, and ... well, now he has no more excuse."

Harry beamed. "That's super - I'm so happy with you, although, to be honest, that's an extraordinarily small surprise - I mean, after I saw you in Madam Pomfrey's rooms ..."

A blushing Snape tried to show his old self, failing happily. "Mr Potter, you're too damn clever."

Samantha showed no embarrassment. "You know that you've earned yourself a job, Harry, do you?"

"A job?"

"Sure - best man, in due time, that is."

Harry's smile faded. "That reminds me - tomorrow or so, I'll have to talk with Rahewa. Erm - what can I tell her? Are you going to hold your offer?"

Samantha's glance met that of Snape, then both of them looked at Harry. "Yes."

"Thank you." Harry turned to Snape. "Prof - er, would you show me the mark?"

Rather than answering, the former Death Eater presented his wrist. The skull had faded to a faint discolouration.

Harry grabbed Snape's hand. "May I?"

"What?" It sounded alarmed.

Harry didn't answer, instead concentrated on his doing. He still felt a weakness, but was confident enough that he could manage this clean-up task. After a minute, in which nobody spoke, he let go. "That'll do."

Snape checked his wrist, checked it again, then looked up.

"It's gone. You've wiped off my dark past, Harry."

"Oh no." Harry shook his head. "That's been done by yourself, Prof, with your own doing. I just healed a scar." He grinned. "You know, nobody but me's supposed to carry Voldemort's mark."

* * *

When Chrissy Vanzandt saw Harry entering her room, she almost sent her chair flying in her hurry to reach him. "Harry, oh Harry - you've found her."

Harry felt himself gripped in a tight hug. Then a familiar voice called from behind, "Now, really! In my own office - that's cheeky, by all means!"

The woman let him go and looked at Cho, smiling. "Hi boss - I'm really glad you've found the mood for jokes again."

"Jokes?" Cho seemed genuinely mad. "This isn't a damn joke - you're the sexiest woman over forty in the valley, and Harry's notorious for a knack toward grown women!"

Her secretary glanced at her with an uncertain expression, then at Harry.

Harry feigned guilt. "I'm afraid she's right." Then he followed a deviously grinning Cho into her office, leaving the woman to get rid of a deep blushing. Inside, Cho asked, "How's Hogwarts?"

"All smiles and roses - they get along without me, for the next days."

"Good." Cho's expression didn't quite match her reply.

"I talked with Rahewa - told her I'd settle the deal as quickly as I can."

"Oh - yes, of course. Let's do it now."

While Cho was making her phone call, Harry had a feeling of déjà-vu. Apparently, he wasn't alone with that, as Cho's face told him. "Would you mind coming with me?"

"Mind? I wouldn't let you go alone!"

Arriving at the car in the basement, Cho's arm went for the doorhandle, then stopped. "I ... I'm ... It's stupid, I know ..."

Harry reached her and put his hands on her shoulders. "No, it's not. Touch it - if it's a portkey, we'll be moved together."

Of course it wasn't. Minutes later, Harry shook hands with a pot-bellied man who was introduced as Barney, Cho's banker - so far by her introduction - and as her devoted admirer, by a single look at his face when talking with her.

The transaction of twenty thousand galleons took another minute, then Harry followed Barney and Cho into a room that looked like a collection of several hundred mailboxes, except that all of them were missing the slot.

Barney switched his own key into one of them, watched as Cho did the same with hers, and then disappeared.

Cho extracted a cassette, put it on a table, opened it, and took out a document. "Here, Harry - that's yours."

It was a certificate for twenty-six percent of Groucho shares.

Harry looked at a Cho who seemed very much at ease with herself. "That's not mine. Remember what I said - "

"I never accepted it - legally, I mean; I'm just a solicitor, or whatever's the term."

"But I've been serious, Cho - it was a mistake, and I corrected it."

"You passed it over in a rage, it was meant as a punishment rather than a present. Take it."

Harry examined Cho's face. Then he took the document and held it to his chest. "You're right. I take it back."

Cho, about to close the cassette, was stopped by him. "Hold on."

"What - "

"I, young Potter, happier than ever and still looking for more, declare myself free of wrath and bad intentions. While in this volatile state, I ask you to accept this property, free of obligations, and to use it for righteous purpose ... Please."

Cho stared at him.

"It's a matter of precaution. We know both, I just can't handle money."

Cho took the document, dropped it into the cassette, and put the cassette back into its slot, where it hooked in with an audible click. She stepped closer. "No you can't." Then she took his head in both hands to bend him still closer for a long kiss.

* * *

Back in Cho's office, Harry looked around. "Where do you want me to mount it?"

"Mount what?"

"The portkey into your bungalow."

A flicker crossed Cho's face. "Nowhere. Forget it - I mean, thanks but no thanks."

"You ought to get used to it."

"The same's true for opening my car door." Then Cho smiled. "Listen - I don't like the idea that someone else could use it too. Once you've figured out how to make a personal portkey, which only works for me, we can talk about it." Her grin widened. "Until then - I'll give you a call, and you can summon me."

But she didn't call him, instead used her car as usual.

Later, lying teaspoon-style in bed, she said, "Tell me, doctor - whom should I tell about what happened?"

"Whoever you trust - as much as you can handle."

Feeling her tremble, Harry added, "Not now, and maybe never. But you should know that each one knowing is a help for you, a burden less. If you say so, I'll be the one to tell ... It's your decision."

"But nobody knows as yet?"

"No ... Ginny had a look; she might suspect something ..."

Cho stiffened.

"... but that's unavoidable - since her own crash course in that matter, she can read the small print in a side remark. On the other hand, her own experience makes her the last person to leak it out, not even by accident."

After some silence, Cho asked, "How is she - now, after all these months?"

"There's a scar, and sometimes it hurts a bit, and sometimes it hurts more. At Christmas, she could make a joke." Harry told Cho about the Wheel of Fortune and Ginny's role as the fisherwoman.

"And her sex life?"

"I've lost track, for - er, some reason. My guess is, it's sort of limited, if any, but only because she lost the taste for adventures and is looking for something steady ... And once we two are - er, back in track ..."

He felt Cho smiling.

"... the topic's probably open again in conversations between her and myself."

"But the cure was - er, successful?"

"Oh yes, definitely."

"How do you know? Aside from male overestimation, I mean."

"Well - er, next morning, we - er, agreed that the night's over when the blinds are up."

Cho's voice sounded like a cat's purring - this animal with long, sharp claws. "That's good to hear, doctor."

* * *

Mr Spinbottle took the information about the fund with satisfaction. He confirmed that Mr Lightfoot had signed the papers and, in doing so, crossed the point of no return in that matter. "The girl's free," said the lawyer.

"Perfect. I'm going to talk with her right away."

"Mr Potter ... What about the idea of a lawsuit against that nuclear plant?"

"Well - the question's been answered by itself, somehow." Seeing the lawyer's glance, Harry added, "I'm broke."

"Literally?"

"No, it's not that bad." Harry smiled. "But I have no fifty grand any more."

"Hmm ... Then please tell Miss Lightfoot that I'd be ready to give it a try on a provision base."

Harry felt slightly surprised. "Why'd you do that, Mr Spinbottle?"

"It's common practice in the States, where the complaint would be filed." Then Mr Spinbottle laughed. "But frankly - I'm pretty sure to win, and the provision would of course be higher. Thirty percent, so you might call it downright greed, Mr Potter."

For the second time in as many days, Harry had the feeling of being told the truth and still missing the essential point. "Okay, I'll ask her."

Rahewa wanted to talk on a walk. She came down the staircase with two snow-white balls dancing around and ahead, and the four of them set off toward the lake.

Harry let a few minutes pass during which the poodles, their owner, and he himself settled to a leveled rhythm of breath and emotion. Then he said, "Before we start with the main issue - Spinbottle's asking whether you want to file a lawsuit against the nuclear plant."

"No."

"You're sure? You didn't even ask for details, or chances."

"I don't want to get money for my mother dying - " Rahewa stopped, apparently considering a new thought.

Trying to find the bothering item by himself, Harry could locate only one candidate, though a likely one. "If you think about the hospital cost, forget it. We have a deal, remember?"

"Er - yes. Sorry."

"So your answer is no?"

"Right."

"Good. Then let's come to the main thing. I looked for adoption parents for you, and I found some candidates. I thought you should be the one to pick your choice - by the way, your mother thought the same, and she was pleased to know that this will take place when she's gone."

"You talked with her about that?"

"Yes. It helped her to see some purpose in the sequence of events."

For a moment, the girl felt in no mood to hear about the candidates. Then she said, "Okay, Harry."

"Well - there are four ... Don't bother with the order in which I'm telling you - they all are - er, a bit breathless at the thought - like you, I'd - "

"Get on, Harry!"

"Er - yes. First, there's the Weasley family."

"Yes, of course."

Of course? Maybe so.

"Then there's Sirius Black and Deborah Beckett. They'll marry sooner or later."

"Really?"

Was this question about his candidate couple or their wedding plans? Harry didn't dare to ask. "Yep. Then there's Samantha, who pretty soon will be together with someone else."

"Snape." It came matter-of-fact.

"Oh ... How do you know?"

Rahewa giggled. "Everybody knows - only they don't know we know."

So it had to be true love - blinding those fallen to it, radiating out so nobody else could miss it.

"That leaves one candidate" - Harry felt the girl's expectation like a gush of hot air in his haragei - "and these are the Changs - Cho's parents."

---

"Oh."

Something had gone wrong - awfully wrong. Harry sensed bitter disappointment. He stopped, turned to her. "Rahewa, what's wrong?"

Silence.

He took her. "What name have you been waiting to hear?"

Silence.

He just took her closer, bent to her ear. "Tell me."

Her head was shaking.

"If you can't tell me, I can't ask them. The worst that can happen is that they say no."

This seemed exactly what a twelve-year-old was dreading.

He pushed her gently. "C'mon, dreadnought."

A whisper. "It's ... Almyra and Lupin."

Harry stared at her. Next moment, his hand hit his forehead right at his re-shaped scar. "Arrggh - stupid me! How can one be such a blockhead? You're staring at it all the time and ..."

The girl's tension broke in a giggle.

"Rahewa - I'm sorry, I'm going to ask them right away. Let's go back."

"You do. I can't - I'm too ..."

Harry found Almyra where he'd expected her - in Lupin's office. The two looked at him, then Almyra asked, "What's the matter, Harry? You look so upset?"

"Do I? I just had a walk, probably it's the cold air."

"Could it possibly have been a walk with some poodles?"

"Er - yes."

Almyra nodded, her smile a bit strained. "So I figure you've been discussing Rahewa's future with her - am I right?"

"Yes."

"And - did she pick her choice?"

"Er - no, not yet." Harry looked from Almyra to Lupin, saw them both biting their lips, holding their breath. Suddenly, he was pretty sure he'd been the only blockhead around. He blurted out, "She wants to live with you."

When their broad smiles seemed impossible to stretch any further, Harry said, "I'm sorry. I just was too stupid - "

Almyra interrupted him. "I've been biting my tongue more than once, I just couldn't ..."

"And why didn't you ask?"

Lupin answered. "We didn't know about the state; it could have been a done thing. I guess we had our own kind of short-sighting."

Harry sighed. "That's some consolation. Okay, don your coats - your daughter's outside at the lake, and if she's trembling this time it's not from the cold."

The two were reaching for their garments at once. About to leave, Harry was stopped by Lupin's voice. "Before you go, Harry ..."

He turned. "Yes?"

"Remember the medal of honour? Somehow, you've found something much better than that - "

"It wasn't me; this obligation's still pending."

Lupin grinned. "Who said it wasn't? Pending, I mean. But while on the subject - our daughter needs a godfather, if you get my bearing."

* * *

The sooner he did it, the better - so Harry started his journey along his failed candidates immediately, earning relief and disappointment in alternating patterns, and most often both of them from the same person.

Ma Weasley said, "The girl has found what she wants, and that's what matters. Harry, I'm so happy that you've finished your task, and you and Cho ..."

He had to hug her a moment until Ma Weasley could master her emotions.

Sirius was very busy to knock Harry's ribs. "You bloody - you bloody ..." His voice cracked.

Harry hugged him back hard for sheer survival, then quickly turned to Deborah when his godfather let go.

Deborah's composure held better. "You're alive, Cho's alive, and we'll get our own child under way in due time. But I think we should get the story properly finished, Harry."

"What do you mean?"

"Well - remember how you've done this talkshow in exchange for our candidacy? So now that we're off the hook, I'd think that's worth an exclusive interview with the heroes of Salem, what do you say?"

Harry smiled. "Sure thing, Deborah - with Paul at whichever side of the table. Contact Ron, I'm in touch with him."

His last candidates had been lingering heaviest in his mind. When the door opened, Harry was hoping it would be Cho's mother. But of course it was Mr Chang.

The man bowed rather deeply. "Harry, my house is at your command."

"Good evening, Mr Chang - I feel privileged ..."

He didn't get any further because Mrs Chang had reached them and simply drowned his reply with her hugging.

Then she asked, "You're with Cho?"

"Yes, madam."

"How is she?"

"Pretty much her old self. In a few days ..."

Mrs Chang seemed to hear something in his voice. Then she seemed to have a wordless conversation with her husband - at any rate, suddenly Harry was alone with her. "Is she hurt, Harry?"

"No - not physically, I mean."

"Torture?"

"No."

The question Harry was waiting for didn't come. He looked up. "Mrs Chang, it - er, it wasn't rape. But somehow it was worse. Anyway - "

"Like with that other girl, your stepsister?"

"Not really. But it's similar enough so I know what to - er, how to handle it."

Mrs Chang nodded. "I'm so glad, Harry, that ..."

Before another composure went scattering, Harry quickly took the opportunity to tell his candidate about Rahewa's choice.

Mrs Chang smiled. "I didn't really expect to rate high, Harry. For all I heard, she's too much like you."

Harry stared at Cho's mother, not trusting his ears. Didn't she know how he felt about her, how -

"She knows little about us ..." Mrs Chang, seeing his expression, seemed in a hurry to solve the misunderstanding. "I mean - money doesn't impress her at all."

* * *

Back in Santa Monica, Harry found the press all over the place. It gave him a lesson about the true meaning of pain in the ass. However, Cho knew that the best way was to play along, also from the business perspective, and asked him to help her in that.

So Harry kept patiently still while cameras clicked, flashes flashed, stupid and not so stupid questions were asked. He sang the praise of Pinkerton, Mr Lopez, Mr Garcia, and kept an FBI connection out of the picture.

Then he was asked for an interview. He refused by hinting an exclusive deal with a British newspaper. To his surprise, this was accepted without further pressure.

In the evening, he had dinner with Cho - and with Marie-Christine. Afterwards, the three of them went to Cho's house for a drink and a chat.

Harry reported the events of his day in England. By now, he was getting used to a day rhythm which comprised a short morning and two long evenings.

Cho looked pleased. "So Al has stopped you collecting daughters, huh? Snatched away your most precious girl."

"Yes, but only so much. I'm supposed to be her godfather. And my first task was to inform the four losers."

"What did they say?"

"Well, mostly the other events dominated in our conversations. I wasn't staying for long with any of them."

"And my parents?"

"Asked how you were doing."

"And?"

"Your mother was glad to hear that - er, that we're together for some days."

This was nowhere close to answering her question, and Cho realized it, realized that Harry was watching her realizing, while Marie-Christine kept a neutral expression in a face that lacked any surprise about the remarks.

Cho looked at her, then at Harry. "Please tell her." She jumped up and left the room.

It took Harry little time to summarize the events for Marie-Christine, from Armodéc's death over Beatrice's report to Cho admitting Voldemort's doing.

Marie-Christine's face showed sickness. "I knew something was wrong, but ... Please excuse me, 'arry." She was up, and Harry knew she was looking for Cho.

Fifteen minutes later, both women returned and took their seats again. Cho turned to Harry. "So what exactly was it my parents said?"

"Just your mother. She sensed something, then she sent your father off, then asked me whether you were hurt. I said no, not physically. Then she, 'Tortured?' I said no ... Well - she didn't ask more.

"And you?"

"I said it wasn't rape."

"And then?"

"Then she asked if it was like with Ginny, and I said no, only the effects were the same, and she said - but I told you already what she said. That's all - then I left."

Cho stared at Harry. "How does my mother know about Ginny?"

"From me."

"You?? When did you tell her?"

"That's been - yes, day before New Year, when we met in London Linkport."

Cho opened her mouth, and closed it again, apparently at a loss to decide whether she should be pleased or furious.

Marie-Christine smiled. "Cho, make sure to keep him at a short leash." She looked at Harry. "You're just too frighteningly honest."

Later, in bed, Harry asked, "Are you sure about your choice of doctor?"

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe ... maybe a female doctor would make things easier."

Cho smiled. "That's kind of you, thinking of it as an option. But you know, with a female doctor, I could do it any time, only it wouldn't solve the problem."

* * *

Checking things in Hogwarts, Harry heard that Deborah was asking for her interview and agreed for the next day. As it turned out, there was more of an individual interview with each of the rescuers than a single one with all of them together. Harry pressed the issue of interviewing Francesco Lopez as well, with the effect that he had to summon Deborah all along the way.

Returning to Santa Monica, he realized that he had to find something to fill his time until Cho would return from her work. Just hanging around was no good.

When Cho arrived, she had a letter for him. "It came to Hogwarts, and Ron apparated to our office to deliver it. Sometimes I think I really should learn apparating."

Harry examined the letter. Envelope and handwriting didn't tell him anything. So he opened it and read.

Checking the stamps, Harry could see that the letter came from Port-au-Prince. Otherwise, there was nothing to hint Beatrice's address.

Cho's voice was casual. "Fan mail?"

Harry passed the letter over and watched Cho's face while she was reading. Eventually, the arm with letter fell down. "Potions, huh?"

"Yes."

The alternative, abandoned by Beatrice, hung in the air as an unspoken argument. Then, as though making clear how she was judging Beatrice's choice, Cho muttered, "I could have done without her stuff - really, I could."

"Yeah, I can imagine. But it was her other stuff that saved us. Without that - I don't even dare thinking what I'd have done. I didn't tell you - when I knew you were kidnapped, I made a try to reach you, but I couldn't break the barrier. It was ..." Harry stopped before losing control of his voice.

Cho came closer. "Hey, doctor - need a nurse?"

"No." Next moment, Harry was crying.

Cho came to his side, took his head, put it into her lap. "Come, my little hero, come here."

After a while, his painful sobbing had ebbed just so Harry could speak. "This moment, when I felt you inside the sphere and couldn't get through, that's been the worst. There was ... Then I knew, I mustn't think what was lying ahead, just go foreward, not hesitate. It was impossible, and I just thought, it's Zen, like this man hanging over the abyss." He looked at her. "Then Samantha - she gave me sort of a lesson, what I had to do, to be as stubborn. And I did, I just locked tight ... Kept my first promise - no, the second first, and then my first one. But in a way, it's been you to fulfill it - you came back to me."

Cho kissed his forehead, his eyes which were brimming with tears. Then she took his hand. "Get up."

In the bedroom, she let go of his hand. "Okay, here we are. C'mon, doctor, time for a cure."

Harry looked alarmed. "Cho - I'm so shaken, I'm not sure ... I'm afraid I won't be - er ..."

She showed a wicked smile. "That's just fine - so I'm the one to get things going, right?"

She was indeed, although without clinging to her role, after Harry had found some new spirit, realizing that his softening up was just the basis for a mutual cure - only the basis, while the cure itself demanded a bit more toughness, which manifested without significant trouble.

Later, lying side by side, Cho asked, "This Beatrice - you don't know where to find her, do you?"

"No - why?"

"I was thinking of a new branch. Groucho Biochemicals, how does that sound?"

Harry gasped. "Just so?"

"What do you mean, just so? It'll be a lot of work, to get it running."

"Yes, sure - I mean, is this just a business idea, or is there more to it?"

Cho looked innocent. "What else should there be?"

"Well - the thought is ... I think I owe her, as much as all the other rescuers, but I don't know how it's for you."

"Maybe I'm curious."

"Ah - yes of course, curious."

Cho grinned. "It's a strong motivator, you said so yourself ... And you were right, it can make you think a bit harder."

Harry glanced at her.

"Groucho Biochemicals - yes, I figure it's more than business. It's a signal, giving every potions witch a bit of a challenge, actually more than a bit, there's little doubt Beatrice is up to her - er, reputation, as we both can confirm."

Harry swallowed.

Cho's glance inspected the ceiling. "It wasn't that difficult - with the information I had. There was only one thing I couldn't get straight - you said, the new stuff leaves your will intact. Somehow, that doesn't fit."

She was no longer inspecting the ceiling.

"There was something else. Sounds, that of a woman at ... and drums - after a while, it got to you."

Cho looked satisfied. "That's why. Maybe some day I want to hear the full story, but not today."

Harry didn't feel like looking forward to that day.

"Right now I'm just too balanced - and that's what it's all about, isn't it? Balance - balancing a potions witch with another potions witch. I wonder which of them's better."

Harry looked innocent. "You mean - with potions?"

Next moment, he felt Cho's claws at an awfully sensitive part of his anatomy and heard her snarling, "I'm going to make you suffer for that."

Harry gasped. "Yes, please."