The High Priestess

Ron Weasley, the European Council's chief delegate for EMEC affairs, a tall young man with alarmingly red hair - even trimmed as short as it was - watched expectantly how his friend and brother Harry was going to touch the issue.

For himself, touching sensitive issues was daily work - in his job, that was, while today it was Saturday, and Ron sat with family members in a comfortable living room in the centre of Paris. EMEC stood for European Magical Education Council, something like a state in a state but spanning countries, and with those touchy people, everything would be rated as sensitive. Ron represented a Muggle administration, and while he himself counted it as the cleverest move he'd ever made, those Magicals felt already betrayed when they saw him.

Because he was a wizard himself.

Ron had started moving figures still as a Hogwarts student. He had honed his skill over years, so today he could claim quite some expertise in telling an audience a nasty truth or two, in luring them into a compromise of the uncomfortable kind.

While Harry ...

For starters, his brother was no diplomat: too much straightforward, frighteningly honest, downright blunt. Yes, sure, listening to Harry came as a refreshment, after a week with the wand-wagglers - and besides, usually it didn't matter how Harry would express himself because it was difficult not to like him, easy to get along with him - and a terrible mistake to try otherwise, what with his scary set of skills ...

But today Harry wanted to talk his wife Cho into something she wasn't going to buy. He was bound to fail, the poor sod.

Worse still - Harry wasn't entirely aware of the opposition he had to face. Such a bad mistake was highly unusual for him and could only be explained by the special circumstances. Ron didn't blame his adopted brother, felt nonetheless pretty sure this wouldn't happen to himself.

Harry looked as if he thought the moment right. Everybody was relaxed, or so it seemed, young Michel on Harry's arm, while the two girls would be found some rooms down the hall, treating each other with harp music from one side and a comfortable seat on a snake from the other. And the newcomer was still out of sight and well hidden in Janine's body, which recently had started showing first signs of her pregnancy.

---

Ron decided to give Harry a launch. As an experienced negotiator, he did so by addressing someone else, this time his oldest brother.

"So what are you going to do, Bill? Any idea?"

"Hmm ..." Bill looked at Harry, who took the opportunity.

"As long as we don't know what happened, whatever he does is a shot in the dark, and we shouldn't be surprised if it doesn't work."

Harry sent a glance around. The result seemed to encourage him. "That's why we have to find out what happened to him. For all we know, it must have happened on his last trip. So quite obviously, the first step is to trace back this journey."

Still quiet attention from the others - most of all from Cho, and this was certainly the reason why Harry now looked a bit uncertain. He continued nonetheless.

"Best we can do is travelling the same route and visit the same places. It must have been something magical, something that can be sensed if you're close enough ... er, and if you have someone to - er, sense it ..."

Harry's voice trailed, while the bafflement in his face was growing. At the same time, an expression of guilt - and a fine film of sweat - was spreading on Bill's face.

Ron felt pity with both of them, for quite different reasons. He asked, "What exactly should that be, Harry? And who should do it?"

"Erm - Bill's trip probably started with an apparition jump to some hotel, I'd assume. So we do the same. Then he met people, went around, and again we do the - "

"Who's we?"

Cho was speaking for the first, with something glittery in her voice. Probably it was in her eyes too, except Ron couldn't see them because Cho was staring at poor Harry.

"Well," replied Harry, "that would be - er, Bill himself, then me, with Nagini of course - er, and Sandy as always - "

"Always, huh?"

Apparently surprised from being still alive and unhurt, surprised more from Cho's calm tone, Harry looked at her - then his eyes widened, and his head jerked around to stare at Bill.

So he'd recognized the plot. Well, could nobody say he wasn't fast.

Bill swallowed. "Sorry, but ... I told them what you have in mind, Harry. It was the only way to stop you." Bill's face darkened by the second. "Don't look at me that way - but honestly, I can face a life without magical power better than I can face a life in which I'm the one to blame for what could happen to Sandra, and to yourself."

"You ..."

Ron watched Harry's hands. If they'd touch, forming an arrowhead ... But they didn't, only Harry's voice was icy.

"Clever, Bill, really! One of these days, you'll outsmart yourself, and that'll be the day when you can kick yourself in the ass. Listen, you wonderbrain, what do you think who's got you down from your high-speed fever? Huh? Who, Bill?"

"Why, you and - "

"Bullshit - I'd have burned out after the first hour. Sandy was it; all I did was steering the flow, and this alone was a hairy job, take my word for it. Her only problem was to keep going - not from lack of power, just from not being used to such a long task. But the price at the other end of the tunnel kept her going - the music, so you can rightfully say it was your daughter as much as mine who - "

"She's mine, too."

Harry turned to his wife and nodded. "Yes, she is. This determination - "

"And that's why the answer is no. And that's why the rest of the team would be underequipped - you just confirmed that, right?"

Poor Harry - beaten with his own argument. Usually it was his job to do that with his opponents. According to Harry's expression right now, tasting the own medicine had to be a rather unpleasant experience.

But apparently he hadn't given up. Of course not - not him, the one responsible for half of Sandra's determination.

Fleur said, "Please, 'arry, the best we could expect is that you find nothing, and the worst that you catch the same illness. There's no sense in such an attempt."

Harry didn't answer.

Which startled Ron. It told him, Harry would try it alone with his snake, in good trust that Nagini could sense the risky spot early enough. Maybe he was right, only that Ron could see some alternatives for a first step.

He said, "Let's think it over for a moment. If Harry's right, then somewhere along Bill's route is a - a something which causes an ordinary wizard" - Ron smiled at Bill - "or a special one, whatever, to catch a fever that ends with the loss of his magical power. Is this correct so far?"

An expectant nod from Harry. A surprised nod from Bill. And a suspicious glare from Cho.

"Then what about the other wizards along the path? What about them? Did they catch a fever too, or nothing? What about the Goblins, the Muggles? If they're all at good health, then it must have happened while Bill was alone, or it was a very specific attack on him."

Heads were turning to Bill.

The oldest Weasley son looked at his wife and grinned. "When I was alone, I was alone - which doesn't mean I didn't have to decline some offers; that's always part of Arabian hospitality. Goblins weren't involved; I visited them in Cairo, that's all. Aside from me, there were two wizards, and the rest was Muggles."

"Those two - have you been together with them all along the trip?"

"Not quite. We met down there, and at the end - "

Harry leaned forward. "Do you know how to reach them?"

"Yeah, sure, I have their numbers. Monday morning - "

"Forget Monday."

Harry's voice had this special sound, almost leisurely, which never failed to make Ron's hair rise.

"Do me a favour Bill - call them now."

"Now? Saturday evening at nine o'clock?"

Not hearing a reply, Bill found his question answered sufficiently. His hand came up with his phony, and he pressed a button. "Said ben Al'jareb, please."

Silence around the table. After a moment, a voice said something in a language that was probably Arabic, and Bill responded in the same language. After some more sentences, while Bill accompanied his own contributions with smiles and bows, the phone conversation was over. Bill looked up.

"Said's okay - no fever, nothing."

He pressed the call button again. "Konstantin Georgiadis, please."

The same pantomime around the table. Then a voice could be heard, probably speaking Greek. This time, Bill kept to his French.

"Good evening, this is Bill Weasley from Gringotts. Please excuse my calling that late in the evening, but may I speak to Konstantin?"

The answer was unintelligible, while Bill's expression changed from polite embarrassment to deep consternation. "I'm so sorry to hear that - please accept my condolence ... What was ... That's terrible ... Please excuse again ... goodbye."

Bill looked into the round. "Konstantin's dead. He died two days after returning from that trip ... Fever."

* * *

The excited chatter from the living room faded a bit when Cho turned around the corner and headed for Héloise's room. Close to the slightly open door, she came to a stop and stood listening silently.

This music ... strangely disquieting, it was, not what anyone would expect from a girl Héloise's age. Yes, it could be sweet - for moments; then it would change to something simple, pleasant, then come churning up without any forewarning. Whatever Héloise played, it wouldn't leave you untouched.

How much of it was the Goblin harp, how much the girl? Cho knew about two other music styles that were distantly related. One was the music of some guy, Keith something, a pianist. After having studied and played classical piano for years, this artist had started forgetting everything he'd learned - about chords and harmonies, that was, while keeping his skill. Then he'd played - each performance unique, uncomparable, unrepeatable. There was a series of recordings, from a tournament through Japan - the Sun Bear Concerts.

But a Goblin harp created a softer sound than a piano.

And then there were the bamboo flute players in Cho's home country, China. They could do masterpieces with two or three tones, playing them for a quarter of an hour. Of course, a bamboo flute was primitive in comparison, much more restricted in its repertoire.

Héloise's music floated somewhere in-between, and sometimes high above.

Especially in a turmoil like now, it hit you to your core. As short as the exchange with Harry had been, it had driven Cho to the limits of her composure. Just the idea of him travelling with Cass - along a dangerous route, fully on purpose waiting to meet something deadly monstrous - was enough to send any mother over the fence, wasn't it?

Only - a confrontation with Harry always came as a scary job. In some sense, Harry appeared like a racing car - steady and solid up to extremes where other cars would have lost balance long before. The problem was, he had no border zone - or if so, Cho was unable to recognize it. The bandwidth in which Harry would just turn angry and send stop signals seemed awfully narrow, almost non-existant. As a consequence, you always felt at the risk of driving him beyond the limits.

Cho had done it once - not quite voluntarily, more from her own inability to cope with the situation. An objective outsider might have said she was provoked, okay, except that both Cho and Harry agreed in one point: to hell with objective outsiders.

Since then, there had been just one situation at the verge of slide-off, and at that time, Harry had sent a stop signal, God bless him for that. It had been about children, daughters in particular. Cho knew, Harry wanted another child. You had to be blind and deaf not to register, seeing him with Michel on his arm was enough: the boy sound asleep for quite a while already, apparently no reason for Harry to drop him. While Fleur - Cho wouldn't have been surprised to learn that Fleur maintained a log of Michel's on-Harry's-arm time like other people might record their X-ray times.

Except for inverse reasons, because for X-rays, there was a limit beyond which it became dangerous to your reproduction system. Which brought Cho back to the essential point.

---

Sure, she would like another child too, if only just to see whether it might have the same set of - er, unusual habits. What made her so hesitant was the risk of another disappointment, more exactly, another girl. No, that was unfair - another child not being a son. Stupid bitch that she was, couldn't release herself from the old Chinese prejudice ... And another child would of course deepen her feeling of guilt, when she would resume her office work. Maybe she should ask Harry to cure her from her guilt, probably this was the major problem.

He would do it, and this seemed the most scary thought. One of his first actions would be to make it public. He would tell everybody, "Hey, did you know, Cho feels guilty because she's not playing the docile housewife."

And some time later, Cho would be cured. The guilt might or might not be present still, only nobody would care any longer, least of all herself. The comments would have done their work. Ron, for example, he'd say something like, "That's totally realistic - it's physically impossible for her to be docile."

The thought made Cho smile. At the same moment, the music stopped.

"Mummy?"

Of course - her daughter had known all the time that she was standing there outside for the last two minutes. This belonged to the few little things other mothers didn't have to care about. This, and another minor problem.

You damn better didn't lie to the girl. Not on purpose, not for reasons of politeness, or protection, or exhaustion, or ... just never. Cass knew instantly, probably even before Nagini had told her. Sometimes it felt a bit stressing.

Not for Harry, by the way. He had a built-in lie suppressor.

Cho pushed the door open.

The two girls looked at her - Cass, sitting on the stool that was supposed to be the harp player's, and Héloise on Nagini, who in turn was resting on a box to provide the proper height on the instrument. So the two were trading again, music for snake. It looked very much like an agreement that would last.

Examining the box more closely, Cho had the distinct feeling it had been hacked together with a few charms only recently. Couldn't have been Bill, so probably it was Harry's work. She said, "Your music makes me feel so many things, Hély - do you know that?"

Yes, the girl knew.

Cho turned to her daughter. "Would you like to play music by yourself?"

A solemn face turned left, then right. "Hély."

Now that was interesting. Cass wasn't going to give it a try, because this had to remain Héloise's realm, and any attempt would create a competition unwelcomed by both of them.

Definitely not her own inheritance. For Cho herself, competition came as natural as breathing. Although, come to think of it, she'd never tried competing against her friend Almyra ... Maybe it was the exception from the rule. But until some days ago, calling Cass and Hély friends would have been the overstatement of the year.

But then, today it was some days later. Seeing them together ... Cho asked, "Aren't you sleepy, you two?"

The two girls exchanged a glance, telling Cho that something had indeed changed between them. Then they nodded in unison.

This was highly unusual, for Héloise at least. Of course it was only her bedtime, but Cass' siesta time was near enough.

Héloise looked at Cho. "We sleep in the same bed."

That's why: a novelty, unprecedented, something Héloise wasn't sure if it would be accepted, so she traded by being obedient. Or was she simply looking forward to it? In particular because it was Nagini's job to guard the marginal time span before sleep came, and today Héloise would be guarded too?

Now a smile spread the girl's face, presenting all the charme of a half-quarter Veela. "You tell us a story?"

The smile would have broken Cho's resistance for sure, had there been any. "Yes I will, you two bed-bunnies. Let me just tell Fleur."

Returning into the living room, Cho went to Fleur. "These are the days of miracles and wonder. Our daughters feel like going to sleep, and they feel like sleeping together in the same bed. And I'm supposed to tell them the bedtime story."

"Really?" Fleur beamed. "That's great - so there's a benefit even from this dreadful thing."

Yes there was - unless Héloise would realize that her papa wasn't completely cured yet, and would think Cass could help again, and would talk with her, or exchange another of those glances ...

But for the time being, these were two almost ordinary girls in pyjamas, and Cho felt little surprise at learning some minutes later that the young ladies waited to hear the story of China Duck - the story how Cho and her friend Almyra had met.

So Héloise had remembered, while for Cass the story was new.

When she had finished, Cho looked at Héloise. "You know that Cass will be gone when you'll wake up, do you?"

A very contemptuous look. "I know."

"Then sleep well, my Veela sweetie." Cho kissed her, then went around the bed to her own daughter and kissed her too. "Sleep well, my Parsel sweetie."

A beaming flash from sparkling eyes. "China Duck!"

"Pssst." Cho dimmed the light and left the room.

* * *

Back in the living room, she sat down and looked around, though at nobody in particular. "So what nasty plots did you think up while I've been busy telling a story about the birds at the other end of the world?"

The flash from Harry's eyes, and his short grin, were like a déjà-vu, only that the previous occasion had been just a minute ago. Again Cho looked around.

"Will nobody answer me? That's a bad sign."

Harry answered her. "Ron and I were roasting Bill about every step on his trip, and there's a very interesting coincidence. Bill and this Konstantin made an excourse to some ruin of a Crusader castle, while the other wizard, this Said, didn't come along."

"Why not?"

"We don't know why. Could be he knew it already. Could be he didn't like the idea of visiting something on Israeli territory ... could also be he didn't like the idea of visiting what's been a Crusader castle."

"Where is it?"

The answer came from Bill. "Near Tiberias, and close to the Lake Tiberias."

Cho, who hadn't seen much of a religious education, and if so, more about Buddhism and Taoism than about Christianity, looked blank.

Bill explained it to her. Tiberias, or Teverya for the Jews, and Tabar'ije for the Arabs, occupied a truly historic place. It was there where the religious part of the Talmud had been written down. And about two hundred years earlier, the Lake Tiberias - better known as the Sea of Galilee - had been the scene of a spectacular walk - or so the contemporary narrators said.

"Holy Jesus."

"Yep - that's him all right." Ron grinned about this cross-breed of Californian slang and Christian myth, expressed by a suspected Buddhist at hearing about a place in the centre of Jewish-Arabic conflict territory.

Cho turned back to Bill. "So what about this place?"

"Well - it has towers, a building, partly reconstructed. There's a well, and we went down the shaft, because there's a tunnel down there, and they said once it offered a path all the way to the lake. Then we had coffee in the town, and then we went back to Beirut."

"Maybe it was the coffee."

"In this case, we should hear about inexplicable cases of fever all over Middle East." Bill wasn't smiling. "It's a crowded place there."

Cho looked at Harry. "And what does this mean to you?"

The father of her daughter wasn't smiling either. "It means that someone has to check it, in a way that we can say, 'Forget it,' or quite the opposite - from a wizard's perspective."

"It's a tourist attraction, huh? Well, in this case, have fun at your trip - provided this is the only place you visit. I mean, with so many people visiting, that can't be the origin."

"Erm - not quite." Harry looked at her without expression. "The reconstruction has been finished only recently; before that, it was closed for public traffic ... and the project was entirely Muggle-driven."

Cho felt her neck hair rise. Damn Potter, otherwise known as her husband, would never hesitate to present an ugly truth squarely into your face. Nor did he now.

"For all we can see, Bill and this Konstantin might well have been the first wizards there for quite a while."

Cho grimaced. "And the someone who's going to check it - who is it?" As if she didn't know.

"It will be a team: a Muggle, a Goblin, a wizard, and a non-Muggle of dubious state." Harry looked entirely non-joking. "The non-Muggle, of course that's Bill. The Muggle, that'll be Tony. The Goblin - we'll ask them, but if we have a choice, it'll be Urion the Unvarying - "

"Then it'll be Urion - with you asking?" Cho's voice was close to a snarling.

"Yes, probably so. And the wizard, that's me. Oh yes, not to forget ..."

Cho's breath froze for an instant.

"... a snake too, because we didn't plan on getting infected."

"And what if that's the place, but she doesn't sense anything?"

Seeing Harry's sympathetic glance, for a split second Cho expected a soothing wave from him. However, he did it with words. "We'll send Tony with Nagini around. If they can't find anything, I'll talk with Sirius."

"Sirius?"

"Yes, because then we need a volunteering wizard. A prisoner, maybe sentenced for life - with the chance of getting his freedom at the risk of losing his magic ... But that's speculative; I'm not going to believe for a second that a magical power which can do that to Bill won't be recognized."

"Does it mean you won't touch the place?"

Harry looked into Cho's eyes. "I'll watch my every step. If that's the place, and this something's still around - who said Bill won't be infected a second time? We don't think so, but - that's the base on which Fleur was ready to let us go."

Cho looked at her sister-in-law by adoption.

Fleur said, "If 'arry can't get a volunteer, I'll do it. In the worst case, Bill and I come out as Muggles with wizard children - that's not so particularly new ... Of course, assuming that 'arry and Sandy are ready to cure me."

Ron said, "There's no need for that. All you have to do is watch the place and wait until the next wizard tourist comes along. The only problem is to track them down to their home, and to find out what happens with them afterwards."

The thought had quite some appeal for Cho, much more than this plan. Harry watching his every step ever so carefully - that sounded exactly like a drinker leaving all the nice bottles untouched, a picture she wasn't quite ready to believe.

"That's why whe have to do it pretty quickly." Harry looked at Ron. "We can't let them stumble into disaster, not after we - "

Cho couldn't stop herself. "Are you in charge of all evil in the world?"

Harry grinned at her - he really grinned. "No. And besides - why shoud this be evil? ... Is a virus evil?"

"I'd know some other measures Bill could take. Hermione isn't the only potions witch around, and maybe Almyra's mother has an idea, or - "

Harry interrupted her, something rare. "Yes, Cho - these are all measures to get him his magic back. But now that we have a justified suspicion about that place, it's a matter of - let's say, self-esteem, to avoid a term as questionable as morale, or ethics."

With some effort, Cho kept silent. If she wasn't completely mistaken, Harry cutting her short had been another of those signals close to some limit. He had taken his decision.

* * *

The conversation had changed to other topics, after everybody had recognized that Cho seemed ready to give it a rest. Well - maybe not ready, but giving it a rest all right. And it had been Ron again who'd raised the issue, with this admirable fluency which Percy, the other Weasley son in politics, couldn't even dream of.

Harry felt grateful for Ron's tactful steering, and pleased seeing him move the figures in the room, still more pleased because Ron had quite selfishly started to talk about his central issue.

The unborn son.

For Harry, the surprise had been nil when Nagini, about a month ago, had told him the sex, and he had told the others. Weasleys could only do sons - with Ginny as the notable exception. Yes, of course, there was Héloise, except she was Fleur's work.

"Anything else would have been nonsense," said Ron just now, already earning a laughter because he was talking about this fact, and how many sexes were left for a non-boy? "Imagine it would have been a girl - that poor thing, competing at one side with Sandra, this alone being reason enough to climb back inside right on the spot ..."

Yes, he had a good timing; waited the moment to let the laughter ebb.

"... and at the other side with Héloise, which would be a lost case - Veela have this built-in unfairness, so that - "

"Unfairness?" Fleur tried to look upset. "This family is sworn to fairness, this house here is one proof, and the motionless bundle there on 'arry's arm is another proof. That's exactly what you should expect from a politician - "

For an instant, people had looked at him, reminding Harry of something he'd almost forgotten: there was indeed Michel on his arm. The youngest Weasley was such a leightweight, compared to the usual load ... True, Harry's subconscious kept constantly on guard, almost reflexively checking into the baby boy at the slightest stirring or irregularity in his breathing. Only there wasn't any.

Since the boy was around, Harry couldn't help thinking that something in the knowledge about Veela was missing. The official reading said that male Veela had none of the power for which the females were famous, and nothing else that would make them special, compared to normal humans. But Harry had his doubts - doubts that were growing each time he and Michel were together.

He felt pretty sure that a male Veela - even a half-quarter Veela such as Michel - had something like the inverse of the female power, a sensitivity, and that was why Michel responded so strongly and instantly to Harry's presence, or that of Sandy. Just because a Veela could drown everybody in emotions, the scientists had assumed that any special sensibility had to be counter-productive, so evolution would have eliminated it long before. But what if not?

People working in a hall full with noisy machines learned to hear words spoken in an almost normal voice. Male Veela - if every female could drown them, those with strong genes and those with crap material alike, how would they be able to find a partner of choice? If every race on earth was conditioned for the survival of the best, then Harry could only be right.

Which didn't mean he was in a hurry to talk with Fleur, or Bill. Time would tell.

Harry's thoughts wandered to Goblins. Would be interesting to know which quality, or appearance, made a Goblin boy or girl a partner of choice. They were extremely reluctant with such information, and he, Harry, was the last to ask - because they would answer him.

Because he was the Ambassador.

This was the proper title for the one who held the Goblin Request. Harry had been assigned after destroying Voldemort. The assignment, in turn, had made him a Goblin, because only a Goblin could hold the Request. Harry grinned inwardly about himself - a Goblin lacking any skill in finding a valuable Goblin girl.

---

Since that letter had arrived, Goblins no longer called him "Mr Potter". They called him "Ambassador". Of course this was a translation, the closest thing to the original Goblin word. The bearer of the Goblin Request was considered a messenger of a supreme force, of a higher will. If this sounded religious, then only in human ears. At any rate - for the Goblins, Harry represented the perfect example of what this term expressed. Hadn't there been a supreme force which kept bending odds and chances until, finally, the Dark Lord of the Evil had lost his life from his own foolish and desperate attempt to survive?

The Goblins were as reluctant to tell him things as Harry was to ask them questions. Still, around seven corners, he'd heard that they felt extremely pleased with him - for a long, long time, no other Ambassador had shown such clear signs of the force he was supposed to represent.

Which made the burden just a bit heavier.

Still, meeting Urion again would be nice. Urion with the many Un-names ... They had met years ago, during Voldemort's attempt to fulfill his promise and free the dark wizards that were kept prisoners, guarded by Goblins. Urion's men had killed all assailants who weren't quick enough to freeze and surrender at the first word from this remarkable commander.

Except for one, who had escaped into the tunnel system of that gold mine, using Sirius as cover. It had given him another half hour, then Harry had found him.

Having Urion the Undestructible at your side provided a good feeling. This Goblin was so much matter-of-fact, with a strong sense for flaws and glitches in a plan that might cause an unnecessary risk - which didn't mean Urion would hesitate taking a risk, deadly or otherwise, provided it was unavoidable.

"... he's fallen asleep, only with his eyes open, that's how you can distinguish between him and Michel."

Coming awake, looking up, Harry found all shades of smile rest on him. Maybe this was a good opportunity to talk about his discovery - the male Veela sense. Harry the scientist would be something new, and Ron would come over the smallest gap in his argumentation like an eagle out of the sun.

Then a thought struck Harry and made him almost gasp. He turned to Bill. "Say, after you recovered from the fever, was there any difference in Michel's behaviour to you?"

"None that I know of." Bill pursed his lips. "But this doesn't mean much - I've been different enough myself, so I might have missed it. Why do you ask?"

Harry shook his head. "Could be I'm on a totally wrong track. Check it for some days, as objectively as you can. Then we can talk, and then I'll tell you."

Fleur looked at her son, then at his godfather. "Did you find something, 'arry?"

"I'm not sure. According to the books about Veela - male Veela - it's nonsense. But maybe it's not."

"Pah!" Fleur's expression was contempt pure. "Books about Veela - 'arry, they tell you just what's impossible to hide. In one sense, Veela and Goblins are very similar - they can live without everybody knowing their most intimate secrets."

Janine asked, "And you just discovered the most intimate secret of male Veela, 'arry?"

Harry smiled. "Dunno." Then he pointed at Janine's belly. "Maybe this guy in there finds the competition harder than Ron has expected; maybe it's wishful thinking. Anyway, in a few minutes, there's a young lady with a short-fused bladder, and then I need my hands free." He stood up and walked to Bill. "Here - he's yours again."

Cho had watched the scene. Now she looked at her husband. "He didn't stir a bit when you passed him over. Does that mean anything?"

"Could be. But as I said, it might be wishful thinking."

Curiosity had gripped Cho, no doubt about that. Harry knew what to expect at the end of the day here, which would be followed by still some more hours of a Californian day. But next moment, Ron gave proof that he wasn't much better with unsolved riddles.

"C'mon, Harry - you're not the scientific type, which means nobody gives a damn if you're wrong. And this isn't politics, where you have to hone every word. So what about Michel and his father?"

Five people were looking at Harry. The sixth just kept sleeping.

Harry shrugged. "I think male Veela are as special as the females. I think they have a sense, where the females have a power. It's not limited to their own race - that's why Michel and I get along the way we do. And if that's true, it's strongest in babies, like with other senses in such a critical phase of life - "

"You mean he would sense if Bill has changed?" Fleur's face showed hope and expectation.

"Yes, that's what I think."

Bill said, "So if there's no difference, Harry, what does it mean?"

"Don't take me by my word if I'm wrong." Harry grinned wryly. "But I think your power is still there, except that it's locked."

Bill snorted. "Yeah, that makes a big difference, really!"

His native brother was quicker. "Sure it does. Look at someone under the Imperius - behaves like a scatterbrain, except he isn't. All you need is the counter spell, then he can think straight again. So if Harry's right, all you need is a counter spell."

"Of course, that reduces the problem considerably." Sharp replies weren't Bill's habit, but still, he was a Weasley too.

Fleur smiled at him. "Don't be unthankful - you'll be recorded in the books as the wizard who found the fourth Unforgivable Curse, just by being the first who suffered from it."

Listening to Fleur, Harry's confidence grew by the second. Maybe it was only because her remark made the problem look like something handy, just another Unforgivable Curse, four rather than three, and probably not irreversible because there was only one of them without a counter, and only because death was the end of any magic ...

Was this true?

Next second, an alarm ringed in Harry's mind, and he shot up to reach a bed with two girls in time before the second of them found reason to complain, next morning.

* * *

A two-year-old bursting of energy, after a good-measured siesta, made no good company for people whose body clock was ticking around midnight. That was why Cass coming awake usually gave the signal for the Potter-Chang gang to bow around, smile, and get lost - to Santa Monica, where a hot afternoon told people what a bad mistake it had been not to call the maintenance crew for the air-conditioning.

Cho felt betwixt and between. Partly it was due to the apparition jump through eight hours of daytime; she would never get used to that like Harry or Cass. The other part was of course her feeling about what her husband had in mind. That he would do it without Cass felt less of a relief by the minute.

Said husband tickled their common daughter and said, "Let's go for a swim."

This sudden change of tack baffled Cho for just a second. Then she became aware that Tricky Potter had expertly combined fun and business - his business, for a change. Their usual place for swimming was Tony's pool, because the movie director had had the good sense of buying an estate at the wrong side of Santa Monica, getting twice as much square footage for a fraction of what Cho had paid, using it for a little lake he used to call swimming pool in all humbleness.

And besides - it was the wrong side of the town only for the wrong people, those who felt alarmingly uncomfortable meeting slitfaces in shaggy clothes all along the way, clothes in which you could hide everything from a pile of shuriken to a light submachine gun.

The slitfaces said this kind of clothes were today's fashion, man.

They also made Tony's little place the safest spot around - for himself, for his guests ... for Harry and Cass, whether guest or not, and for Cho herself too, more because she belonged to the former two than from her origin.

Cass looked at her. "Swim!" The word wavered somewhere between a jubilation and a command.

A grinning Harry stepped closer and kissed Cho lightly. "C'mon, you can sit in an armchair, with a cool drink, and make Tony's eyes pop."

"Yeah, I bet - there'll be half a dozen bikini models around, and what they're making pop is very distantly related to eyes."

"Bikinis, sure, Tony sees them all the time. No, you ought to wear this swimsuit, the red one that's called light, only most people would call it semi-transparent, and some - "

"You're unbelievable - all you have in mind is talking him into this stunt, and I'm supposed to make sure he can't think straight. By the way, it's only semi-transparent if it's wet."

Harry's smile was a bit teasing, and a bit something else. "It's only halfway true. Tony will say yes before I can finish my third sentence, that's for sure. Otherwise - of course I thought you'd come into the pool for a moment ... I mean, who wants to think straight?"

"Mummy. Gettup!"

Cho did. So many inviting signals were irresistible. One, in particular.

Her estimation wasn't quite correct. There were only four long-legged figures with lots of sun-tanned skin, bulging here and there, among them Annabel, Tony's current favourite. Then Tony himself, of course, and some men.

Harry's appearance had quite some effect on the female part of the crowd - as if a drill seargeant had shouted at them to keep the body straight and the bosom up and the ass swing. Cho's own appearance did little to change that.

But Nagini was enough to keep them at some distance.

Tony greeted Harry and Cass, then turned to her and bowed. "Cho - welcome here. I always hope you come for business, but I still more hope you come for a swim."

Cho smiled. "Hello, Tony. Wait and see."

"That's what I had in mind."

Considering the usual crowd in the movie business, Tony felt like an oasis in a desert. He could play the game like any other, without losing his manners. His greeting, for example - he could tell you how sexy you looked without kissing and touching and grabbing. And now, while Cho dressed down to her swimsuit underneath, he did as promised, with open interest, and appreciation, while not undressing her with his eyes.

---

The pool was magnificent, no less. Only one side reminded of an ordinary pool, with the basin's border painted and plastering above, while the other sides of this irregular shape were formed almost like a lakeside. Then, Tony used a wizard service for maintenance - awfully expensive that, but the wizards kept the water clean without using chlorine. It was perfect for Cass.

Like any other newborn child, Cass had been able to swim and dive. Unlike others, she hadn't lost this ability - maybe because she could be found in the water several times a week, not counting the bath in the evening, or maybe for some other reason. At any rate, water was her element.

Even so, there were quite some eyes which didn't leave her - among them Tony's; he knew perfectly well that Cass was no more at risk in the pool than a beaver, that Harry's mind was running a monitor at her even if he dived into the dark part of the pool where the bottom was covered with black sand, disappearing for something like two minutes. And still - since the scene in the training hall, of which Cho had heard only much later, Tony took no chances.

Another reason why she liked him a great deal.

Cho climbed out, as though having forgotten her daughter, who had grabbed Nagini's tail and used the snake like a scooter to zoom through the full length of the pool. Heading for a towel, Cho walked to Tony's place.

"It's unfair."

"What's unfair?"

"Harry promised me your eyes would pop, seeing me in that suit, especially when coming out of the water. And what happens? You can't take your eyes off that girl."

Tony didn't turn. "My dear Cho, it's all a matter of balanced harmony. You being here is already an unfairness to the other girls, while your daughter takes my attention from this spectacular view." He grinned. "At least she's naked."

"Maybe I should try that, too."

Tony's grin turned to a smile. "You shouldn't. True, you'd just look beautiful - while now, you look downright forbidden."

Just then, Harry came up from some dark corner and reached his daughter and her snake, thereby calming down some people who had looked quite startled for the last minute, after he was gone for so long.

Tony turned to Cho, his glance wandering upward, from her legs, over her body, coming to rest at her face. "As I said - forbidden."

"Don't let Annabel hear this."

"Why not? Isn't it true, in the literal sense? She'd fully agree." Tony chuckled, his glance already back at Cass. "And otherwise - it's always the first child that gives women the last touch, so you and Annabel, you play in different leagues anyway."

"Hear the expert! And what does the second child?"

Tony's head wheeled around to look into Cho's face, then turned back to the pool and the girl inside. After a moment, he said, "It balances."

* * *

Back home, after a supper at which Sandy had refuelled herself with an impressive pile of rice pudding and turkey, Harry found some time for himself. This was because weekends counted as Cho's time with the girl.

More exactly, the girl's time with her mother.

With Tony having agreed to joining the evaluation team, the only missing partner was the Goblin, preferably Urion the Undeserved. Harry intended to talk with the Goblins next day in Los Angeles downtown. He would have preferred his old contact in London, but on Sundays, Gringotts residences were open only till noon. Three o'clock in the morning local time? No thanks.

So it would be Gidelin Gelbrad, the local manager. And because they were still quite foreign to each other, Harry wanted to be prepared when asking for help.

His first action was to get his magic map ready and study the area around Lake Tiberias, at the highest zoom the map would offer. As much as this magnificent piece offered, telling the history of the touched spot was no part of its features. So Harry did something rare - he fired up his computer to gain more information.

It had been Deborah, the wife of his godfather Sirius Black, who showed him how to roam the Internet with a search engine. Not that it was complicated in any sense - type in the word, because you prefer keyboard and mouse over voice control, which for you is reserved to spells rather than computers, and voilà - a hit list of matches.

Most of it was crap, advertisements of hotels in or near Tiberias. In some sense, Cho seemed right, there were tourists plenty, regardless of the fact that a day without the brrrap of an automatic rifle came rare in that area. But Tiberias was about sixty miles north of Jerusalem, where the shooting was worst, forty miles east of Haifa, with the Syrian border passing right through the lake ... Tiny country, this Israel, by all means.

And there was a summary of the town facts: less than thirty thousand people now - according to Californian standards, Tiberias looked like a toy city in a toy country. While the other facts told a different story. Almost seven hundred feet below sea level, which made it among the lowest-lying cities in the world. If the historical dates were correct, the town had been founded while Jesus was still alive, getting its name from the Roman emperor Tiberius. It then became a center of rabbinical schools over centuries ... And Saladin took the town from the Crusaders in eleven hundred eighty-seven ...

Saladin? It ringed a bell, only that Harry rated poor in wizard history and still worse in Muggle history, with the only non-embarrassing knowledge in Goblin history, and a remarkable knowledge of details in Giants history.

---

Anyway - this should be the date when the castle had fallen to the Arabs also. Only that the castle was nowhere mentioned, and Harry hadn't asked Bill for a name.

Should he link to the NLML, the National Library of Magic Literature? They had a reader service through the Internet - awfully expensive; made sense only if your connection had a bandwidth large enough for watching a movie.

Harry had the money and also the bandwidth, but he had no keywords to look for, with the exception of the town's name. That might come -

"Are you busy?"

Cho's question was related to the fact that for her, working at the computer was something sacrosanct, much more so than for himself. Well, he had no enterprise to run.

"No longer," he replied. "I was in the net to look up Tiberias. Does the dragon sleep?"

"Yep. And guess what, she's caught the habit from Héloise, to ask for a bedtime story. I figure I've got a job for the next five years."

"Did she really ask?"

"Yes she did. 'Story?' As if you could say no after such a question."

"Yeah." Harry grinned. "Against knowing better, against deepest revulsion inside yourself, facing the inevitable fate to follow - "

"Don't tease me!" Cho looked a bit self-conscious. "You know that's a sensitive issue."

"What, the story or the story-telling?"

Now she glared at him suspiciously. "Did you listen?"

Harry laughed. "Didn't need that. For the next two weeks, there's no question what kind of story she'll expect - that of a certain bird, and that of another bird, although then the other bird was no bird yet ..."

Cho sat down on the table next to him, which brought her legs under the short skirt very prominently into his view, making it a bit harder to concentrate on this conversation. She asked, "Harry, what does she think about me?"

"Huh?"

"Cass. What do I represent for her? I know I'm her mother, but a mother shouldn't be surprised to hear that a story needs twenty-five repetitions before another one's due."

Harry took his eyes off these legs and looked into Cho's face. "In the shortest form, she thinks you are you. She has no prejudices, none. She has strong wishes, sure, but she can distinguish between a wish and an expectation better than most people, us two probably included ... No, there is a prejudice; it must be rice pudding with turkey."

Cho smiled, then looked wondering again. "Compared to the standard, I'm a bad mother - "

"True."

Startled, she looked at him.

"And I'm a bad father, because I don't earn money, and because I let her get away not wearing diapers, and because I fail miserably with carrots and lamb ..."

A short grin from her.

"... and, most notably, according to this standard, our daughter is a frightening monster." Harry put his hands on the knees right in front of him. "You know all that, Cho, and you know that, as a result, Sandra Catherine Potter would smash any psychological test, now as well as for the next twenty years."

"Yes, I know - "

"She takes you as a given, which doesn't mean she takes you for granted, not at all. Look at how she handled the story with Héloise and her music, it's very informative."

"In what sense?"

"Well - she heard her play, and then Hély refused to play further. As hard as it took her, Sandy understood instinctively that there is an individual will and that she has to negotiate. And remember how she mastered the failure in her first negotiation - "

"It took you quite some efforts to prevent a nasty scene."

Harry waved dismissively. "Sure, she's two years old and hasn't her power fully under control. But the essential point is, she didn't run around shouting She must, she must. Same's true toward you, me, Nagini - "

Cho laughed. "As if Nagini would ever say no to any request she can fulfill."

"Most likely not. But Sandy doesn't think of her as a servant. And she doesn't think of you as a servant." Harry emphasized his argument by poking his finger into her thigh.

Cho didn't protest, which seemed a promising sign. But her thoughts were still somewhere else. "Do you think it will hold between Cass and Hély?"

"I bet. They can give each other so much, as different as they are. Sandy's more powerful, but Hély's older ... Sandy can make dishes fly, but Hély's a Veela ... Hély can play her music, and Sandy can talk a snake into quite some tricks - that's base enough for a friendship."

Cho studied the finger playing on her skin. "Hély has a brother."

"So?"

"That makes our daughter handicapped."

The finger stopped playing.

"That mustn't be, must it?"

With new spirit, the finger inched forward while its owner explained, "They say parents as young as us are ideal. Normally the drawback is that these parents can't live out themselves, but, well, I'm still waiting for this dreadful day, when I can't live out myself."

Cho moved a bit, so the finger found the path further free. "While my only problem is that I live out myself day after day."

Harry sighed as theatrically as he could, which wasn't much in general, still less right now with his thoughts somewhere else. "Yeah, it's a terrible fate - freedom of choice's a burden, that's why I always ask Sandy what to do next - "

"For what I can see here, you have quite a clear idea what to do next."

"Do I? Must be some effect from the visit at Tony's, all this naked flesh ..."

Cho gasped a bit, which had to do with a finger that seemed having reached a target. "Tony says the second child balances."

"The wisdom of an old Chinese ... Then maybe we should balance ourselves, just to lay a good omen?"

Cho's voice sounded innocent and seductive at the same time. "What's wrong with this table? Next to a computer - these are the modern times, Horny Potter."

"You're absolutely right." He didn't have to push hard - she stretched down at the table almost by herself. Thanks to some supporting movement, he also had little trouble stripping down her panties. Then he bent closer to inspect his finger's target at the highest zoom rate, found it very inviting, and very tasteful.

"You ... it's the man who should get exhausted before the sperm regatta's started, not the woman. You - ahh - you got it all wrong ..."

However, Cho's protest couldn't find plenty of support, not even by herself. Maybe he hadn't got it wrong, after all.

Harry had heard about other statistics too. For example those of men at the eve of a battle - if they could, they fucked like rabbits, with an astonishing quota of male results. But he had been wise enough not to mention them.

And statistics wasn't what filled his mind now.