The High Priestess

"In the mood for a walk?"

Rahewa Lightfoot, seventh-year in the Gryffindor house at Hogwarts, waited while her friend Vanessa Parthcombe tried to figure out which opinion this frequently changing mind of hers would come up with.

Eventually, the mind's speaking organ asked, "Now? In the full heat of the sun?"

Rahewa kept silent. She never answered questions which, at best, could be rated as rhetorical while the average judgement would classify them as pretty stupid. Quite obviously, it was Sunday afternoon in early August, quite obviously also, her own question had implied a walk now.

Vanessa knew that. It had taken Rahewa the most part of four years to find out that this girl wasn't as stupid as she sounded often enough. Over time, Vanessa had perfected the art of creating a smoke screen behind which an intellect clearly above average kept hiding. If you had her looks, if you were always carrying a trail of lovesick - or downright dumb - boys, maybe this was a sensible thing to do. Intellect didn't rank high.

And so Vanessa had fooled Rahewa quite successfully.

Perhaps also because Rahewa would carry another trail, in some sense similar, except that - like a lizard - Rahewa could cut her trail quickly and effortlessly. The boys following her weren't attracted by her looks. Rahewa looked okay - slender, athletic, and recently even her breasts had developed a decent shape. But where Vanessa attracted beauty freaks, Rahewa attracted Quidditch or aikido freaks. The Gryffindor Seeker, the Hogwarts Seeker, and also the Seeker of the EMEC team, was Rahewa waiting for the second time in her career that someone caught the Snitch before she did.

It had happened once, in Rahewa's first year as Seeker, and only because her opponent, Cho Chang, had used a superior broomstick. Since then, her former opponent made sure this wouldn't happen again. A month after the Firebolt Three had hit the market, Cho had sent one, and the twelfth piece in the first, still limited, and sold-out-of-the-factory series of Firebolt Magnum broomsticks had become Rahewa's, with the effect that her opponents, at best, could come on par from their equipment. Which wasn't enough to beat her.

But otherwise, the boys in Rahewa's trail appeared mostly as stupid as those following Vanessa. Just different.

Then, the year arrived in which to choose optional faculties. Rahewa selected Astronomy - for an Animagus with the ambition of following her adopted mother's trail and transfigure into birds, this was an obvious choice.

To Rahewa's total bafflement, she saw Vanessa enter the same classroom. To her gaping surprise, Vanessa took the seat right next to her.

"You here??" Rahewa could have sworn Vanessa would be found in Divination.

For a moment, a wild grin spread the lovely face under the lion's mane of dark-blonde hairs. And with the second shock of the day, Rahewa realized why: she had asked a stupid question, Vanessa had noticed it instantly, to grin diabolically - and not to comment on it.

What Vanessa said instead was, "I need a rest from those jerks."

Still startled from her own failure in keeping self-indulged standards, Rahewa asked a second question. This one wasn't stupid at all, but still totally outside her common habit. "And why - er, just this place here?"

"Because there's no seat at your other side." Into Rahewa's stunned look, Vanessa added, "I need someone who can kick them in the balls, and I guess I can trade. So - think it over."

---

Later, Rahewa had little memory of that first Astronomy lesson. She knew pretty well what Vanessa had meant when mentioning a trade. It had to do with boys. Rahewa could beat them in Quidditch, beat them in aikido, and beat them just so, while otherwise she felt sort of clumsy with them. Her old friend Damon offered no help in that because - well, for whatever reasons ... Therefore, Rahewa still had way to learn.

Coming to lunch, Vanessa caught her and asked, "So?"

"I'm not sure, but I think I'll kick a few balls to see how things develop."

"Great. Then let's settle it right away."

Grabbing Rahewa, Vanessa marched to her own seat and told Gary - Good-looking Gary, of whom everybody thought he was her favourite, Gary himself included - that his seat was unfortunately reserved for Rahewa, and that Gary please might move his, admittedly sexy, ass.

Good-looking Gary turned out less good-mannered, and not the least good-natured. For what Rahewa learned afterwards, she should have thanked him because Gary became the launching factor in this unlikely friendship between herself and Vanessa. But in those first minutes in public, nobody could trace any thankfulness between Rahewa and Gary. What the spectators reported later had more to do with Gary very baffled first, very upset then, very flat and pained a moment later. His unfortunate reaction had been to seize for Vanessa, probably to tell her she couldn't do that to him, badly mistaken in this judgement as Rahewa showed him. No, she didn't kick his balls - she put him flat, held him in a grip that seemed light, and pierced a finger into one of the pain-sensitive spots Kenzo hat shown his aikido students.

For once, Rahewa's own supporters proved useful. They warned her that Gary and his clique were up for revenge. So Rahewa made sure to offer them what looked like a good opportunity to catch her by surprise - outside the buildings, even without her poodles, this way avoiding the risk of noise.

This clique counted four people, Gary included. Their own planning wasn't very detailed, only that the place seemed perfectly suited for a little gang-raping. They knew about Rahewa's aikido skills, and were prepared for that.

They were totally unprepared for Rahewa's six-inch twin blade knife, a relic of some past and recently held in a kind of hibernation. As with most real-life fights involving a knife, the event was over seconds after it had started. Two of the boys had arms dangling limp from severed tendons, the third was busy keeping his bowels inside a deep cut, and the fourth was probably still running. Rahewa had a broken arm - they had used a Quidditch club.

Gall-spitting Gary's family came with a lawyer. Rahewa's adopted father Lupin, still more her godfather Harry, seemed eager to fight the battle with the help of Mr Spinbottle, their own lawyer. Dumbledore, the Headmaster, found something better.

Rahewa volunteered for being interrogated under the impact of Veritaserum, with two spector cameras recording the full procedure. Then Dumbledore sent a cassette to that family and left them two options, to send their son to another school, or to watch the recording in public TV.

This was the story how Vanessa, within two weeks, had changed from prey to predator. Rahewa's own change had taken longer.

Not earning an answer to her question, Vanessa said, "I have a better idea. We go for a swim at the lake. Then you can jump and dance with your dogs, with me just sitting there, holding court or whatever."

Rahewa nodded. "It's a deal. Get moving."

---

What Rahewa planned was biding her time until five o'clock, when she could use a portkey, reach Santa Monica, and find a Sunday morning breakfast scene there, until then tiring her two poodles so much that they would be calm enough for playing with - or being played by - a two-year-old.

Romeo and Juliet were dancing like rubber balls. They quickly jumped into the knapsack which, for them, could mean just one thing: an excourse outside. Rahewa shouldered the knapsack and went downstairs to reach the broomstick racks.

The two dogs - snow-white mini poodles - counted as her own as much as Hogwarts'. Twice so far, Juliet had thrown pups, seven the first time, eight the last time. Though not being magical at all, both litters had created projects in Care of Magical Creatures, with Samantha, the teacher, at least as mean and watchful on the students as the mother herself. After eight weeks, the pups were sold, with the money shared between Rahewa and a rather unofficial account - to serve for purposes which could hardly be covered by standard rules.

Following Vanessa's advice, Rahewa had invested part of her own share in two parties, marking the end of those projects and also making sure that other students - now and for litters to come - treated Romeo and Juliet as precious poodles rather than damned dogs.

The girls reached the lakeside. Rahewa freed the two snowballs which would melt neither in the sun nor in the water, then stripped down to her swimsuit underneath.

Vanessa examined her friend with a critical glance. "Hey, Rage, you look sharp ..."

Rahewa managed not to blush - thanks to her friend's relentless work. Earlier that summer, at the beginning of this year's swimming season, Vanessa had taken a look at Rahewa's outgrown swimsuit and then had pulled her into the next shop worth the effort, which happened to be in Paris, just a few staircases and some linkports away. There, Vanessa had talked with the saleswoman to come up with a piece pretty quickly.

In a way, it was fairly unpretentious, cut in straight angles, what you'd expect an athlete wearing, hiding a lot, even the uppermost part of Rahewa's legs which, according to Vanessa, could outperform all others. The suit was really built for swimming - Vanessa knew this prerequisite.

Only it was the thinnest fabric Rahewa had ever seen for such a purpose. It painted her nipples no matter which state.

"... the bees will come swarming any second ..."

Probably so, and this was the reason why for Rahewa such an occasion still felt one part lesson and three parts leisure. At least, the bees would hang more around Vanessa than herself.

"... afraid the scientist won't be among them."

Rahewa's head jerked up, to stare at her friend. She felt the blood rush into her face. "What - what scientist?"

Way too late, the question, not to mention her expression while asking. Vanessa, for a change, took over the role that usually was reserved for Rahewa herself: keeping silent and expressionless rather than answering something as obvious as that.

---

How did she know??

Said scientist was an exchange student from Drachenfels. He had arrived at Hogwarts two months before end of last term, to be as close to the sources of Potions wisdom as possible. His name was Clemens Stein.

Normally, Clemens would be buried in some laboratory, bending over a cauldron, a book, or his own writing. Only, Potions meant Hermione Krum, while Quidditch meant Viktor Krum, and the Krums used to bring science and sports people together, for example at invitations to a tea inside, or a picnic outside. And so Rahewa had met Clemens.

Since then, she encountered something quite unfamiliar to her - an accelerated heartbeat outside the aikido training hall and without being up in the air on her Firebolt Magnum.

Clemens didn't give a damn for the houses of Hogwarts. He had been found sitting at the Slytherin table, at the Ravenclaw table, at the Hufflepuff table, as if touring through the social structures of the hosting school. Recently, however, he seemed having settled for Gryffindor.

Had probably to do with Hermione Krum, his tutor and Potions idol - she had been a Gryffindor.

Before Rahewa found an opportunity to ask her friend, the first bee came closer. Thank God, it was Vincent Clapmore, a sixth-year for whom the main attractions were Romeo and Juliet. Vincent had participated in both pup projects. Vanessa held some doubts that the dogs caused the only reason for Vincent coming along whenever he found them, particularly so in the last year. Rahewa, in contrast, didn't think so - Vincent behaved just too perfectly normal.

And he had manners. Vincent didn't ask why Rahewa looked so embarrassed. "Hi, Rage - hi, Vanessa. Need some help in drowning two poodles?"

"Sure - c'mon." Rahewa went into the water, followed by Romeo, Juliet, and Vincent.

The poodles liked swimming, up to some point. What they liked still more was riding on a swimmer's head. With Vincent around, there were heads enough for both of them, and the dogs enjoyed the ride, which invariably ended with the swimmer diving down, causing the dogs to swim on their own.

When Rahewa felt like having done her share of poodle-carrying, she inhaled deeply and dived down. She wasn't quite as good as Harry, however one minute thirty seconds was easy play, and enough to feel the quietness and the coolness down there in the lake.

Coming out, Rahewa walked to their blanket, on which Vanessa was still sitting dry and with a T-shirt over her bikini. She grabbed a towel. About to dry herself, she asked, "Won't you go into the water at all?"

"Maybe later, when ... Uh-oh."

Rahewa looked up, following Vanessa's glance, and froze.

* * *

Vanessa watched the two teachers and their guest come closer. A married couple, both of them teachers, and both at the same school - you might think this would be unusual. But not here at Hogwarts, which seemed to work like a damn marriage bureau. Hermione and Viktor Krum represented just one of several couples; the others were Rahewa's adoption parents, Remus and Almyra Lupin, and the oldtimers Severus and Samantha Snape.

Oldtimers compared to the others, that was - by common standard, Samantha was still quite young while her husband could only hope to get as old as he looked. Vanessa wouldn't dismiss the theory that his wife's demanding nature had a bit to do with it.

"Good afternoon, myladies." Viktor Krum, Flying and Quidditch teacher at Hogwarts, performed this wrinkling of the face which, for him, went as a smile.

Not that Vanessa objected, not at all, actually. Funny as he might look in somebody else's eyes, this teacher could have accelerated her own heartbeat any time - well, if not for his wife, who was a hell of a piece by herself.

"... decided to take Clemens away from his cauldrons and throw him into the misera plebs ..."

By trained reflex, Vanessa drew a face of polite blankness, quite as if she hadn't the foggiest what this Latin meant, while taking it for a compliment just as well. At the same time, she noticed that Rahewa still wasn't getting anything of what her beloved teacher and trainer was saying. Next instant, Vanessa saw something else - Hermione Krum's eyes were resting on her, and the Potions witch looked as if she could see through the dumb facade and still a bit deeper.

"... in your case, is more of a splendid society. I hope this doesn't cause an inconvenience with you?"

Still startled, while not as much as her friend, Vanessa found her speech. "Not at all, Prof, it's more of a present, isn't it? Hi, Clemens, sit down, or jump in the lake first, whatever suits you."

It raised a brief grin from the young man, giving proof that his English was good enough to register the hidden joke, then Clemens sat down. "Hi, Vanessa, hi, Rahewa."

The Krums walked away to find their own place, in fair distance from the students around.

Vanessa examined the exchange student, who was ostensibly busy not to stare at Rahewa while she was toweling herself, probably grateful that these movements hid some trembling. Well, thought Vanessa, his own mistake - not glancing, because Rahewa certainly would be worth a look, or two. She was a slow developer, but in a year or so, her body would have reached its final shape, and that would be a gorgeous one. Maybe even faster, if someone would show her what hormones were good for.

This handsome scientist might be the one. At least, he had Vanessa's own approval, provided he could issue the better half of a sentence every now and then.

---

Right now, as it seemed, he could not. Vanessa took it for a good sign and decided to start the conversation going. "How's your brewing, Clemens?"

Another quick grin. "Still needs some improvement ... But the taste's okay."

Which meant either he had fallen for Vanessa's bluff, playing the beautiful dummy, or Clemens was treating her with her own medicine. A short glance sideways told Vanessa that Rahewa still was fighting her shock, toweling shoulders which had dried a minute before.

"What are you working at? Or is this a secret?"

"How could it be a secret, as long as I'm still working at the basics?"

That was interesting. Clemens knew damn well what he was aiming at, he had just no intention of revealing anything. Had Rahewa noticed?

Probably not. "Was it just Potions that brought you here?"

"Mostly, yes, but not quite. The language was another reason, and then of course the fame of Hogwarts." Again this grin that came and went. "Was a good choice - as it turns out, Hogwarts has more to offer than potions and fame and English."

"Oh, really? Like what?"

"Ooh - this magnificent landscape, for example."

Seeing Vanessa's glance, Clemens laughed out loudly. "And some remarkable girls too, as you know perfectly well, don't you?"

Vanessa looked as stupid as she could. "Beats me ... Tell us about them - no, tell us first how you'd know, sitting all day long in some workroom."

Clemens smiled. "As you certainly remember, brewing potions is mostly pretty boring work - cutting pieces of whatever, and then sitting and waiting while the stuff's boiling, or making sure it doesn't. So basically, it's as entertaining as watching paint dry."

Which exactly matched Vanessa's own opinion.

"So what's the solution of that problem? Gossip, of course."

"Gossip?" Vanessa glanced at Rahewa, not finding much support for her act, and looked back at Clemens. "Never heard of. How does it work?"

"Well - like, one day you're invited to some tea, meet some people, see some girl. Then, next day, you ask your tutor, 'That girl from yesterday, who is she?' ... That's how it starts."

Now Clemens had Rahewa's full attention. No - he'd held it all the time, only now Rakewa was staring directly at him.

Vanessa asked, "And how does it continue?"

Clemens' glance returned to her. "Then your tutor says, 'Find out by yourself' - seems as if your tutor knows too much, or maybe wants to tease you a bit, as unlikely as that seems ..."

He'd scored! Rahewa grinned.

"... so you follow her advice, and what do you find? Most of the time, this girl's together with someone who'd be called blondes Dummchen in German, and somehow it doesn't fit. And then you - but I think that's already a good explanation of what gossip means."

He'd scored again - Rahewa looked extremely pleased.

Vanessa made a last try. "This term, what was it - "

Clemens interrupted her, almost impatiently. "Drop it, Vanessa; you're too good to be true."

Well, then. "Okay, you wise-ass, then let me return the favour. You're working at something very specific, except you don't feel like telling us!"

Now Clemens looked pleased. "See what I mean?"

"We can find out! Easily."

"Yeah, sure." Clemens' tone made clear - he was just too polite to respond, And pigs can fly.

---

Vanessa felt challenged more than enough to storm forward recklessly. "Within five minutes - and you'll be the one who's going to tell us."

Clemens crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm listening and watching."

Rahewa's glance, quite alarmed, went between her scientist and her friend, who just said, "Aside from a famous Potions teacher, you give a damn for Hogwarts and what it can offer - "

Clemens interrupted her. "That's already wrong."

"Okay, I stand corrected." Vanessa grinned maliciously. "But when you came, you gave a damn ..."

She'd scored - Clemens' cheeks flushed a bit.

"... because all you had in mind then was having the best teacher you could find. But Hermione Krum is just one of several options, she's not unchallenged in the world; there are others."

She had Clemens' attention. "Such as?"

"Beatrice Chagrin."

Clemens' eyes widened. "You're well informed for someone giving a fart for Potions."

Vanessa nodded, looking triumphant. "In a minute, you'll know why. Anyway, I think it would be a bit difficult to get a recommendation from our Potions witch that would open the doors to the other one, right?"

"It's not impossible, but - "

"Maybe not, but there's another path." Vanessa saw that Rahewa was about to protest and hurried on. "They both work for the same company, I think you know that ..."

Clemens nodded.

"... which is Groucho Biochemicals. This company has been founded by ex-Hogwarts people, with the major shareholder being a woman by the name of Cho Chang-Potter. Did you know that too?"

He did.

"Well - said Cho Chang-Potter is the wife of Harry Potter, not quite unknown by himself. And this Harry Potter - " Vanessa stopped while Clemens was waiting for the punch line. Rather than continuing, she turned to Rahewa. "Tell him."

Her friend glared at her. "No, I'm not - and you're not telling him either, if you know what's good for you."

Clemens stared at her, back at Vanessa, looking bewildered.

Vanessa came up and moved to her friend. Hugging her from behind, over her shoulders, she looked at Clemens. "This girl here's the goddaughter of Harry Potter, which means she's as good as a ticket to Groucho Biochemicals ..."

A choked sound just in front of her, while Clemens looked speechless.

"... but there's a tiny problem: this girl, who normally doesn't even know what frightened means, right now is scared shitless your only interest in her would be this connection ..."

Vanessa waited a second, until even Rahewa in her worried state couldn't help noticing that Clemens' face had turned dark red.

"... while I for myself don't think so. And now, if you'd excuse me, I guess I should have a look at Romeo and Juliet - the dog version of them, I mean."

Vanessa placed a light kiss on her friend's burning cheek, moved up, and called, "Hey, Vincent - where did you bury the poor poodles?"

* * *

When the doorbell chimed, Harry looked at his daughter with some relief. "That must be Rahewa." He headed for the door, hoping dearly he was right - patience with people being late wasn't exactly Sandy's strongest, despite of what he'd told Cho about their daughter's tolerance of individual will.

Of course it was Rahewa - who else would come to visit Sunday morning at breakfast time? The girl looked as if she'd run.

Harry stepped aside. "Come in; there's someone who can't wait seeing you."

"Sorry to be late."

Without even snooping, Harry could feel how Rahewa was radiating with excitement while she opened her knapsack to let out the two poodles. They instantly raced toward the kitchen, their claws clacking on the wooden panels.

A mind-piercing squeak came from that direction - obviously, Sandy had detected them. Arriving there, Rahewa just found the time to wheel her around once, then the girl was struggling like an eel to reach the floor, to be almost run over from the two dogs, which started to lick her face, raising a stream of pleased gigglings.

Cho watched the scene. "I wonder if Nagini's jealous."

Harry exchanged a short hissing with his snake. "She has trouble understanding the concept of jealousy. I'm not sure whether I could explain it sufficiently."

Cho snorted. "Of course not. That would be the blind teaching colours."

Rahewa, just before taking her first bite, said, "Pity you can't Parseltongue, Cho."

"Hear that unthankful brat!" Cho glared at the teenager, hardly six years younger than herself. "Just wait, then you know by yourself, and then you can ask Cass to translate."

A moment later, Cho stared with surprise at the result of her remark - a Rahewa deeply blushing, her eyes keeping at the table. "Hey, Rage - did I say something wrong?" Cho turned to her husband, looking a bit uneasy.

Harry examined the girl. Suddenly, he started to smile. "She's just embarrassed because she's late. Something very important must have kept her, and I wonder what that might be. Erm - did I say what?"

Cho stared at him, back at the girl. Then she also started to smile. "Which is just another proof, God punishes small sins immediately, giving you a big mouth just at the wrong time - "

"Please ..." As miserable as Rahewa seemed, the radiating wasn't going to stop, and it couldn't be blamed entirely to her burning cheeks.

Cho stood up, moved over, and bent down. "C'mon, who's the lucky one?"

A whisper, almost inaudible. "His name's Clemens."

From own hard experience, Harry's question was a natural reflex. "Does he know about his luck?"

"Erm - I'm not sure." But with a heart as full as hers, Rahewa didn't need any more prompting before she revealed the story how her disgusting friend had pushed the matter so shamelessly.

Cho turned to Harry. "Then it's obvious what we have to do. We must make sure that this Clemens won't have a chance of meeting Beatrice; then, if he's still hanging around, we know there must be another reason."

Seeing his goddaughter twitch, Harry said, "Look at it the other way: we invite him, and Beatrice too, and see what happens. Then, if he's still hanging around ..."

Rahewa twitched again. Apparently, she was unable to see the benefit in either approach.

Cho asked, "Do your parents know?"

"How could they? It's just an hour ago that - " Rahewa looked alarmed. "Please don't tell them."

"No we won't." Harry tried to keep serious. "This will make sure they'll never find out - why, nobody would tell them, so how should they wise up?"

Rahewa nodded, seemingly satisfied. Next moment, she startled again - Harry's theatrical voice had reached even her troubled mind. "You mean ..."

Harry nodded. "Check yourself in a mirror - then you know who'll tell them."

A deep sigh from the girl indicated that she was about to realize the inevitable. But strangely enough, she no longer looked desperate, more the opposite. Next moment, her food forgotten, she sat down to catch a two-year-old and cuddle her.

---

Harry and his wife looked at each other, beaming, remembering their own scenes at a time when Rahewa hadn't even joined Hogwarts. Then Harry checked his watch. "Time for me to talk with the Goblins." He reached for his cup.

"Goblins?" Rahewa seemed to have found some mind capacity for more news. "What about them?"

"It's about Bill." Harry summarized the events of the recent days, while Rahewa listened with growing concern. "I'm going to talk with them at Gringotts downtown. There's a certain Goblin I'd like to have in our team, his name is Urion ... It just fits you're here because I didn't plan to take Sandy with me."

Now Rahewa looked truly worried - Harry doing something without his daughter, this had to be more than serious.

Said daughter had heard about Bill and a cure, reminding her that she hadn't told Rahewa yet the most important news. So she grabbed her godmother and said, "Music!"

"Music?"

Sandra nodded. "Hély music."

After a second, Rahewa understood. "Really? So you've finally got what you wanted - and all this because you helped curing Bill."

Another nod.

Cho was about to tell Rahewa how Cass had found a new friend, and was trading with a snake that went for a chair, when she suddenly stopped, looking at her daughter. Sandra had noticed that Harry was preparing to leave - to do some travel without herself. She stared at her father in perplexion and disbelief.

Rahewa tried to calm her down. "C'mon, babe, Harry will just visit the Goblins to get their help for curing Bill, and in the meantime, we can do our own - "

She didn't come any further. Nobody could blame her, but it had been the wrong signal. Definitely.

All Sandra had understood was that her father was about to do something that would take place without herself, that this something had to do with curing Bill - and this, quite obviously, would put her music in jeopardy.

She didn't protest. She took action to save her music.

Harry stopped, turned, and made a step toward Sandra. Next instant, realizing what he was about to do, the trance-like state broke. He stared at his daughter, at Rahewa, who was sitting there with glassy eyes, her torso slightly swinging from side to side, then at his wife, who looked very much the same.

With his next step, Harry grabbed the girl with the burning eyes and took her up. "It's okay, Sandy - we'll do it together. We'll go to the Goblins, to call them for help. Now calm down."

"Music." Nobody would have associated this miserable voice with the same mind which - a second before - had sent an Imperius over three people.

"Yes, my sweetheart, you'll get your music. We'll do it together, and we'll tell Hély, and Hély will play your music."

A deep sigh of relief was the answer.

Cho and Rahewa had come awake from their own trance. Now they both stared wide-eyed at a two-year-old. Rahewa looked at Cho, then at Harry. "What was this?"

"Don't you recognize an Imperius? The poor thing thought if she's not part of the action Héloise won't play her music any more."

Cho stared at her daughter. "Poor thing!" Her voice betrayed her own words.

There was awe in Rahewa's glance. "Three people at once. We're lucky Harry's immune to the Imperius, really, we are." Her head was shaking. "Almyra won't believe me when - "

Cho's head wheeled around. "No! Please don't tell her."

"No I won't." Rahewa could hardly speak from giggling. "This will make sure she'll never find out, hehe - why, nobody - hehehe - would tell her, so how should she know-ho-ho-ho ..."

With an expression of helplessness, Cho looked at her husband, not finding much comfort there, as Harry was already shaking in the first fit of his own giggles.

* * *

"Mummy!"

So sieasta time was over. Cho went up immediately to catch her daughter with the short-fused bladder and the great dislike of diapers.

Rahewa had left at the time Cass was put to bed. While this matched common habit, today a neutral observer might have sworn Harry's goddaughter seemed a bit impatient, almost couldn't wait for her own goddaughter being sent asleep. And Rahewa hadn't even once hinted that she would like joining Harry in his journey to a historical place below sea level.

Very unusual, that. And so very understandable.

While her own daughter ... Cho knew that she had no choice - the moment Harry would have left, hell would break loose in this house. She hadn't agreed yet expressly, but what difference did it make? They both knew. Still more difficult was it to suppress a constant stream of remarks like, "But please make sure she's safe, Harry." As if he wouldn't do that by himself!

Cho would stay off, she wouldn't join them. Even so, she would be unable to work, would sit with sickness in her stomach, waiting for their return. Damn super wizards - and witches, for that matter, at the age of two.

The doorbell chimed.

Cho headed for the door, taking Cass with her - partly to make sure the girl wouldn't hurt herself when left alone, still more because you better showed her a visitor rather quickly, once she'd heard the doorbell.

A Goblin! Cho was embarrassingly unfamiliar with Goblin appearances, but this one looked like a military officer, although he wore no weapon, at least not openly. His face - well, a Goblin face, what else could you say?

"Good afternoon, Mylady. My name is Urion."

Of course. Three hours earlier, her husband had ever so casually mentioned that he'd like to work with this warrior, if possible, and now said warrior was standing in the door. Next moment, and with some relief, Cho heard Harry's footsteps behind her.

"Urion the Unexpected!" Her husband beamed, then celebrated a bow. "I'm grateful that you could make it so quickly, Urion. Come in and be our guest."

"I came when I heard the message, Ambassador." The Goblin hadn't bowed in return, but his right arm was held across his chest, probably the military version of a salute.

Harry turned to his wife and daughter. "Cho, Sandy, this is Urion the Unmistakable. He commanded the counter action in the assault against the wizard prison, after Sirius had played undercover agent."

"Only the Goblin troops, Ambassador, as you certainly remember."

Which was a hint at Harry's action in this event. Harry hadn't ignored any of Urions's orders, but had moved on his own before Urion had had a chance to tell him differently. With appreciation, Cho realized that for once there was a Goblin who didn't die in awe, seeing her husband.

"Urion," continued Harry, "this is my wife Cho Chang - like yourself, she thinks certain tasks should really be left to Goblin warriors. And this is our daughter Sandra Catherine - like myself, she thinks she must put her nose in everything. Sandy, this is U-rion - he will help us to cure Bill."

The girl examined the leathery face while the Goblin stood unmoving. Then she said, "Uh-rion?"

"Yes, that's me, Sandra Catherine."

About to smile at him, the girl stopped and looked questioningly at her mother.

Fortunately, Cho knew why. "You may call her Sandy, or Cass, or whatever, Urion - if she hears her full name, she thinks she did something wrong because that's my way of chiding her."

"Somehow, that sounds familiar." The Goblin smiled at the girl. "Then I'll call you little princess, because that's what you are."

Cho suppressed a remark while her daughter rewarded the Goblin with a beaming smile and all people present with a mind wave like a gust of sirocco. "Help Bill. Music."

Urion looked at Harry.

"I'll explain inside - the story's a bit longer, and I figure you'd like a drink."

Yes, Urion would, didn't object a generous brandy, which struck Cho a bit odd before she realized that for Urion, until a few minutes ago, it had been close to midnight.

---

While Harry told Urion the story, Cho could study the figure and the face, most of all Urion's reaction to what he saw and heard. Broad-shouldered, big for a Goblin, and remarkably composed. When Cass had curled into Nagini, Urion had watched without so much as blinking an eye. Maybe the members of the Ambassador's household were commonly known among the Goblins, but Cho didn't think so.

Harry finished, "We should check it as soon as possible. If that's the place, every wizard tourist is at risk."

Urion spoke for the first time in the last twenty minutes. "What exactly's our goal, Ambassador?"

"To find out if this castle holds an unusual magical power. That's all."

"Assume there is. Then what?"

"Then we'll inform the authorities, so this place can be closed and secured. Later ..." Harry explained his idea of a volunteer from the wizard prison.

Apparently, Urion couldn't find much taste in that. "A Goblin might be immune to that power."

"It's not impossible." Harry's eyes met the Goblin's. "Could also be they suffer still more, and I'd never forgive myself if Urion the Undisputed would find entry in the case record as Urion the Undiscriminating."

Cho glanced at her husband with bewilderment. Harry playing jokes with Goblin names - that was unusual, regardless of how nicely he had sent his message.

Harry recognized her glance and smiled. "Urion's second name is - er, subject to speculation. Sometimes that's quite useful."

The Goblin comfirmed the remark with a nod toward Cho, then turned back to Harry. "Who else will come with us?"

"Bill himself, then a friend of mine whose name is Tony Chee - he's a Muggle, which is his main qualification in this issue. Then Nagini here" - Harry pointed at the snake - "and Sandy."

Cho had gone tense, was biting her lips.

The Goblin looked at the girl for whom the world seemed quite in order that way, then back at Harry. "I noticed her - remarkable magic, Ambassador. Is this the reason?"

"Not quite - erm, no, in a way you're right. It has to do with music." Harry explained how a Goblin harp in first place and a triple Imperius at bad last had brought a two-year-old into the investigation team.

Ah, look there - even Goblin eyes could widen. Urion shot a short glance to Cho, and looked quickly away. Then he turned to the girl. "I can give you your own music, little princess."

A determined head turned left, right. "No. Hély music."

"Then ..." Urion looked at Cho. "Mylady, once I heard a Felison being played - something never to forget. And I remember something else I won't forget - how a boy disappeared into a tunnel of a gold mine, to perform a task he thought necessary. I was quite surprised to see him again, some time later. He was very stubborn, that boy - I guess it's been put into his genes."

Cho loved him for that - for his offer to a stubborn girl, and for his encouragement to herself. In some sense, she also felt grateful that Urion hadn't made some questionable promise like, "I'll make sure nothing will happen to her." From what Cho knew about Goblins in general and Urion in particular, this would have been utterly dishonourable.

While the other half of her mind didn't give a a damn for honour, wouldn't have objected hearing just that.

* * *

Life without magic was hell. Bearable, agreed, though hell just the same. Every minor task was a nuisance, and travelling a painful experience; thank God the linkports still worked for you. And the glances from the others who knew - pitiful, compassionate, fuckingly tactful. Suddenly they used their wand discreetly, as if they were taking a sip of booze early in the morning, or a noseful of dope any time of the day.

Calling Bill edgy would have been polite. He wasn't built to blame himself - aside from the fact that this would have been nonsense. He tried not to blame the others either, least of all his wife, because this would have been the most stupid nonsense, or so his better self told him.

But then, who else was there to blame?

Didn't work that way. Worked so badly that Fleur yelled at him, "Goddammit, Bill, do me a favour and scream and stomp and bite pieces off the furniture, but stop looking like a beaten dog. I'm going to call Fred and George - they have to come with a full-body armour, just for teasing the hell out of you. Since you can't curse them, there's little risk."

Bill wasn't built to beat his wife either, although he'd never felt as close as then. Next moment, he was drowning in a wave of dizziness, and seconds later, they were fucking until his eyes felt like going cross. Praise the Lord for big favours like Veela wives.

Except that, after a while, the anger was back. You just couldn't fuck as much as you were mad.

His children saved him from going nuts. Sitting with Michel in his arm while Héloise was playing for her father would put Bill's mind at ease - for another while. Then he would try to imagine how Muggles went through life, going about their business without the slightest trace of magic.

What a depressing thought.

When Harry arrived, Bill felt ready to do anything. A second infection? Why not - after all, maybe it worked like a switch, light changing with darkness every second time. Still, Sandra on Harry's arm took him by surprise.

"The last time we talked about this thing she was out of the game, Harry. What put her back in?"

"Music."

"Ah, yes, of course."

Edginess was a burden because it made you sarcastic, and sarcasm was a trapdoor you could fall in any time - for example when Harry didn't answer, taking your stupid wisecrack literally. So Bill swallowed his pride while not his sarcasm.

"I'm sorry. Would you kindly have the overbrimming grace of telling me a tiny bit more? But please no details - Heaven forbid I might suffer from that."

Harry's lips twisted. "You mean, just the overall picture?"

"Yeah, right! I mean, just between the two of us." And never mind a snake and a two-year-old listening with almost the same expression in both faces.

"Okay, then. She's in because of music."

"Thank you, Harry, that enlightens me a great deal. You saved me from months of scratching my head, lying sleeplessly at night, always this unforgettable picture in my mind how this great mystery's been solved - erm, I mean the other way - "

Harry stopped him cold - literally. The wave in Bill's mind felt like a blast of ice water. Although his words hurt more.

"Listen, Bill, if you want to play the asshole with me, that's fine, although Ron's better in that game. But down on the street is Urion the Unforgiving - right now he's going to have a chat with the street guard - and if you are planning to do it in his presence, you'll learn how badly wrong this idea is. Okay, you're pissed off, but you still have the magic everybody has."

"Everybody? What magic is this?"

Harry grinned. "The magic word."

Neat and clean - Bill had to admit that. "Okay - now I'm really sorry. Please excuse my bad mood. Would you - please - now ..."

"Well, as I said, it's about music ..."

Bill felt his teeth clenching. Just in time, he saw the sparkling in Harry's eyes and kept silent.

"... she was afraid that if she's not in, Hély would stop playing for her. Well - erm, she sent an Imperius to Cho, Rahewa, and myself simultaneously, and although I could keep clear, we decided not to take any more chances of such a misunderstanding."

Bill stared at his adopted brother, seeing enough in Harry's face to know that this hadn't been a joke. "Whoa."

"Said the barkeeper when the fan spread it all around ... Ready?"

---

Of course it took still a few minutes. Fleur came in, and while Harry told her how his cute little monster had cursed her way into the team, Bill headed for his office to arm himself for the journey. Which didn't mean arms - as an experienced Middle East traveller, he knew a weapon that was far more effective.

Money.

Bill would have apparated to Tiberias, only he couldn't due to lack of magic. Harry would have apparated first and summoned them then, only he couldn't due to lack of knowing the location. Urion would have neither, because Goblins couldn't apparate.

But they could be summoned, thanks for small favours to Allah, Jahwe, and God. So Harry summoned them to the Paris Linkport. And look there, another man was waiting for them.

"Bill," introduced Harry, "that's Tony Chee, my friend and aikido partner, otherwise a movie director. Tony, that's Bill Weasley, my oldest brother and recently a bit short on magic."

Bill shook a hand that felt hard, quite callused. He wondered if Harry could summon a Muggle - meeting this Tony here probably meant he couldn't, but somehow it wasn't the question Bill would have liked to ask here, especially not after this little exchange some minutes ago.

Apparently, Harry had done some homework, and probably at the Magical Tours website because he said, "The only link to Tiberias is from Haifa, and the only link to Haifa's from Tel Aviv, because they're all so good neighbours down there, and the next link to Tel Aviv - "

Bill missed his magic while not his knowledge, and this made him already feel better. "Forget your route, Harry - there's a shorter way. See that link to Beirut in twenty minutes? That's ours."

"Beirut? They have no connections - "

"That's the official plan. In Beirut, official rules mean a rat's ass, Harry. Trust me, and now let's check in."

In Beirut Linkport, Bill went to a certain desk and asked for a certain man he knew from earlier negotiations. With this man, for good measure and reasons of politeness, Bill had to negotiate three minutes, which was extremely quick according to Libanese standards. Then the deal was settled.

Bill returned to his teammates. "It turns out we can use a non-standard link, normally open just for mail. By the way, that's exactly the route we took at this excourse, so you might keep your eyes open, in case it's the route and not this place."

Some minutes later, they stood in Tiberias Linkport. Seeing the figures in combat dresses, Uzi submachine-guns in their hands and the fingers never far off the trigger, Bill felt grateful to know a Goblin and a little girl in their group - nobody would suspect them of some terrorist conspiracy.

---

He was right; they didn't fit the Arabic suicide command pattern. This was the good news. The bad news - they didn't fit any pattern whatsoever, reason enough for an Isreali guard to stop them.

A young female sergeant - actually quite good-looking, however unsmiling, while her comrades kept their positions and their guns ready, said, "Good afternoon, sirs - would you please specify your destination, and where you came from?"

Bill made a step forward. "Yes, sergeant. We come from Paris via Beirut ...

The girl didn't like this at all. The cool politeness in her face faded rather quickly, giving room for still cooler awareness.

"... our destination is the Crusader Castle near the lake."

"The castle's closed on Mondays."

"Is it? I'm sure they'll open for us."

"You aren't bothering much with standard link routes and standard opening times, are you? What's the purpose of your visit?"

"This is a scientific investigation. Not having tourists around is even better."

"Scientific?" The sergeant, who could fill her combat jacket so nicely, glanced at Sandra, the snake, the Goblin. "From what institution?"

"Gringotts."

If the word Beirut had wiped off any friendliness, Bill's last reply revealed open hostility. Small wonder - Gringotts meant Goblins, and Goblins refused to fit into the simplistic friend-enemy pattern that was the preferred perspective of anti-terrorist troops, Israeli or otherwise.

"What are you going to investigate?"

"You may ask Gringotts for that."

Bill's last reply did it. The girl was about to send them back when the Goblin stepped forward.

"Sergeant, my name is Urion. I am colonel of the Goblin Army, detached to escort this crew on their journey. Is there a reason to prevent us from performing our task?"

Read, Are you ready to raise a diplomatic accident? Bill kept his face steady.

The sergeant's face was mask-like. "No, colonol."

"Would you like to have us escorted to that castle?"

Read, Are you ready to raise a military accident by insulting a Goblin officer?

The girl wasn't. Bill showed her his Gringotts identification, fake-save like all Goblin certificates, and a minute later, they reached the short line of cabs outside.

The cab driver, an Arab, probably also knew that the castle was officially closed. However, he didn't bother to tell them, a sign of good entrepreneurship, but maybe he just gave his passengers credit in their ability of opening doors.

Sitting in the passenger seat, Bill became aware that he was paying a high price for that wee bit more space, compared to the others on the backseats - car accident statistics showed awfully bad numbers for this position. He felt grateful that, on the way back, it would be Harry who -

Or maybe not. Bill turned. "Do we need the cab afterwards, when we're done?"

Tony looked self-conscious. Harry gave the answer. "Yes."

So he couldn't -

"I'm sorry." Tony's voice sounded deeply embarrassed. "We checked it the other day. Harry can summon me, only there's a minor POA problem."

"POA?"

"Yeah - puking on arrival. And, to be honest, it's not minor."

"Okay." Sitting straight again, Bill hoped the twisting of his shoulders would be related to the driver's style. He could keep his chuckling silent, but he couldn't suppress it.

Against all odds, they reached the castle unharmed and with the cab still operative. Bill showed the driver three hundred-pound notes, then ripped them in two halves and gave him one pile. "Wait here. The other half will be yours back in Tiberias."

The driver's outburst of cusswords made clear what he thought of standing with his car in the full heat of the afternoon sun. Even so, Bill felt save to find the cab waiting for them - tripling the fare had been the right move, in particular as it came in two instalments.

---

He reached the others, who were standing at the small portal in the outer wall. From a military standpoint, this wall seemed pretty useless - not high enough, no platform on top from where the defenders could throw arrows, boiling tar, or plain shit onto attackers. So apparently its main purpose had been to keep the driftsand out of the castle yard. Today, however, looking from a business perspective, this wall separated the paying visitors inside from the ignorant Philistines outside, and the portal was the place with the cash register.

Which looked empty, deserted, without a bell to ring.

Tony inspected the lock. This model was unlike anything the Crusaders might have built. He looked at Harry. "Shall I climb over the wall and call for someone, or do we use a little force?"

Bill answered first. "Why not just apparate inside?" The portal consisted of vertical iron bars, with the castle yard clearly visible - this couldn't possibly be a problem.

"Because I want to check every step I move." Harry hissed something to his snake, who hissed something back. Then he touched the portal, again talking with Nagini.

Click. The door swung open.

Harry turned. "All right, Bill - try to walk the same path as the last time, and do it slowly. Urion, Tony, please watch our progress - when I wave, you follow and we watch yours. Okay?"

This wasn't exactly the Goblin's view of things, but Harry was right - he, Bill, was the scout, and Nagini was the sensor.

Hopefully.

Bill went through the door. Checking around, he saw that Harry with the girl and the snake was following some steps behind.

What had they done the last time, he and Konstantin? Looking around, commenting on the reconstructed building, exchanging comments on those Crusaders who had built such a nice castle, were dead and gone for centuries.

Konstantin was dead and gone too, but only for a few days. Had he caught it here?

Bill walked forward, toward the building. The path was flanked by a few trees, probably thanks to manual watering by the maintenance crew - the well was operative, although every bucket of water had to be hauled up from more than hundred feet below.

There was the well, framed by a circular wall, with the small crane on top. They had replaced the original rope with a thin steel cable - visitors who were carried down on this little stool certainly trusted the cable more than a rope, Bill himself had thought the same.

"Fever!"

Sandra's voice - alarmed, frightened, more panicky than anything Bill had ever heard from the girl. Stopping in mid-step, he wheeled around to look at her, the movement never finishing in place - all he realized was Harry gone, no longer trailing behind while at the same time something sucked him in.

A fleeting instant later, the world materialized again. There was the wall, the open portal - and there was Harry with Sandra and Nagini, and next moment Tony stood there while Urion was looking for any sign of movement inside.

Of course - Harry had apparated outside at Sandra's yell, had summoned him a split second later. Bill looked at the girl, who stared into the yard, now looked away. Seeing him, Sandra seemed to relax a bit.

Harry caressed her. "Did you feel the fever?"

A nod.

"The fever that was in Bill?"

Another nod.

"That was good, my sweetie. You saved Bill from that fever, and we'll tell Hély, and she'll play your music."

"Yes."

Bill felt the girl's glance rest on him. He made a step toward her and touched her face. It sent a slight shock through his mind, swallowing the remark he'd planned, that he would make sure Héloise heard about that.

Sandra's smile came still a bit shaky. "Bill. No fever."