The High Priestess

He came with short, seemingly awkward steps across the hall, incredibly fast, his bokken in the lower.

The lower?

Tony tried to detect the slightest hint what kind of strike Harry would choose. It seemed impossible. His friend was approaching him, would be within striking range in less than a second, and still Tony couldn't help thinking his kenjutsu partner was ignoring him completely.

But Harry's bokken didn't.

It blocked his own, having crossed the distance from the lower to the middle as if by accident. Tony's left leg stepped backward, body and bokken following, to parry the counter that would invariably follow.

It didn't come. Like a shadow, Harry passed him, presenting the uncovered back, except it was Tony's wrong side - so close and yet beyond range. In this fleeting instant, Tony knew he'd be too late.

And right - still in his turn, he felt the precise touch at the neck, all the force abruptly stopped when the end of Harry's weapon touched his skin.

Tony finished the turn and let his own bokken hang slack. "This doesn't make fun."

"No?"

"For the last three times we met, I didn't score once! We both know well, on a lucky day, I score one out of ten. What's going on?"

"These are no lucky days."

Harry didn't smile. Yet still more his voice told Tony that the remark wasn't meant as a joke. Then Harry added, "For your information - I'm practising jaho as much as I can, and apparently with success, that's why you're chanceless recently."

Tony nodded. He was chanceless because he was clueless - against jaho, the art of hiding your intention in combat. It was never the visible part alone - when watching kenjutsu in video, an expert could only determine the list of possible strikes that might follow. Short as the list seemed, too different were the techniques to parry them.

It also explained why Tony felt as though he wasn't there when Harry came along, closing in on him. Knowing that it made no sense to continue the training, Tony said, "Let's go upstairs and have a tea."

Harry's eyes widened. He examined his friend for a second, then nodded.

Walking toward the door, Tony felt pleased. Offering tea had been a surprise. It meant significantly more than offering a drink, in particular because Harry knew that Tony couldn't warm up too much for the tasteless stuff, bitter as acid, that belonged to a tea ceremony.

And Harry accepting, nodding meant he was ready to talk.

Some minutes later, when they were sitting opposite each other at a low table, with Sandra at the side, and Harry as the only one bare of a comforting cushion - or snake - under his ass, the door opened. A geisha appeared, and Tony watched with pride and expectation how the young woman in the black-silver kimono performed the ceremonial movements. She would fill the tiny cups again, then she would leave. The time until then would be filled with the equivalent of small talk.

And Tony wanted to hear and see how Harry would react. And Sandy.

---

Unrestricted by the boundaries of tradition, the girl examined the woman, apparently waiting to be looked at.

But Ireen kept motionless.

The girl lost patience.

Ireen twitched and gasped, then looked at the two men and finally looked at Sandra, to find herself rewarded with an angelic smile.

Tony said, "Forget the rules for a moment, honey - you must talk with her, she won't rest otherwise."

The woman rose graciously and went to the other side of the table, where she knelt down again, this time in front of the girl and the snake.

"Hello, Sandra, my name is Ireen. I was look - it is nice to see you for the first time."

"I-reen."

"How quickly you learned my name! I know the name of your snake, this is Nagini. Shall I say hello to her too?"

The girl looked wondering.

From behind came Harry's voice. "You did already. Hello, Ireen, nice to meet you."

The woman shifted a bit, so she had Sandra and her father in the same view. "Hello, Harry. Your daughter's very convincing" - Ireen bent closer toward the girl - "and so charming."

Tony saw Ireen twitch again, barely suppressing another gasp. At the same moment, he felt the stray-effect from Sandra's second smile, this time at mental level and with the delicacy of a freight truck. He grinned.

"There's nothing as tender as the welcome of a two-year-old, what, Ireen?"

The woman tried to save the remnants of her geisha solemnity, without success. She pressed a wrist onto her mouth, managing to keep silent while her body was shaking.

After a few seconds, Sandra joined her, audibly this time, a silvery giggle.

Ireen gained some more composure. With a face flushed from suppressed laughter and embarrassment, she poured tea into the two cups, then rose to leave.

Harry said, "In case you'd like to talk with her a bit more, Ireen - that would be fine with me, and Sandy is that overwhelming only in the first moments. She adjusts pretty quickly."

The woman glanced at the girl, then at Harry. "I'm not sure if I can handle her."

"If she comes into your arms and doesn't mind leaving Nagini behind, you're qualified. Basically, she's just a two-year-old - you know, these fragile creatures ..."

Fighting another fit, Ireen went to Sandra, opened her arms, and left with the girl moments later.

Tony felt better than after scoring three times in a row against Harry. He grinned. "Somehow this ceremony went totally out of control, but I'm no traditionalist anyway. So, what do you think?"

"Did you ask her already?"

"Ask her? What?"

After a moment, in which Tony didn't get an answer, it dawned on him what his friend was talking about. He almost jumped.

"For God's sake, Harry - I know that you and Cho are trying to get me settled, but that's ridiculous! I know her for two weeks!"

Harry kept silent.

Of course. For him, even a shattered tea ceremony was sacred, no place to exchange protests, confirmations, repetitions, the kind of remarks that contributed for ninety percent of all conversations here in California. Tony sighed.

"We'll talk about you in a moment, but please, for once, allow a friend who's involved in this matter to follow your thoughts."

His friend seemed to relax. "Okay, although it's pretty simple, and a bit embarrassing. You let her perform the ceremony - for us, I mean. And for reasons you'll hear about in a moment, I'm on constant alert - please excuse my bad manners."

---

As predicted, it was Tony's turn to feel embarrassed. Letting Ireen perform the tea ceremony had told his friend enough to know that he trusted her and, still more important, respected her. And Harry on constant alert meant he was scanning with his haragei actively, and he had sensed something Tony himself felt still very reluctant to admit.

Then Tony became aware that most likely, Harry had sensed Ireen's mind as well. For a few seconds, he fought the temptation to ask - he would lose face, but he was burning to know, and wasn't a friend there to witness the burden of a lost -

"Where did you meet her?"

"Through an agency. I was looking for someone experienced in the tea ceremony."

Harry's face turned into a wide grin. Next moment, it stopped. His friend looked at Tony, then bowed. When Harry came up, he smiled. "What an omen! Ready to listen?"

So Harry had recognized that he, Tony, had been looking for a teacher, rather than an actor in a movie. Because a while ago, when he'd asked Harry whether he performed this ritual properly, the answer had been, "You're doing fine."

In other words, no.

Tony said, "There's really magic in this ritual, apparently - provided it's done by an expert. Okay, I'm ready."

"I met a woman. She calls herself the High Priestess, and she's the one who caused the wizard fever. She wants Sandy." Then Harry told Tony what had happened since they'd been walking around in a castleyard, with Tony carrying the snake who now was lying near the table.

Tony asked, "The fever has stopped definitely, right?"

"Yes."

"What might she want from Sandy?"

"Marie-Christine thinks she's looking for a new High Priestess. The thought is absurd until you think it over, and nobody has a better explanation. Which tells me Marie-Christine's right."

Tony thought it over. A High Priestess was a joke, a figure from a B-movie, except there was such a person somewhere, and his friend with his admirable talent had met her ... Sandy was two years old; first thoughts about her profession might be due in fifteen years, a time period which for someone counting life in centuries was nothing.

He looked up. "She isn't the female version of Voldemort, is she?"

"No. Bit single-minded, though. A rule that's more important than lives? No thanks - that's not the teacher I had in mind for Sandy. And for the next ten years at the least, if not twenty, our daughter will be with us. Anyone who thinks differently should think again."

So this was the reason for Harry practising his jaho, preparing for the next encounter. Tony asked, "Did I get that right, you brought her off track when you told her about Voldemort?"

His friend hesitated, then nodded. "You're right. That's why she didn't ... Ramon said the same, only with other words."

"High Priestess - sounds like a respectable job."

"Does it?" Harry snorted. "In your movies, Tony, a High Priestess would be something like a whore with incense on the bedstand and gold dust on her tits. It's not what I had in mind for Sandy, but I could live with that - better than a religious killer."

"She has stopped killing."

"Yes. Besides - she didn't kill on purpose, truth to be told. But the simple fact is, she wants Sandy, I'm not going to allow that, and I don't know how to prevent it."

"You've been in this situation before, Harry. You can stand it - you can bear the thought, and still think about counter tactics."

"That's what I'm telling myself. Hearing it from you - thank you, Tony."

"And you have something I never could figure out exactly what it is. Excuse me if I'm as sneaky as a certain friend of mine ..."

Harry showed a weak smile.

"... but why don't you ask the Goblins for help?"

The smile faded. Harry looked at Tony with an expression everybody would have called frightening. Tony hurried to say, "Please forgive me if I said something wrong."

"No, it's no secret, just ... Anyway, the thought didn't cross my mind yet, which tells me I'm not as clear-thinking as you said. And this is a private matter; asking them for something like that ... Tony, you know I don't scare easily - "

"No, but it's good you told me."

The joke didn't catch. "This bond with the Goblins, that's really an excuse to wet your pants. But for Sandy ..."

Reconsidering Harry's words, Tony felt his heart jump. "No, Harry, you're wrong. It's not a private matter - it's global; Sandy's just a figure in a major play. And this High Priestess is another figure, because - what's the power behind? Whom does she serve?"

Seconds passed. Then Harry nodded slowly. "I was asking that myself, only I didn't care much, because it wasn't the most urgent question. But you're right. It justifies asking the Goblins." He bowed. "You have shown me a way. I'm in your debt."

Uh-oh.

Tony had another idea. "Can we do it right now?"

"What?"

"Paying the debt. Harry, please tell me - what's an Ambassador?"

* * *

"Not yet, maman. I want to say good-night to papa."

Fleur smiled at her daughter, realizing that, some days ago, her reaction would have been much sharper. But now, with all things settled in the family, not even the unruly Michel on her arm could upset her. She answered, "He'll be late, sweetie. Now that his magic's back, he's working to keep - "

The doorbell chimed.

"That's him! That's him!"

Most unlikely so - Bill had his own key, but Héloise stormed to the button, followed by her mother.

"Hély!"

The shout was piercing more in Fleur's mind than in her ears, telling her everything about the guests climbing up the stairs, and about the question of Héloise's bedtime.

Harry's first greeting was just a smile. Only after placing snake and daughter near the harp, and after hugging Héloise, he came back to deliver a proper greeting. And of course - when he took Michel to say hello, somehow he forgot to give him back.

Fleur drew a face. "I thought you came because of me."

"Why, yes."

"Bill's in the office - I don't expect him back before midnight. And Cho's in the office, and we're here, and what's the avail? If the one Weasley's out of the way, you don't find anything better to do than snatch the other."

Harry whispered, "Give me a minute, then he'll be sound asleep."

"My dear 'arry, don't make such jokes with a Veela, at least not with such a voice - you're playing with fire."

"What makes you think it was a joke?"

Fleur sighed. "Your honesty. We should be glad for that - please remind me every now and then."

"And what about your own?"

"It's fine, but I'm a Veela - that's more than long hair and a certain power. We just have a different kind of ethics."

Harry looked thoughtful. "I don't think I ever understood completely what it means."

Reaching the living room, Fleur offered him an orangina, then poured herself a glass of wine.

"Let me try to explain. At the time I taught you dancing, I would have liked to teach you a bit more - very much so, but the effect on you would have been disastrous. You were busy to your limits getting along with your feelings for Cho."

Harry nodded.

"When you came back from Japan - I saw it in your eyes when you looked at me for the first time in this particular way ..."

Harry smiled, apparently remembering himself.

"... its was out of the question for other reasons. If Cho was ready to kill Tamiko, I was ready to help her - which doesn't mean I don't appreciate what she did."

Harry grinned. "Makes two of us - no, three."

"Stop boasting. Better - stop not boasting. Anyway, I'm trying to show you examples how ethics forbid sex."

"And now? You're married, what about Bill?"

"Being faithful - if I'd sleep with you, my feelings for him would be the same afterwards, as well as those for you. No - they would have deepened, but toward Bill as well, because he's your brother. And I wouldn't feel guilty - but you would, and that's why ... Hélas."

Harry kept silent.

Fleur smiled. "You're such a gentleman - for the question you didn't ask me, you may ask Bill. He'll answer you."

"Yes, I know. I think I have a rough idea what he'd say - after all, he's my brother, and no Veela. I think it's a certain quality which is mandatory for partnerships between Veela and humans - I know two examples, your father and Bill ... It'll be fascinating to watch Michel grow up - his mind, I mean."

---

Fleur filled her glass again. "Before we get lost in chatting about our children - what brought you here today?"

"I expected to meet Bill, too - but you'll tell him, which is good as well. It's about Goblins." Harry explained what Tony had suggested. "I think it's okay to ask them, but it doesn't hurt to double-check. I thought it's a good idea to ask Wynor unofficially."

"Sure. I never figured out exactly what's his position, but I think it's good enough - "

Harry smiled. "You bet."

Fleur looked at him. "Do you know more?"

"Not about him. But I got some background information about Goblin harps."

"Oh. You didn't bother to tell us."

Harry laughed. "Because the topic's embarrassing both of you so much. Actually, you already have the information, only you shy off from thinking it through."

Fleur tried to do it now, but failed. "Nobody called me shy before. Please tell me."

"This is one of six harps, right?"

"Yes - and they're priceless, and when Hély's old and grey rather than silver, she has to specify the next - er, owner."

"Right. And we know it's not owning, just holding, using. But did you ever ask yourself who was the harp's previous holder?"

"Well - it can't be Wynor, because he's too young to give it up."

"Exactly. That makes him a kind of solicitor; maybe the former holder didn't specify a wish, or whatever. But I think you know that Goblins consider property differently - for them it's not individual but common - "

Fleur's eyes widened. "You mean, assigning the harp was a decision of the Goblin community?"

"Yes, exactly. And Wynor had a saying, and his vote won. By the way, it tells you something about how the Goblins value your family, Fleur."

She shivered. "I'm grateful you told me, and I understand why you've been so reluctant before. Say, did you know all this when you insisted so strongly about Hély's godfather?"

"No, not all the facts and details. It was a gut feeling."

Fleur raised her glass. "To your guts ... Are you going to call Wynor?"

"Er - no, that's why I'm here. I hoped you and Bill would ask him."

"Certainly. But why not you personally?"

"Because I'm the Ambassador," explained Harry. "I just can't say, Hi, Wynor, this is off the record, this conversation never took place, okay? I mean I could, but he couldn't."

"Oh. I wasn't aware. And he won't have trouble discussing it with us?"

"No. The only important thing is - you shouldn't say, Harry wants to - "

"Of course not." Fleur glared at Harry. "I'm not stupid! Even Veela use the brain for thinking."

"Sorry - I'm a bit concerned about this request." Then Harry grinned. "Although, imagine you'd use something else - what a charming thought."

Fleur laughed. "You might be right - sex takes place in the brain, so - " She stopped because suddenly, the picture of worried girl had resurfaced in her memory, and the right conversation partner sat just in front of her.

"While on the subject - some days ago, I had an interesting conversation, actually here in this house."

"Was it - instructive?"

So Harry knew what she was talking about. Well - small surprise, after he himself had sent the girl.

"Up to some point," replied Fleur. "We know what's the problem; she had very bad luck with her first experience, and now she's afraid to be frigid. But she isn't."

Harry's glance was watchful. "So far we agree."

Smiling, Fleur patted his hand. "No need to worry, my dear 'arry. I told her she might ask you for a certain story."

"And?"

"She said she'd prefer to hear it together with Michael."

Harry sighed. "That's exactly what - I'd hoped you'd find another solution."

"So I was right!" Fleur beamed. "Of course she was terrified at the thought of asking you, so I said you were expecting the question already. I was showing off a bit - I'm proud of you that you had the same idea."

"Proud, huh?" Harry grimaced. "Somehow, that doesn't make two of us."

* * *

The evening sun was almost blinding her. And she had no sunglasses with her, while the jeep had no protectors. Damn.

Somewhere farther north, it would have been reddish and romantic. At this lake, for example. While here in Israel, the sunlight was hard and cruel until the last moment, then gone.

Had to be the country style. The terrorists behaved the same way. The army too, come to think of it. Only she didn't want to think of it now.

Laila reached the castle gate and braked. She killed the engine, then quickly went through the gate before the clouds of dust, whirled up by the car, would reach her. Walking, she moved the sub-machine gun onto her back. Leaving it in the jeep was unthinkable. But she could keep it out of sight.

At the well, she peeked down into the darkness, her arms resting on the stones. What was the name of that fountain where you'd throw in a coin and then express a wish? Was it Trevi? Anyway, it was in Rome.

She reached in her pocket and felt a coin. Just one ... She would know two wishes, but maybe this wasn't allowed, would destroy the spell.

Nonsense. This wasn't Trevi, there was no spell, not for her, not in Rome, nowhere ... And no fairytale prince either.

Next moment, defiance filling her mind, Laila threw the coin.

She hadn't expected to hear it hit the water surface. But there was a faint noise coming up - only that it sounded strange for such a small -

"Hello, Laila."

She heard her own gasp and felt her knees go jelly, unable to wheel around and behave like an army sergeant, female or not.

Eventually, she managed. Seeing her face, Harry made a step toward her, then stopped.

"I'm sorry - I must have frightened you terribly, for a second I thought I'd have to hold you before you'd fall down. Are you okay? You look very pale."

Laila sat down on the ground, then shifted the gun aside to rest her back at the wall. "Hello, Harry. Please tell nobody how you scared me."

"No. I'm really sorry, but I heard something hit the water, and thought ... Please forgive me. Can I offer you a drink for that?"

Laila looked around. "I missed the bar."

Harry smiled. "It's out of sight. A beer?"

Then she understood. "A stiff brandy, to tell my nerves the scary part's over."

Pop, he was gone. This time she was prepared.

Pop, he was back, holding two bottles and two glasses - a beer and something that looked dark golden and very expensive and very alcoholic. Staring at the bottle, Laila said, "I don't believe it - what bar serves that quickly here around?"

"Bar? I was at home."

She started to giggle, maybe a bit hysterically. After a few seconds, she felt a tumbler in her hand.

"Thanks." She took a deep gulp and sighed. "That tastes like an angel p ... good stuff, I mean."

Harry grinned. "Samantha taught me to accept police slang from a woman - cheers, I mean."

Laila laughed. "Nicely said. What are you doing here?"

"I check the place every evening, recently - to see whether the power returns. When I heard the stone, I thought ... Never mind."

"Without your snake, and your girl?"

"Yes. Nagini's with Sandy."

"I thought you did everything together with your daughter."

"Not everything ..."

Laila felt herself flush. Dear God, don't let him look now.

"... and recently she met a young man with a guitar. She can't get enough listening to him - he can sing, too, and he can't get enough playing for her, but maybe it's not for Sandy alone. It gives me some free time."

What a romantic picture. Some students, probably near the lake, a young couple and a little girl ... Then Laila registered two startling facts in rapid succession.

That it would be only natural to ask her the same question, and she didn't know what to answer.

And that the question didn't come.

---

She dropped the gun to sit more comfortably, then sipped at this stuff from Heaven. "And your wife's working in the office all the time?"

"Yes."

"That's emancipation, isn't it? Like here in Israel - women here can use bad language, or kill people, or make the first move." Laila became aware that adrenaline and booze were a bad combination, felt nonetheless quite content with it. "What about your own emancipation, Harry?"

"Bad language isn't my favourite, not a problem for me either, as long as Sandy doesn't catch it. Otherwise - I know how to kill, how to make the first move ..."

Only he didn't.

"Besides, an angel pissing on your tongue - that's not bad language for me. It's such a funny picture - "

"So you like language that's right to the point?"

Harry glanced at her. "Sure, unless - what if the point's obvious, what if it's better left unsaid?"

"There's a saying here, Harry - if you throw a stone into the water, seven giants aren't enough to calm down the waves ... That's what you mean?"

"Yes."

Laila nodded, suppressing a sigh. "I didn't throw a stone - it was a coin, like at this fountain in Rome. Had only one, although I could have used two, because I also wish I were a witch. But maybe I am, because it worked - that's why I was so scared for a moment. What do you think, can I put a spell?"

Harry hesitated a second. "Yes."

"Only it's not strong enough, huh? In contrast to yours, my little magician. Your spell's haunting me. I tried to break it, but the more I tried, the more ... Is this common with spells, or is this one of your specialties?"

"It's common - with this one."

"Is there a cure?"

"None that's within my reach."

"Then take it back. Please."

"Seven giants ..." Harry's smile faltered. "Sorry, that wasn't funny. I wouldn't know how."

Laila bent over and stared into his face. "Tell me you're not interested in me, that I don't turn you on."

"I'm not going to lie."

She leaned back. "Shit ... I was serious, Harry - with this spell, I mean. I'm not lovesick - it's the combination that knocked me off. Magic, gentleness, a connection between us that felt more intimate than - "

Out of nowhere, his fingers found her mouth and stopped her words. "Please - don't you realize that it's the same the other way around?"

She savoured the touch. "So it wasn't just from seeing me there, in panties and bra?"

The hand left her mouth. "No. Not that seeing you like that had a calming effect - "

"But you're a faithful husband, right?"

"I'm not going to hurt Cho."

"Yeah, that's understandable." Although Laila could have done without this particular gentleness. She said, "Since I don't know her, I had no trouble leaving her out of the picture in my fantasy."

Harry's face came around. "Maybe that's the solution."

"What?"

"Breaking the spell - once you know her, you can't leave her out of the picture. What are your plans for next weekend?"

Laila felt grateful for sitting already - this way, jelly in place of knees didn't matter that much. Finding her voice again, she said, "I don't think that's a good idea."

Harry smiled. "Why not? She knows about you just enough to ask me whether we had sex - "

"What? ... Oh no, never, she's a witch and I just have the Uzi, and I know I wouldn't be able to pull the trigger ..."

Harry laughed. "Calm down - she's not narrow-minded, sex with other partners is not a taboo, only ... Banning a demon works both ways, believe me."

Laila looked at this figure she had undressed in her dreams. "Tell me about Cho."

* * *

Michael registered Harry's return - after Sandy, of course, and only thanks to his most faithful listener. Although the soft gust of air from Harry's appearance went unnoticed at the campfire, Michael knew long before the others.

He couldn't see Harry. Hearing him was impossible anyway, even without the guitar playing. No - it was this very short break in Michael's mind. It had taken him a while to register - when he played the guitar, Sandy was clinging to him like a child holding the hand of - well, an older brother. Except she didn't use the hand, she used her mind. An incredibly soft touch, and for an instant it had faltered.

Feeling extremely pleased to share a secret with her, if only for seconds, Michael played a few improvisations to prolong his song, at the same time waiting for the moment when one of the others would gasp, or twist. The natural candidate would be Rage, although her tendency to frighten was pretty limited. Or maybe Vanessa - recently, as Michael had registered, Vanessa got some attention from Harry.

Just for the music connection?

Nobody gasped. Michael felt sure - Harry did something to stay unnoticed. Every wizard, every witch had a tiny amount of sixth sense for the presence of a powerful magic, maybe even Muggles, and Rage certainly had more than the rest of the group - of course, not counting Sandy. But nothing. This could hardly be just the music from his guitar.

Michael finished his song. Before anyone could react, he said, "And now, in honour of a traveller, the only Hebrew song I know - Hava Nageela."

And suddenly the presence was there. Rage gasped, obviously from sensing Harry, Sandy turned and smiled, and Vanessa opposite squeaked. An instant later, Michael saw Harry standing behind her.

This song hadn't much of lyrics, a few lines that were repeated again and again, slowly first, accelerating, finally slowing down to the initial pace. Originally a dance song, or a chorus, was it also suited to show off with some artistry on the strings.

---

Michael stopped and looked at Harry. "How was your journey?" Everybody in the round knew what Harry was doing - looking around for a woman who called herself the High Priestess.

"Quite interesting," came the answer. "But not what I was looking for."

Michael saw Rage glancing at her godfather and smile. Then something like understanding shone up in Clemens' face.

Some others had noticed the changes too. Aileen stood up and signaled Jeremy that it was time to leave.

Harry turned to them. "Hey, wait - I didn't mean to break the group, hinting dark secrets. Okay - I met Laila, this sergeant who got shot when we detected the power. I had a drink with her after I scared her like hell." Harry turned to Rahewa. "And if you'd wipe that grin off your face, we could sit and listen to Michael."

Maybe so. Except that Rahewa failed miserably, instead had trouble suppressing a giggle.

Aileen said, "It's okay, Harry. We - erm, wanted to - I mean, it wasn't you." She turned to Jeremy. "Let's go."

Harry turned to his goddaughter. "Would you please stop acting like a drunken sailor?"

The giggle stopped like cut. Rahewa stared into the fire for a moment, then started to rise.

Harry stopped her, his hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, I used the wrong picture. Yes, you're right, she's developed a crush on me, and I didn't count the seconds until I could leave her company, but she's suffering mostly from being a Muggle, after she got in touch with the magical world, and that's not funny. By some accident, it's me who represents this world for her more than anyone else. Imagine it would have been Clemens who treated her, and I'd come back and sit here and grin and say, 'I met Laila, she asked me how a young potions wizard's doing'."

The flames of the campfire were playing in Rahewa's face, illuminating the dark colour of embarrassment.

Harry touched her face. "Now c'mon, give it a rest - you've compromised me, I've compromised you. But we did it in public, so the others can laugh at us, huh? ... Why don't you have a walk with Clemens? He can cheer you up much better than I."

Clemens said, "Maybe not better, but she'll appreciate it more, I hope."

Into the laughter, Rahewa turned to Harry and hugged him. Then she rose quickly and disappeared into the darkness, followed by Clemens.

---

Harry turned to the fire and moved a bit closer to his daughter. "Oh man ... Please let's sit here for a few minutes, before you're going to escape too."

"I hadn't ..."

"I didn't ..."

Michael and Vanessa looked at each other, stopped simultaneously, both falling silent.

Harry said, "Some years ago, I would have died in such a situation. Trying to keep it unsaid, and going through hell for days afterwards. Thank God, that's past."

Vanessa glanced at him. "How ... Was it - er, Fleur?"

Harry smiled. "She gave me a jump start. Without her ... She ordered the day and the hour when I invited Cho to the first ball. Afterwards, there were others, Cho of course, and a Giant ... In a sense, I was lucky; the constant pressure of Voldemort was so high that the thought of saying something to your girl, or confessing something in public, was - it wasn't less terrifying, but there was less time."

Michael felt Harry's eyes look at him and heard him say, "Just for good balance, Michael, and because I want to ask you something, you have a question free."

"I have ... What do you want to ask me?"

"How did you notice me?"

"Oh, that ..." Michael felt as pleased as before. "While playing, I can feel Sandy in my mind. It's so feathery light, it took me a while to notice her, but since then - well, and when she tenses for an instant - I didn't notice you, I only knew you were back."

Harry nodded. "I thought it was something like that ... What I'm doing is called jaho, the art of hiding yourself, your intention. If it hadn't worked on you ..." Harry smiled. "Uncovered by Sandy, that's okay."

Michael became aware that two people were waiting for his question to Harry. After a moment, he said, "I ... Yes, I have a question. It's nothing new ..." He glanced at Vanessa, seeing her relief. "If it's too personal ... Sorry, drop that, after you just - okay, here's what I wanted to know for years. When the Muggles had Hogwarts under siege, there was this guy who died. The soldiers said he tried to climb the tower and fell. Er - was it true?"

"Not quite." Then Harry told the story how this man had challenged him for a duel in the former Giants' camp, how he had shot at Rahewa and Harry, how he had shot down Samantha, and how Harry finally had brought him up to the tower.

"He jumped by himself. He said, 'I'm free, you can't command me,' and jumped. In a way I killed him."

"You ..." Michael stopped, then started again. "I think it was the right thing to do."

"Sure - he was incurably mad, the others said I should have done it before. That's what I'm telling myself when ..." Harry looked up. "And that's been nagging you all these years?"

"Well ..." Michael felt himself blush. "I was a first-year and had heard all the stories about the Battle of Hogwarts, and most of the people who'd fought then were still there, in particular ... Well, and then nothing happened to fight the Muggles, just waiting ..."

Harry laughed. "You've been disappointed by your heroes, right?"

"Er - yes."

"I had problems with that strategy myself. But it was the right one - two of us wounded, that was all. Except for Lousy."

Vanessa said, "Do you know that ... that Rage is still blaming herself for that?"

Harry turned to her. "Certainly. She, Samantha, and I - we're all blaming ourselves, and rightfully so."

"Can I ask you something else?"

"Sure."

Michael waited expectantly. Harry probably too, only his face didn't reveal anything.

"Er - where did Lousy come from?"

After a second, Harry said, "I found him in London Linkport, before travelling to Santa Monica, to a party in the movie business. Having found Lousy, that was the only good thing that day, because ..." He looked at Vanessa. "Around that time, Cho had a short and unhappy affair with someone else, and she called me for help, only I didn't realize what it was - anyway, that's not what you've been asking for."

Harry stood up, and Michael had another opportunity to watch Sandy float into her father's arms. Then Harry said, "It took us a while to get that settled, but then, this affair was the least of our worries ... Isn't a campfire a wonderful place to sit? See you." Pop, and he was gone.

---

Michael stared into the empty space. "Wow."

Silence.

"This sergeant, what's-her-name - "

"Michael?"

"Yes?"

"Would ... Would you mind sitting here?"

After a second, he understood. "Actually, yes, quite so." He rose and sat down again at Vanessa's side. "Here I am."

"Hold me, please."

He put an arm at her shoulder, his other hand seizing for hers. It felt like ice. He pressed her fingers at his chest, rubbed them. "Your heating's broken - in front of a campfire." He held her palm up, breathing into it. "Well, these cold nights in early September ..."

"I had another question in mind. I - and then I lost my courage; asking for Lousy was the next thing that crossed my mind."

Michael turned her hand, holding it in front of his lips. "Which only shows how fast you can think." Slowly, aware that any moment a sharp reaction might come, he placed his lips at the back of her hand.

Vanessa didn't pull it off. "The funny thing is - he knew what I've been trying to ask, that's why he ... He didn't answer both questions, but ..."

Michael claimed some brain cells in good shape for himself. Using them, he saw little risk to have taken the wrong conclusion. "I'll wait, Van ... for something that isn't short, isn't unhappy, and least of all an affair."

"Will you promise me something?"

"If I can."

A short smile. "Not everything?"

"No. If you'd ask me to stop ... Well, as I said - "

"If I'm going to scream and kick at you, and shout to get lost, promise me to come back - I don't mean it, not you."

Michael felt a thrill of expectation, and deeply inside an unshaped fury against an unknown someone. "It's a deal. I'll go see Hermione to mend my broken nose, then I'll come right back."

Vanessa didn't smile. "Kiss me, please."

He did. Lightly, again, a bit harder, admonishing his hands to keep where they were.

"Touch me."

Examining her face, Michael saw anxiety and determination. "Do you know the campfire spoon?"

"No." According to Vanessa's voice, she could have lived without this knowledge.

"It goes like that." Michael moved a bit aside, spreading his legs. "You sit just in front of me, your back toward my chest. My arms are around you, my hands are in reach of everything important - well, except I cannot see your face, but you can't have everything at once."

"And I? What am I supposed to do?"

"To lean on me, to feel my reaction at the small of your back, and to signal with the position of your own legs how far to go."

Vanessa stared at him. "Little experience, huh?"

"I swear, I never did it myself before. It's all theory - but I remember the Muggle camp, that's how they did it."

Vanessa stood up and sat down again between his legs, stiffly resting on his chest. "You must have been a remarkable first-year."

Michael took her shoulders, pulling them against himself. "Not really. With an older sister ... she taught me a few tricks of the trade."

He put his right arm over Vanessa's breasts, his hand coming to rest around a soft swelling which felt just great. Fighting against a thick mane, he brought his mouth near her ear. "Your hair's wonderful."

"Only my hair?"

He cupped his hand a bit tighter. "No, what I'm holding here's great, too. I didn't know that it feels so fantastic, just - just holding it."

"Michael - I still can't promise you anything. Right now, I'm ... I'm using you to - for something like a cure. It feels so egoistic - no, don't answer now. I talked with Fleur, and she said I shouldn't worry to appear egoistic, and otherwise I'd never find out. Is she right?"

"Definitely."

"I'm ... I'm no virgin anymore - but I had no - er, orgasm yet - erm, I mean, you know what I mean ..."

With some trouble breathing, Michael said, "Yes I know, and ... er, for me it's not quite the same but ..."

Her hand pressed his hand which pressed her breast. "I know what you mean. I want to have it with you, only it's not that simple because - well, er ..."

"I know. I think I know."

"Fleur said, I should ask Harry for a story, how he helped someone in a similar situation. Then - then I said I'd like to hear it together with you. But her first suggestion was just to be with you, in the same bed, I mean, just ... Only I was so scared that I'd appear stiff and cold, but now I can imagine us - if you won't forget it's not your touch but - the memory." Vanessa exhaled deeply. "So - what do you think?"

Michael felt his heartbeat, pulsing as hard as hers. "The idea to be together with you - er, in the same bed, and ... Could be - I know I won't lose my control against you, while - er ..."

He felt her smile. "Don't you worry, the idea that you come from my ... It has quite some appeal, actually."

"Has it?" He swallowed. "Well - that's something where my theory doesn't help. But why not do both?"

"Both?"

"Yes - hearing Harry's story, and starting our - er, training. I'm sure I can learn from him."

"Do you really expect him to be that detailed?"

"That's no question." Michael bent closer, whispered, "The only problem is to find a spot where to look at while he's talking."

* * *

When the campfire was falling behind, when he felt sure they were out of earshot, Clemens turned his head. "Can I start cheering you up?"

"No."

From short but instructive experience, Clemens knew that this was no good time for a wisecrack.

Next moment, Rahewa said, "But you can start telling me how ridiculously I behaved ... Unbelievable, like a third-year in her first anatomy course. In front of the others!"

"As Harry said, that's - "

"No, it's not!"

Against knowing better, Clemens said, "Okay, I stand corrected - I mean, I walk corrected."

To his slight surprise, he could walk further, without being rewarded by some aikido trick for the wrong remark at the wrong time. Instead, Rahewa stopped. "Kiss me, that will keep you from mumbling such nonsense."

She was right.

After a moment, walking further, she said, "You don't even know what's so shameful, do you?"

"Well - your grin was a bit suggestive, okay, and he said - by the way, it was the first time I heard him reprimand you. And then he told everybody, and it was as he said - no harm done."

Rahewa stopped again, turned to him. "You only got the public part." There was pride in her voice about her godfather's performance, still more shame about her own role.

Clemens hugged her. "Okay, then ... Tell me the rest."

Apparently, this was possible only while walking further.

"I overheard some remarks from Almyra - she thinks it's a bit more than a crush what this Laila got. And he - he finds her quite - er ..."

Clemens tried to help. "So he finds her attractive, sexually attractive - okay, what's the deal? She's not the only woman, and - " Clemens stopped, noticing too late that he'd hinted some knowledge he wasn't supposed to have.

"And what?"

She'd registered. Shit. Following a recent example, Clemens escaped forward. "By some accident, I came to know about - er, Beatrice and her potion ... erm."

Rahewa seemed relieved. A moment later, Clemens heard why.

"Then you know what it means to step into a grease-pot like that. It's not - I mean, he and Cho, they don't make a secret of their sex adventures, not after ... Anyway, that's not the point."

"Then what?" It didn't mean Clemens would have minded hearing more, but ...

"When he came back, there at the campfire, his defense was a bit down. That Priestess, of course, and seeing Sandy again ... And that's why I could sense a bit more of his feelings than usual - my own haragei isn't that bad either - and I hadn't anything better to do than giggling like ..." Rahewa seemed close to tears.

Clemens hugged her again. "So he's very interested. Okay. I don't blame him - I saw her, there on the table - "

"But can't you see it? Spilling in public what you found out with your haragei - that's unforgivable! And he realized that I know, and that's why he told the others, and that's why he said what he said to me."

Clemens held Rahewa still a moment, until her sobs faded, then took her hand to walk again. "All right, it's unforgivable. But, by pure luck, I know that he has already forgiven you."

"How can you know?"

"He punished you in full public."

Silence.

Clemens sensed - this was make or break. "Someone told me about your parents - about your father, in this case - because I should know and because you'd never tell me ..."

His bones were still intact. Good sign, that.

"... well, and he called you a drunken sailor. You aren't going to tell me it really slipped his tongue, are you?"

"You think so?" A small girl's voice, miserable.

Clemens stopped again. "You know it. It's just your shame - and what's more, he sent us off, so you'd get time to settle. That means - it's okay, and the less is said about, the better." Then, with pride in his voice, he added, "And he trusted me to make it clear to you, in case you didn't notice."

Walking again, Rahewa said, "You're right. But again, you only got the public part." She was walking faster.

"And what's the hidden part here?"

"Wait a minute."

Her marching pace left little room for insisting. Clemens followed, until they reached a place which didn't look different from any other, here at the lake.

Rahewa sat down and looked at him.

Clemens sat down and looked at her.

Her head turned to the lake. "What he also meant was, it should never happen again."

"That's fairly obvious."

"Okay, then."

"Then what?"

Her voice was flat, expressionless. "One reason for my lapse was - I'm a stupid virgin, not knowing what I'm talking about. So he sent us off - is this clear enough?"

Clemens stared, speechless.

"Maybe ... maybe it's just my imagination, although ... At any rate, it's true, and ... Besides, he wants to invite us, and - er, at our first weekend together, I don't want to blush every five seconds, thinking of - "

"Here??"

What a clever remark, in this situation. Oh, wonderful, Clemens Stein, Casanova would have been proud of you.

Rahewa looked at him. "It's here where Harry and Cho - er, where Cho got rid of ... Well, I thought it's a good omen."

Maybe so, only he could have done without, in this situation.

As if sensing his thoughts, Rahewa said, "Cho told me. Harry never talks with me about sex - not voluntarily, that is. While Cho - I have all my knowledge from her, about them two, and about ... I think there's an agreement between her and Almyra, because between mother and daughter - I mean ..."

Clemens realized that Rahewa's suada could only be nervousness pure, which was sufficient to wake him of his trance, and to close her mouth.

* * *

Ramon Garcia finished his last phone call, feeling deep satisfaction with this answer as with the previous ones. Then he rose and headed for the door to reach another office down the floor.

Jesamine, since a few hours ex-CEO of Groucho Biochemicals, exactly since Ramon had been officially nominated, looked up. "Day's work done?"

"Let's see - since lunch, I didn't do what I'm supposed to do in my new job. If my boss knew what I did, she'd be very upset, and now I'm leaving earlier than I should to keep another Groucho employee from working. And still there's little doubt that my boss would appreciate."

"That's why you need a secretary." Jesamine made a suggestive gesture toward her bosom. "Something well-shaped to do the paperwork in the meantime."

"Why not looking for a contrast? Slim, narrow hips, small - er, fingers ..."

"Boyish?" Jesamine grinned.

"I wouldn't go that far," replied Ramon. "A slight touch of androgyne's okay, but I appreciate this little difference, you know."

"I'll have a look. Is it okay if the fingers aren't quite that small?"

"Why not? If she can type with them - I'm ready to provide a touch-screen."

The laughter was following him outside.

Ramon apparated to the studio where the other Groucho employee would still be working. Contrary to his remark to Jesamine, Ramon waited behind the circle of light and action until the director called, "Cut!"

Marie-Christine disappeared in her wardrobe.

Ramon waited long enough to give her time for stripping off her costume, without the time to dress again, then knocked.

"Just a minute!"

Scaling his voice carefully, and keeping close to the door, Ramon called, "This is the GBCEO! Madam, you have the right to open the door undressed. How you're looking can be used against you. You are entitled for a - "

The door came open. Marie-Christine, in underwear, her face alarmed, pulled him inside. "Are you mad? You can be heard through the entire set!"

"Yes I am, which means I can be condemned only to - "

She closed his mouth with a kiss - at this moment maybe more afraid of what he might have said, but Ramon had no objections.

Then she stepped back. "No."

"No what?"

"Is the communication broken between your head and some other parts? Not now, not here - and I'm hungry."

"Oh, that." Ramon watched her wiping off the make-up. "Just a welcome - less noisy than before."

Marie-Christine smiled. "Latin macho. Imagine it would squeak."

Ramon started to chuckle, imagining such a habit. At least, the picture was good to make him relax while Marie-Christine dressed.

Sitting in the car, with Ramon behind the wheel, she asked, "Where do we go to?"

"To Luiz. Luiz Pereira - the restaurant is still pretty new, but I know Luiz from before. I booked a table - I hope I wasn't too late."

"What do you mean? Did you get one or not?"

"Yes, I got one. But the crowd has detected him, it's probably full, only that Luiz would chase some other guests away to make room for us."

"An old friend?"

"I wouldn't use that term. But he's in debt to me."

"And you want to keep it that way?"

"Quite the opposite - today's my chance to balance out. But not because of the table."

Marie-Christine didn't ask more, knowing well that Ramon would reveal the rest only in the restaurant.

---

It was indeed full. When the waitress heard Ramon's name, she said, "Just a second, sir," and disappeared through a door. Seconds later, Luiz came out.

They shook hands. Then Ramon introduced, "Luiz, this is Marie-Christine Théroux. She's my good reason for giving up some bad habits."

The host took Marie-Christine's hand and touched it lightly with his lips. "Enchanté, madam. I didn't recognize you instantly, because I didn't expect such a celebrity here - please forgive me. For compensation allow me - "

Ramon interrupted him. "No way, Luiz - we're celebrating, I want to ask you a favour, and I've found the end of the rainbow, so please let me pay for your delicious food."

"What colour has this rainbow, lieutenant?"

Ramon beamed. "No more lieutenant, Luiz - I quit, got a manager job, quite high, and they pay so much that you feel ashamed."

"Then" - Luiz smiled - "let me select the courses for you. I promise, I'll take only the most expensive ones."

"It's a deal."

When the waiter had served the lemonade for Ramon and the champagne for herself, Marie-Christine raised her glass. "To the new - what whas it - GBCEO?"

Ramon followed, then sipped. "It started here."

"Here?"

"When Cho invited me to lunch, to tell me I should quit the service and come to Groucho, that's been here, right this table where we sit." Ramon beamed again. "And today, I can pay back."

"You mean your work?"

"No - excuse me for a minute, then I'll tell you."

When he returned, Ramon saw Marie-Christine digging holes into a splendid salad with all kinds of seafood. He sat down. "How is it?"

"Delicious. Almost fat-free. And proteinous - just right for the celebrating I have in mind later."

He felt his pulse accelerate. "Then let me explain what I did, so we can - er, discuss the alternatives."

Marie-Christine looked at him. "No way, José. You selected the restaurant, Luiz the food, so it's my turn to - "

"I just meant some - er, details."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about - the details." Marie-Christine took a shrimp, quite pointedly, to suck it in and crunch it between her teeth, smiling.

Ramon exhaled, for an instant unable to concentrate on the food. Then Marie-Christine asked, "So what were you doing to pay back?"

"Calling in old debts," he replied. "I spoke with two FBI agents, then with some buddies in the LAPD, and a moment ago with Luiz. They all got printouts with the picture of a remarkable lady, and the instruction to do nothing, just give notice if she appears somewhere."

"FBI - these two, er ..."

"Tracy Chipman and Wayne Ellis, yes." These two agents had been the contact persons when Harry and Remus Lupin had hunted Dementors some years ago, ending a series of attacks toward visitors in amusement parks.

"And Luiz?"

"He has contacts - to the other side of the table. Not quite up-to-date, but good enough. Pulling these strings - we agreed that as of now, we're even. And that's just fine with me. From now on, we can become friends."

"Are you going to tell them?"

"Harry and Cho? No, probably not - first because Cho's better off the less is said about the issue, then because I think Harry expects me to do somthing like that ..."

Marie-Christine nodded.

"... but most of all - I know what'll happen, now that people are looking for a face. They'll find lots of such women, and I don't want Harry to check all of them. He has to run his own style, not that I know what it means in detail, but - "

"Then who's going to check them?"

Seeing Marie-Christine's anxious face, Ramon touched her hand. "I also spoke with Francesco - with that spector cassette, he - or his ex-colleagues from Pinkerton - know as much as I do, only they're Muggles which take no risk. The fever has stopped, but you never know. If they come back saying, I think it's her, it's early enough to talk with Harry ... The hardest part was to convince Francesco that these observations should be billed."

Marie-Christine examined Ramon's face. "Erm - would you mind passing these bills over to me? I mean - er, a police lieutenant's salary can't have created much of a reserve."

"But only until - " Ramon stopped and grinned. "No, I don't mind; thank you."

A moment later, he said half thoughtfully, half jokingly, "You know, a year ago, such a question would have been impossible. But with Harry as example - if he has no trouble spreading Cho's money, even a Latin macho like me shouldn't have when spreading yours."

Marie-Christine beamed. "Right you are!" More seriously, she asked, "Do you think she'll appear here?"

"Who knows? What I did is basically standard procedure." A thought crossed Ramon's mind. "As far as we know, this lady originates from some ancient culture, right? Then maybe she's never heard of America."