The High Priestess

Clara Stein looked at her brother and shook her head. "No, I don't regret that I did it. It's just - I face some problems."

"You mean it's a Danaergeschenk?"

Clara thought it over, then smiled. "No - that would be something totally unpleasant, wouldn't it? It's deeply fascinating, but so far it's more of a prospect than anything else. I'm looking for ways to fit my new capabilities into my own framework - and somehow, it doesn't work."

They were sitting in a Biergarten in Munich, one of these locations where all kinds of people could be found sitting close to each other - students and streetworkers, businessmen and beggars. It seemed a good place to discuss her own feeling of being stuck between two worlds.

"How's Joachim?"

"Well ..."

Her brother looked sympathetically. "Trouble?"

"I'm not sure. He thinks it's great - he always wants me to do spells, at home and what's worse, at parties. As though I'm suddenly a celebrity, and he's telling everybody about it, only nobody's interested much. They ask me whether I can read their hands, predict the future. I say no, and that's it." Clara gave a short laugh. "Imagine you'd meet someone who can - I don't know, remember numbers with fifty digits. Great, yeah, but so what? You watch it once, and then ..."

"Eidetics. You're talking about eidetics."

"Yes, right - the absolute memory, isn't it? I wonder if they feel the same. Except I can't even do it; my most fundamental problem is that I'm a pretty stupid witch. I have to learn!"

Clemens smiled. "Yes, that's true. So why don't you learn?"

"It's not quite that simple. How can I do it? Clemens, I have a job, and unless for a very good reason, I'm not going to give it up. Show me a night school for stupid little witches - that'd be a step in the right direction."

Her brother nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah - I see what you mean. It would ... but maybe ..." He stood up. "Let me check something; I'll be back in a minute."

Clara watched him leave. She could see how he was reaching in his pockets for something, then he disappeared from her view. A moment later, she figured out what she had seen: he was making a phone call - no, phony call - without her listen.

It was somewhat strange. She and Clemens - yes, they could live well without exchanging every thought and every emotion at once, but when together, and nobody listening ... She felt a tiny bit hurt, which was certainly overreacting, understandably so in her current situation. Still, it wasn't helpful to see the closest companion walk away to make a phone call.

Clemens came back and sat down, looking a bit uneasy.

"Something wrong?"

"No, why?"

Clara could feel it. They knew each other in every minute reaction. Trying to find a clue, she asked, "How's Rahewa?"

Clemens smiled. "Fine - as good as can be, with these few months left to pass until she's finished with Hogwarts. There's only one thing worse than being together at the same school, and that's being apart."

So whatever it was, it had nothing to do with their young love.

Her brother glanced up. "You know me too well - no, we know each other too well, that makes it difficult if you're suddenly in a situation in which you can't talk about everything. And I'm not used to it."

"Business secrets?"

"Er - something like that, yes."

"With Groucho Biochemicals?"

"Clara!"

She gasped, hearing this piercing shout. Next instant, her eyes widened - nobody around her had startled, no head was turning ... A second later, she knew who had called her, because she could see Harry with daughter and snake appear around the corner.

He sat down. "Hi, Clara - I'm so glad that Sandy has learned to aim her welcome more precisely. Some weeks ago, a few people here would have called the ambulance."

"Hi, Harry - yes, probably. How did she learn it?"

Harry grinned. "She had a skillful teacher - and you know how easy it is to learn if you're that young."

"Did Clemens call you?"

This was a stupid question, in a way, only Clara couldn't find any better formulation, while still recovering from this mind-numbing beam issued by a two-year-old.

Harry shook his head. "No, he didn't. He only wanted to ask me something, but I thought it'd be nice to come over - it's better to talk face to face than over a phony, especially with people who are so reluctant to accept a little favour." He looked at Clemens. "At the risk of being as pushy as Hermione - I like it to return a favour, and Sandy likes places as crowded as this one."

"I'll get used to it, in time." Clemens turned to his sister. "I had the idea of trying some private teachers - you know, an hour here, an hour there, and I called Harry because of the travelling problem." Clemens blushed a bit. "I - I wanted to know about portkeys, and how to - "

Harry interrupted him, which seemed more of a help than an impoliteness. "He almost asked me for a price. Now that really would have been an insult."

Clara couldn't follow that quickly. "Why? What is their price?"

"For charming young witches who happen to be Clemens' sister, a drink in a beer garden. One for me and one for Sandy - that's already good for two portkeys."

Clemens, after looking around for a waitress without success, rose to fetch the drinks personally. Using the time, Clara asked, "And for other people?"

"An awful lot of money. That's the business of Groucho Triple-P, selling personal portkeys like pieces of art. But I'm entitled to give them for free, as long as I don't make a habit of it." Harry had quite some fun.

"Well, I could do with some help - I asked Clemens for a night school where I could learn how to use my wand."

Clemens was back with two lemonades.

After drinking, Harry said, "Clemens had the right idea. Find people who are willing to spend some time teaching you spells. Something like one person, one hour per week - and every now and then, an hour will be cancelled for some reason. It's up to you how many hours to invest, and how long."

"But who? I don't know that many - er, Magicals, and how could I ask them? Why should they do it?"

"For most people who are no teachers, teaching something they know well is fun - okay, up to a limit. That's why I said, you have to find some people. And because people like to chat, too, only part of the time will be teaching." Harry counted with his fingers. "I can tell you four people at once who'd appreciate - no, five, not counting ourselves, not counting anyone at Hogwarts - for teachers, it's probably less entertaining."

"Who are those five?"

Harry beamed. "Remember Fleur? She'll be delighted. Remember Janine? She'll have lots of time pretty soon, except that it'll be interrupted by a very young wizard. Fleur's parents - that's Elienne and Jean-Baptiste, they'll be happy, they'll feed you with cake and champagne and everything ..."

Clara giggled.

"And then - Ma Weasley, that's my adopted mother, her children are out of the house and Arthur, her husband, is very active in his job, so having someone for company is the best that can happen to her."

Clemens said, "And the people I know - and others you'll meet, it's certainly enough to get a two-week's schedule together. If it's no problem with the portkeys, that is."

Harry sent him a glanc of the category stressed patience, then turned back to Clara. "We'll put a board with a number of small plates in your apartment, like a large keyboard. When you find someone new, you'll call me, and we'll activate the next one, after engraving the name, and we'll establish the inverse portkey where you travel to. Can you promise me to call and not feel embarrassed just because of ten seconds' work?"

"Er, yes ... Thank you." Thinking it over, Clara asked, "And they work only for me?"

"Yes - that's the specialty of Triple-P, so it's secure both ways. I'd say, those in your apartment should carry you right in front of the other house, and those in the other houses should carry you back into your apartment."

"Hm."

Clemens looked at her. "You think it won't work?"

"No - I'm sure it'll work, and the prospect of meeting people and talking with them, and learn from them, that's intriguing for sure. But I know what'll happen."

"Joachim?"

"Exactly. Seeing this - er, keyboard, the names, and me disappearing, and he can't follow. I can see it already - soon there'll be a very unpleasant scene, and that's it."

Yes, she felt sure of that. Joachim didn't take well being excluded on purpose, no matter what. He could get angry finding the bathroom door locked.

After another moment's thinking, Clara sighed, then looked up. "I'm going to do it."

Harry asked, "Are you sure? About both?"

"Yes." Clara sighed again. "I figure I knew it all the time. I figure that's what took me some time to think it over - not whether I'm ready to become a witch. Just ..." She smiled at her brother, somewhat sadly. "It was never a question whether I'd follow you as soon as possible."

Clemens said, "I'm sorry for you."

"Don't." Clara took his hand. "Even if we're somewhat unbalanced again, it's not exactly an unbearable loss. Really, now that I know what's comin', I feel easier every second."

Clemens still looked depressed.

"Hey, c'mon - there's a new exciting world, waiting for me to be detected. And I'll find my own big love some day, I'm sure of that."

Harry watched Clemens, then turned to the twin sister. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes, I am. I'm going to be a witch."

"About your friend, I mean."

"Yes, definitely."

"Would you be interested in organizing night schools?

"Huh?"

"That's what you're going to do for yourself, only on a broader base, and semi-professional and fulltime job mixed in?"

Astonished, Clara glanced at Harry. "I don't know. I never thought of it, and - why? Who besides me would need that?"

"Nobody, at the moment. But this might change ..."

She saw Clemens' head jerk up, saw him stare at Harry.

"Clara, there's something Clemens knows, and you don't. It was bothering him, and it was bothering me too, because - well, it's obvious, with you two that close. Sorry if this sounds cruel, but - as you're going to break with your friend, we can afford to tell you."

"I knew there was something. It has to do with other Muggles becoming Magicals, right?"

For an instant, Harry's eyes were flat and hard, his face expressionless. Then he smiled. "We're just in time, it seems - except that this is not a topic for a beer garden. Can I invite the two of you to a quiet place?"

Clemens looked extremely unhappy. "Harry, I didn't - "

He was interrupted at once. "I know," said Harry, "what do you think I just did? Only she can think for herself, right? And very quickly so."

"Is it that - " Seeing Harry's gesture, Clara stopped. "Okay, then - now?"

"Yes - the sooner, the better."

She hesitated. "Wouldn't it be better to wait until - I mean, what if I change my mind? How can you be sure?"

Harry grinned. "I for myself couldn't, but - did someone tell you already about Nagini's special trick?"

* * *

Ron stared at his brother, then at his wife. "He's mad - tell me he's mad, because otherwise it's me who is. One of us two must be mad."

Janine said, "I always had my doubts ..."

Ron looked relieved, next instant suspicious.

"... while I'm sure that 'arry knows what he does."

"Of course." Ron stared at his wife and her monstrous bulge. "That'd be the first woman comin' cross with him - yeah, okay, not counting Cho." He turned back to Harry. "Why are you telling me? What was so bad with sleeping well?"

Janine said, "Isn't that obvious? You'd be the only brother not knowing. Imagine you'd find out in a few month, or years - I don't dare to think of the complaints and shouts, the rage at that time. Your complaints now are certainly the shortest version 'arry could figure."

Ron looked at his brother, raising his arms in a very French gesture. "Doesn't it always give you a warm feeling? This trust and unvarying support from your own - "

"Sister-in-law? Yes, you're right - I was a bit reluctant to point that out so clearly in this particular situation."

Ron fell back in his chair, grinning warily. "You should say thanks when I'm prompting you so skillfully."

"Thanks ... But there's another reason - you're involved. There's a task for you."

"Me? ... No, no thanks, no way. In case you didn't notice - I have a job already."

"Sure - that's why I'm here."

Ron dropped the theatrical part of his displeasure, which was clearly the smaller one, and started to think. He didn't need long. "Wizard schools, huh?"

"Exactly."

After some more seconds, Ron became aware of the full extent, closed his eyes. "Oh God - ten years from now, there's ... I can see it already - later generations will call it The Magic Explosion ..."

Janine smiled at Harry. "I love it, hearing him with his politician droning. Other people have to switch on TV for that, while I get it for free."

Ron didn't bother to glare at her. "... Ten years from now, we'll need a million teachers, tens of thousands of schools ..." He stopped, glanced at Harry. "That's impossible."

"Yes it is."

Suspicious again, Ron examined his brother's face, then sighed. "I give up - you had time enough to think it over. I confess - I'm not as quick as Hermione, I need a measurable amount of time ... Tell me."

"You have to destroy the traditional wizarding school system. You must establish magic courses in every normal school ... That's the outline."

Totally serious now, Ron put his chin in his hands, staring ahead for almost a minute. Then he looked up. "I see ... A magical nucleus in every school - for the last four years, we can grow more openly because then the magic kids are in ground courses ... And we have to concentrate."

Harry nodded. "And get rid of courses nobody needs urgently."

"Yep - Divination, for instance ..."

"Defence against the Dark Arts."

"Transfiguration."

"Quidditch."

Ron grinned. "True, nobody needs it, but I'll make it survive, mark my words - more, it'll be the driving force on every school to build a decent wizard faculty, have a team, win tournaments ..." He beamed. "Hey - I always knew I'd make my mark in Quidditch history, and that's my chance."

Harry looked satisfied. "Say thank you when I'm prompting you to your fame."

"Thanks." Ron was thoughtful again. "What will Dumbledore say?"

"He knows what's coming. He has some ideas what to do with the old magical schools. Talk with him."

"I will - but I think I know already. Some kind of elite school, or wizard universities - after all, somewhere there must be a centre of those magical arts not taught in normal schools ..."

"Maybe except for Divination."

Ron shook his head. "No. The Muggles love it. There are more make-believe artists on earth than real wizards and witches. Anyway, I think the course is clear - six years in the treadmill, and them treating me like a criminal, and then - bang."

Harry nodded. "There's something else: night schools."

Ron let his mind inspect this idea from all sides. "I see what you mean - flexible concept, filling gaps, teachers can have another job and so ... But where's the market?"

"It will come." Harry told him and Janine about his conversation with Clara.

Janine was delighted. "What a wonderful idea! That was thoughtful of you, 'arry."

"Clara, huh?" Ron grinned. "I remember her - yes, Harry, that was quite thoughtful of you."

His wife peered at him. "Don't mess with two witches at once, my dear - you'd be surprised about the side-effects."

Ron went over, kissed her. "Just joking - you'd be disappointed if I wouldn't, isn't that so?" He looked at Harry. "Will there be more?"

"Could be. We might find out we have to - er, transmigrate some people, for some reason, for example to keep their mouths shut. Or Aram'chee gets bored, and she starts wandering around, giving people magic for a change."

"But the planning's just for the new-borns?"

"Yes." Harry smiled. "With one exception."

* * *

Michael finished his song, then took a long gulp from his beer and belched. "That's singer's privilege," he added.

Rahewa drank from her soda and belched back. "Is it?"

"Now you have to sing."

Rahewa grinned. "You don't know what you're asking for." Toward Clemens, she said, "What do I get for not singin'?"

"Nothing, but I'll just make sure of it." Clemens closed her mouth with his own.

When he let go, Vanessa said, "Then you have to dance. What about your Grass Dance?"

"In jeans? No way ... Besides, that's nothing you can dance alone. We were six, then."

Aileen said, "I never had a chance to see you - I was too young then to join the balls, and without connections ... Maybe we should start it again, what do you think?"

"Are you mad?" That was Jeremy, looking desperate.

"Are you serious?" That was Rahewa, looking expectant.

"We're six, aren't we? Why did you stop?"

"The last one - that was shortly after my mother died. I danced it for her, and then ..."

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't know."

"No - the idea is quite interesting, actually. It would be just one performance, or two, if we'd got invited from Beauxbatons. Yes, we should think about it."

Jeremy and Clemens looked at each other, grimacing.

Michael glanced over to Vanessa and saw her eyes shining.

Rahewa said, "We could rehearse here - it's really danced on grass, you know. Harry turned the parquet into a plain with prairie grass, and back afterwards - I'm sure he'd do it again for us."

Out of interest, still more in an attempt to move the conversation away from this unfortunate idea, Michael asked, "Where is he? He didn't come lately - playing for Sandy, that's always something special."

"He's busy." Rahewa beamed. "And today I know for sure he won't come, because he asked me to deliver something."

"What?"

"To whom?"

Rahewa checked her wristwatch. "Should be here any minute ... Michael, c'mon, play us another song, then I think it's time."

Michael fetched his guitar and started picking. still feeling a slight doubt, dropping it, feeling thrilled for an instant, dropping that too, started singing.

It was a song from the southern part of the States, about a prisoner who'd escaped, who was on the run but couldn't leave without seeing his girl once more. A rapid rhythm, pretty simple, while the singing raised a true challenge - holding a tune for five seconds, sharp stops, skipping voice ... In a way, this was his first public performance.

It had to be sung with outrage, and some desperation, which meant his head had to get up, almost shouting, then fall down again, his voice becoming small, nearly inaudible. Coming to the end, Michael saw a figure approaching.

He stopped picking - the last line was sung a capella, and also the reason why he always had shied off from performing it in public.

The last tone died in his throath. Michael was breathless - from singing and from expectation.

Total silence.

Looking up, he saw awestruck faces. Into their stare, he said, "I wouldn't mind some comment, but we have a newcomer."

For a moment, there was some chaos - people didn't know what to do first, express their admiration or welcome Clara. Then Clara sat down and said, "If nobody does, I will," and started applauding.

The ban was broken. People joined her, Vanessa hung at Michael's neck, and Jeremy said, "Sorry, Michael, that was ... I didn't know you ... Why didn't you do that before?"

"Well - I didn't know either."

Then Rahewa said, "That's the right evening - Michael shows us his real talent, Clara has finished her first lesson with Remus, and now," she turned to Clemens, "there's something Harry gave me for you. Except I thought this particular something should be passed over by Clara, and for good reason."

"What is it?"

"For what reason?"

Clara looked at her brother. "I have no idea - that's what I should give you." She handed him an envelope.

Clemens broke an important-looking seal and bent forward to read in the firelight. Pleased like a child, Clara took her wand and said, "Lumos," to give him better light, and read together with him.

Michael saw how Rahewa could barely hold herself from jumping up and down.

Clemens looked up. "It's from the Goblins. Can someone tell me what a Request is?"

"Yes I can! Yes I can!" Rahewa's head came around to look at the parchment. "What - I knew it! I knew it!" She started to strangle Clemens with a hug.

Michael, who knew a bit more about Goblin Requests, looked at Clara because Clemens was totally out of combat, fighting for sheer breath. "What category?"

Clara examined the parchment again. "They call it Privileged. What does it mean?"

* * *

She looked around in the caf‚, a place she had visited often enough, while not in civil clothes like now. It looked almost empty. This was probably her last visit, although she hadn't come because she would miss it. Certainly not ... She was done with Tiberias, like she was done with the army.

The door opened. Seeing the familiar triple figure, Laila braced herself for the storm of excitement that would wash through her mind in an instant.

And here it came. "Laila!"

Harry walked over, kissed her, and dropped the girl into her arms. "Hi, Laila, let's share - Sandy for you, Nagini for me."

While he ordered, Laila was busy welcoming the girl, and tickling her, and settling her in her lap. Suddenly, she felt a lot better.

Harry examined her. "How are you?"

"Until a minute ago, the answer would have been, don't ask. But now I feel great."

"How come?" He smiled. "A minute before, I mean."

"I'm trying to find myself again. I quit the army. Then I looked for a flat. You won't believe what they demand for a rathole. Then I looked for a job. Seems as if I have the choice between a place to sleep or something to eat, with the salaries they offer. It gives me a totally new perspective of my time as a sergeant."

"Did you already rent something?"

"Not yet. Till the end of the week, I'm still allowed to use the barracks. But I won't stay here anyway - what's so great about Tiberias, after all?"

Harry grinned. "The castle."

"Been there - seen that. Scary place, as I remember."

"Would you mind coming with me once more to that place?"

"What for?"

Harry's expression was unreadable. "It's planned as a surprise."

"Now that's a real change, that is. Whenever I went up there, the scene was dull and boring."

Harry's smile came back. "That sounds more like you. What kind of job did you look for?"

"Just something reasonable to make a living." Laila grinned. "I got a call from a certain agency with an aversion from ads in the newspaper - seems as if they are interested in army drop-outs, or maybe some of them."

"And?"

"I can't quote my answer - not while Sandy's listening."

"Hmm ..." Harry drank from his coffee and grimaced, then he looked her in the face. "I'm here to offer you a job."

Laila felt her heartbeat quicken.

"The job has two parts - a public one and a non-public one. The public one is simply challenging, stressing, with irregular office times - provided you see the office at all, that is."

"You'd do great as a used-car salesman - I can't wait to say yes." Which was the truth.

Harry no longer smiled. "The non-public part - that's something special. Very special. In a way, it's like with this agency, because you won't be able to resign."

"Sounds better by the second. Yes."

"It's sort of risky."

"Yes."

"If it comes out, they'll kill you."

Laila snorted. "What's new with that? Don't you hear me? Yes!"

"You don't even know what it is."

"It's in California, right? And it's Groucho, right? That's all I need to know. My answer is yes."

"Very good. So then, welcome aboard."

After a moment, Laila started to laugh. "It's already like a dream, but somehow a few details won't hurt, what do you think?"

"Remember the guy with the collection of non-traceable pieces?"

"Ramon?"

"That's him, yes. He needs an assistant."

Laila remembered what Cho had told her about this Ramon. "You mean a secretary?"

"Nope. I mean an assistant."

"Now wait a sec - he's the CEO of Groucho Biochemicals, right? And this man needs - what makes you think I'd qualify for that? Or Cho?"

"He's an ex-cop, and you're an ex-sergeant. We thought you two would do great together. And then there's of course the non-public part."

"You aren't going into the arms business, are you?"

Harry laughed. "Certainly not. This was totally private and had nothing to do with his job."

"What - er, kind of assistance does he need?"

Harry's eyes were sparkling. "None of private nature - sorry, I think I put you on a totally wrong track, just because I can't tell you yet. He needs someone he can trust, someone who knows about - by the way, Marie-Christine, his girlfriend, knows about that too, for more than one reason."

"Sounds like a big conspiracy."

"Something like that, yes." The sparkling was gone in Harry's eyes.

Laila tried to grasp it completely, but failed. "This offer ... assistant of the CEO ... why me, Harry? Is it - " She stopped, not wanting to spoil the moment.

"It's because we trust you. That's more important than anything else; the list of people who know is very short, and it won't grow much. And it'll take some time." Then Harry grinned. "Although I don't think Ramon will complain about our choice."

Becoming aware of what was lying ahead, suddenly Laila felt weak, encountering a shock of pleasure that seemed almost too much. "I wish Cho was here, to tell me it's real."

"Want to meet her?"

"Now??"

"She's in the office - except we have to do something else first."

Laila stood up. "Let's go, then. I feel a bit sick anyway."

Outside, Harry took his wand, pointed it toward a pole at the boardwalk, murmured something, and looked up. "Touch this."

Laila came out in the castle yard. She watched Harry with daughter and snake reaching the well and sit down. Then she followed him, sat down herself, and had a look into the darkness. "No drinks today?"

"And no coins either, because we don't need them. Laila, I want to - "

"Aram-chee!"

Laila looked at Sandy and saw her beaming. She wheeled around, while at the corner of her vision she noticed Harry's arm stretched out behind her. Then she stared at a woman, somewhere knowing who this only could be, and felt Harry's arm supporting her. After a second, she steadied.

Harry's voice said, "Good evening, Aram'chee. This is Laila Belezikijan, the woman I asked you about. Laila, this is Aram'chee - she's the High Priestess."

Laila swallowed. "Er - good evening. I wonder if it's nice to meet you."

The woman came closer and stood in front of her. Like in a trance, Laila felt a hand touching her forehead, stroking her cheeks, while the look from these eyes held herself caught.

The woman made a step back. "Welcome in our world, Laila."

While she tried to decipher this message, the woman turned to Sandy and held her arms up. "Can I have her for a little while?"

Laila saw the girl float into the woman's arms. Quickly losing track with reality, she turned to Harry. "Somehow it's good I'm no longer walking around with an Uzi - I might have done something stupid."

Harry beamed. "I don't think so. But try this." He held up his wand.

Laila glanced at the piece. "What for?"

When Harry didn't answer, a crazy thought filled her mind. Totally crazy. An impossible idea. She grabbed the wand and whooshed it through the air, while at the same time calling the words, "Hocus pocus!"

Next instant, the wand fell from her powerless fingers while her eyes were staring at a thin arc of sparkling glitter, quickly fading in the air.

Harry fetched his wand and stored it before he grabbed her and hugged her. "Welcome in the magical world, Laila. You're a witch."

She glanced at the High Priestess, who responded with a short smile, only to concentrate again at the girl. Then she pushed Harry back to stare in his face. "Really?"

"Really."

She started crying.

He held her and supported her. "Take your time. Aram'chee is in no hurry, as long as she can play with Sandy."

Which was only good because it seemed much harder to stop a crying of pleasure than a crying of pain or sorrow. Eventually, Laila steadied, then she walked over to the woman with Sandy on her arm.

"Thank you. This means so much to me ... Thank you."

"It was Ha-ry's wish. I had no reason to deny his request, and now I see no reason to regret. May your magic flourish."

The girl touched her nose. "Laila witch."

"Yes I am, yes I am!" Laila almost jumped through the castle yard in her excitement.

Harry checked his watch. "Steady on, Laila - we have to do another visit."

"You mean Cho?"

"Not yet. But I'd say you need a wand - what do you think?"

"A wand ..." Laila tasted the word, its sound, its meaning, tried to imagine herself with such a piece ...

"C'mon, you can daydream afterwards - even Mr Ollivander has a closing time." Harry turned to his daughter. "Come, Sandy, we have to get a wand for Laila - remember Mr Ollivander?"

Maybe mentioning this slightly weird man was the reason, maybe not - Sandra shook her head. "No. Aram'chee." Smiling friendly, and very determined.

The woman said, "I did not suggest anything, Ha-ry. But I would be very pleased to wait here with Sandra until you have found a fitting wand."

Harry studied his daughter for an instant, nodded. "Fine with me. I'll leave Nagini with you, so she can sit if she wants ... See you later." He came to Laila. "Ready?"

"Er - where's the portkey?"

"What portkey?" Harry grinned. "You're a witch now - you won't throw up from a little summoning, would you?"

* * *

He reached the Montalembert, remembered the location of the bar from another visit in Paris, and went inside. He ordered a red wine - a proper choice at this place, still more for this occasion - and sat down at one of the small tables to have room for his notebook, should it take longer.

She would be in time if she could, late if the event took longer than planned. Waiting for her was still better than most other methods of killing time.

After a while, Paul Sillitoe's thoughts drifted back to a time some years ago, to the situation then, and today, to figures that had played a role, still were doing so ...

"Hello, Paul - I'm glad to see you."

He hadn't seen her coming, used his startling to get up and greet her. "Hello, Ginny. Sorry, I was far away in my thoughts. What drink do you want?"

"Nothing yet - I held glasses in my hand all the time. Let me just sit, and look at someone who doesn't twist and shout and blurt excited bubbles of bullshit."

Paul smiled. "You look great."

"No I don't. I'm tired, and upset. It's just the dim light here."

"I can see enough, and what I see is you, not the model. I could look at you all the time."

"And nothing else?" Ginny grinned. "That might become a bit boring, after a while, what do you think?"

"Would be a long while. What we're doing instead is great, yes, only it's almost all we do together. I wish there was more."

She looked at him softly. "I know."

"Walking through a park - sitting side by side, doing something as stupid as watching TV ... Would that be so bad?"

"No."

Her armour was really down, today. Paul went for his chance. "Then let's do it."

"Now?"

"Now, tomorrow, next week - next month, next year - and the year afterwards ... Marry me."

She glanced up, looked down again. "Paul - "

"I'm not going to challenge your job, Ginny, you know that. Not now, not later. I travel myself a lot. But there's always time in-between. I want to share this time with you."

"I can't, Paul. Please ..."

"I'm not greedy, Ginny. I won't demand more than what you can offer."

Her head jerked up. "And what if it's not enough?"

"And what if it is?" With some difficulty, Paul kept his voice calm, low, urgent. "I had time to think it over. Quite some time. And when we started to see each other again, I had time to check myself, to ask myself seriously ... My answer is - yes, I'm ready to live with your dream, not to fight him, because then I can live with you."

"It wouldn't work, Paul. It would be totally unfair - "

"To hell with fairness! There's no fairness, there's just - " Paul exhaled. "Here's my offer, Ginny. I will not stop you loving him. I love you. What I have in mind is being there, and to be the best husband you can get."

She put her face in her hands.

"Do you like me?"

Her face came up. "You know that I do - it's more than that, it's just - "

"Is there any other reason? Anyone else?"

"No. I left you because ... It wasn't your face I couldn't look at, it was my own, feeling like a cheat." Ginny leaned forward, her voice as low and urgent as his own a moment ago.

"But I'm no longer, Paul. I'm honest with you. When we make love, it's only the two of us in the room, no one else."

He heard confirmed what he had figured by himself, still felt something in his chest for which there was no word. "I thought you were, and that's why I can stand to my offer. So what's your answer?"

She kept silent for a while. Then she said, "For the first time, I can imagine it might work. I'll think about it, Paul, seriously. I'll give you the answer as soon as I can - it won't be months, maybe not even weeks. But not today."

"It's a deal?"

Ginny nodded. "Yes, we have a deal. Some of these days ..."

"Good ... Did you see him recently?"

She looked surprised. "No, why?"

"I think you should see him more often. With me, with Cho, alone with him. I think there's still some work to do, in order to get it settled to something you can handle."

"You mean, banning a demon?"

"Taming it, I'd say. Come to terms with it. He's an artist with this technique, but I learned from him, just by watching how he does it, and what effect it has."

"I know, I know - maybe I just needed time to face this kind of treatment. Did you see him recently?"

"No, but I'd like to."

"Then why don't you just call him? He wouldn't say no."

Paul smiled. "I thought I could come with you - it looks better that way, in particular when asking him some questions."

"What do you mean?"

"He's up to something. Or Cho is, or both of them. Something's going on."

Ginny laughed. "Hey, what's this? A proposal or a trick to sneak into some family secrets?"

"I didn't say I'd stop being a newspaper man, did I? Killing two birds with the same stone, there's nothing wrong with that. And Harry knows that I can spell the word confidential."

Ginny looked wondering. "Seems as if you know more about what's going on in my family than myself. But if that's the case it's my own mistake. Yes, I think we should do some visits."

Then she smiled archly. "But not today. There's a room upstairs waiting - for just the two of us."

* * *

Harry watched the small spheres float up like balloons. They didn't come far - after three feet or so, approximately the height that could be surveyed by a two-year-old without craning her neck, they came to a halt, then dropped dead back into the bathtub, creating a tiny splash.

For all he could see, they were perfectly round.

Bit disquieting, that.

They weren't bigger because Sandra didn't want them bigger. Splashing large chunks of water was no art, she'd done that before. His daughter's learning curve, to be measured in minutes spent with the High Priestess, was incredibly steep. Frighteningly so, for anyone else - except Harry had no intention to discuss it with anyone else.

His phony rang.

He fetched the piece and examined the display. "Hello, my little big dragon."

"Hello, big monster. Where are you?"

"In the bathroom, watching the waves parting."

"Are you dry?"

"Like a beggar's fart."

He heard a giggle, then, "Where do you learn that language?"

"I come around. Want a lift?"

"Yes - ready."

A second later, Cho stood before him. Harry made a step and grabbed her. "Hi, beauty."

"Hi, beau - watch your hands."

"Can't - they got out of control, just the moment - "

"Mummy!"

Cho bent down. "Hello, my - " She stared at the small water ball that was parading up before her eyes, then finished slowly, "... little one."

After watching it for a moment longer, she glanced at Harry. "New tricks, huh?"

"Well, you know - she comes around too." Suddenly, Harry found it wise to make an end to the spectacle. "C'mon, my little mermaid, let the water rest."

He took the rosy bundle, feeling relieved - what if she'd apparated herself onto the padded table?

"What today? Airstream or towel roller?"

Towel roller seemed a clear favourite, in particular since airstream was often enough the only choice at Tony's pool. And for a few moments, the muffled gurgling that emanated from the cylindrical shape was that of an ordinary little girl.

When Harry's oil-soaked hands moved over the small body, Cho behind him asked, "Did you ever bathe Michel?"

"No. Why do you ask?" In spite of his question, Harry could follow Cho's thoughts, since he just had finished his administrations at an organ that looked just too large between these small legs.

"Just so."

Harry tried to interpret his wife's voice. It was a bit more than just so. What if his answer had been yes? Would Cho have shown something like jealousy? This seemed one of those moments when using his haragei would have meant breaking into privacy.

In the dining room, Sandra in his lap already fighting sleep, Harry waited until Cho had talked with the house-elves, then asked, "How was your day?"

"Quite interesting. I was downtown in the afternoon, left the office to Chrissy. But first I had a little conversation with her."

Just in time, Harry recognized the trap - an attempt to make him ask two questions at once. Looking innocent, he said, "This conversation, was it one of the interesting things?"

Cho grinned, acknowledging his watchfulness. "She's the only Muggle who knows. I was a bit concerned about that, whether she might feel envious, you know. So I tried to touch the issue carefully, sort of beating around the bush ..."

Cho and beating around the bush, that'd be the day. Harry laughed. "I can see it - you, wand in your hand, walking round and round ..."

Cho nodded. "You're right, she knew instantly. Anyway, she isn't interested. She said, what's the sense in teaching an old dog new tricks?"

"Old dog? What a nonsense, she's - "

"That's what I said. I said, I'll call you to tell her that, but come to think of it, I better not, with your particular taste."

Harry feigned astonishment. "It never really crossed my mind, but now that you mention it ..."

"Liar!"

"No, really - I meant, it never seriously crossed my mind."

Cho looked satisfied.

"What were you doing downtown? Shopping?"

"Kind of."

Seeing Cho's triumphant grin, Harry registered too late that he'd done exactly the mistake she had been trying to force - asking a question too much. Kind of, that meant no, meant something else. What was more important - finding out or pretending he hadn't noticed?

Cho's words interrupted his thought. "Our daughter's learning fast, isn't she?"

"Very fast, yes."

"Maybe I should have a word with her teacher."

"That'd be more of a conference - she's getting it from everywhere."

Cho stared into his eyes. "I was thinking of one in particular, and you know who I mean. I didn't change my mind about her request, neither about the one, still less about the other."

Harry suppressed the impulse to ask which of the two was still less - it would have been the wrongest remark at the worst time. "That fits just right - she'd like to meet you. And besides, the idea with the - er, surrogate is no longer in discussion."

"Oh, isn't it? Am I glad to hear that."

"Nobody's challenging this monopoly of yours ..."

Seeing Cho's face, Harry regretted for the shortest instant his choice of words, only that this was a sensible issue anyway, and who said that he had to take it all the time from her just because his fuse was considerably longer? And for this pending decision - it was time to make it clear that there wasn't anything pending any longer, except in a sense that might not find Cho's immediate approval.

"... while otherwise - do you know that Rahewa has lost her rank in Sandy's top three of people to visit? Do you know who ranks on a par with two musicians? Cho, by the time the question becomes acute, it will not be our decision. Our daughter will tell us what she thinks of it, and that'll be that."

"Monopoly, huh?"

Harry stared at her. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. Say, did you hear anything of what I just said?"

"Every single word; I'm not deaf. Now, coming back to that monopoly - "

"Please forget it! What's your comment on my estimation how the big question will be solved?"

"Oh, that ..." Cho waved dismissively. "It might turn out one of these discussions between mother and daughter ..."

Harry could barely trust his ears. So suddenly Aram'chee's request should be at the same level with something like the issue of always rice pudding and turkey?

"... but of course you're right, I'll lose the fight." Cho beamed into his speechless face. "That's okay - daughters usually win against their mothers, why should I be an exception? Can we now come back to that monopoly?"

"Yes, dearest wife-oh."

Said wife's eyes were sparkling. "Some day soon, we have to work on your language, really, we have. But what I was going to say, I didn't realize that - I mean it's true, I just didn't look at it that way."

Cho constantly agreeing with him - it felt like high time getting suspicious.

"A monopolist has some responsibility, isn't that so?"

Once more, Harry mastered the temptation to spy deeper. "Yes."

"Aren't you interested to hear what I did in the city?"

Harry felt his eyes widening. If this wasn't a sudden change of tack, then ...

"There's something Biochemicals couldn't find its own version yet, and chances are low they'll find time for it soon - it's a certain test, done with stripes - you have to pee on it, and ..."

Harry dropped Sandra in a chair, shot around the table, reached Cho. "Really?"

"I'm not joking - not with that."

He tried to do it all at once - hug her, kiss her, look at her, tell her that he didn't know what to say, wheel her around ... For once, his balance and coordination had lost him.

Her smile was warm, and pleased, and tender. "When counting back, I remember that you were in some kind of stress at these days - a very special kind of stress. Quite tiring - which means, if they're right with their statistics, chances are high it'll be a son."

"Is it too early to ask Nagini?"

"How should I know? It's your snake."

"That's a myth; Sandy has inherited her already."

Then Harry remembered the scene in the bathroom and grinned. "I think it should be you who'll oil him - somehow, that feels more appropriate."

"You might be right." Cho's smile became wicked. "I should practise that - the sooner, the better."