VoldeFest!

7. All in a Day's Work

Jim Brawny straightened his jacket. "Another spectacular battle, eh, Summer?"

"That's right, Jim," Summer said. "This year it was a simple boggart and, most surprising, a generic potion that did in the Self-Styled Dark Lord."

"For post-battle commentary, we'll go back to Trip Argyle out on the pitch. Hopefully he's fully recovered. Trip?"

"Thanks, Jim, and yes I am. It only took an hour or so to wear off. I'm here with Potions Professor, Severus Snape. Professor Snape, I understand you were one of Harry Potter's teachers here at Hogwarts and know him quite well, yes?

"I had the dubious honor, yes," Snape deadpanned.

"So what are your thoughts on today's events? Clearly Potter didn't brew his own potion. He used a generic. Did he have any problems in Potions class when he was your student? Did he suffer some kind of trauma associated with potions and so can't brew his own without severe flashbacks? And with a potion master for a wife, isn't this a clear sign of serious marital problems? And if so, wasn't it clever of him to use a generic brand?"

Snape's expression darkened as though a gray cloud had suddenly settled over his head. "I have no knowledge, nor do I care to have any knowledge whatsoever, of that atrocity they call a marriage. It's bad enough they've spawned and sent their precious litter to wreak havoc in my classroom."

"Well, I..." A nagging sense of deja-vous crept over Trip as Snape continued.

"Yes, the imbecile did use a..." he steeled himself to say the word, "...generic...potion. And you want to know if that was clever?" His eyes were reduced to dark slits, and his voice shrunk to a menacing whisper as he towered over Trip. "Clever, you say? Mr. Argyle, let me tell you exactly what I think of your so-called clever idea..."

Trip's blood chilled. Before Snape could continue, Trip turned and ran. "Back...to...you...Jim!" he panted.

Snape sneered into the camera that was still pointed at him then stalked away, his robes in full menacing billow behind him.

"Er, thanks, Trip, er, for that enlightening... Anyway, Summer, it looks like we've come to the end of another spectacular VoldeFest. The crowd is ecstatic, and everyone's spilling out onto the school grounds for the last few hours of celebration. And we all know what that means, right, Summer? Voldemort, the former You Know Who, the Self-Styled Dark Lord..." He nodded at Summer.

Summer nodded back. "He's dead, Jim."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Harry and Glinda apparated to the green garden behind their modest house in a quiet, secluded village. The field next to the garden was spacious enough for the children, plus their parents when the mood struck, to practice Quidditch maneuvers. It was a cozy, warm, happy place for his family. With inheritances from his parents and Sirius, book royalties, Glinda's potion business, and his broom repair-by-owl business, money was never a worry.

As they walked toward the house, Harry glanced at a small building to the side that housed both Glinda's lab and his workshop for broom repairs and random puttering. He had a bit of puttering planned for later.

When Harry and Glinda stepped inside, Hedwig greeted them with loud hoots, while Glinda's two cats wound themselves around the couple's legs. The cottage was otherwise quiet with the children spending the next few days with the Ron and Hermione's kids. The two had some time to themselves.

Harry wrapped his arms around his wife. "So good to be back home. Even three days is too long away."

Glinda sent their bags upstairs to unpack themselves. "Yes, but now we have a few days to play, Mr. Potter. Whatever shall we do?"

"Hmm. Can't seem to think of a thing, Mrs. Potter. But I'm sure if we put our heads together, we can figure something out."

"Mmm. I'll bet." She caught a vague look on Harry's face. "What is it, darling?"

Harry kissed her forehead. "You sure you're alright with my using that generic instead of one of yours?"

"Harry. For the third time, I prefer my potions be used for actual people, not wasted on that haphazard collection of flesh and bones."

"Just checking."

"Now stop feeling so guilty." She widened her eyes and raised her hands, curving them like claws. "If that big, bad monnnster Is ever a real threat again, we'll work on something delightfully sinister together."

"You frighten me sometimes, you know that?"

"Good thing. You never would have looked my way if I'd been one of those sad little girls fawning all over you between classes."

Harry smirked. "They didn't fawn. They just...stared."

"Gawked, more like."

"Well they did do that. But you, being the good, self-respecting Slytherin girl, were kind enough to completely ignore me. And for that, I will forever love you."

"How you flatter me."

"Indeed."

Glinda reluctantly removed herself from Harry's arms and summoned two cups to the kitchen table. "Would you like some tea, darling?"

"Not yet. I think I'll head out to the workshop. I have a little something to do first while it's still fresh in my mind. Won't be long, love."

"Don't be," she said with an inviting wiggle of her eyebrows.

"Promise," he said, adding emphasis with a lingering kiss and a wink.

He smiled as he walked to the shed. The idea had been made plain to him during their party. Why hadn't he thought of it before? Just a few curses and charms would make it perfect. It was absolutely brilliant! The smile grew to a grin then a laugh as he flipped through the Acme catalog in search of the honking great catapult that would be the highlight of the twenty-sixth annual VoldeFest. And the twenty-seventh.

END