HP: A Cadmean Victory Remastered

When Harry went downstairs for breakfast the next morning, he automatically lightened his step as he approached the first-floor landing, for fear of waking Walburga. But then, to his delight, he realised it was no longer necessary. I can barrel down the stairs as loud as I bloody well like!

He deliberately stomped down the remaining stairs and leapt two-footed onto the landing with a satisfying thud, which resulted in loud barking from the frame's new occupant. 'Good morning, Padfoot!' burst Harry, and the dog's front paws scraped exuberantly against the front of the canvas. 'We'll get you some proper treats today, or maybe Kreacher can make you something.'

Padfoot bared his teeth and started to growl menacingly. 'What, you don't like Kreacher?' asked Harry. 'No, I suppose you wouldn't, but with any luck we can break you of the habit.' He hoped Padfoot's lack of sentience wouldn't prove an obstacle. Walburga had certainly caught on to Harry's new private life, so hopefully Padfoot would be equally trainable.

Quidditch practice went smoothly that morning, and as usual the starters walked together to the pub for the lunch. But Harry made a point of approaching Renée before they left. 'Could we walk together?' he asked. 'There's something I need to ask you in private.'

'Of course, what's on your mind?'

'I understand you and Ryan attended the same school, is that right?'

'Yes, we both went to Widgington—he was a year ahead of me. We played Quidditch together his final year. Why do you ask?'

'He and my friend Hermione have started dating, and I'm wondering if you ... have a good opinion of him.'

'Very much so. He's terrific, as I'm sure you've noticed.'

'Right, but do you know anything about how he treats women? Hermione is like a sister to me, and I don't want him toying with her.'

'I can't imagine he'd do that,' said Renée. 'I've never heard that sort of thing about him. If anything he's a bit naïve.'

'What do you mean?' Harry was having trouble believing Ryan wasn't experienced.

'He's had girlfriends, of course,' she said, 'but not the quantity you'd expect. Half the girls at Widgington were mad for him—I even fancied him before I figured myself out—but he was fairly oblivious.'

'So he's not the type to go out pulling after a match?'

She laughed. 'No, not like some people I know.'

'Yes, very funny,' said Harry with mock indignation. 'I'll have you know I'm not misleading anyone.'

'Of course not. I don't imagine you would.'

He appreciated the vote of confidence. 'Anyway, it sounds like he's all right for Hermione—I'm glad to hear it.'

'You're very protective of her, aren't you?' observed Renée.

'I'm sure it's mutual. In fact, she's probably saved my life far more times than I saved hers, though we've never exactly made a tally.'

'Right, but I'm not talking about that kind of protectiveness. I mean the way you look after her emotional well-being.'

'I can't imagine not doing that, if I could help it,' said Harry. 'After all we've been through together, she's like a part of me.'

'That's really sweet. It's a shame the articles about you don't get that point across.'

'No, they're always trying to draw conclusions about us. But our relationship is much purer than that.'

'I don't think it has to be an either-or,' said Renée. 'But I understand what you're saying.'

They arrived at the pub, and over lunch the players discussed Tuttle's new strategy, and specifically the plan for Harry to attack his own teammates. 'In hindsight it seems obvious to use the Seeker as a disruptive force,' said Gary. 'I'm surprised it's not standard practice.'

'I'm not,' said Darren. 'It's the rare Seeker who can balance aggressive flying with effective spotting. And besides, most Seekers are delicate flowers who shy away from danger.'

'Oi!' cried Harry.

'Relax, Snitchbottom—I said, "Most Seekers." Same as I might say, "Most Seekers haven't slain a Basilisk and survived two Killing Curses."'

'It would be interesting if they had,' mused Janet. 'Imagine if all Seekers were deathless warriors, chosen by destiny and all that rot.'

'And raised by immortal warlocks,' added Ryan.

'Exactly! The rest of us would be playing Quidditch, but the Seekers would be shooting Dark curses at one another in the ultimate struggle between Good and Evil.'

'If they were good, they'd hardly be using Dark curses,' said Gary.

'Fair point,' said Janet. 'But maybe the good Seekers could wield the power of Merlin or something appropriately Light.'

Harry couldn't remain silent. 'That's not true, unfortunately.'

'You didn't wield the power of Merlin?' said Janet. 'How disappointing.'

'No, the bit about Dark curses,' said Harry. 'I hate to say it, and please don't spread the word, but by rights I should be in Azkaban.'

'Really?' asked Janet. 'Which ones?'

Ryan said, 'Janet, that's none of your concern. I'm certain Harry only did what he had to.'

'I wish that were true,' said Harry. 'I don't think there's any way I could have got around using the Imperius Curse—we needed that one at Gringotts—but there was no excuse for the others.'

'The others?' probed Janet. 'You mean you used all three?'

'No, not the Killing Curse. I was talking about another curse which might as well be Unforgivable,' said Harry, thinking of the Sectumsempra he had used on Draco Malfoy and had later attempted on Snape.

'Yes, I've always found it absurd there are only three,' said Gary. 'Exactly how is casting Fiendfyre less egregious than the others?'

'And why aren't Love Potions punished as severely as the Imperius Curse?' asked Ryan.

'There you go again,' said Suresh, 'looking for logic in the wizarding justice system.'

'Hang on, we've got off topic,' said Janet. 'Who did Harry torture?'

'Can you lower your voice?' hissed Gary. 'I know it fits our cover story, but it's not exactly appropriate public conversation.'

'Amycus Carrow,' said Harry. 'Right before the final battle. I also tried it on Bellatrix Lestrange two years earlier but was unsuccessful. It worked just fine on Carrow though.'

'I'm glad to hear it, frankly,' said Darren. 'Not that I'm in favour of torture, but if one side is going to do it, you can't expect the other side to refrain.'

'I disagree,' said Harry. 'At least in part. On the one hand, our people needed to defend themselves and neutralise Death Eaters. But on the other hand, I didn't defeat Voldemort in a firefight, and there's no way I could have beaten him at his own game. In the end we had to go the higher way.'

'Hence the final Expelliarmus?' asked Darren, referring to the Disarming spell Harry had used to finish off Voldemort.

Harry nodded, not mentioning the bit where he'd sacrificed his own life.

'But weren't you master of the Elder Wand?' said Suresh. 'Obviously that played a role.'

'Of course, it was essential,' said Harry, who couldn't quite believe he was discussing this so casually over lunch. 'But I'd got it by accident rather than force. Whereas Voldemort had stolen it from Dumbledore's tomb.'

Janet shook her head in amazement. 'I can't help wondering what the Appleby Arrows are talking about right now. Probably not this.'

Ryan seemed unconvinced. 'Harry, I think there's a vast difference between using Unforgivables to protect people and using them as the Death Eaters did. For example, I'm certain you didn't torture anyone for sport.'

'No, of course not,' said Harry. 'But how would you feel if you had to use one?'

Ryan was silent a moment. 'I can't say I'd like it, even if it had been necessary. I'm not even comfortable with what I've done to safeguard the Statute of Secrecy.'

'I can't believe you've tortured people just to preserve Secrecy,' said Janet. 'Clearly I've misjudged you.'

Ryan rolled his eyes at her. 'Harry, I appreciate that you're taking responsibility for some unfortunate actions, but these weren't exactly innocent victims.'

'I know they weren't,' said Harry. 'It's just disturbing to know what I'm capable of.' He looked up and added, 'I hope you realise how unusual it is for me to talk like this, particularly to people I've only known for a fortnight.'

Gary nodded. 'It's the team bond, I think. Not a magical bond per se, but strong nevertheless.'

'I reckon you're right,' said Harry. 'I've felt comfortable with all of you since my first day.'

'Except for Janet, of course,' said Darren. 'She's so standoffish. Prickly, really.'

Harry laughed, and he let the conversation drift to other topics. He felt inclined towards silence after the unprecedented amount of self-disclosure. The world didn't explode, just because I opened up a little, he thought. His teammates weren't going to run to the Prophet and reveal his secrets, nor were they likely to talk amongst themselves behind his back.

As they walked back to the training facility, Harry approached Darren and said, 'May I ask you something?'

'Of course, go ahead.'

'My friend Hermione has started dating Ryan, and—being a bit over-protective—I'm wondering if there's anything I need to know about ... his intentions. I thought you might have some perspective on that.'

'You mean as the official team skirt-chaser? Until you turned up anyway.'

'I wasn't going to put it that plainly, but yeah. Does Ryan ever accompany you?'

Darren shook his head. 'Not since our first year on the team. We came on as reserves together, although he got promoted to starter before I did. Some of the other players took it upon themselves to "initiate" us, the same way Janet and I did with you, and Ryan joined us on a few occasions. But he didn't really get into the swing of it—I think he's the romantic type, sad to say.'

'That's good news for Hermione. And probably for Ryan as well—I don't know how I'd react if someone mistreated her.'

'Particularly now that we know what kind of curses you're capable of,' joked Darren.

'Exactly. I might disarm him.'

Darren laughed, but then he was quiet for a moment. 'I appreciate what you said earlier, about feeling comfortable around us. When you signed we honestly didn't know what to expect—whether you'd be standoffish, or full of yourself, or any number of things. It was easy to forget you were just another eighteen-year-old recruit, like the rest of us once were. It's a good thing Tuttle reminded us.'

'She did, didn't she? I don't know whether it was premeditated, but in hindsight it was a stroke of genius to come down so hard on me that first morning.'

'I've given up trying to understand how Tuttle's mind works. I still can't decide whether she's a terrible coach or a brilliant one,' said Darren. 'Our team standings would suggest one thing, but at the same time we've managed to stay in good spirits, and that doesn't happen by accident.'

'No, I suppose not.'

They walked a little longer and Darren said, 'It'll be fun having you practice with us after lunch. Trying to knock us off our brooms and such.'

'My apologies in advance.'

'No worries. The fans will love it, and we might even win.'

Afternoon practice was indeed fun—after some false starts, the Chasers were able to develop a recovery protocol for Harry's dive-bomb attacks. For the practice match, Tuttle had them play starters versus reserves, and Harry's feints were a smashing success. He was able to keep Owen guessing, to the point where the veteran Seeker was getting fatigued. Harry caught the Snitch and was enthusiastically cheered by both sides.

'I think we have a winning strategy,' said Owen, breathing hard. 'But Merlin, I'm glad I don't have to play against you for real.'

'The Arrows won't see it coming,' said Gary. 'I'm glad it's going to be at Chudley Stadium, not least because I'll have so many friends in the stands. I can't wait to see their reaction.'

Tuttle was enthusiastic during her notes and forgot to belittle them. 'You've all done a first-rate job adapting to a new strategy. We're going to keep honing it this week, and I don't want you getting complacent, but make no mistake, we're going to set the Quidditch world on fire this weekend!'

'I'm confused,' whispered Janet. 'Why isn't she insulting us?'

When Harry returned to the building afterwards he was intercepted by Darius. 'Great work, Harry. You're a one-of-a-kind flyer, and I thank my lucky stars we've got you on the Cannons!'

Harry smiled and said, 'Thanks, I'm quite happy about it as well.'

'I want to give you a heads-up … I've heard through the grapevine that Silver Arrow plans to approach you about an endorsement. They've already received far more advance orders for your broomstick than they anticipated, and they're ramping up production to meet the demand. You can expect an offer by the end of the week.'

'What would that entail?' asked Harry. 'I've never endorsed anything before.'

'Really? I'm sure I've seen your name on advertisements before.'

'No, those were unauthorised. The Ministry had to intervene on my behalf several times this past year, but now that I'm no longer working for them I should probably put Gringotts on the task.'

'Yes, that's what I'd suggest as well,' said Darius. 'As to what an endorsement would entail, it all depends. But with Silver Arrow I'd imagine they'd want to take photographs of you with the broomstick, get some personal statements they can use in their advertisements, and so on. I wouldn't be at all surprised if they wanted to rename it the Harry Potter edition, if you're willing.'

Harry shook his head emphatically. 'Definitely not. I'll put my name on team merchandise, but nothing besides that.'

'Are you sure? Endorsements are by far the best source of income for players, especially the big names. Quidditch isn't a long-term career, you know.'

'I know that,' said Harry. 'But my circumstances aren't … typical.'

'Oh, right,' said Darius, glancing at Harry's hand where the Black family ring should have been. 'In any case, we'll pass the offer along and you can decide.'

'Thanks,' said Harry awkwardly. 'I should go ... I need to visit Diagon Alley this afternoon.'

'Of course, don't let me keep you. Can't wait until Saturday!'

Harry showered and changed into clean clothes before returning to Grimmauld Place to retrieve Walburga's portrait, which he'd already wrapped in cloth. He used a Shrinking Spell to fit it into his expandable pouch before raising his Notice-Me-Not Charm and heading to the Leaky Cauldron.

He was able to quickly take care of matters at Gringotts—goblins were remarkably efficient—and he soon arrived at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, hidden underneath his Invisibility Cloak. The summer holidays meant the store was busy, and George, Lee, and a shop assistant were all assisting a group of teenagers with their purchases.

Harry waited for the knot of customers to leave, and while Lee and George were otherwise engaged he removed the portrait from his pouch and propped it on a display stand against the wall. Then he took off his Invisibility Cloak and pulled the cloth from the painting.

'Exile most foul! Into what Babylon have I been abducted?' cried Walburga. She looked around with wide eyes before shrieking, 'Horror upon horror, I am in the den of a blood traitor!'

'Walburga!' exclaimed George, approaching her. 'You've come to me at last! We can finally live together, as we were always meant to!'

'Stay back, blood traitor!'

'You're really going to have to come up with another name for the likes of me …. "blood traitor" is going to get old pretty fast. I recommend working around the ginger angle, but I'm open to alternatives.'

'You!' she cried, pointing at Harry. 'Born to a Mudblood solely to vex me.'

'Sorry, Walburga,' said Harry earnestly. 'I tried to make it work, but you just weren't willing to compromise. It takes two, you know. I'll just have to build a new life without you.'

'I know all about your new life, you unscrupulous rake!'

'She's got your number, Potter,' said George. 'Glad to see you're getting over Ginny.'

Harry tapped the portrait with his wand, silencing her. He turned to Lee and George and said, 'Surprise!' with a flourish.

'You've done it! Walburga is ours!' said George, leaning in for a closer look. 'And I see she's redecorated.'

'Louisa, the portrait painter I engaged, gets all the credit. And you won't believe who's hanging in the entrance hall now.'

'Let me guess,' said Lee. 'Voldemort?'

Harry's heart rate momentarily spiked. 'Merlin, what a thought! No, quite the opposite: Padfoot.'

'Who's Padfoot?' asked Lee.

'Sirius Black's Animagus form,' explained George. 'Basically a Grim, only jollier. That's fantastic, Harry—congratulations.'

'Can you teach us that Silencing Charm?' asked Lee. 'I'm not sure I want to hear her commenting on my skin colour all the time.'

'Of course, and I suspect Louisa can teach you other tricks for handling her. She's not sentient—Walburga, that is—so feel free to Incendio her if she ever gets to be too much.'

'I'd sooner Incendio the moon than destroy this masterpiece,' said George reverently.

'This is perfect timing,' said Lee. 'I've just filed our application with the Ministry for a broadcasting license—Weasley's Wizard Wireless—so with any luck she'll be on the air before long.'

'Lee, congratulations,' said Harry. 'I can't wait for your first broadcast.'

'Actually, would you mind appearing on our first broadcast?' asked Lee. 'It's all right to say no ... I'd understand.'

'No, I'd love to participate, whenever you like,' replied Harry. 'It occurs to me this could be a good opportunity to speak for myself without the Prophet or anyone else misrepresenting me.'

'So you'd misrepresent yourself instead?' asked George.

'Most likely.'

They talked a bit longer until Harry took his leave. 'I've got other plans tonight and need to get a move on. I can't tell you how happy I am to leave Walburga behind.'

'I'm glad we can give her a good home,' said George. 'Perhaps I'll bring her to Sunday dinner at the Burrow.'

Harry returned home to change clothes—Helena would arrive soon for their dinner date, and he was excited to wear his new robes in public. He'd told her to wear something nice but had otherwise kept their evening plans a surprise.

She emerged from the formal fireplace soon after and gasped when she saw him. 'Oh, Harry,' she exclaimed. 'I can't believe how dashing you look. You're a proper Death Eater now! Do you have a Dark Mark as well?'

'Very funny,' he said. 'But seriously, do you like them?'

She slowly looked him over before putting a hand on his chest. 'Definitely. Shockingly so. I don't think I ever realised how appealing wizard's robes could be.'

He placed his hands on her waist and drew her in for a kiss, which extended into several more. 'I suppose I should look at what you're wearing,' he murmured. 'I'm sure it's lovely.'

'Yes, it is,' she breathed, not pulling away.

'It certainly feels nice,' he replied, running his hands over her, until she finally pushed him forward.

'You should really let a girl step away from the hearth before pawing her. Haven't you any manners, Lord Black?'

'None at all,' he said, before letting go and having a proper look. She was very elegantly attired in a three-quarter length Muggle dress and high-heeled shoes. 'I see you're angling for another foot massage.'

'Yes, it's a requirement. But I'm also hoping you'll take me somewhere with chairs. I gather you've a wizarding restaurant in mind?'

'I do. In fact, we should probably leave now.'

'How are we travelling?'

'Apparition,' he said, taking her hand, and soon they were standing before a charming and exceedingly French-looking restaurant. The name was painted on the front window in curving letters: Mistigri.

Helena's eyes lit up when she saw where he'd taken her. 'I've heard about Mistigri—it's very popular. I've never eaten here before. Have you?'

'No, this will be my first time as well—my teammate Darren recommended it.'

They entered and found themselves inside what Harry assumed was a typical French bistro, since that's how Darren had described it. There was a zinc bar in the front, and beyond it was an archway leading into the main restaurant. Harry escorted Helena past the bar to a podium, where the host was standing.

The host looked apologetic when he recognised Harry. 'Lord Black, we weren't expecting you, but do come in,' he said, ushering them into the main restaurant, which was full of patrons.

'Thank you, but please don't call me Lord Black,' said Harry. 'I have a reservation under the name Evans.'

'Of course, Mr Potter. But next time feel free to reserve under your own name, so we can set aside a more private table. I'm afraid we only have a regular table available, and as you can see we're full up. If you'd prefer to wait, however ...'

Harry looked at Helena. 'I'm sorry, I should have planned better. Will a regular table be all right?'

'Is it in the middle of things?' she asked.

'No, it's against the wall,' said the host, indicating a table near the back of the long and relatively narrow room.

'That's all right,' she said, and the host led them there.

Harry fixed his gaze on their destination, but he felt the other patrons' eyes upon him and heard their whispers, and he could tell they were evaluating Helena as well. He lightly placed his hand on her back as they walked.

When they were seated and the host had gone, she said, 'That was a bit of a gauntlet.'

'Yes—sorry about that.'

She smiled at him before looking out at the restaurant. 'But this is lovely.'

'So how are you?' he asked. 'I should have asked earlier, at the house, but I was distracted somehow.'

'I'm well, thanks. And you?'

'Brilliant, to be honest. I'm pleased to announce that Walburga Black, whom you met the other morning, has been evicted at last.'

'That awful portrait you mean? How did you manage that?'

He told her what Louisa had done, and she laughed when he described Padfoot. 'I'll have to meet him,' she said.

They eventually reviewed the menu and ordered. The waiter asked Harry which wine he'd like, but of course he hadn't any idea, so he allowed the waiter to recommend one.

'Only a glass?' asked Helena. 'You'll never be properly debauched at this rate.'

'Remember I play on a team, and they might be unhappy if I turn up tomorrow with bloodshot eyes.'

'Nonsense, there are charms for that. But I shan't teach you them ... you'll have to find your own way down the path of vice.'

'Have you been down that path yourself?' he asked suggestively.

'Yes, ever since I was seduced by a scoundrel at the weekend.'

'That's abominable. Shall I call him out, to defend your honour?'

'I don't know. Have you any experience duelling?'

'I've done a little here and there. Mostly at school,' he replied, and she laughed.

'Until I met you I never realised how witty you were,' she said. 'I knew you had a way with words, and a bit of temper, but you're surprisingly clever—more than I expected.'

'More than you expected? I'm not sure how to interpret that.'

'I don't know ... I'd somehow got the impression you were more of a weapon than anything. Single-minded about defeating Voldemort, but not necessarily the brains of the operation.'

'No, that was definitely Hermione.'

'And then you dropped out of school to become an Auror, and then quit a year later to play Quidditch. I suppose I came to the unfair conclusion you weren't much of a thinker.'

'I'm more of a brooder, to be honest.'

'So much the better. Are you sure you don't want to change your surname to Black? I think it would suit you, even without the title.'

'I couldn't change my name,' he said automatically.

'Why not? Women are generally expected to, when they marry.'

'My wife wouldn't have to, unless she wanted to, of course.'

'I thought we established that you're not a marrying man.'

'I'm eighteen,' he said irritably. 'What is it with wizards and marrying so young? Of course I'd like to marry when I'm older.'

'Don't let your admirers hear you say that, particularly the ones you've lured into bed. They'll assume that by "older" you mean on your nineteenth birthday.'

'That reminds me ... My friends have persuaded me to throw a large party on Saturday the thirty-first. I hope you'll come.'

'Is that your birthday? Are you planning to propose?' She made a show of fanning herself and asked, 'Whatever shall I wear?'

He laughed and leaned forward. 'Hopefully something that comes off easily. And please, bring a friend.' Her eyes shot open, and he said, 'Sorry, that came out wrong. I meant to say that you're welcome to invite a friend as well. The goal is to introduce my Hogwarts classmates to people who attended other schools.' He explained what Hermione had discovered about the Hogwarts wards and she was suitably appalled.

'But yes, I'd love to attend, and I've just the friend in mind. I know she'd enjoy meeting you, and she'll be good company for me while you're otherwise engaged.'

'Yes, I'm afraid I'll be busy most of the evening with other guests.'

Their wine and starters arrived, and it became apparent why the restaurant was so popular. 'Harry, this is wonderful. Thank you for bringing me here.'

'It's a pleasure,' he said. 'You're loads of fun—I hope you know that.'

They conversed throughout the meal and shared their desserts with each other. She really is delightful, he thought. When their plates were taken away, he reached across the table and gently stroked her hand, and her eyes sparkled enchantingly. Eventually her foot found his leg beneath the table, and he noticed she'd removed her shoe.

'Are you ready to leave?' he asked, after paying the bill.

'I am,' she replied, and he took her hand as they rose from the table.

They walked through the restaurant, past the still-crowded bar, and left through the front door. It was dark out, but they were suddenly blinded by the flash of a camera.

Thinking quickly, he turned on his heel and Apparated them to the sitting room at Grimmauld Place.

'I'm so sorry,' he said. 'Are you all right?'

'Yes,' she replied, after inspecting her hands and lower body. 'All present and accounted for.'

'That's good. I quite like the entire package,' he said, demonstrating his appreciation with roving hands.

'Not so fast, Black,' she said, pulling away. 'I insist you present me to your family first.' At his puzzled expression she added, 'Your godfather.'

'How could I forget?' He led her up the stairs to the entrance hall, where they were greeting by barking. 'Padfoot, I'd like you to meet Helena. Helena, this is Padfoot.'

'He's adorable!' she exclaimed, as he barked madly and ran around. 'But he's a bit wild, isn't he?'

'I suppose that's Padfoot for you. He's not sentient, and there's no trace of my godfather, so perhaps he's less tame than he was in real life.'

'Do you suppose he's trainable? I mean, he's fine as he is, and clearly he's not going to destroy the furniture, but if he's attached to the wall until the end of time it might be worth training him up a bit,' said Helena over the loud barking.

'That's a good idea. Who do you think I should contact about that? An artist or a dog trainer?'

'I don't know ... I think dog trainers need to give rewards and punishments, and I can't imagine how that would work with a portrait.'

'Hang on,' said Harry, reaching into his pouch and pulling out a box of dog treats he'd purchased that afternoon. 'Watch this.' He opened the box and removed a biscuit, which he held up before Padfoot.

'Sit,' he commanded. Padfoot jumped at Harry's hand and bumped his snout against the front of the canvas. 'Sit,' repeated Harry several times, to no avail.

'That seems a bit cruel, taunting him with a treat he can't have,' chided Helena. 'Do I need to send you a Howler?'

'No, I was just seeing if he'd behave first.' He tossed the dog biscuit towards Padfoot, who caught it in his mouth and gobbled it.

'That's brilliant!' said Helena, who threw another treat straight into Padfoot's open mouth. 'I reckon a dog trainer could work with that.' Padfoot was wagging his tail happily.

'He likes you,' said Harry, smiling.

'Flatterer. You're just saying that to get me into bed.'

'Will it work?'

'Not without a foot massage. We had a deal.'

'Of course, you're right. Shall we return to the drawing room, then?'

She assented, and their evening continued along the same pattern as Saturday night, minus the interrupting owl. They ended up in Harry's bedroom, where they eventually fell asleep entwined.

'Harry,' she said, prodding him. 'Harry, wake up.'

He opened his eyes and saw her facing him in the dim light. His heart was racing and his jaw ached.

'Are you all right?' she asked. 'I think you were having a nightmare.'

She'd awakened him from an indistinct but familiar dream that involved Voldemort torturing a Death Eater. It was unclear whether Harry had been Voldemort or his victim.

'Yes, thanks for waking me. I didn't kick you, did I?' he asked. Ginny had often complained about that.

'You did, but that's all right. I know it wasn't on purpose.'

'I'm sorry. I wish I knew how to stop them.'

'Does it happen often then?'

'Yeah, fairly regularly.'

She looked at him but didn't say anything, instead running her hand over his arm and shoulder. It wasn't a provocative touch, but rather the tender comfort he imagined a mother would provide. He instinctively turned away, allowing her to spoon him.

Helena stroked him gently for a while before saying, 'I don't think I ever thanked you.'

'I disagree. You've thanked me rather nicely.'

'No, but more than that. Really thanked you … for everything. My mother may have been relatively safe, because of her trunk, and I wasn't in particular danger as a half-blood, but it was still awful. My family was considering leaving England, which none of us wanted to do, but what option did we have? My grandparents fled Austria during Grindelwald's War, and they didn't want to have to start over again. But England had become a nightmare—what on earth possessed the Death Eaters to ruin their own country, their own way of life?'

Harry was astonished to hear her talking so much—she had revealed next to nothing about herself before this. He was silent and allowed her to continue.

'Nobody knew for sure whether you were even helping us. Potterwatch assured us you were, but the Ministry contradicted itself from one day to the next, alternately claiming you were a dangerous threat or that you'd saved yourself and left England entirely. We didn't know for certain until you exploded from Gringotts on the back of a dragon, and even though we were terrified, it was more hope than we'd experienced in Merlin knows how long.

'I don't think anyone in wizarding Britain slept that night,' she continued. 'There wasn't any information on the radio, since it was controlled by the Ministry. I must have spent hours trying to tune Potterwatch, but they weren't broadcasting. Rumours kept arriving from Hogwarts, and at dawn we heard the awful news that you'd died. If we hadn't been so exhausted, my family would probably have started packing there and then.

'But then we heard you hadn't died after all, and that you'd defeated Voldemort, and we cried and hugged and cried again until we finally collapsed. I don't know how many people passed through our fireplace that day, but it was overwhelming. My uncle wanted to smash his trunk into bits, but my aunt wouldn't let him, since it was a perfectly good trunk.

'And then your story came out, and we learnt what you'd done and all the sacrifices you and your friends had made, and how you'd never wavered at all, and how you'd even offered your own life to protect everyone. I've been giving you a hard time—about Lord Black and house-elves and all the rest—but it's partly to keep myself from embarrassing both of us with expressions of gratitude, which I'm certain you're sick of hearing because it's impossible to convey in words just how grateful we are. How grateful I am.'

She was holding him tight, and he felt her tears on the back of his neck. He rolled over to face her and wrapped his arm over hers. 'Helena, you've already thanked me more than enough, and I'm not talking about sex. You've made me feel like a normal eighteen year-old, a normal person for practically the first time in my life. My life before Hogwarts was awful—there's a reason I never talk about it—and then as soon as I found out I was a wizard, I was manipulated and lied to by people who meant well, and thrust into battle with a madman who'd set his sights on me literally the day I was born.

'That's why I quit the Ministry and joined the Cannons, to have some fun for the first time in my sodding life, without worrying about Dark wizards or any of the rest of it. And as crass as it sounds, it's really bloody fun to go to a bar and meet a gorgeous witch like yourself and take her home with me.'

She pressed her body to his and they continued nonverbally for a while longer, after which he collapsed into a blessedly dreamless sleep.

When they woke again it was light out, and Harry was pleased to discover they still had time for breakfast in bed. He didn't see the point in offering to cook for her just to prove he could do it.

As on Sunday, their breakfast arrived seamlessly on floating trays, but unlike Sunday there were a half dozen additional trays, each laden with multiple vases of flowers.

'My word, aren't you romantic!' said Helena. 'Is there an engagement ring hiding in here somewhere? I thought your birthday wasn't until the thirty-first.'

Harry shook his head in amused exasperation. 'I should have expected this. I opened an account with a wizarding florist on Sunday, giving Kreacher a legitimate source for flowers, but he seems to have gone overboard.'

'Oh dear. Will you need to punish him?'

He laughed. 'Yes—do you have any Howler stationery?'

They loaded their plates and began eating, exchanging banter all the while. Helena finished first and emerged from bed to to look more closely at all the flowers. 'I'm not seeing any engagement ring, you bastard, but here's the Prophet. Do you suppose they put you on the front cover for eating dinner in public? Surely that's more important than yesterday's Wizengamot session.' She unrolled the paper.

Helena was wrong—the main headline was indeed about the Wizengamot. But at the bottom of the front page was the photograph taken outside the restaurant, which showed Harry wearing his new robes, along with a partially-hidden Helena. The headline simply read, 'The Light Lord.'

The article said:

Lord Harry Black, formerly known as Harry Potter, dazzled his fellow patrons at popular restaurant Mistigri last night both with his ravishing, unnamed companion and his daringly stylish bespoke robes.

Daily Prophet fashion editor Xanthippe Codmopple immediately declared Lord Black's outfit the fashion statement of the century. 'What could be more symbolic than the world's most famous Light wizard—bearing the name and title of one of Britain's most notoriously Dark families—wearing white robes that so thoroughly marry wizarding traditions with fashion-forward styling?'

Lord Black's outfit was particularly surprising given his presumed lack of interest in fashion; the young hero has previously eschewed wizarding robes for Muggle attire on all but the most formal occasions. Industry observer Reginald Hem said, 'After the war, there was hope that [Lord Black] would emerge as a trendsetter, but from what I could tell he only had one tolerably smart Muggle outfit and two sets of non-Auror robes. But seeing him in boldly styled robes—white no less—gives me hope he'll rekindle interest in traditional wizarding wear.'

For insight into Lord Black's unexpected change of appearance, the Prophet consulted noted Mind Healer Cassia Dexter, author of Be Your Own Niffler: Finding the Treasure Within. 'I can think of multiple reasons why [Lord Black] would make such a radical change. First there's the white colour, signalling his longing for the innocence stolen from him the day his parents died. Then there's the fact that they're wizarding robes rather than Muggle attire, indicating his beseeching return to a world that unfairly scorned him for so long. And finally the close fit and borderline outré styling, which boldly announce his sexual maturity to a world that still calls him the Boy Who Lived. Make no mistake, this outfit is a loud and clear statement from a young man still very much in pain.'

Little is known about Lord Black's dinner companion, who is only partly visible in the photograph accompanying this article. Restaurant patrons described her as 'exceptionally lovely' and reported undeniable alchemy between her and Lord Black. This would appear to confirm the rumours that Lord Black is no longer romantically involved with Ginevra Weasley, 17, younger sister to Ronald Weasley, Order of Merlin, First Class. It is yet unknown who initiated the split, but the Prophet hereby pledges to apprise readers of this crucial intelligence.

They both stared dumbstruck at the article and photo for a long while. 'What in Merlin's name did I just read?' exclaimed Helena.

'Apparently I'm yearning for my lost innocence,' replied Harry in a dazed voice.

'Whilst simultaneously announcing your sexual maturity? Isn't that contradictory?'

'I don't feel qualified to answer that. Clearly I'm not an expert.'

'Yes, what would possibly know about your own motivations?'

'And here I thought I just liked robes,' said Harry. 'I was impressed by the quality and cut of my team robes and decided to see what else the tailor might have.'

Helena looked at him with mock intensity. 'But white robes? Why, Harry? Why?'

'They're plainly ivory,' he protested.

'Oh, ivory! That changes everything. The Prophet should really print a retraction.'

He smiled. 'At least they described you accurately. "Exceptionally lovely,"' he quoted, looking at her admiringly.

'Thank heaven I'm not identifiable in the photograph.' The version of Helena in the picture was turning away from the camera and had raised her free hand to cover her face.

'Good reflexes,' he said. 'You'll make an excellent Seeker.'

Her expression softened. 'Are you all right? I suppose you're used to intrusive reporting, but still ...'

'I'll be fine. My teammates are undoubtedly preparing to take the piss, and I'll probably have some of this thrown back at me during the match on Saturday, but I've certainly had worse things printed about me.'

'That's true. And you do look rather fit in that photograph. I'm certain any number of people will Spellotape it on their wall next to that Man Who Lived photo a few weeks ago.' She smirked and added, 'I wonder how many adolescent girls, or boys for that matter, will have "initiatory experiences" from your photographs.'

'Do I even want to know what that means?' he asked.

'It means their first sexual arousal.'

'Oh dear. That feels like a big responsibility.'

'Yes, you'd better keep wearing flattering clothing. The next generation of witches and wizards are counting on you. The future of British wizardkind, in fact.'

'It's a good thing I ordered more robes.'

'Really? What other colours do I have to look forward to?'

'You'll have to wait and see,' he teased.

She was looking around the room. 'I seem to have left my dress in the drawing room, as well as my stockings. May I borrow your dressing gown?'

He pulled on his workout clothes and accompanied her downstairs, where her dress and his robes lay in a sinful heap. She dressed and they walked together to the formal reception hall, interacting briefly with the barking Padfoot.

In front of the fireplace, he said, 'I'd love to see you on Saturday evening, after the match. I'm sorry I don't have a ticket for you—I'd have enjoyed seeing you on the pitch at the end.'

'That's quite all right. I'd just as soon not be photographed. But yes, Saturday evening sounds lovely.'

'I hope you'll at least listen to the broadcast,' he said. 'We're unveiling a new strategy, and I think it'll be entertaining, even on the radio.'

'I will. And good luck.' She kissed him before disappearing into the fireplace.

Harry definitely liked her—he hadn't felt this way about a witch since Ginny. But he knew their affair wouldn't be lasting. As much as he was attracted to Helena and enjoyed her company, a part of him longed to sample other women as well. He was only eighteen, after all.