Content Harry Potter
  • Previous
  • Next


Harry and Casey began a slow, gentle courtship after Sirius’s memorial service.   After his humiliating first snogging session with Cho, Harry was reluctant to open himself up to embarrassment like that again.   But with Casey. . .Casey was comfortable in her own skin, and she was comfortable with him.   She had a brimming self-confidence that let her float blissfully through life, and her exuberance spilled over onto Harry on a regular basis.   She was often the one who reached for his hand or patted his shoulder while making some silly comment, long before he thought she’d be comfortable with him reaching for her in any way.   Harry was struck with a sense of wonder that this beautiful girl from a well-to-do family would even consider being seen with him, much less being so friendly with him.   He cherished every moment they had together.

Every day, they’d eat lunch and talk, and on as many days as he could manage, given his Dursley workload and his homework from Hogwarts, after Harry finished work, he’d go home to wash and change, then they’d go for a walk, usually ending up sitting on the swings in the play park where they’d met.   The Dursleys were just as pleased if Harry wasn’t in the house at all, as long as he got all the work done, so Harry and Casey often stayed in the park until tea-time, sometimes later.   Several such evenings later, as they walked along the edge of a little wood, Casey reached for Harry’s hand and laced her fingers through his, then leaned against his arm, rubbing her cheek on his shoulder.   He stopped walking and looked down at her, his nerves tingling, hoping he was reading the signs right.   His stomach was doing flip-flops.   Her lashes were a dark, feathery fringe against her cheek as she relaxed against him.   She turned toward him and lifted her face, gazing at his mouth expectantly.   Harry’s stomach was doing tap dances on top of the flip-flops now.   He could feel himself shaking.   Please don’t let me mess this up.   He let go of her hand and put his arm gently around her back, his other hand touching her cheek hesitantly.   She smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling.   His nerves absolutely on fire now, he leaned down and brushed her lips with his.   She lifted her arms and put them around his neck, pulling him back down for another kiss.   Harry thought his heart would explode with delight.   She likes me, she actually likes ME!   Breathless, he pulled back and gazed at her, bedazzled that she cared about him, that she was kissing him!   A joyful smile spread over his face, which grew broader as she laced her fingers in his hair and pulled him down to kiss him again.   A few lovely snogging moments later, Harry was savouring the delicious sensation of holding Casey in his arms, her face tucked into the hollow of his shoulder, her breath tickling his neck.

"Harry?" she murmured.

"Hmm?"

"I hope you don’t think I’m too forward or anything," she said, nuzzling his neck as he held her.

He turned his head to look at her.   All he could see was her ear, her cheek, and that magnificent golden fall of hair that reached past her waist.   "Erm. . .no?" he said, hoping it was the right answer.   "I thought you were . . .um. . .just about perfect."   The feel of her breath on his neck and her lovely warm curves against his body were driving him mad.

She chuckled and snuggled against him, which wasn’t helping Harry’s situation at all.   Embarrassed, he broke the embrace as gently as he could, kissing her nose as they parted.  

"Only ‘just about perfect’?" she said, her eyes twinkling merrily up at him.   "I’ll have to try harder!"

Harry gulped.   "Really?" he said, a blush suffusing his face.   "Erm. . .OK," he said with a chuckle as he bent to kiss her again.   Ever so timidly, he opened his mouth and barely brushed her lips with his tongue.   She returned the favour eagerly.   Fireworks went off in Harry’s brain, and other parts of his anatomy as well, as he revelled in the taste of her.   "Umm, perfect," he murmured against her hair when they finally broke the kiss.   He put his arm around her shoulder and walked her home, where he was treated to yet another perfect kiss.   And to think I didn’t want to come back to Privet Drive ever again, he thought ruefully as he walked home.   I’m so glad Dumbledore insisted I came back!

* * * * *

Harry’s growth spurt was so exhausting, whenever he was still for more than a few moments, he seemed to fall asleep.   Another lunch time at work found Harry sound asleep under a tree in his typical pose, his glasses lying on the ground beside him, his arm up over his eyes.   His nose started to wriggle as something brushed it ever so lightly. . .then brushed it again. . .then that tickling sensation moved to his bare shoulder and chest and warm lips were pressed against his.

"Mmmmm," he murmured in delight as he started to return the kiss — but the lips had been removed.   Had he been dreaming?   He opened his eyes and squinted.   Nope. Not dreaming.   Or if it was a dream, it was a good one.   A slow smile spread across his face.   There was that long waterfall of honey gold hair cascading down onto his chest and tickling him.  

Casey gave him an impudent grin and flicked her hair again, knowing she was driving him mad.   "You are such a sleepyhead!"

"Growing is hard work!" he whined, then gave her an impish grin.   "How about another kiss, now that I’m awake enough to appreciate it?"

She pouted prettily for a moment.   "You should’ve appreciated the one you got.   I don’t have any more to spare!"

"Oh really?" Harry laughed.   He wrapped his hand around the length of her hair and gently pulled her down into his arms, then rolled her over onto her back.   "Are you sure about that?"   Laughing and kissing at the same time can be a bit awkward to manage sometimes, but he and Casey had managed to master it.

"Oh my, what big muscles you have!" Casey giggled as she ran her fingers over his arms.

"The better to squeeze you with, my dear," he leered in his best "big bad wolf" voice as he tightened his embrace, then started to back away from her.   "Seriously, though, you’re going to get messy if we keep this up.   I’m all sweaty."

"Yes, where is your shirt, young man?" she teased, not allowing him to budge from his position.

"I was moving some boxes in the shop and the metal strap on the load broke loose.   Ripped my shirt to shreds."

"Oh no!" Casey cried in alarm, pushing his arms away, sitting up and searching him for injuries.   "Are you hurt?"

"Just a scratch, nothing major.   I’m pretty good at getting out of the way of dangerous objects," he grinned, thinking of the many Bludgers he’d dodged the last few years.   "I was exaggerating about the shreds — it just ripped the shirt most of the way down the side, so I gave it up as a lost cause.   At least the shirt was the only casualty — nothing actually fell, no tiles are broken, and nobody got hurt but me.   It’s pretty hot today anyway.   Your dad didn’t seem to mind my working shirtless.   Did I break a rule?   I didn’t think to ask, once my shirt fell off.   I don’t have an extra one here, and didn’t want to take time off to go home for another, as I have a table to finish today."

"Oh, heavens no.   I was just surprised.   You’ve always seemed kind of . . . I don’t know. . .shy, or modest, I guess, so seeing you shirtless was kind of a surprise.   A nice surprise, though!"   She laughed at the rich blush washing his cheeks.   "I won’t tell you how long I stood there watching you sleep," she teased, as she held the end of her hair and used it like a paint brush to define the planes of his chest, "admiring all these nice muscles.   Hmm, bulging biceps, lovely pecs, washboard abs. . .you must be working out besides working here."

Harry put his hand over hers where she was "painting" his chest.   "If you keep tickling me, I will have to retaliate," he said with a chuckle.   "I haven’t really been working out, I just run in the mornings, but I enjoy running, so that’s not like ‘working out.’   And I lift a lot more things myself here in the shop than the other guys do. It keeps me from having to work out in a boring gym — if I had a boring gym to work out in, that is," he finished with his crooked grin.

She smiled back at him, then said, "You know, dear sir, I still haven’t found your wound.   Are you fibbing to me?"

"Does this look like the face of a liar?" Harry asked in mock indignation.   Then remembering his history of getting out of trouble by saying whatever was convenient, he added, "Don’t answer that!" and turned around with a chuckle, showing her a long scratch down his right side near his back.  

"Oh, poor baby.   It’s not too bad, actually," Casey said.   She giggled, then leaned down and kissed it.   "There, I’ve kissed it and made it well!"

Harry stiffened as she did it, and hesitated before smiling over his shoulder at her.

"What is it?" she asked, thinking she’d offended him.

He turned back to her, and then paused for a long moment.   "Erm. . .nobody’s ever done that to me before," he said quietly.   He couldn’t possibly describe how her simple act had made him feel.   Although he knew she was just playing, she’d touched a place in his heart.   He tried to get back to the silliness of a moment before, twisting around to glance at his wound.   "Is the scratch gone now?" he asked with an attempt at his crooked grin.

"Oh, I’m so sorry!   I didn’t mean to make you feel bad," Casey began.

"No!   That was the sweetest thing. . . ."   He didn’t know what else to say.   Finally, the right words occurred to him.   "Thank you," he replied simply.

She leaned down and kissed the wound again, more tenderly.   "Anytime you have an ouchie, you come to me and I’ll take care of it for you, OK?"

"OK," he said with a warm smile. "That’s a deal!"  

Casey opened the lunch basket and started setting out their meal.   "But my goodness, when those metal straps go, they are lethal!   You must really be quick on your feet!"

"Yeah, well, when it comes to trying to stay intact. . ." he grinned as he sat cross-legged in front of where she knelt.   "I do try to work at it.   And I was pretty lucky, too.   Your dad nearly had kittens when he heard what happened."

"I can just imagine!   You did put antiseptic on it, didn’t you?"

"Yes, Doctor," he said in a mock-serious tone.   She started "beating him up" with the end of her hair, very gently.   Soon they were both giggling.

"OK, young lady, are you going to feed me or not?" he whined playfully.  

Casey handed him his lunch and a small cold bottle of apple juice.   "I hope this is okay.   Mum’s going organic this week."

"I think it’s brilliant," he said sincerely, then took a huge bite out of his wrap, which was a soft tortilla filled with meat, vegetables and cheese.   "Mmmm, gbob doo!"

She giggled.   "What?"

He struggled to swallow.   "I said, ‘good, too!’   I suppose I was using Ron’s table manners for a moment there.   Sorry about that." Harry had told Casey all he could about the Weasleys, Hermione and Hagrid.   It was hard to talk about his life without mentioning magic or wizarding things, but he thought he hadn’t made many slip-ups so far.

"Harry," Casey asked a while later.   "Do you believe in magic?"

He choked on a mouthful of crisps.   After fighting to swallow without strangling, he managed to croak out, "Sorry?"   Oh no, he thought, has she guessed?   Where did I slip up?

"Magic.   You know.   Hocus-pocus, magic tricks, disappearing acts, that kind of thing," Casey continued calmly.

Whew, Harry thought in relief.   She must have seen something on the television, or read something — it wasn’t me.   Please, don’t let it have been me!   "Erm. . .yeah.   I don’t know.   Do you believe in it?"

"I think it would be wonderful if it were real!   Wouldn’t it be fun to fly through the air without a plane?   Although brooms look like they’d be pretty uncomfortable to ride on."

He had to stifle his impulse to explain the Cushioning Charm that made riding broomsticks much more comfortable than it looked.   "Why do you ask?"

"I was reading a story that involved magic and thought, ‘wouldn’t it be fun to turn Dudley into a toad’?"   Her merry eyes caught his and they both exploded in laughter.  

"A toad?   That would be an unkind comparison to toads everywhere, don’t you think?" Harry asked when he caught his breath.   "But yeah, it would be great to turn Dudley into a toad — or to give him a pig’s tail!"

Casey fell over, she was laughing so hard at this picture.   "That’s perfect!   I love it!   Wouldn’t it be fun?"

Harry grinned at her, shaking his head.   "I think it would be great fun."   He decided to stop there before he got himself into trouble.

"There’s a film about Merlin at the cinema this weekend.   Would you like to see that on our date?" she said.   They’d been going out every Friday night and Saturday afternoon for weeks.   Harry spent Sundays at 12 Grimmauld Place or The Burrow, visiting Remus and his friends. "I love films about Merlin and King Arthur."

"Yes, that sounds great!   I’ve never been to the cinema," Harry said eagerly.  

Casey was shocked.   "Every time I think I’ve heard everything there is to hear about you, you come up with a surprise for me.   How can you have never been to the films?   You’re such an innocent!"

"The same way I’ve never been to most places other kids get to go," he reminded her gently.   And there are lots of things you still don’t know about me, he thought.   If only you knew. . . .

"What would you like to do, if you could do magic, Harry?"

Harry smiled to himself, having a private joke about his "real life" as a wizard, then sobered.   "If I could do anything magic at all, I’d like to get all the evil people of the world locked up so the good ones can enjoy their lives safely.   And I’d like to fly on a broom.   I think that would be brilliant!"   He grinned hugely at the thought. "What would you do if you could do magic?"

"I like the idea of being invisible.   I think that would be amazing.   Imagine how you could sneak out of your house and do what you want if nobody could see you!"   Casey laughed.  

"Invisibility has its uses, I’m sure," Harry agreed, trying not to choke on his meal as he laughed.   If Ron and Hermione could hear them now!

* * * * *

"So how was your first film?"   Casey said as they strolled toward her house, holding hands.   He leaned over to smell the pink rose in her hair.   Every time they had a date, he brought her a pink flower for her hair, usually a rose, invariably nicked from the Dursleys’ garden.   Somehow his smelling the rose turned into kissing her hair.

"I liked it a lot," he said with a grin.   "Especially the part where we snogged through the credits."  

Casey playfully punched his arm.   "Harry!   You were supposed to be paying attention!"

"I don’t know what a gaffer or best boy is anyway, nor do I know any of those people personally, so I don’t think it’s too horrible that I missed seeing their names up there," he insisted as he put his arms around her and pushed her against the wall of the darkened building they were passing.   "I’d rather pay attention to you," he continued, moving in to kiss her again.   When they broke apart, he put his forehead against hers.   "I honestly, truly, thoroughly enjoyed the film.   Thanks for thinking of it.   I enjoy stories about Merlin.   And I especially enjoyed the credits!" he finished with a laugh.

"Harry Potter!   You rascal!" she responded, laughing as she pulled him down into another kiss.

"Oy!   What’s this!" an all too familiar rough voice called.

"Eauw.   Gross," a second boy said with a dirty titter.

"Hey!   Get a room!" cried a third voice, shrieking with laughter at his own wit.

"Big D — that’s your stupid cousin snogging that girl!"   The fourth boy sounded as if he were announcing the sighting of a UFO, he was so astonished.

Harry sighed and straightened up.   Dudley and his gang had found them.   "What do you want?" Harry said to his cousin as non-combatively as possible.   If he could avoid a confrontation. . .

"What do you think you’re doing?" Dudley said stupidly.

"What’s it look like?" Harry snapped.

"Hey, Dud, it’s that Casey girl who just moved in on my street," Dudley’s best friend Piers said with sneer.   "Now we know she’s a. . ."

"Piers," Harry warned quietly.   "If you don’t watch your mouth, I will have to wash it out for you.   And in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m bigger than you now."

"Just taller — and there are five of us!" Piers cried.   He was, by far, the smallest one of the group, but the mouthiest.   The others were just dumb muscle, following Dudley’s mean-spirited ideas and egged on by Piers’s comments.

"Come on, Harry, let’s leave these children alone," Casey said in her coolest, most mature tone as she calmly took Harry’s arm and steered him away from the gang.

"Hey!   We’re not finished here," Dudley yelled after them.

Harry turned back to face his cousin, his jaw clenched, fighting to control his anger.   "Dudley.   You do know what I will do to you when we get home if you don’t leave us alone."  

Dudley quailed under Harry’s steady gaze, but before he could say anything else, Piers yelled, "Get ‘em!" and started running toward Harry and Casey.   Piers, instigator that he was, got the other bullies in the gang started, then stood back to watch what happened.   He would jump into the fray once their victims were down and already being pummelled.  Dudley waited a moment, and then decided to follow his mates in their attack on his cousin and Casey.

Harry didn’t pull out his wand.   He didn’t think of anything particular to do.   He just felt a huge rage grow inside him, and a protective instinct about Casey that meant anyone trying to get to her would definitely have to go through him.   He put himself between Casey and the gang, pressed her against his back with his left hand, then raised his right hand and held it out toward the oncoming bullies.   It was as if they’d hit a wall.   They fell backwards, rolled on the ground in confusion for a moment, then got up and tried again.   When they were repelled six feet from their intended victims for the second time, they pelted down the road away from Harry and Casey.   Harry dropped his hand and turned toward Casey, taking her hand and starting to walk hurriedly away, hoping to get clear of the area before any Aurors arrived.   "Come on, let’s go," he said, his heart beating wildly.   He’d just done serious wandless magic he didn’t even know he could do.   Was he in trouble or not?   And how would he explain it to Casey?

"H-h-harry?" Casey stammered.   "What was that?"

"I dunno.   Maybe they heard someone coming.   They stopped and we got out of there, that’s all that matters to me," Harry assured her, hoping she’d take him at his word.   When they’d got a couple of streets away, he slowed his pace and put his arms around her.   "You’re trembling!   Are you cold?   Are you okay?"   He pulled her close and held her tightly, trying to comfort and calm her.

"I think. . .it’s. . .j-just. . .n-n-nerves," she said, her teeth nearly chattering.   "I was really scared.   They had us cornered, and there was nobody around to help, and. . . ."   She trembled in his arms for a few moments.   When she was calmer, she pulled back to look up at him.   "Harry, you were so brave!   The way you stood up to them. . ."

"Dudley’s gang has beaten me up regularly all my life," he said with disgust. "I’m used to their tactics."

"I think after tonight, they’ll leave you alone.   I don’t know what you did, but I felt tingles coming off your body, like waves of. . .I don’t know, power, electricity, something.   It was . . .huge. . .and kind of scary."

Oh no, Harry thought.   He studied her face, swallowed hard, hoping against hope. . . .   "Are you . . .afraid. . .of me?"

She seemed surprised by his question.   "Why would I be afraid of you?"

"I don’t know. . .what you just said. . .it made me wonder," he said nervously.   "I was trying to protect you.   Did I hurt you?"

"No!   No, you didn’t hurt me, I’m fine — just, um, unnerved, I think.   I’ve heard about Dudley’s gang, how they beat up little kids and so on.   I never thought about them beating you up."

"I’m their favourite target," he replied grimly, "or have been until recently.   I’m glad I’ve had such a growth spurt this summer.   It’s been a real help to be so much taller than Dudley.   It kind of puts him off, y’know?"   Harry said with his crooked grin.   He sobered, then continued, "Dudley and his gang enjoy picking on me.   It’s the only sport they’re good at, I suppose."   He tilted his head and gazed at her, tenderly brushing the hair back from her face.   "I’m sorry you were frightened."   He looked at her a few moments longer, his face growing sadder with each moment as he considered the horrors of his life and how they’d already had an impact on Casey.   She probably was afraid of him now, but just hadn’t admitted it to herself yet.   If she wasn’t afraid, perhaps she should be, with all the bad things that happened to him.   He felt he was a magnet for trouble.   The last few weeks of peace, happiness and mostly avoiding confrontations with the Dursleys had been abnormal for him.   He shouldn’t have let himself get used to it.   "They probably won’t bother you if you’re not with me," he said slowly, trying hard to read whatever was in her eyes.   "If you . . .um. . .don’t want to. . .," he sighed before continuing, "go out with me anymore. . . I’ll understand."

Casey looked at him in surprise, and then took a moment to gather her thoughts.   She could tell her answer was very important to him.   His eyes were filled with raw emotion.   The sadness, the loneliness, the haunted look he’d had when she first met him — they were all back.   Dudley would not have that kind of victory over Harry, not if she had anything to do with it.   She took a deep breath and put on her most pert attitude.   "Why would I not want to go out with the Hero of Privet Drive," she said with a smile.   "You rescued me, Sir Knight.   I am your fair maiden, and am delighted that chivalry is not dead."

Relieved, Harry hugged her tightly, burying his face in the hair lying thickly on her neck and shoulder.   "Thank you.   You had me scared for a moment there."   He held on to her, breathing a sigh of contentment.   "You smell so good," he murmured.   He pulled back and gazed into her eyes, then kissed her.   When he straightened up again, he added, "You taste good, too."

"Mmm, you too."   Casey chuckled and leaned her head on his shoulder.   "My hero," she murmured contentedly as she snuggled against him.   After a few moments, they walked down the street with their arms around each other, glad the evening had had a happy ending after all.

* * * * *

That Sunday at Grimmauld Place, Harry said, "Professor Dumbledore, may I speak to you for a moment?"

"Certainly, my boy!   How has your week been?" Dumbledore responded kindly.   "Come and sit down, have some of these lovely biscuits Molly just brought in.   Tea?"

"Yes, thanks."   As they went through the motions of having tea and biscuits, Harry gathered his thoughts.   "Erm. . .you know, sir. . . I’ve been seeing a Muggle girl."

"Remus says she’s a lovely young lady.   I’m so happy for you," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his blue eyes.   "I have to say, honey blond hair has always been a favourite of mine, especially on young ladies."

Harry grinned at his beloved headmaster.   "She is beautiful," he began, "and . . .well. . .what I need to ask you, sir, is. . .erm. . ."

Dumbledore waited patiently.   Harry had apparently got stuck or run out of steam — he was silent, watching one of his trainers idly kicking at the worn carpet.

"Do you need to have a talk about something of a rather. . .sensitive nature?"   Dumbledore suggested.   "Have you, perhaps, done something you oughtn’t?"

"Sort of."   He watched as sad lines began to appear in his professor’s face.   "Oh, no, sir, not that!"  

"I hesitate to ask what you mean by ‘not that.’   Perhaps it would be best if you just told me what’s troubling you."

"I, um. . .I think I need to tell her I’m a wizard," Harry said nervously.

Dumbledore looked relieved in a way.   "May I ask why you feel such a need?"

Harry told him about the magic he’d performed the previous day, when Dudley’s gang had attacked them.

"You produced such a shield wandless and with no incantation?   I knew you were going to be a powerful Wizard, but that’s a remarkable skill to appear with such power and accuracy when you’ve had no training.   I will have to look into extra classes for you, in order to train this talent of yours."   Dumbledore paused, thinking.   "I agree there’s a reason to tell her you’re a wizard.   I don’t, however, think it’s the best thing to do right away.   Put it off as long as possible.   Perhaps you won’t need to tell her at all."

"So I do have your permission, if I need to tell her.   If I end up having to do serious magic in front of her, that kind of thing, right?   I don’t want her memory erased or altered."

"Yes, you have my permission, but do remember, this confidence is not something to share lightly.   It will endanger you for her to know about you, especially if she cannot keep such news to herself," the headmaster cautioned.

"I’ll be very careful about it.   I hope I don’t have to tell her, but in case I’m forced to do it, I wanted your permission first."

"Thank you for asking.   That was wise of you."   Dumbledore took another bite of his biscuit.   "These are delicious, aren’t they?"

"Yes," Harry grinned, taking a big bite out of his own biscuit, grateful to be able to spend time with his headmaster.

After a few more companionable moments, Dumbledore said, "I think it’s time I taught you another charm."

Harry grinned up at Dumbledore.   He loved having the old headmaster teach him new skills.   Dumbledore was a great teacher.   "What is it?"

"It’s a communication charm.   With it, you can whisper messages into people’s ears many miles away, if need be.   If the other person knows the same charm, you can communicate back and forth that way, fast as thought.   It’s ridiculously difficult, but since you’re showing an aptitude for wandless magic — which is quite advanced, I must say — it’s possible you may be able to master this charm.   It would certainly be a useful tool for you to have."

"How does it work?"

"Go and stand in the corner there with your back to me.   Tell me what you hear."

Harry went and stood where he was told.   "Erm. . .I hear doxies in the curtains again," he chuckled. "Mrs. Weasley will be furious!"

A small voice in his ear replied, "I’m sure she will be.   Sherbet Lemon."

Harry turned around, his eyes alight with excitement.   "You said, ‘I’m sure she will be.   Sherbet Lemon.’   And I recognized your voice!   It sounded as if you were talking to me directly."

"Precisely!   Now you see how it works," Dumbledore said with a smile that twitched his long silver beard.   "You can do it with a wand while you’re learning it, or if you’re sending it a long distance, but I imagine you’ll be able to do it wandless before long.   The incantation is Adfero.   You can say this aloud while you’re learning the spell, but the spell loses its main value, which is secret communication, after all, if you have to speak the incantation.   Give your wand a firm wave, pointing it in the direction of the recipient, thusly," Dumbledore demonstrated, "while thinking of the person’s name, then say Adfero.   So if I want to send you a message in this manner, Harry, I will point my wand where I think you are — if I’m at Hogwarts, I’ll aim it toward Surrey if you’re at the Dursleys’, and you will receive it.   The spell works like post owls, in being able to find the recipient with very little information.   I think Harry Potter and say Adfero and my message, and within seconds you will know what I wanted to tell you.   Let’s try it, shall we?" The headmaster smiled encouragingly at Harry.

"So I think ‘Professor Dumbledore’ and say ‘Adfero’ and then my message.   I wave the wand when I think your name, is that right?"   Harry frowned in concentration, trying to get every step locked in his mind.

"Yes, that’s perfect.   Give it a try."

Harry thought about what kind of message to send.   I should probably have my message planned before starting, he thought.   He pondered a moment more, took a deep breath and extended his wand.   "Adfero!"   A small silver light flew between his wand and Dumbledore’s head.

Dumbledore continued to smile benignly at the boy.   Nothing seemed to happen.

"It didn’t work, did it?" Harry said, disappointed.

"Well. . ." Dumbledore began, "what I received was quite a tumult of ideas, no clear message.   I was waiting for the message to appear."

"Oh.   I thought I had it organized enough.   Let me give it another try."

"Keep your first message simple, Harry.   Remember, all I sent you was ‘Sherbet Lemon.’"

"But I also heard you say ‘I’m sure she will be.’   You answered what I had said."

Dumbledore chuckled.   "Yes, that’s true, but the message itself was ‘Sherbet Lemon.’   Keep it that simple at first."

"OK."   He took a deep breath, tried to quiet all the thoughts rampaging through his ever-busy mind and concentrate on something very simple.   He performed the spell again.

Dumbledore tilted his head, as if trying to figure something out.   "Something about Miss Asher, a mosaic you’re working on, Fawkes, a dog named ‘Sirius,’ Miss Granger and Ron Weasley?   It’s a bit jumbled."

"Rats!   That’s not what I was trying to send," Harry grumbled.

"Try it again. The fact that the spell is working at all is quite remarkable in a wizard of your age.   You’ll get it.   Take your time."

Harry screwed up his face, forcing every extraneous thought to the back of his mind, and concentrated hard on a very simple message to send.   The silver light flew from his wand toward Dumbledore again.

"Ah!" said Dumbledore.   "Chocolate frogs?"

Harry’s face lit up.   "Yes!   That’s it!"

"Well done!   Do it again, making the message more complex.   I will turn my back so I can’t anticipate the spell."

Harry cast the spell again.

Dumbledore laughed out loud.   "I love the way your mind works, Harry.   ‘Ron Weasley loves Chocolate Frogs and Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans.’"   Dumbledore smiled a moment longer, his eyes twinkling in amusement.   "And as an afterthought, you added that he also loves Miss Granger but he’s too thick to realize that."

Harry blushed crimson.   "Oh!   I didn’t mean to send that!   I was just thinking it after I sent the other. . ."

"You need to be in complete control of your thoughts when you open this channel of communication, Harry.   Just send what you want to send, then lift your wand and end the spell.   You held the wand on me too long."   The headmaster chuckled.   "And I agree with your assessment.   I do believe he has deep feelings for Miss Granger, but he has not yet realized it."

Harry and Dumbledore worked on the spell for quite a while.   After a while, Harry was able to control the spell well enough for the headmaster to suggest he try it wandless and in silence.   "This spell can go badly wrong, as you’ve seen, if you don’t remember to end it when the message ends.   Be careful of that.   Without the wand to concentrate the magic and give you a physical reminder of the spell’s power, you might reveal more information than you intended."

"OK."   With a lot more trial and error, he was able to perform the spell without his wand.   It felt weird the first few times the silver light emerged from his fingertips rather than his wand, but soon Harry had firm control of the spell both with and without his wand.

"Well done, Harry!" Dumbledore said.   "Now to refine it even further — you can send it without using your hands, no gesture at all.   Simply think what you want to send, and to whom it will be sent, then think the incantation.   Concentrate hard, Harry, this is extremely difficult magic."

Harry tried repeatedly, but wasn’t able to get a complete message sent without using some kind of gesture.

"As I said, it’s very hard to do.   You work on that.   It’s an extension of wandless magic.   I believe you will master the spell soon."

"I’ll work on it, Professor.   It would be very useful to be able to send a message with no gesture or incantation that someone else can notice."  

"There will always be a small silver flash when you send it, so just be aware of that.   With practice, the flash can be minimized to the point where someone who sees it thinks they may have imagined it," Dumbledore said as he sat down to the tray of biscuits once more and conjured a fresh pot of tea. "I want you to use this spell if anything untoward happens.   If your scar hurts, or you see Death Eaters nearby or if you get flashes of Voldemort’s activities — or if you’re in need of help, or just need to get a message to one of us quickly.   This kind of magic is something the Ministry cannot track, so it is a secure communication system.   You can talk to me or Remus or Professor Snape or Professor McGonagall or Professor Flitwick whenever you need to.   Those I just mentioned can answer your messages as well as receive them.   Not everyone in the Order can do the spell themselves, but anyone can receive it."

"What if I don’t know where the person is?   Say I need to tell you or Remus something, and you’re away on Order business?"

"Excellent question.   In that case, concentrate on the person’s name and picture him firmly in your mind, but in a kind of foggy surrounding, since you don’t know his location.   Wave your wand in a circle as you think this and the message will find him.   Do you want to try it?"

"Yes," Harry said eagerly.

"All right.   Send a message to Remus, asking him to join us," the headmaster suggested.

He performed the spell, and soon Remus entered the room.   "Harry, did you call me?" he asked, his face puzzled.

The boy grinned and told Remus what he’d done.

"Well done!   I was in the attic, and thought you were right behind me.   I turned around and you weren’t there, so I did what you asked and came down here.   I have to say, I was quite surprised when I heard your voice and you weren’t there.   It was good and strong too, a well-done charm.   Good work!"

"Thanks!" the boy replied with a huge grin.   What a wonderful charm!   He could use this one in so many ways, and the Ministry would never know.   That idea led to another thought.   "Erm, Professor?" he said to Dumbledore.   "Can you send thoughts to Muggles this way?" he asked, not completely sure why he was asking.

"Ah, planning to whisper endearments in the ear of your young lady?" Dumbledore chuckled, one eyebrow raised in amused inquiry.   He offered Remus some tea and Lupin sat down across from Harry, smiling at the turn of the conversation.

"Something like that," he replied with a grin, his ears turning pink.

"I honestly don’t know.   I’ve never tried it on a Muggle.   If she got the message, she would probably think it was something she thought of herself, or that you are standing behind her whispering to her, something like that.   And she couldn’t return the message in the same manner."

"I understand," Harry said.   "I just wondered."   He took a bite of another biscuit.   After a sip of tea to wash it down, he said, "May I show this spell to Ron and Hermione?   Can I teach it to them?"

"You may show it to them, and if they can learn it, you’re welcome to teach it to them.   It is, however, a very difficult charm."

"I taught them how to do a Patronus charm," Harry reminded him.

"Yes, I know, and that was a remarkable bit of teaching.   When you’re grown, please do consider coming back to Hogwarts to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts," Dumbledore said with a warm smile.   "You’re already a brilliant teacher.   You did wonders with the D.A. this past term.   Not many full-grown wizards can cast a Patronus, and much less teach others how to do them."

Harry glowed under Dumbledore’s praise.   He hadn’t thought about teaching, but he’d enjoyed his work with the D.A. last term.   "Thanks, Professor, but that should be Remus’s job.   He’s a great teacher."

Remus smiled at Harry.   "I’ll be back next term.   But I won’t be teaching there forever.   You’ll probably want to do other things after Hogwarts — you did say you want to be an Auror, after all.   But when you’re tired of that, I’ll probably be tired of teaching and the job can be yours if you want it and Albus still agrees."

"Ah, that’s settled then," Dumbledore said with great enthusiasm, rubbing his hands together with obvious satisfaction.   "You have no idea how hard I work to find a D.A.D.A. teacher each year, and here I have two wonderful ones lined up — if Harry agrees to it, that is.   And no, Harry, I won’t ask you for a decision this early in your life.   I’ve just given you an idea to consider."

"I will think about it, Professor.   I have to say, the idea does appeal to me.   But having Remus as the D.A.D.A. teacher again — that’s fantastic!   I can’t wait to take more classes with you, Remus!   How did you get past the Board’s objections, if you don’t mind my asking?"

"They have finally realized there’s a war on, and that we need a consistent and excellent D.A.D.A. teacher," Dumbledore replied, "and Remus is the best Defence teacher we’ve had in many years.   So I was able to override their objections."

"Brilliant!" Harry said with a huge grin.

* * * * *

That evening, Remus and Harry used Floo powder to travel to Mrs. Figg’s house from Grimmauld Place.   The Ashers had invited them to dinner, and Sunday evening was the most convenient time on everyone’s calendar.   As they walked up to the Ashers’ door, Harry quickly finished telling Remus what he’d told Casey and her family about his background, so his and Remus’s stories would match.

"Hi, Harry!" Casey said as she answered the door.   She smiled warmly at him, then turned her sparkling eyes on Remus.   "You must be his godfather.   I’m Casey.   I’m so pleased to meet you.   Harry’s told me so much about you!"

"It’s a pleasure to meet you, Casey.   Harry’s told me a lot about you, too," Remus replied with a smile.  

Introductions were made all around and they soon sat down to dinner.   Harry sat next to Remus at the round table, mostly to be able to step on his toes if he started to say something that wouldn’t match what Harry had told the family.  

As the food was handed around, Doug asked Remus, "Harry tells me you travel a good deal on business.   How do you like flying that much?   Is airline food as bad as they say?"

Remus and Harry exchanged a look, stifling smiles.   Harry had trod on Remus’s toe when "flying" was mentioned.   "Oh, I normally travel by train, actually.   I get a lot of work done that way.   The trains seem to run on schedule more than the airlines, and they’re less expensive.   I don’t have to go that far most of the time, either."

"Where do you go?" Margaret asked.  

"I travel mostly between London and Scotland, but I do have to make other trips from time to time."

"What kind of job do you have, that you have to travel so much?" Casey asked.

Remus waited for his toe to be stepped on, but when none came, he figured he was free to make up whatever would work for him.   "I’m a researcher."

Casey lit up with excitement.   "What do you research?   I’m very interested in science."

Remus chuckled.   "I’m sorry.   My research isn’t that exciting.   I mostly do historic research, but also, um. . . ."   He looked at Harry for help.

Harry said, "He does a lot of secret stuff.   He tells me if he told me what he was doing he’d have to shoot me!"   He laughed, then added in a stage whisper, "I think he got that from an American film, actually!"

Remus took the hint his godson was throwing him, smiled and agreed.   "Yes, I can’t really talk a lot about my work.   I work for one of the Ministries, but I can’t really say much more than that."

"You do historic research and it’s secret?" Margaret asked in amazement.

"My speciality is . . .um. . .tactics.   Researching historical tactics is an important task.   That’s just a part of my area of concentration," Remus replied.

"Military tactics?" Margaret asked.

"Well," Remus began, "sort of."   He hoped the subject changed soon.

Doug saw the problem and solved it.   "Have you seen the tables Harry’s been making, Remus?"

"No, but I would love to.   He gets so excited when he’s telling me about them."   Remus patted Harry on the arm.   "I knew this young man was talented in many ways, but I didn’t know he was an artist."

"What else is he talented in?" Casey asked.   "He doesn’t really talk about himself that much."

Harry gave her a cheeky look, the equivalent of sticking out his tongue at her, and she gave him just as cheeky a look in return.   They both laughed.

Remus glanced at Harry, didn’t see any warning there, and answered, "He’s quite good at sports."

"I run," Harry interjected helpfully.

"Yes, he’s the best our school has had in many years, actually.  He’s very good at most of his studies, and a natural leader in his class.   He’s also very inventive at breaking school rules and getting away with it," Remus added with a chuckle.   That comment got him a hard step on his toes, but he ignored Harry and went on.   "I don’t mean to imply he gets into trouble a lot.   There are just some rules that need to be broken sometimes.   It was the same when his father, Sirius and I were in school together.   We thought some things just needed to be done."

"Like what?" Casey asked.

Remus smiled at the memory — and at the thought he’d been able to steer the conversation away from Harry and the danger of saying things that might contradict what Harry had told the family.   "We would sneak around the grounds at night, looking for interesting places, hidden passageways, whatever it is that makes kids want to go where they’ve been told they simply are not supposed to go.   James, Sirius and I were notorious for that kind of thing, but never got into serious trouble for it.   Harry, Ron and Hermione are the same way.   They like to explore, and with the age of the school buildings and grounds, there are lots of interesting places to explore."   He thought that was as far as he could safely go with that thread of conversation, and cast around for a safer subject.   Margaret came to the rescue.  

"Shall we have our coffee in the garden?" Margaret asked.   "It’s lovely at this time of day."

Remus, Doug and Margaret chatted amiably about gardening, while Harry and Casey sat on a bench in the corner of the garden, teasing each other and giggling.   When the adults were across the lawn, Harry kissed Casey, then sat with his arm around her.  

Patricia ran up in front of them and stamped her foot.   "Why are you kissing her, Harry?" the little girl demanded.  

"She’s my girlfriend.   That’s what boyfriends and girlfriends do," he said with a smile.

"You were my friend first!   Why aren’t you kissing me?   You’re MY boyfriend!" she insisted.

"Patricia. . ." Casey warned.  

Harry glanced at Casey, then held his arms out to Patricia.   "Come here, then."   The little girl came to him and he sat her in his lap.   "What do you want?"

"I want you to be my boyfriend!"

"But I’m Casey’s boyfriend.   There’s not enough of me to go around!" Harry said, smiling warmly at the child.   "Can’t we just be really good friends?"

"You’re a big boy.   There’s lots of you to go around," Patricia pouted.

"Stop bothering Harry," Casey said, not unkindly.   "You’ll embarrass him.   He’s our guest."

Patricia’s lower lip started to tremble as tears filled her eyes.   "He was my boyfriend first!"

Harry sighed.   Now what do I do? he thought.   "Patricia, you’re a very pretty girl.   You’ll have boyfriends of your own once you start school this autumn.   That will be nice because they’ll be your age, they’ll be interested in the same things you are, you’ll play the same games, take classes together. . . ."   He was quickly running out of ideas.

Patricia seemed to be considering what he was saying.   "I will?"  

"Absolutely.   And if any of them give you trouble, you let me know and I’ll sort them out for you, how’s that?   I can be like a big brother to you."   As soon as he said it, he wondered how he could fulfil that promise, with him at school in Scotland and only available by owl post.   Oh well, he’d work it out when he had to.

"A big brother?   Oh.   OK!" Patricia said, wrapping her little arms around his neck.   She kissed him on one cheek, then the other.

He was touched.   "Thank you!" he said, then kissed her on each cheek in return.

"Thank you!" she replied, then ran off to tell her parents she had a new brother.

Casey leaned her head on his shoulder.   "That was sweet of you."

"I can be a nice guy when I have to," he teased.

"You’re silly," she said, looking up at him.   "And you’re nice all the time!"   She leaned in and kissed him, a kiss that grew deeper as they heard the adults and Patricia moving farther away in the garden.   "Mmmmm."

"Mmmmmm, yourself," he murmured as he held her head in his hands and kissed her nose.   "You’re the best dessert there is, you know that?"

She laughed and kissed his nose in turn.   They held each other a few moments, then got up to wander through the garden.  

From across the yard, the adults witnessed the tender scene between the teenagers.   Remus smiled and said, "Casey is so very good for Harry.   He’s never been this happy."

Margaret replied, "He’s good for her too."   She took her husband’s hand, suddenly aware of how quickly her older daughter was growing up.   That young man might be her son-in-law someday.   The thought shocked her, but she was pleased that Casey had such good taste in boyfriends.   Harry already fitted in with their family as if he’d been with them forever.

Patricia ran to where Harry and Casey were walking and took Harry’s free hand in hers, rubbing her cheek affectionately on his arm.   "Oooo, Harry!   Your arm’s all hairy!   Hairy Harry!" she giggled.

Casey held Harry’s arm up in the fading daylight and saw long dark hairs growing there she hadn’t noticed before.   "She’s right!   Okay, let’s see the face.   Are you shaving now?"

The adults had returned and heard this part of the conversation, watching in interest as Harry blushed under all the scrutiny.   "Yes."   He swallowed hard and then straightened up.   "Have been for a while, now, actually," he added with a shy grin.

"Ah, our boy’s growing up," Remus said with a chuckle.   The evening ended in good feelings and laughter, and an invitation for Harry and Remus to return any time they liked.

* * * * *

Harry’s mosaic tables were selling faster than he could make them while still laying tiles on construction jobs.   Doug hired another man to lay tiles and install worktops, and put Harry to work full-time creating mosaic table tops out of whatever scraps he could find.   Sometimes pieces of coloured glass were included, sometimes pretty stones, but in every case, the design was engaging and beautiful.   Some designs were bold, some sensitive and delicate, depending on the stone he was working with.   The subtle colours were most often used in light, small chunks of tile in flowing patterns.   The strong colours, mainly granites, were used in bold geometric patterns most often.   Each table was unique.   The majority were abstract shapes and forms, but Harry was starting to do some with images in them, such as lions, dragons, and unicorns. Some of the tables were quite small, nearly pedestal sized rather than something you could sit at for a snack or a meal, but it didn’t seem to matter.   Whatever size they were, they were selling.

One morning, Doug got a phone call in his office.

"Mr. Asher?" a woman’s voice said.

"Yes, this is he.   What can I do for you?"

"This is Ruth Spectre of the Little Whinging Times.   I’ve been hearing a buzz in the decorating world about some tables your company is creating."

"Really?   How nice!   I have a young man working for me who’s quite talented at mosaics.   The tables are selling very well.   They’re his own designs," Doug said with obvious pride.

"I’d love to do a story on him and his work, and on your company as well, of course.   When may I come over and interview you both?   I’ll bring my photographer so we can get pictures of the young man at work, and of his designs."

"That would be brilliant!" Doug replied.   "He’s here every day through the week.   Just let me know when you want to come."

"How about this afternoon, then?   About two o’clock?"

"Fine.   See you then."   Doug jumped up and jogged into the shop.   "Harry!   Harry, guess what?"

The boy looked up from his workbench.   "What’s up?   You look awfully happy about something," he said with a grin.

"You’ll never guess."

Harry frowned as if thinking hard, then offered brightly, "You’re being knighted?"

"Not bloody likely in this lifetime," Doug answered with a laugh.

He chuckled.   "Then I guess I can’t guess it.   So?"

"A reporter is coming over to do a story about you and your mosaics.   She’s heard about your work through the decorators’ grapevine, apparently.   She’s coming with a photographer this afternoon to interview you.   Isn’t that wonderful?  And what great advertising for your work, and the company too!"   The man was clearly delighted at the prospect.   "Decorators!   I wonder how they found out about your tables?   Some of our customers must be talking.   You just can’t buy advertising like that!"

Harry’s heart was pounding so hard, it felt as if it would burst out of his chest.   A reporter?   Here?   Putting his name in the paper, his picture?   Oh, no.   What was he going to do?   He stood there aghast, with his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, no clue what to say.

"Cat got your tongue, Harry?" Doug teased, misunderstanding the boy’s discomfort.

"Erm. . .sorry?"   he mumbled, shaking his head, still struggling with the impending disaster.

"What’s up?   You’re going to be famous!"   Doug said with a laugh.   "Are you nervous about being interviewed or something?"

"Uh. . .Mr. Asher, the thing is, that is, erm. . .I honestly don’t want to be in the paper.   It’s very nice and all that, but I really, really don’t want that to happen," Harry said in a rush, desperation in his eyes.

Doug was dumbfounded.   "Why not?"

"Erm. . .I’m . . .um. . .shy, yeah, y’know, I. . ."

"Harry, I know you’re shy sometimes, but this is such a great opportunity!   Your tables will sell even faster with this kind of publicity."

"I’m working as fast as I can now, Mr. Asher!"   Harry cried.   "I don’t NEED more work!"  

"Oh, I’m sorry!   I didn’t mean to imply you aren’t working hard.   You’re the best worker I’ve ever had, and with creative work rather than just installation. . .the fact you can turn them out as quickly as you do is amazing."

Harry flushed with pleasure at such high praise, then mumbled, "Thanks."

"Being famous isn’t a bad thing," Doug teased again.   "You could make a career out of this work — this kind of article would give you a start."

"I’m sorry.   I just can’t.   I hate to disappoint you, but there’s no way I can do this interview."  

Doug’s face fell.   "You won’t do it?   You truly won’t?"

"No."

The man sighed.   "I thought you’d be so excited.   It’s a real coup to have a reporter wanting to do a story on you."

Harry grimaced, remembering his experiences with Rita Skeeter.   "It depends on your point of view whether it’s a coup or not.   I know it would be a coup for you. . .it’s just not something I can deal with.   I’m terribly sorry.   I simply can’t do it."

Doug frowned, thinking hard.   "I know what it is."

"What?"

"You’re worried your uncle will find out you’re doing really well and will try to take your money away from you, aren’t you?" he asked shrewdly.

Harry bit his lip, trying to think of a way out of this situation.   "Yes, that’s part of it."

"What’s the other part?"

"I can’t explain it, honestly.   I’ll leave now if you want.   I don’t want to cause you any trouble."

Doug’s jaw dropped.   "Leave?   You’re not resigning?"

"Erm. . .no, I don’t want to resign," he answered uncomfortably, his thoughts a jumble of all the awful consequences of his not having this job.   More time stuck at the Dursleys.   No more money for clothes or dates.   Worst of all, not seeing Casey every day.   No, he really did not want to lose this job.   "If you want me to, I’ll. . .quit."   It was so hard for him to make the offer, but it seemed the right thing to do.   "If you want to do the interview yourself, I’ll just clear out for today.   But if you do it, please keep my name out of the paper, OK?"  

"I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.   I absolutely do not want you to quit!" Doug said with intensity.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief.   "Thanks."

He gave the young man’s shoulder a friendly squeeze.   "I don’t understand why you don’t want to do the interview, but I respect your wishes.   The reporter is coming at two o’clock.   Why don’t you go see if Max needs any help on that job, and if he doesn’t, you can take the afternoon off.     With pay, since I’m the one forcing you out of the shop," he added with a rueful grin.

"With pay?   Fantastic!" Harry answered with a beaming smile.   "I’ll just go and see Max after lunch, then, shall I?   Do you want me to let you know if I’m staying with him or not?"

"No, that’s okay.   I trust you.   By the way. . .would it be okay with you for the photographer to take pictures of the tables you’re working on?   And the one you just finished?"

Harry thought a moment.   He couldn’t see any real problem with pictures of his work, as long as his name wasn’t attached to them.   "That should be fine."

* * * * *

"Mr. Asher, so very nice to meet you," Ruth Spectre gushed.     "And where is this young artist of yours?"

"He’s unable to be with us today," Doug replied.  

"Perhaps we should reschedule?" Ruth said with a sickening sweetness.   She did not like having her plans go awry.

"No, today’s fine, but he’s a teenager and doesn’t want to be in the paper.   He’s shy, you know how kids are."

"Hmph.   Most kids I know of would love to be in the paper.   Ah well.   What can you tell me about him?"   She turned on her miniature tape recorder and got out her notebook.   "What’s his name?"

"He asked that his name not be in the paper either," Doug said apologetically.   "I have to respect his wishes.   What else would you like to know?"

"Hmm.   Where did he get his training?   Where does he go to school?   How did he get started doing mosaics?   Where does he get his inspiration?   That type of thing."

"I trained him to work with tiles.   He’s had a job with me just this summer.   He’s a quick learner, very skilled with his hands, and he has a good eye for detail and patterns.   He goes to a private school, I don’t know any more than that, and any more than that would invade his privacy anyway, most likely.   He got started when I saw him at lunchtime one day, playing with the scraps and trims from a tile job we were working on.   The design he’d made was beautiful and I told him so.   He didn’t know what a mosaic was.   I encouraged him to make table tops and the rest, as they say, is history."   Doug smiled.   "Oh, there was another question, what was it?"

"Where does he get his inspiration?"

"Oh, yes.   I honestly don’t know.   He comes up with these wonderful abstracts, but lately he’s added beautiful lions, dragons, unicorns, rather medieval designs.   I guess he must be interested in King Arthur’s time or something.   I heard him say something about Merlin once."

"Merlin?   What do you mean?" Ruth asked quickly.

"I don’t know, I was walking by and heard him say ‘Merlin.’   I guess he was talking to himself, working out ideas.   He hasn’t done a King Arthur or Merlin design yet, though."

The reporter thought a moment, made a few notes in her notebook.   "Very interesting, Mr. Asher.   May we photograph his tables, at least?"

"Of course.   He did give permission for photographs of his work."   Doug led them to Harry’s workbench, where there were two pieces in progress and one completed table awaiting delivery.   Other completed mosaics sat on shelving to one side, waiting for their final cleaning or to be attached to their bases.

The photographer went to work, as Ruth perused the mosaics.   "Intriguing designs.     Beautiful colours and patterns here.   I see why I’ve been hearing so many good things about his work," Ruth commented sweetly.   She pointed to a small marking at the edge of each completed mosaic.   "Is this his signature?"

"He does put his mark on all of them, yes.   That’s it."

"Hmm.   H.P.   Merlin. . ." Ruth murmured, a smarmy smile beginning on her face.   "Is he not quite sixteen, a very small boy, black hair, glasses, green eyes, a scar on his forehead?"

"Excuse me?"   Doug asked, astonished.   Except for the stature, her description was perfect!

"Is that what he looks like or not?" she insisted.

"Not. . .exactly.   He wants to remain anonymous, so I won’t say any more about him," Doug said firmly.   "Now if you’d like to see the rest of our setup here. . ." he continued, trying to get her off the subject of Harry.

"Thank you, Mr. Asher, I believe we have enough to go on with," Ruth said with a smile.   "The article should be in the paper by Thursday.   I’ll include the contact information on your card, shall I?"

Relieved he’d got her mind off tracking Harry down, Doug smiled.   "Yes, that would be fine.   Thanks!"

She waved an airy goodbye, pushing her oversized bejewelled glasses up her nose, and bustled out of the shop.   "Harry Potter, I presume?" she murmured with glee.   "That was a Gryffindor lion if I’ve ever seen one!"   Rita Skeeter, AKA "Ruth Spectre" since she’d lost her job at the Daily Prophet and been reduced to working for this little rag of a Muggle paper in Little Whinging, was on a mission.   She intended to get her old job back at the Daily Prophet, and to get back at Harry Potter and his busybody friend Hermione Granger for keeping her out of business for so long.   The article she’d done on Harry in The Quibbler had returned her to the Prophet for a short time, but it hadn’t lasted.

"Harry Potter’s Summer Holiday," she mused.   "Great headline!   Now to track down the boy and get some wizarding photos. . . ."   She managed to ditch her Muggle photographer, went home and sent an owl to her old Daily Prophet photographer.  

Meet me at my home in the morning.   We’re going to stake out a business where I believe Harry Potter is working.   I was just there but the boy was gone.   I’ll bet Potter took the afternoon off when he heard I was coming.   He’ll be back tomorrow.   — Rita.

She rubbed her hands with glee as the owl went on its way.   "I’ll have you soon, Harry Potter!"


  • Previous
  • Next

Author Notes:

Many thanks to my brilliant Brit-picker, Kelpie, and my beta readers, Blakevich, Starfox and Pilar! BTW, "Adfero" (the name of a spell Harry learns in this chapter) is Latin for "to bring news; report." I got it from a Latin/English dictionary I found online, which is a very useful tool indeed.