When Harry entered the Cannons building before practice, he was surprised to see a large sign floating in mid-air next to Lara's desk. It said:
1. The Blacks squandered most of their fortune before it reached Harry, and the Potter number was grossly inflated as well.
2. The Chocolate Frogs thing was a complete accident.
3. The vampire was just Alistair, and he wasn't going to hurt anyone.
4. Harry greeted guests out of sincere hospitality, and not to pick a sex partner like some kind of creepy count.
5. The party was indeed an orgy, but the underage Veela was not involved.
6. Yes, Harry had a threesome, but it was his birthday and he saved the wizarding world for Merlin's sake.
7. His bed is indeed enormous.
Harry felt some of his tension dissipate as he read it. 'Thank you, Lara. I assume this was your doing?'
'I handled the execution, but the concept was all Darren.'
'I'll have to thank him as well. How are you this morning?'
'I'm fine, but how are you?'
He sighed. 'I've been better. I've also been worse, but that's not saying much.'
'No, I suppose not. Is there anything I can do to help?' she asked.
'Honestly, just seeing that sign did me a world of good. But I also need to talk to the publicity department about how to handle this. Would that be Susanna and Thaddeus?'
'Yes, I'll be glad to set that up. Would you prefer a meeting before lunch or after practice ends this afternoon?'
'Before lunch is probably better, since we never know how long the practice match will last.'
When Harry entered the locker room, Owen was there. 'How are you doing, Harry?'
'Physically I'm fine.'
'And emotionally?'
'Like I was struck by two Bludgers at once, if you'll pardon the metaphor.'
Owen nodded. 'Yeah, Ryan gave me a heads-up. Would you like to get lunch today?'
'Is there somewhere private?'
'Good question. Any suggestions?'
'We could go back to my house and have Kreacher prepare something. I need to meet with the publicity team first, but with Kreacher we can order in advance.'
'That sounds good. Are you ready for Tuttle this morning?'
'Ugh, not at all.'
They walked outside and waited in front of the benches. Harry was greeted by successive teammates who told him what a great time they'd had at the party, and that they were spreading the word far and wide about how inaccurate the article was.
'I must have Floo-called twenty different people yesterday to set the record straight about the Chocolate Frogs and tell them you're not at all arrogant,' said Renée. 'And mind you, I started by calling the biggest gossips I know, so the news will get around.'
'Cheers, I appreciate it.'
Tuttle appeared, and Harry felt his tension return. 'First thing: Potter, you can relax. I read the sign and I'm not worried that you and the underage Veela you seduced are about to become thralls. As long as you work your arse off in practice, you can have a threesome every bloody night.
'But we've a huge task this week: We need to taunt the living shit out of Potter so he's ready for Gilstrap. He's the most bloodthirsty Seeker in the league, and Potter's a raw hunk of dragon meat. Leave him be during breaks, but anytime you're over the pitch, he's fair game.'
Harry felt his chest clench. 'Wait,' he blurted, without even knowing what he intended to say.
'Do you have an objection?'
'Yes. Nothing about Helena. Not today. I need a day.'
Tuttle looked at him and nodded. 'Fine. One day.'
She spent a while detailing everything they'd done wrong against Puddlemere and then set them to running laps—ten rather than the fifteen she'd required the previous week.
Harry was relieved—he normally liked running, but he was desperate to get back onto his broomstick. He also had a tendency to brood whilst running, and he had far more than the usual amount of brooding material that morning.
Fortunately Janet decided to distract him. 'Every time you start feeling maudlin, Snitchbottom, I want you to repeat these words to yourself: "I threw the best party of all time."'
'Thanks, Janet. That's kind of you to say.'
'I'm not being kind—have you met me? I'm saying it because it's the truth. That party is going down in history. Future students will be assigned essays about its influence on wizarding Britain. Epic poetry is going to be written about it. Songs will be sung. Children will be named after it.'
'You mean the ones conceived there?'
'That'll just be the first generation. But then they'll procreate in their own gloomy pure-blood bedrooms—you've started another trend—and their progeny will be named for it in turn.'
'What would that name even be?' asked Harry. 'The party didn't have a name.'
'They'll be called "That massive party where Harry Potter shagged two witches."'
'That seems unwieldy. Is there a nickname?'
'There are plenty to choose from, really. You could do "Massie," or "Partenia," or even "Shagwitch."'
'I notice you've omitted both "Harry" and "Potter."'
Janet shook her head. 'Too many of them running around since the war ended. Same with Hermiones. But not a lot of Ronalds, sad to say—I'm inclined to take it personally.'
'You two are still getting on, then?'
'Yes, he's a joy to torment. But not a pushover, mind you—he's got that wonderful ginger temper. And he's the perfect combination of cocky and insecure, which gives me any number of buttons to push.'
'I honestly can't decide whether you're the best or the worst thing to happen to him,' said Harry. 'I suppose time will tell.'
'Indeed,' she said, nodding sagely. 'So … two witches. Did it live up to the hype?'
'Merlin yes. At least Rita Skeeter can never take that away from me. Though I should state for the record that I only shagged one of them.'
'What, is the other one waiting until the third date before she finally gives it up?'
'No, she's a pure-blood, and not the Weasley blood-traitor variety.'
'Interesting ... sticking it to Mummy and Daddy by debasing herself for Harry Potter. This could be a whole new market for you, if you don't mind working around the main entrance.'
'We'll have to add that to my sales literature.' With a sigh, he added, 'It's over with Helena.'
'So I gathered. I'm sorry.'
'I am too.'
'What's your next step?' asked Janet.
'Do you mean am I heading to Penumbra tonight or waiting until tomorrow? Apparently that's all I'm fit for.'
'Nonsense, Harry. Do you have any idea how many witches would love to be seen with you?'
'You mean they're willing to overlook my colossal ego because I'm richer than the Queen?'
'Exactly! Consider it a one-witch-at-a-time campaign to show the world who you really are. Or two witches at a time, as you've proven yourself capable. I'm certain numerous pairs of best mates are crafting plans to gain access to your enormous bed.'
Harry shook his head. 'If you had told me during the war that this would be my life, I can't even imagine how I'd have reacted. I hadn't yet been with one witch, let alone two at a time.' He sighed again and added, 'But I could be with ten witches and I'd still just want Helena.'
'Poor Harry, you really are a romantic bugger, aren't you?'
'So it seems. Helena forbade me from proposing to anyone before my twenty-first birthday.'
'You didn't actually propose to her?' asked Janet, alarmed.
'Not in so many words, but essentially yes.'
'Harry, you need to be careful. Most witches intend to marry before they turn twenty, and you're the biggest prize out there. I hope Helena extracted a blood oath from you not to propose to anyone, because otherwise you're too susceptible.'
'No blood oath, but she's encouraged me to embrace being a shameless seducer.'
'Now we're talking! Back to Plan A! That should scare the aspiring wives away.' Harry frowned, and she continued. 'Not forever. Thanks to the double standard shared equally by Muggles and wizards, you can be as promiscuous as you like, but all will be forgiven when you decide to settle down.'
'I may as well enjoy it then,' said Harry dourly. 'It'll be a distraction if nothing else.'
'If it's only a distraction, you're doing it wrong.'
'I'm not doing it wrong. That's never been the issue, trust me.'
'There's the old fighting spirit! But take the long view … you have two years to shag your brains out and then you can propose to whoever you wake up with on your twenty-first birthday. Everyone wins!'
Harry sprinted ahead of her. Janet was right—he hardly had a dismal life ahead of him. At worst he was facing two years of experimentation and then he could still have Helena in the end. He could wear his robes in public, and as long as everyone already thought he was an attention-seeker he might as well enjoy the attention.
Hadn't he earned this? He'd certainly suffered enough, and he'd also accomplished more than nearly any wizard his age, excepting N.E.W.T.s of course. Even Rita Skeeter hadn't denied his achievements. He knew he was at risk of becoming arrogant, and he never wanted to resemble the egomaniac the article had depicted, but he could surely trust his friends and teammates to keep him in check.
He felt a little better during the rest of his run, and his mood improved significantly when he mounted his broomstick for the flying exercises. His body responded automatically during the first drill, so he was hardly paying attention when Darren flew next to him and said, 'Are you hungry, Potter? I have some Chocolate Frogs on me. I hear you're a fan ... or do you only like your own?'
Harry was momentarily taken aback, but he quickly adjusted. 'It's really the only way to enjoy a Chocolate Frog, but you'll never know since you're just a rank-and-file Chaser.'
'Ouch!' replied Darren. 'Did you kill Voldemort with your tongue?'
'No,' interjected Ryan. 'Hermione did most of the work. Harry just took the credit.'
'Hermione worked on Voldemort with her tongue? That's news to me,' said Harry, and Ryan looked like he wasn't sure whether to hex Harry or burst out laughing.
'At least my girlfriend didn't flee the second her name appeared next to mine in the Prophet,' retorted Ryan.
'That's a violation, Bellamy,' said Darren. 'No Helena references until tomorrow.'
'I can take it,' said Harry. 'Hit me with your worst.'
'Like how she finds you so distasteful that she's giving up her shot at the Black millions?' offered Ryan.
'Or how you're such an insufferable egomaniac that you ignore her needs and just go down on yourself?' added Darren.
'Nice one,' said Harry. 'And anatomically challenging.'
'Nah, I've heard there are charms for that. I'm surprised you didn't learn them at Hogwarts,' said Ryan.
The trainers called another drill, which rearranged the flyers, and Harry was soon thrown together with Gary and Suresh.
'Did you enjoy parading your wealth in front of all your old classmates on Saturday?' asked Gary. 'Good thing Draco Malfoy wasn't there, considering you stole it from him.'
Maybe his mum shouldn't have betrayed her Head of House, he thought bitterly, remembering how Narcissa Malfoy had used Kreacher to deceive Harry, leading to Sirius's death.
'The ring chose me, mate,' said Harry, raising his middle finger even though the ring was concealed.
'Yeah, and I hear your mum chose Sirius Black when your dad wasn't around,' replied Gary.
'Or maybe while he was around,' added Suresh. 'Lupin too. Did Black have access to the enormous bed when your mum was still alive?'
'That would mean Harry has sex on the same bed as his mum and her lovers,' observed Gary. 'And you do have a thing for redheads ... Oedipal much?'
'That depends on whether he fucks them or just tries to breastfeed. He got shortchanged in that department,' said Suresh.
Harry was overwhelmed—he wasn't used to two-on-one taunting.
'That's why you needed the voluptuous witch,' said Gary. 'I heard Helena's flat-chested. Nice arse though.'
'Helena's off limits,' said Suresh, and Harry didn't correct him.
Gary started to speak but Harry shot out of formation into the open air, just to clear his head. Is this what Saturday's going to be like? If so, I'm screwed.
He ignored the team drills for a short while and just zoomed around, expanding into a broad sense of awareness. He set the intention not to get rattled, no matter what they threw at him. He'd survived far worse than this, after all.
When he rejoined the manoeuvres, Owen and Lyle found him. 'You're never going to be happy, you know,' said Owen simply. 'You're too damaged.'
Harry was stunned. He didn't reply.
'Your life was over when your parents were killed and Dumbledore sent you to live with your relations. You've been his tool since the day you were born.'
'You're right,' said Harry, feeling oddly calm.
'And it's going to get worse,' continued Owen. 'Right now you can still convince yourself that maybe the right witch will solve your problems, or winning the league cup, or getting enough approval from strangers. But it won't be long before you realise it's all meaningless, and that it'll never fill the void. You might as well sign up as a thrall right now.'
'Sweet Merlin, that is the coldest fucking taunt I have ever heard!' exclaimed Harry. 'Are you dead inside?'
Owen burst out laughing, and Lyle said, 'Seriously, I was only going to hassle him about the flowers.'
'Yes, I suppose Potter feels at home with flowers because they die so quickly,' said Owen.
'He should probably have a standing order for funeral arrangements,' added Lyle.
'You turned down Silver Arrow, but perhaps you should endorse coffins,' continued Owen.
Harry felt himself detach from what they were saying and allow the sensations of flying to overtake him.
'At least he'll never run out of coins to place over the corpses' eyes. "Three dead fathers but no end of gold" ... what a bloody wanker.'
'Maybe you can buy a new father. I reckon a vampire won't die on you.'
'How much did you pay those two witches anyway?'
Harry's heart was pounding, and it wasn't just the usual adrenaline from flying. All of this was too raw.
'Aren't you going to say anything, Potter, or do you only communicate by special statements to the Prophet?' asked Owen. '"I, Harry James Potter, am a colossal egomaniac whose mother fucked every rich wizard she could get her legs around."'
'Do you think she offered to fuck Voldemort too? It would take a madman like him to turn her down.'
Harry lurched his broomstick to the left—it was too much. He tried clearing his mind, expanding into awareness, and surrendering to the physical experience of flying, but nothing worked. His anger and frustration were overwhelming, and he wanted to punch something.
Ignoring the team drills, he shot high into the air and then angled downwards into a Wronski Feint. His perceptions slowed down and he was able to consciously register the earth's rapid approach. With unerring reflexes he turned out of the feint at the last moment and let out a primal yell as he skimmed the ground, shooting back upwards to rejoin his horrified teammates.
'Harry, are you all right?' asked Owen, flying alongside him.
'No I'm not all right. My life is a bloody sideshow thanks to Rita fucking Skeeter.'
Tuttle blew her whistle before amplifying her voice. 'No more taunting. Drills only.'
Harry exhaled, and the trainer called for one of the more enjoyable drills. Harry still felt brittle, but his body led him automatically through the movements and his breathing became steady again. A silence filled him, and he was reminded of the calm after a violent thunderstorm.
The drills didn't elate him as they normally did, but he felt oddly peaceful by the time Tuttle blew her whistle again. But when all the players landed, she didn't address the group—she walked up to Harry and spoke to him in a normal voice.
'You're doing a fine job, Potter. You've been dealt a tough hand, but we're all here with you. You're a Cannon, and we take care of our own.'
He nodded. 'Thank you, that means a lot.'
'Talk to Susanna and Thaddeus—they'll get you sorted. Go on then.'
He walked to the building and headed straight for the shower. The flow of water was soothing, and he tuned out the voices of the other players when they arrived a few minutes later.
Once he'd dressed, he walked to Susanna's office, where he found her and Thaddeus waiting for him. 'Harry,' she said, 'please, have a seat.'
He sat down and said, 'I'm sorry I've made your job more difficult. Rita Skeeter has been after me for years, and it gets worse every time.'
'You don't need to apologise,' said Susanna reassuringly. 'This was the Daily Prophet's doing, not yours. Let's see if we can't straighten things out.'
'But how? Prophet retractions are a joke, and I've no legal recourse.'
'Prophet retractions aren't entirely useless—you can read them if you squint a bit, and they're generally worth the effort. Radio presenters tend to make a big deal out of them, and we can help things along by sending out rebuttal statements and setting up interviews.'
'Interviews? I've heard some of those presenters and they're nearly as bad as Rita. I wouldn't trust myself to keep my temper—I lost it in practice this morning.'
'Yes, the Wronski Feint. Darius nearly had a heart attack,' said Thaddeus.
'Sorry about that—I needed to blow off steam.'
'But about the interviews,' continued Susanna. 'I didn't mean you—I meant Tuttle and some of your teammates.'
'Really? They'd be willing to do that?'
'Yes, a number of them already volunteered. In addition to Tuttle, we're planning to send Bellamy and Barrowmaker. They have good reputations and they're likely to keep their heads. Well, maybe not Tuttle, but the presenters certainly won't be able to put words in her mouth.'
'Merlin help them if they try,' smirked Harry. 'You know about my upcoming broadcast, right? There was an advertisement yesterday.'
'I saw that,' said Susanna. 'Interesting choice ... are you certain they'll be friendly? They run a joke shop, after all.'
'Lee and George? I've known them for years, and George in particular is like family. They'll take the piss but they won't try to corner me.'
Thaddeus nodded approvingly. 'Yes, that might be ideal. You'll be at ease with them, but they'll be irreverent enough that nobody will think it's just flattery. And I'm certain they'll have a huge audience—this is really perfect timing for launching their programme.'
'There's a silver lining, at least,' said Harry. 'Is there anything else we need to discuss?'
'Yes, should we include anything about your personal life?'
'You mean Helena?' he said, sighing. 'No, she'd hoped to stay out of the papers entirely, so I certainly won't mention her now. We've split, unfortunately, but not for the reasons stated. And she asked me to be photographed with another witch as soon as possible, though I can't say I'm keen to get started whilst everyone thinks I'm an insufferable twat who's richer than the Queen.'
'No, you mightn't meet the most disinterested witches right now, but that's going to be a hazard regardless. Would it help if we set something up for you?'
'You mean find a witch for me? That sounds a bit tawdry.'
'No, nothing like that,' said Susanna. 'It's a common practice to pair an aspiring model with an athlete, for mutual public relations benefit. Traditionally it was to hide the athlete's homosexuality, but I'd say you've nipped those rumours in the bud.'
Thaddeus laughed and said, 'And then some!'
'Are you certain this is a good idea?' asked Harry. 'It seems rather obvious.'
'It is obvious,' said Susanna, 'but if it's your goal to distract from Helena it's the cleanest method, and the witch won't have any expectations beyond having her photograph taken with you.'
'All right. When do you have in mind?'
'We could probably line something up for tonight if you're impatient, but otherwise I recommend waiting until Wednesday or Thursday.'
'I'd just as soon wait. I'm liable to start blubbering tonight, which might ruin the effect.'
'Fair enough. Do you have any preferences?'
'You mean what she looks like?'
'Yes. Height, race, colouring ... that sort of thing.'
'Anyone but a ginger, I suppose. I don't need any more Oedipal accusations.'
'And someone taller is all right?'
Harry shrugged. 'I'm a Seeker. Nobody expects me to be tall.'
'Excellent, I think that covers everything,' said Susanna. 'You must be famished, so don't let us keep you any longer.'
'Cheers. And I'm grateful for your assistance—growing up I always had to go it alone, and even the Ministry wasn't much help this past year.'
'It's our job,' said Susanna. 'And believe me, you've done wonders for the team already, so don't feel you're a burden.'
Harry left feeling a good deal better than when he'd arrived, and he found Owen waiting outside the building. 'Harry, I want to apologise. I know I'm supposed to taunt you, but I went too far.'
'You were just doing what Tuttle asked, and certainly Gilstrap isn't going to pull any punches.'
'No, but that doesn't mean I needed to start full-throttle.'
'It's fine. I'm sorry if I scared you with that feint.'
'You scared the daylights out of me, to be quite honest. That was some amazing flying, but Merlin, don't ever do that again!'
'It was either that or punching someone. But we should get going—our curries are probably ready by now.'
'Excellent. Side-along?'
'Yes,' replied Harry, extending his hand, and moments later they were in his sitting room. 'Welcome to the weekday version of Grimmauld Place ... the kitchen is right through here.'
Owen looked around and said, 'I still can't believe this was the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix.'
'This is nothing—you're seeing the cleaned up version. It used to resemble Borgin and Burkes,' said Harry, referring to the Dark artefacts purveyor in Knockturn Alley.
'I can't say I've ever been there,' said Owen, 'but I can imagine.'
As soon as he saw them, Kreacher bowed and said, 'Are Master and his guest ready for lunch?'
'Yes, thank you,' replied Harry. An assortment of curries appeared on the table, along with naan and pilau rice.
'Jill would give her eyeteeth to have this kind of help around the house,' said Owen, sitting down and beginning to load his plate.
'I certainly appreciate having Kreacher around, although it's been a long road getting here. He was openly hostile for several years, even after he became bound to me.'
Owen shook his head in astonishment. 'Does nothing come easily for you?'
'Flying. And gold, as everyone's now discovered,' he added with a sigh. 'Since I learnt I was a wizard, that is.'
'Were your Muggle relations poor?'
'No, not at all—they just didn't share anything with me. Growing up I hadn't two brass farthings to rub together, so you can imagine my surprise when I found out I had a vault full of gold.'
'That must have been overwhelming.'
'It barely registered next to everything else I learnt that day: that I was a wizard, that my parents weren't drunks who'd been killed in a car crash, and that everyone believed I'd defeated some evil wizard as a baby. But of course the biggest news was that I was leaving for Hogwarts—that I was escaping.'
'My god, Harry ... I can scarcely wrap my head around what you're describing, as a father especially. The idea of my girls losing Jill and me before they were old enough to talk and being tossed into a household like that—even without the Voldemort aspect.'
Harry shrugged. 'What can I say? I made some Seers very angry.' He explained Ron's theory to Owen, who couldn't dispute its likelihood.
'For some reason, it feels like everything in my life has accelerated since I joined the Cannons,' said Harry. 'For example, I don't think I was on the cover of the Prophet nearly this often when I was working for the Ministry, and Ginny took a lot longer to break my heart than Helena did.'
Owen nodded slowly. 'I don't think that's a coincidence, actually.'
'How do you mean?'
'You're spending a lot of time on a broomstick, and you've learnt to quiet your mind and expand into greater awareness. That's bound to stir things up.'
'I'm still not following you.'
'When the mind becomes more stable, buried material will begin rising to the surface.'
Harry thought for a moment and said, 'That makes sense. But what does that have to do with all the external things I'm experiencing? It's not as if Rita Skeeter arose from my unconscious.'
'No, but you're stirring things up faster than they might have been otherwise, and that has ripple effects. For example, am I correct to assume you wouldn't have considered hosting a big party, say, six weeks ago?'
'It never would have crossed my mind, even if I had known about the other schools. The idea of inviting all my old classmates over would have been unthinkable.'
'Right. But now you're behaving much more radically, and the world is responding in kind. I know I experienced something similar.'
'Really? Not Rita Skeeter, surely.'
'No, that's your reality. Mine involved Bludgers.'
'Good lord! That seems rather extreme—is that what I have to look forward to?'
'I daresay you've already had your Bludgers. No, I suspect yours will be more interpersonal, now that your walls are coming down.'
'I suppose they are. I never imagined I'd feel this close with people I hadn't fought alongside.'
'I'm glad you've overcome that, and I'm not just speaking personally. It would be awfully limiting not to be able to connect with people without some kind of mortal peril.'
'It was. I'm ashamed to admit I didn't try to make friends with the other Auror trainees. Most of them had war experience—warding buildings, protecting Muggles, and so forth—but none of them fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, and I had no history with any of them. Perhaps if Ron hadn't been there I might have made an effort, but that's not what happened.'
'You're being too hard on yourself. You were still in the early stages of grief when you started Auror training, so it's normal you wouldn't be at your most outgoing.'
'Thanks for pointing that out ... perhaps you're right. And thanks also for offering to give radio interviews on my behalf—Susanna told me just before lunch.'
'Oh, she decided to put me on the air? I left her a note but haven't yet spoken to her.'
'Yes, you and Ryan. And Tuttle as well. I'm tremendously grateful, you know—I'm certain I'd just make things worse.'
'You do have a tendency to speak your mind,' said Owen. 'You certainly made an impression on my friend Fiona, at the party.'
'Oh, Merlin! I meant to apologise about that. I'm so sorry if I made her uncomfortable.'
'Nonsense, you made her night! She'd been nervous about attending, since we're rather older than most of your classmates, but you reassured her quite convincingly she's not past her prime.'
Harry raised his eyebrows. 'Shall I owl her then? After things settle a bit, that is.'
Owen frowned and said, 'I'm the wrong person to ask, since I'm rather protective towards her, the same as you probably are towards Hermione. She's a war widow with a child, and I don't want anyone toying with her.'
'Understood. I'd feel the same way if Darren had been sniffing around Hermione. I'll just have to settle for whoever Susanna lines up for me.'
'Are you serious?'
'Yes, Helena asked me to be photographed with someone else as soon as possible, and this seemed the easiest method. Do you think it's a bad idea?'
'No, it makes sense. Just be careful not to give Gilstrap any more fodder.'
'I'm certain he has plenty already,' sighed Harry. 'What else can you tell me about him?'
'He's a strong flyer—not quite as good as you and Routledge, but better than most Seekers—and his spotting is about average. But he's a master manipulator, and that's what you'll need to watch out for.'
'A manipulator? How does that differ from taunting?'
'Apparently he's got a strong push-pull, meaning he doesn't taunt relentlessly the entire time, which is good considering he's an inveterate tracker. He'll glue himself to you at the start of the match and follow your every move. I learnt all this from Routledge, incidentally—we spoke for a while at the party. He said Gilstrap will stop attacking periodically and interact as if you're mates, just long enough for you to lower your guard. But then he'll hit you even harder than before.'
'How do I defend against that?'
'You can't let him draw you in. It'll be hard to avoid, of course, since it's only natural to allow human connection when someone's offering it. But you need to maintain strong peripheral awareness, with the intention not to let him manipulate you. You're much stronger than he is, ultimately.'
'All that and trying to spot the Snitch,' groaned Harry. 'I'm doomed.'
Owen shook his head. 'You're not doomed. You might be more vulnerable to his approach than most Seekers, but you also have more ammunition.'
'What's that?'
'You're a bloody cannon when you set your mind to it, and I don't mean the Chudley variety. He's going to taunt you for being arrogant, amongst other things, and you need to show him you've earned the right.'
'Are you kidding? You want me to play into his hands like that?'
'To be honest, I think he's underestimated you. My impression is that he's bought into the prophecy rumours a bit too strongly, and he thinks you didn't actually accomplish anything because it was foreordained.'
'People really believe that?'
'I'm afraid so. It makes you less intimidating, and it bolsters their own ego.'
'But I'm not special. The only reason I could defeat Voldemort is because he marked me as an equal,' said Harry, pointing to his scar. 'That's why I could speak Parseltongue, and why I had special insight into his motivations and activities. Don't repeat that, by the way—it's as classified as it gets.'
'Understood. But did the prophecy say you'd definitely defeat him?'
'No. It only said I had the power to do it.'
'Exactly. You need to own your accomplishments and crush him with them. And not just defeating Voldemort, mind you—everything. You're a better Seeker than he is, and now that you've beaten Routledge people are saying you might be the best in the league. I suspect Gilstrap does just fine with witches, but he knows you'd have first pick.'
Harry was shaking his head. 'I can't talk like that. I'd be as bad as the person Rita Skeeter depicted.'
'This isn't real life—this is Quidditch. You can do it for a few hours without turning into a monster. I'll help keep you in check off the pitch, and I'm certain your mates will as well.'
Harry was slightly disturbed to notice a powerful welling of energy in his chest, similar to what he'd felt when he'd challenged that Muggle in the nightclub, only much stronger. I slew a Basilisk, he thought. I banished a hundred Dementors. I united the Deathly Hallows. I defeated Voldemort. He smiled, remembering Janet's words: And I threw the best party of all time.
Owen observed him and said, 'Yes, I can see the change in you. Gilstrap won't stand a chance if you can bring that.'
Feeling like a cobra ready to strike, Harry asked, 'How do I turn it off? I can't very well give a radio interview like this tomorrow night.'
'Love,' replied Owen. 'Think of everyone you love, including everyone you've never met but whom you love nonetheless. Imagine the children you'll have one day, or the people who might as well be your children, for all you want to protect them.'
Harry felt the energy soften but not diminish, and it no longer felt combative. 'Remarkable,' he murmured, and a wave of powerful love radiated from him. 'Though I'm not sure I can give a radio interview this way either.'
'You'll revert to your usual self when you're with your mates. Although your usual self might not be qualified to appear on a live broadcast either,' said Owen, chuckling.
'No, probably not.'
After lunch they returned to the training grounds, and Harry flew brilliantly. Owen taunted him hard during the practice match, and the other players joined in as well, but Harry was unaffected. He startled Owen with some of his pronouncements—the other Seeker hadn't known he'd been the Master of Death, for example—and Harry was the first to spot the Snitch.
'Well done,' said Owen after they landed. 'That was terrific. We'll keep practicing this week, but I reckon you'll be able to handle Gilstrap.'
'Thanks, that was ... intense. I can't say I've ever talked to anyone like that—I hope you'll forgive me.'
'I'm fairly certain you talked to Voldemort that way, but I'll allow it. All's fair above the pitch, you know. Now practice turning it off again.'
'Yes, working on that now,' said Harry. He looked around at his teammates as they gathered at the benches and allowed strong feelings of love and gratitude to arise. They'd all made him feel welcome on his very first day as a Cannon, and he didn't take that for granted.
And Tuttle, whom he was beginning to realise was a truly brilliant coach. He was deeply touched she was going to defend him on the radio, not least because he knew she'd have no compunction about calling him an egomaniac if she thought it were true.
Yes, he was taking his knocks from Rita Skeeter, but it would soon blow over as it always did, and he'd be free once again to enjoy the peace and good fortune that had seemingly found him at last.