Harry had expected to feel embarrassed when the Prophet published the photograph from his date, but the picture was actually very nice. Yes, they changed his rosebud boutonniere from pink to red, but they also removed Myrtle's spots, and her joyful expression made her look almost pretty. He hoped she'd be happy with the photograph as well.
Chudley Cannons Seeker Harry Potter, 19, took a break from his usual romantic exploits last night for a date of a different nature, with a Hogwarts ghost named Myrtle Warren. Killed in 1943 by Tom Riddle, later known as You-Know-Who, Miss Warren became friends with Potter in 1993 when he slew Salazar Slytherin's Basilisk, hidden deep beneath Hogwarts.
Miss Warren was delighted to spend an evening with wizarding Britain's most pursued bachelor. 'Harry's been exceedingly romantic. He gave me flowers and told me how brave and special I am, and how witches throw themselves at him right and left but he only wanted to go out with me. And then he flew me here on his broomstick.'
They enjoyed an evening in Hogsmeade at Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop—the exclusive domain of courting couples. Potter was a model of dandy elegance, wearing dove-grey tailored robes and a floral waistcoat, which daringly crossed the boundary of traditional masculine attire. And the red rosebuds at his lapel attested his burning passion, which could surely warm the iciest ghost. Of Miss Warren he said, 'I'm very grateful to Myrtle for coming out with me tonight. She's a rare individual, and wizarding Britain is lucky to have her.'
Eyewitnesses at Madam Puddifoot's did not reveal the details of Potter's conversation with Miss Warren, but they said he was an extremely solicitous escort, with particular sensitivity to her painful status as a murder victim. According to Hogsmeade resident Chester Wiffin, Potter's behaviour impressed all onlookers.
'He may have a Casanova reputation, and I reckon it's true, but he was a right gentleman with that poor ghost. Everyone in the tea shop talked about them after they left, and we all agree Potter's a good egg,' said Wiffin.
Hogwarts Headmistress Minerva McGonagall was unable to explain the precise reason for Potter's date with Miss Warren, but she praised his motives. 'Harry wishes to express his extreme gratitude to Miss Warren. She is apparently performing a service of great benefit to wizarding Britain, but I'll be hanged if I know what it is.'
The Prophet is unable to speculate as to what service a ghost can perform, but noted Mind Healer Cassia Dexter theorises it may have to do with Potter's and Miss Warren's shared status as young victims of You-Know-Who.
'Who but a teenage ghost can understand Harry's deep feelings of alienation from his peers?' asked Dexter. 'Like Harry, Miss Warren is locked in a pattern of victimhood, made stronger by her ghostly tendency to fixate on the circumstances surrounding her death. Is Harry similarly trapped? Will he too spend the next fifty years reliving the tragic events that define him?'
Dexter added, 'And Miss Warren may have a secondary draw for Harry—death itself. Does any young person, even in our war-scarred society, have as close a link with the great beyond as Harry Potter? Consider the evidence: the two Killing Curses he survived; the loss of his parents and his obsession with his three dead fathers; his known ties with a Vampire; and even his death-defying Quidditch feints. In spite of his enduring moniker, "The Boy Who Lived," Harry is above all a young man consumed with death. It's only natural he'd seek the company of a young person already within its cold embrace.'
The Prophet consulted an anonymous Unspeakable from the Department of Mysteries to learn whether carnal relations are possible between a living wizard and a ghost. 'Seventeenth-century wizard Mortimer Lovell researched the topic exhaustively following the premature death of his fiancée and reported that the only successful methods involved the Dark Arts, which he personally was unwilling to explore. I suspect Harry Potter has the same aversion, but it should be noted he has access to the fabled Black family library, which surely contains the requisite texts.'
It is unknown whether Potter will continue to date Miss Warren. The pattern of his intimate relations has been hard to predict ever since his rupture several months ago from Ginevra Weasley, 18, whom all sources confirm initiated the split. Out of respect for their privacy, the Prophet will refrain from speculation as to why and only note that ongoing relations between the two appear to be friendly, if distant.
Harry was relatively satisfied with the article. He was relieved there was nothing to hurt Myrtle's feelings, and the usual slights on his morals and behaviour didn't bother him. At least they called me a dandy this time and not a fop, he thought with satisfaction. Isla Preston would probably have fun with Doctor Niffler's insinuations, as well as the suggestion he delve into the Dark Arts to go further with Myrtle, but he didn't mind.
He was surprised by the Unspeakable's assertion that physical contact between ghosts and living beings was impossible without Dark magic, since he'd been able to touch and even kiss her. She'd been ice cold, and he hadn't particularly enjoyed the sensation, but his strong feelings of compassion had warmed them both. He wondered idly whether he'd see her again, but something told him she'd move on after removing the wards. She deserves peace, he thought tenderly. And the next great adventure, as Dumbledore had called it.
Harry was touched that nobody at the tea shop had revealed the details of their conversation. He'd spoken plainly about his experiences with the Dursleys and revealed other private information as well. If Rita Skeeter had been present she'd have quoted him calling himself a freak, amongst other things.
He wondered what his teammates would have to say about the article, but he wouldn't know until after lunch—their evening match meant he wasn't expected at practice until half past two. Knowing Ron wouldn't be available to distract him, he'd arranged to visit Andromeda and Teddy that morning, with the goal of bringing them back to Grimmauld Place to show her the restored tapestry.
Before going to see them, he went to Diagon Alley to buy a toy broomstick for his godson. Uncertain whether to go to a toy shop or a Quidditch supply shop, he started with the latter. Years earlier, Quality Quidditch Supplies had been his favourite shop in Diagon Alley, and he was curious to see it from his new vantage point as a league Seeker.
He arrived before the shop opened, hoping to nip inside as soon as they unlocked the front door. Not wanting to attract attention, he'd Disillusioned himself prior to arriving, and he took the opportunity to look at the merchandise in the front window.
The Silver Arrow Seeker Edition was prominently featured, and although Harry hadn't endorsed it, the store had conveniently placed the new broomstick next to a large photograph of him flying on his own Silver Arrow. A large sign proclaimed, 'The League's Best Seekers Choose Silver Arrow!'
Harry knew that a solicitor would advise him to complain about the implied endorsement, but he didn't care. It was clear that the shop had crafted the display, and not the Silver Arrow company. Furthermore, he thought it was a great broom and he was happy to recommend it unofficially, particularly since they'd agreed to send him another one. And truth be told, he was gratified to see himself described as one of the league's best Seekers.
While he waited, a couple of kids approached the window to gawk at the new broomstick. 'Look, it's the new Silver Arrow!' exclaimed the girl, who might have been fourteen. 'What I wouldn't do for one of those!'
'Do you think you'll make Starter this year?' asked her friend, a boy roughly the same age.
'Not likely, with my sad old Comet 240,' she grumbled. 'Evan Dozier has a Cleansweep X-20.'
'Evan Dozier isn't half the flyer you are,' insisted the boy, making Harry wonder whether he had a crush on her. 'He's only Starter because his grandparents are rich and bought it for him.'
'That's Quidditch for you,' she said with a shrug. 'Sometimes I wish North Squiffing offered Muggle sports as well. In football it's about the best players, and not who has the fanciest equipment.'
'That would certainly make matches against schools like Binglingham and Stodgings more competitive,' he said. 'We hardly have a chance against them.'
'As if they'd play Muggle sports,' she scoffed. 'What a bunch of snobs.'
'At least we don't have to play Hogwarts,' her friend replied. 'They probably fly on dragons.'
'I bet you're right,' she laughed, and Harry saw the boy light up at her approval. 'I wonder what it'll be like, once they realise the rest of us exist.'
'My dad says it'll change everything, but my mum's not so sure. Apparently those wards have only been there for eighty years, so they can't have made much difference. It's not as if schools like ours were well represented before that.'
'You mean in the Ministry and the Wizengamot?' she asked.
'Yeah. My mum reckons it'll take a lot more than just getting rid of those wards for things to really change.'
The shop door opened, and the small knot of customers waiting outside filed in. Harry took advantage of the commotion and entered without making himself visible. Navigating tight spaces whilst Disillusioned was always tricky, but he found his way to the display of children's brooms without bumping into anyone.
All of these are too big, thought Harry. He was certain they made broomsticks for infants, having seen a photograph of himself riding one before his parents died, but clearly they weren't here. He started looking around the store when someone crashed into him from behind.
Harry felt the point of a wand at his back. 'Reveal yourself now,' said a stern male voice.
'I'm so sorry,' said Harry, pulling out his wand. 'Just a moment.' He knew better than to move while the wizard couldn't see him, since he'd consider it a threat, so he made himself visible again before turning around.
'I should kick you out of the store for sneaking around like that,' began the wizard, until he recognised Harry. 'Great Merlin!' he exclaimed. 'You're Harry Potter!'
'I apologise ... I shouldn't have entered the store Disillusioned. I hope you know I wasn't trying to steal anything.'
'After turning down Silver Arrow? I should hope not! Is there something I can help you with? My name's Jonathan, by the way.'
'Er, yes ... I'm wondering whether you carry toy broomsticks small enough for a fifteen-month-old. I'd like to get one for my godson, and I wasn't sure whether to come here or to a toy shop.'
'You've come to the right place,' said Jonathan, who was fiftyish and bald. 'They'll carry something at a toy shop, but the charms won't be nearly as good, and it won't grow with him.'
'Really, they make toy brooms that grow with the child?'
'Up to a certain point, yes. With young children it's important to match the broom to their size, since their own magic is less able to compensate.' He led Harry to a display of Quidditch-themed toys and indicated several small brooms. 'This one adjusts for weights ranging from twenty to thirty pounds, which should last him another couple of years, depending on how fast he grows. Do you have any idea how much he weighs now?'
Harry realised there was a complicating factor. 'That's a tricky question. Firstly, I have no idea how much he weighs. But more importantly, he's a Metamorphmagus, so his size changes more quickly than a typical baby's would.'
Jonathan's eyes widened. 'A Metamorphmagus? Yes, that complicates things ... you'll need something that adjusts more quickly. Is he likely to change size while flying, or does he need to concentrate?'
'I can easily imagine him changing mid-flight. He definitely doesn't need to concentrate.'
Jonathan led Harry back to the display of children's brooms and pulled over a ladder. 'We have a specialty item that might work,' he said, climbing the ladder and reaching for the uppermost shelf. 'There's not much demand for it, since it's expensive and most kids are fine with a regular children's broom.'
He stepped off the ladder and showed Harry the box he'd retrieved. 'This is a quick-action broom, suitable for children weighing between twenty and forty pounds. It requires a more magically powerful child, but in your godson's case I'm not concerned, since he's a Metamorphmagus. I wouldn't sell it to someone whose child hadn't yet displayed accidental magic, for example.'
'No, his hair started changing colour the day he was born,' said Harry. 'His parents never had to worry whether or not he was magical.'
'I imagine they're proud of him,' said Jonathan. 'I know I'd be, if I were his father.'
Harry sighed. 'Unfortunately his parents both died less than a fortnight after he was born, in the Battle of Hogwarts, and he's being raised by his grandmother. But she's very proud of him, as am I.'
'He'll have a good head start at flying, with a league Seeker teaching him,' said Jonathan. 'Do you like playing for the Cannons?'
'Yes, tremendously. They're a great organisation.'
'That's my impression as well. Is there anything else I can help you with? A Cannons jersey perhaps?'
Harry smirked, 'You don't have Andrew Gilstrap's jersey, do you?'
Jonathan laughed out loud. 'We do, actually. Are you serious?'
'No, but I've half a mind to get Phil Routledge's jersey and wear it in public sometime.'
'It'll be my pleasure to sell it to you. Are you friends with Routledge, or are you just taking the mickey?'
'Both. But yes, we've become friends. He's a great flyer and a solid bloke.'
'I'm glad to hear it. He certainly has a good reputation.'
'I hope I haven't ruined mine,' confessed Harry. 'I should never have lost my temper like that.'
Jonathan shook his head reassuringly. 'Don't worry about it—everyone blames Gilstrap. But don't make a habit of getting ejected, or you will get a bad reputation.'
'I don't intend to, believe me. Tuttle would have my hide!'
'Marjorie Tuttle!' he exclaimed. 'What a character! How do you like her as a coach?'
'She's brilliant, and definitely a character. I can only imagine what she was like with Ludo Bagman.'
'I saw them play quite a few times, actually. They were a marvellous pair, with her discipline and his showmanship. It's a shame he couldn't keep himself in line without her.'
'Yes, where is he now anyway?' asked Harry. 'Is he still hiding from creditors?'
'No, he's back in England, and his debts are paid. The rumour is he made it all back in Muggle casinos.'
'You mean he cheated?' asked Harry, aghast.
'What else?' said Jonathan. 'Frankly I'm surprised he didn't think of it sooner, but then he was never the quickest broom in the shed. Anyway, he's back in England and apparently doing well as a bookmaker ... of the dodgy variety. His main focus is side bets, and not exclusively about sports. I'm certain he takes all sorts of bets about your activities—who you're photographed with and so forth.'
Harry rolled his eyes. You'd think he'd have learnt by now not to bet on me, he thought, recalling how poorly Bagman's attempts to fix the Triwizard Tournament had gone. 'I don't even know what to make of that,' he admitted.
'You could probably make a killing placing bets on your own activities through a proxy,' said Jonathan, 'although you'd get kicked out of the league.'
'No, if I were that desperate for gold I'd come crawling back to Silver Arrow, if they'd still have me.'
'I'd say you missed your chance—it turns out they don't need your endorsement with all the free publicity you've given them. We've taken heaps of orders for the new broom already.' He sheepishly added, 'I hope you don't mind we hung your photograph next to the display.'
Harry shrugged. 'I probably ought to, but I don't. It's a terrific broomstick.'
'I'm glad to hear it. Anyway, if you're ever looking for extra gold, or to raise money for a cause, I'm certain we could arrange something in the shop. You could come in for a couple hours and sign photographs and merchandise, and we'd give you a cut of the sales.'
'Interesting,' said Harry, thinking of some of the causes he wanted to support. He looked Jonathan in the eye and asked, 'What are your feelings about werewolves?'
Jonathan looked around to make sure no one was listening. 'I actually have one working in the shop,' he whispered. 'But we're not public about it, because we don't want to scare away customers.'
Harry sighed. 'I wish more people understood there's no reason to be afraid.'
'I agree,' said Jonathan. 'What do you have in mind?'
'I've offered to help a werewolf rights group. I think it's called Facing Lycanthropy and Overcoming Old Fears.'
'Yes, FLOOF ... they're a wonderful organisation,' said Jonathan. 'The reason we engaged our sales assistant was because they approached us, to see if we we'd be willing to employ someone.'
'I'm glad you were. My godson's father was a werewolf, and he was a dear friend.'
'What about your godson? Is he a werewolf too?'
'No, he's perfectly normal, other than being a Metamorphmagus, which he got from his mum. But back to your earlier question about how I'd like to help ... I'm not sure exactly. I'd be glad to raise money for them, and I definitely want to support them publicly. I suppose an event here would accomplish both goals.'
Jonathan was nodding slowly. 'I'd have to ask my partners, and my employee of course. Perhaps it's time for us to display a FLOOF Certified logo in our window.'
'FLOOF Certified?' asked Harry.
'It means we employ one or more werewolves, and that they're fully compliant with FLOOF's safety protocols. Monitored Wolfsbane use, proper containment at the full moon, short fingernails—that sort of thing.'
'What a great idea—I'm sorry Remus isn't alive to see it. But yes, talk with your colleagues, and then owl me in care of the Cannons. I'd definitely like to help.'
'Your participation would make a huge difference,' said Jonathan. 'But don't let me keep you any longer—I know you have a big match tonight.' He led Harry to the section with team merchandise, and Harry selected a premium jersey with Routledge's surname and player number on it.
'I hope you start a fad amongst league Seekers,' said Jonathan. 'It would be hilarious to see you all wearing each other's jerseys.'
'Yes, I'll have to get a Barrowmaker as well. You don't still carry them, do you?'
'We had a few in the back, but they've sold out since Saturday. If the demand keeps up we might ask the Cannons to produce some more.'
'I hope it does,' said Harry. 'He's really a brilliant Seeker—I'd probably be zero for four without him.'
'Then you'd be a real Cannon! I assume you've heard that other teams are trying to steal him away as a trainer.'
'I hadn't heard that,' said Harry, concerned. 'I'm glad he has other opportunities, but I'd hate to play against anyone he's trained. Not to mention I'd miss him terribly.'
'Put in a good word with Tuttle and Sprott. I suspect they'll do anything to keep you happy right now.'
'In case I punch them?'
'Exactly. But let's get you out of here before nightfall.'
Harry paid for the two items and left, eager to see whether Teddy liked his present. Is this how Sirius felt when he gave me my first broomstick? he thought, and he realised it was nice to uphold a fatherly tradition.
He Apparated to the cottage Andromeda had shared with her late husband, Ted. Harry had planned to knock on the door, but it turned out Andromeda and Teddy were in the back garden.
'Harry, welcome,' she said warmly. 'It's sweet of you to visit when you have so many demands on your time.'
He felt a little embarrassed, knowing how frivolously he spent a lot of his leisure time. 'On the contrary ... I've felt remiss for not visiting more often. I didn't have very consistent role models when it comes to parenting, and I'd like to do better with Teddy.'
The toddler, who had turned towards Harry when he arrived, began bouncing and babbling upon hearing his own name. He was relatively normal looking, only with grass-green hair and hands shaped like scoops for better dirt manipulation. 'Dama!' he cried, reaching for Andromeda.
'Dama?' asked Harry.
'It's his name for me,' she sighed. 'I tried getting him to call me Nana, but he heard someone call me Andromeda and he did his best to copy it.' She turned to Teddy and said, 'Teddy, it's your godfather Harry. You remember Harry, don't you?'
'Gof-fa,' he said brightly, and she picked him up.
'I think that's supposed to be "godfather,"' she said. 'I don't imagine he could pronounce "Harry" yet, so that may have to do for now, unless you'd like me to promote another nickname.'
Harry laughed and said, 'My teammates call me Snitchbottom, but Goffa is fine for now.' He held out the wrapped box containing the broomstick. 'I've brought him something—I hope that's all right.'
'Yes, of course. I've no intention of spoiling him, so the occasional present won't hurt.' She set Teddy back on the ground, and they helped him remove the wrapping paper, which he quite enjoyed. The box was equally mesmerising, and it took him a while even to notice its contents.
Harry saw that Andromeda was frowning. 'Is there a problem?' he asked.
She explained that Dora had been unable to use toy brooms at that age, but Harry conveyed what he'd learnt from Jonathan. Her face brightened and she said, 'That's splendid! Ted loved flying, and Dora eventually got the hang of it as well.'
They set Teddy on the broomstick, which adjusted to fit him, and before long he was lightly skimming the grass. At first he fell off because he let go of the broomstick to clap his hands, which were back to their normal shape. But he quickly grasped the importance of holding on and expressed his enjoyment with chirrups and shrieks.
'I see you've introduced a new favourite activity,' said Andromeda. 'It's a good thing we'll have warm weather a while longer, since he won't be permitted to fly indoors.'
Harry recalled the letter his mother had sent Sirius, thanking him for the toy broomstick he'd given Harry. Baby Harry had apparently broken a vase Aunt Petunia had sent and nearly killed the cat. 'That's a shame,' he said. 'Perhaps I can clear one of the guest rooms at Grimmauld Place and he can fly there when the weather's foul.'
'That's very kind, but don't let us impose.'
They were seated on two garden chairs, and Harry looked at her earnestly. 'You mustn't think that way. You and Teddy are family, and I want him to grow up feeling welcome wherever I live. And when I eventually marry and have children, I hope he'll be like a brother to them.'
'So you think you'll marry?'
'Of course,' he said, only slightly annoyed. 'I don't want to marry right now, but I'd love to have a family one day.'
'I'm glad to hear that,' she said. 'Neither of us had the best family life growing up, and yours was far worse than mine. But it's entirely possible to create the sort of family you've always wanted. And not just with a spouse and children—with friends as well.'
Harry took a deep breath. 'Actually, that's part of what I wanted to talk to you about. I should have told you this sooner, but I've restored the tapestry, and it turns out there are a lot of Blacks in the disinherited branches. I wrote to them last week, to see if they're interested in a reconciliation.'
Andromeda raised an eyebrow, which Harry knew was her expression of extreme shock. 'Have you heard back from anyone?'
'Yes, from several in Britain. Some of the owls haven't returned yet, so I can only assume the recipients are overseas. The responses were cautious but friendly.'
'I'm not surprised they were cautious. That used to be a Black family trait, before the madness set in, but interbreeding might have brought it back. Did you hear of any Metamorphmagi?'
'No, but we haven't exchanged much personal information yet. I explained who I was and how I came to be Head of House, for those living abroad who might not know the story, and I said I'm committed to reestablishing the Blacks as a Light family. But otherwise I didn't go into detail.'
She nodded. 'That was probably the right approach. How are you hoping to proceed?'
'Once I hear from enough people, I'd like to invite everyone to Grimmauld Place to meet one another. I'm certain they'll want to see the tapestry at the very least. But I'm hoping you'll take a central role, if you're willing. You grew up a Black and can provide continuity in a way I can't.'
'Might I see the tapestry?' In a softer voice she added, 'Is Ted on it?'
'Yes, and Tonks as well. Er, Dora. Would you like to go there now?'
'If we can get Teddy off that broomstick!' she laughed.
It took a while to reconcile Teddy to being carried instead of flying, but once he was settled they travelled to Grimmauld Place by Floo. Harry greeted them as they emerged from the formal fireplace and said, 'You may have heard that Walburga no longer lives here. Would you care to meet her replacement?'
'I'd love to. Is it really Sirius?'
'No, not even slightly. But it's really Padfoot, and he's brilliant, particularly now that he's trained.'
They walked to the entrance hall and found Padfoot, who was somehow flying around on a dog-sized broomstick.
'Where did he even get that?' marvelled Harry. 'Every time I pass the portrait he's doing something new.'
'There's a lot of background magic in the house,' said Andromeda. 'It's mostly been used for Dark purposes until now, but apparently Sirius has tapped into its playful side. Padfoot, rather.'
They went upstairs to the drawing room, and Andromeda's eyes grew large when she saw the newly restored tapestry. And she shed several tears when she saw her husband's and daughter's names. 'Toujours puissant,' she murmured. 'That was the original family motto, you know. "Toujours pur" came later.'
She spent a while looking at the tapestry, and like Hermione she laughed when she saw Priapus Maximus. 'I wish Dora had seen that,' she said. 'She couldn't possibly have complained about Nymphadora, compared with that.'
Harry waited for her to discover his own name. 'Harry James Black?' she read in a surprised tone of voice. 'It appears the tapestry has accepted you.'
'What do you mean, accepted me? How is that different from the ring accepting me?'
'The ring accepted you because Sirius was the legitimate heir, and he designated you his successor. But if the tapestry didn't recognise you, your name would have remained Potter and there wouldn't be a gold border around it. In fact, you and your parents mightn't have appeared at all.'
A jumble of questions formed in Harry's mind, but he wasn't sure where to start. 'What does this mean?' he asked simply.
'That's up to you,' she said. 'But if you wanted to change your name to Black and pass it to your children, nobody could call you a half-blood upstart or blame Sirius.'
'That was awfully specific,' said Harry. 'I gather you've talked to Narcissa?'
'Yes, but that's not who I was quoting.'
'Draco,' he said simply, and she nodded.
'Was he counting on inheriting?' he asked.
'He'll be fine without it ... half the Malfoy assets are still plenty,' she said, referring to the amount confiscated by the Ministry after the war. 'But I think Narcissa had built him up as the heir to two noble houses, and it was a blow to his ego.'
'You mean he only gets one rubbish lordship and not two?' said Harry irritably. 'Oh, the tragedy!'
'Harry, you need to be careful with Draco. He's weakened now, but he won't always be. And yes, you kept him out of Azkaban, but I'm certain he doesn't like being in your debt.'
'He doesn't owe me anything,' said Harry. 'It was a life debt, or something like it, and now we're even.'
'I don't think you understand how serious this is. You have all the power right now, but you won't always. The way you treat him now could have huge repercussions for wizarding Britain.'
Harry uncomfortably recalled Tuesday's broadcast, when he'd needled Draco by sending Prongs to Malfoy Manor. 'You're right. How do you suggest I fix things?'
'I think the family connection is your best bet. We could invite Narcissa to look at the restored tapestry, and she'll see your name there. And then you'll need to visit them at Malfoy Manor.'
'Not Malfoy Manor!' pleaded Harry, his heart racing. 'I was there was during the war ... I had to listen to Bellatrix torturing Hermione.'
'I'm sorry, Harry, but that's the only place you can see him. And you have to act now while you still have the upper hand. Is there anything you can do to prepare yourself? I'd be glad to accompany you.'
He took a deep breath. 'Yeah, that would help. And I've learnt some mental techniques that might help as well,' he said, thinking of what Owen had taught him. 'Actually, there's a related matter. Several people have suggested that the fastest way to rehabilitate House Black would be for me to change my name.'
'To Harry Black?'
'No, Harry Potter-Black. I'm the last of the Potters, and even though I hardly remember my parents I don't want to end the line if I can help it.'
'Would you want to join the two houses like that?'
'Is there such a thing as House Potter?' he asked.
'Not really. The Potters are an old family, but they don't have a seat on the Wizengamot.'
'Right. I don't want to look like I'm trying to make the Potters into something they aren't. I'm proud to be part of an honest, unpretentious family, and I'd like to keep them that way. But when I hopefully have children, perhaps they can choose a surname when they reach majority. Ideally I'll have at least two sons, and they could each carry on one of the names.'
'And what about House Black?'
'I'd thought to designate Teddy, but I'm reluctant to erase his Lupin name.'
Andromeda shook her head. 'You've done more than enough for Teddy. Assuming you have children, you can designate one of them, or perhaps someone from a restored branch of the family.'
'That's a good idea, at least until I have sons of my own. I know it sounds petty, but I don't want House Black reverting to Draco, and Sirius wouldn't have wanted that either.'
She nodded. 'I'll certainly support your decision to change your name, should you do it. In fact, I'd be delighted. In the last month, I've noticed a shift in people's attitudes when they learn my maiden name. For years they associated it with Sirius or Bellatrix. But it's come up twice recently, and both times the reply was, "Really? Like Harry Potter?"'
'In a positive way, I hope?' he asked.
'Yes, very much so.' She gave him a slightly bossy look that reminded him of Hermione and said, 'Here's what I recommend: Invite Narcissa to see the tapestry. I'll come as well. And then ask to meet with both her and Draco at Malfoy Manor, to discuss the future of House Black. That would be a good time to tell them you intend to change your name, if that's what you decide.'
'I'd like to talk with the other Blacks as well. But yes, that's good advice.'
They reviewed Harry's calendar and came up with several dates to offer Narcissa, which Andromeda would arrange. And the visit to Malfoy Manor would come after that.
Not too soon, he hoped. Harry knew he needed time to get used to the idea of returning to Malfoy Manor. Maybe I should hang around the foyer at Claridge's, or even have tea there. I could invite Lydia Travers, he thought with a smile.
Kreacher served them lunch, which they ate quickly in order to get Teddy home for his nap. Andromeda successfully prompted him to say 'bye bye' to 'Goffa,' and Harry promised to vacate one of the guest rooms for flying during inclement weather.
Before leaving, Andromeda took Harry's arm and said, 'Thank you for restoring the tapestry. I don't regret running away to marry Ted—not at all—but it was always painful to have been cast out. Seeing my name on the tapestry, along with Ted's and Dora's, did my heart good.'
Harry nodded and said, 'It made a difference to me as well, seeing the names of people I know and love—not to mention my parents and grandparents. It made me feel more connected to the Blacks.'
Andromeda hugged him and said, 'We're family now. I know that's a painful subject for both of us, but things are changing. I look forward to seeing what House Black becomes.'
After she and Teddy had gone, Harry still had another hour to kill before practice began. This is interminable, he thought, and he resolved to ask his teammates how they passed the time before an evening match. He wandered the house looking for potential new punishments for Kreacher, and he eventually found an interesting book in the library about wizarding enclaves throughout Europe. He longed to travel, ideally with a witch for company, but he hardly knew when that might happen or with whom.
It was finally time to leave, and when he arrived at the training facility he took a quick spin on his broomstick just to clear his head. When he landed and walked into the building, Janet greeted him. 'Feeling antsy, Snitchbottom?'
'What gives you that impression?'
'You just flew like a maniac for no apparent reason. Is it sexual frustration from not being able to shag your ghost friend last night? Or did you dabble in the Dark Arts after all?'
'No Dark Arts,' he said. 'But I think I found some of the books that Unspeakable was referring to. One of these days I need to decide what to do with all of them.'
'You keep talking about turning the Blacks into a Light family. But I think you're being hasty ... are you certain you want to discard a thousand-year-old tradition?'
'What, and go Dark after all?' he asked.
'Exactly!' replied Janet. 'You have the robes already. And what could be Darker than making everyone believe you're the embodiment of all things Light?'
Harry looked at her appraisingly. 'You raise a good point. There's just one problem, though.'
'One problem's not bad. What is it?'
'It's the part where I bloody hate the Dark Arts and never want to go anywhere near them,' said Harry vehemently.
'That sounds negotiable. What if we got you drunk first?'
He laughed and said, 'If I ever have children, remind me never to let you watch them.'
'No argument there, Snitchbottom. I hate kids.'
They gathered at the benches, and Tuttle gave her preliminary talk. 'It's always a weird day when we have an evening match, but you've got through the hard part. Now it's time to remember why the Cannons are the best team in the league. You might think it's because we've won four in a row, which I'm pretty sure hasn't happened since before Grindelwald's War, or because the bookmakers say we have a shot at this year's cup.
'But that's not why we're the best in the league. In fact, that load of bollocks is likely to drag us back under. No, we're the best because we fucking love Quidditch. We love flying together. Every one of you—reserves included—brings something to this team. Potter was the spark, but the rest of you are the fuel, and we sure as hell aren't going to burn out now.
'Potter, you're probably wondering how we're going to fill the next four hours,' she said, and Harry nodded. 'We're going to have the most fun you've ever had in the air. It'll be like the first time you really got the hang of flying, which for most of you was probably the first day you sat a broom, or near to it. So give me five laps and we'll go from there.'
After running, the trainers took them through light calisthenics, and then the flying began. They didn't run drills, but instead the trainers had created an obstacle course for them to fly through, which was terrific fun. Harry had never been to a Muggle amusement park, but Dudley had been and taunted him with descriptions of roller coasters. The flying exercises matched what Harry had imagined, only less nausea-inducing—Harry learnt later that Dudley had vomited after the first roller coaster and avoided the others.
They played flying games which his teammates were familiar with from childhood, and then they played a practice Quidditch match using two Quaffles, three Snitches, and modified Bludgers which didn't hurt at all—instead they turned their victim's hair a different colour until the next person was struck. By the time they'd finished, the players weren't particularly tired, and they enjoyed a leisurely picnic dinner served on blankets over the pitch.
They travelled by Floo to Chudley Stadium and changed into their robes, and there was mild excitement when the referee discovered the new charm on Harry's ring. 'You've hidden your scar?' asked Suresh, looking at his forehead. 'Bad news, Potter … it didn't work. How much did the goblins charge you anyway?'
'Not that scar,' said Harry. 'It's a souvenir from Dolores Umbridge, and I'm thrilled I'll never have to see it again. That's the one benefit of having this ring glued to me until the end of time.'
'Yes, that and being the head of an ancient house,' said Darren. 'Is it true you're appearing at the Wizengamot next week?'
'It is. I've discovered I get anxious if I go too many days without appearing on the cover of the Prophet, so I've arranged to set off Weasley's fireworks in the main chamber before declaring myself Britain's newest Dark Lord.'
'I knew I'd convince you!' cried Janet. 'Do you have a name picked out?'
'Er, no. Can you suggest one?'
'I'm not certain we'll ever surpass the Dark Lord Snitchbottom,' she said, 'but I'll think on it and get back to you.'
Tuttle gave them a final pep talk, which they hardly needed, and soon it was time to fly out. Harry was announced last, as always, and when he heard the cheers he remembered why playing at home was considered an advantage. He saw a smattering of banners supporting the Caerphilly Catapults, but otherwise the stands were overwhelmingly orange.
This time there were numerous ghost-themed signs and banners. 'We're dying to go out with you, Harry!' proclaimed a banner held by three witches. Another depicted him on his broomstick simultaneously kissing a floating ghost and catching the Snitch. And a third showed Harry surrounded by ghostly players wearing the Catapults' striped robes and the legend, 'Knock 'em dead, Potter!' and he hoped it wasn't a reference to punching Gilstrap.
He wasn't pleased to see signs referring to the Gilstrap incident, and there were plenty. 'Gilstrap deserved it!' said several banners, and another said, 'Next time use your wand.' And one particularly alarming sign depicted Gilstrap in something resembling Death Eater robes, with Harry cursing him from his broomstick.
He was cheered, however, by the numerous banners praising Owen. There were several variations on 'Thank you, Barrowmaker!' and one remarkably well-drawn sign depicted Harry as a prizefighter and Owen as his coach. To his relief, there weren't any overt references to his childhood with the Dursleys, but there was more than the usual amount of 'We love you, Harry,' signs, several of which depicted him as a child. Harry found them oddly touching—it meant a lot to learn he'd been loved from a distance during the years he'd felt so alone.
The four balls were released, and Harry began circling above the pitch. He automatically expanded into awareness, but he was careful to set a strong set of intentions. Let the Snitch appear within my field of awareness. Dodge the Bludgers automatically. Feint unerringly. Don't punch anyone.
He wasn't actually worried about punching Isla Preston. She didn't even approach him until after his first feint—a particularly bloodthirsty dive into a tangle of Beaters, which drew gasps from the crowd.
'Crazy as ever, eh Potter?'
'Punch drunk,' he replied cheerfully.
'Yes, so I hear. Do I need to worry you'll come after me as well?'
'No, I'll just use my wand this time. You won't even see it coming,' he laughed.
'I'm glad to hear it ... apparently you're a wizard after all,' she said warmly. 'I'd have thought Hogwarts would teach you better than that.'
'No, not at all. I had six different Defence professors, and then I dropped out—I'm lucky I know which end of a wand to hold. Which school did you attend anyway?'
'I can't remember ... either Beauxbatons or somewhere in North America. Is there something funny about Chudley Stadium?'
'Yes, I had wards added this morning. I'm glad they're working properly.'
'Did your ghost friend help you, after you had breakfast together in your enormous bed?'
'Are you accusing me of practising the Dark Arts?'
'I might be. Was that how Gilstrap set you off?'
'No, he claimed his father had been tortured to insanity five days before the war ended, and that I shouldn't have dragged my heels.'
'Ouch! And nobody told you not to believe a word he says?'
'Alas, no.'
'Tough break, Potter. Is that why you punched him?'
'No, but it was the beginning of the end.'
'Right, I assumed it was something about your family that finally did it.'
'It was,' replied Harry stiffly. 'Should I expect Dursley-themed taunts this evening?'
'Merlin, no!' she exclaimed. 'I'm actually a good spotter, and I'm not a vile git. And besides, a number of the Seekers have agreed not to mention your relations. Which I suppose I've done, unfortunately.'
He could tell she was being sincere. 'That's all right. Shall I punch you now or after the match?'
'After the match, please,' she said. 'Make sure the Prophet is there, and wear some appropriate flowers. Which ones signify uncontrolled anger?'
'Petunias, actually,' replied Harry. 'I only learnt that last week—I can't imagine what my grandparents were thinking when they named my aunt.'
She laughed. 'I'll have you know my coach told me to taunt you about your floral waistcoat.'
'Really? Anything specific?'
'All sorts of things, actually. My teammates brainstormed over dinner. They wanted to know just how pretty the shopgirl was, and whether you shagged her afterwards.'
'Very pretty, and no. It turned out she was married.'
'How disappointing,' said Preston. 'Did you try cancelling the order when you found out?'
'No, she'd earned her commission by flattering my ego for hours.'
'Your ego! Now that's a tall order.'
'At least something about me is tall,' he said, and she burst out laughing. 'Oh dear, that came out wrong. Bloody self-taunting … Owen and I got bored on Tuesday and decided to taunt ourselves.'
'That's a good idea! I should try that with Stephen, the Catapults reserve Seeker.'
'I highly recommend it,' he said, but before he finished speaking she shot upwards and to the right. Harry automatically followed but quickly determined she was only feinting.
'Thanks,' he said afterwards. 'That was invigorating.'
'I know how much you like chasing witches,' she said.
'No, I don't bother chasing them. They prefer to chase me.'
'Are you really that arrogant? I honestly can't decide.'
'Neither can I,' he admitted. 'Rita Skeeter was right about Dumbledore—he kept me down for years. So lately I've been trying on arrogance just for kicks. What do you think ... should I stay with it or go back to being downtrodden?'
'I'm not sure. "Downtrodden" and "lord" don't really go together.'
'For Merlin's sake, try to keep up! Wizarding lordships are bollocks.'
'Of course, you're right. Personally, I'm finding the arrogance entertaining. I was honestly disappointed you didn't give out the Chocolate Frog Cards on purpose.'
He raised his eyebrows and said, 'Pretty impressive how I fooled everyone, isn't it?'
She burst out laughing again. 'And did you really spend hours auditioning sexual partners?'
'No, I assigned that task to the vampire.'
'I have to say, everyone I know wishes they could have attended that party. You won't throw another one, will you? For all the Quidditch teams?'
'Now there's a thought. I don't think I have room, to be honest—not for Starters, Reserves, and a guest for everyone. And besides, there would be too many blokes.'
'It wouldn't bother me,' said Preston, 'but I see your point. I hope you'll throw more parties, though. Nobody will mind your arrogance if you host an orgy every month or so.'
'It was bloody expensive! Contrary to the rumours, I'm not richer than the Muggle Queen.'
'Yes, that was another disappointment. Next we'll find out you didn't actually defeat Voldemort.'
'What, and that he's still out there? There's a horrible thought,' exclaimed Harry.
'No, that someone else did all the dirty work. Your house-elf, for example.'
'That's not far from the truth, actually. A house-elf gave his life to rescue us from Malfoy Manor. We wouldn't have won the war without him.'
'Really? A house-elf?'
'Yes, really. We kept telling reporters but they weren't interested.'
'I think it's all in the presentation. I can easily see the Prophet running an exposé entitled "Harry Potter fraud! You-Know-Who defeated by house-elf!"'
'You're right! That's brilliant! I should leak it somehow.'
'It ought to knock your ego back down to size,' she said, but this time Harry shot into a feint. He aimed for the Catapults Keeper, who was trying to defend the goals from the Cannons Chasers. Harry flew recklessly through one of the hoops, forcing the Keeper out of the way, which allowed Darren to score a goal. Preston only followed Harry part way, not wanting to get tangled in what was clearly a feint.
A whistle blew, and the referee shouted 'Potter, Stooging. Goal nullified, one minute penalty.'
'That wasn't Stooging!' cried Tuttle, who'd immediately flown to the hoops. 'Challenge!'
Challenging a foul was a standard Quidditch practice, though it normally just bought time, since it automatically froze and concealed the Snitch. But Harry thought Tuttle's complaint was legitimate—Stooging referred to a long-banned practice in which two of the Chasers shoved the opposing Keeper aside to allow the remaining Chaser to score a goal. But Harry wasn't a Chaser, and he'd acted alone.
The two other referees conferred with the one who'd called the foul, and a pair of Omnioculars was passed around. After a less than a minute, one of the other referees amplified his voice and announced. 'Challenge sustained. No foul on Potter. The goal stands.' He blew a whistle and the match recommenced.
Huge cheers from the stadium, and they started chanting, 'Potter! Potter!' Harry took the opportunity to expand into broad awareness and refresh his intention for the Snitch to appear. He circled for a long while before Preston approached him again.
'Well done, Potter! I think you invented a brand new foul!'
'It wasn't a foul,' he said smugly.
'It will be. They'll call it Pottering.'
'I'm pretty sure that's already a thing. Pottering about the garden.'
'You're right. Can they call it Blacking?'
'No, that's also a thing. Blacking one's boots.'
'Dammit, Potter. Don't you have any other surnames? What was your third father called again? The poor one.'
'Lupin.'
'That'll work. Lupinning.'
'That sounds a bit floral, but I'll let it pass,' said Harry. 'Do you want to propose that to the International Quidditch Association?'
'I don't know—how's our bid to rewrite the rules going? Weren't you going to write to Viktor Krum?'
'I did, ages ago. But I haven't heard back yet—I think he might be touring.'
'And he hasn't dropped everything to respond? That must be a terrible blow to your ego.'
'I know, it's tragic. I had to shag three Muggles just to ease the pain.'
The match continued like this for a while longer. The sun had dipped below the horizon but it wasn't completely dark yet, and the stadium was brightly illuminated. Harry was impressed, however, by how perfectly the goggles had simulated the conditions. He was confident he'd spot the Snitch as easily as Preston could.
And he was right—they both shot towards it in the same instant, from different directions. It was the same distance from both of them, and Harry wasn't sure who would reach it first. But then it zig-zagged towards several Chasers, and Harry unflinchingly plowed into them to make the catch.
'Cannons win! 210-50!' cried the announcer, and the crowd went wild.
Renée was the first to grab Harry. 'Well done, Snitchbottom! Time for a long weekend!'
His other teammates piled on, and then they circled the stadium together before Harry took his customary victory lap with the struggling Snitch. He remembered with pleasure how many of his friends were in the stands, and he looked forward to greeting them on the ground.
As soon as Harry landed, Owen hugged him and said, 'You've invented a new foul! This belongs on your next Chocolate Frog Card!'
'Take that, Voldemort!' cried Harry. 'He never invented a Quidditch foul! Except maybe flying without a broomstick.'
Tuttle congratulated him. 'Nice job on your brand new foul, Potter!'
'I'm pretty sure that one was your idea,' he replied. 'I probably shouldn't try it again, though.'
'No, you'd better not. But the fans will be talking about it for years—I'm glad you did it at home.'
Next they shook hands with the Catapults players, and Isla Preston gave Harry a big smile. 'Congratulations, Potter. I can't say I enjoyed losing, but at least it was close.'
'It was—that was just plain luck on my part. But you're a great rival, and I look forward to seeing you at the next Seeker's night out.'
'And at your next party,' she ordered. 'You can get around the gender problem by making everyone bring witches. And I'm certain you can stuff more people into that townhouse of yours.'
'I suppose I could,' he mused. 'If there were some way to lock all the bookcases full of Dark magic texts, we could use the library. And if everyone provided their guest's name in advance, I could skip the portkeys and add people to the Floo wards for one night. That way I'd only need Gringotts for curse wards and charmed goblets.'
'Don't forget the music! We're all counting on another rooftop dance orgy—you've a reputation to uphold!'
'You're right! I suppose I should go all the way with this loose morals thing.'
'Yes, and the arrogance as well,' she said. 'Just for a short while, mind you. But it's hilarious, and you seem to be having fun with it.'
'I am,' he admitted. 'Enjoy your long weekend!'
After speaking to the reporters, who were agog about his unique new foul, Harry greeted his friends on the pitch.
Oliver Wood was the first to arrive. 'Potter, don't even think about flying into my hoops, or I'll reveal every bit of dirt I have on you to the press.'
'What do you even have on me?' said Harry. 'I doubt there's anything left!'
'How about that time Fred and George put your Nimbus 2000 on a high shelf, but you didn't know how to do a Summoning Charm and you needed me to retrieve it because you didn't want Ron to take the piss?'
'Do you really think that holds a candle to anything they've printed recently? Just today they proposed I start practising the Dark Arts to have sex with a ghost.'
'You're right,' said Oliver resignedly. 'From now on Seekers are going to fly into me every weekend.'
'No, they'll make it a foul,' said Minerva. 'Well done, Harry.'
He chatted in turn with all his guests, including his old teammates Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell. Madam Hooch raved about his performance, and Luna commended him for taking Moaning Myrtle to dinner the previous night.
'She'll be leaving soon,' said Luna simply.
'Yes, I know.'
'I'm glad for her. She's been so unhappy. You were very kind to help her.'
'I could have turned out just like her,' he said. 'Honestly, I wish I'd been more friendly to her back in school.'
'You were struggling too,' she said. 'This way is perfect.'
The last friend to approach him was Laetitia, who was accompanied by a man Harry assumed was her fiancé, Eric. She was wearing Harry's jersey, and her hair was straight and pulled back into a ponytail, revealing her delightfully goofy ears.
'Your hair!' he cried. 'It's so tame!'
'I know,' said Eric with dismay. 'But she insisted because she didn't want to block anyone's view. And at least I got to see her ears,' he added, tweaking one affectionately.
'Harry, this is Eric,' she said. 'Congratulations, that was a brilliant match!'
'I'm so glad you could make it, and I'm pleased to meet you, Eric. Had you seen Quidditch before?'
'No, this was my first time. I hadn't even seen flying before—it's fantastic! Do you reckon a Muggle can sit a broom?'
'I honestly don't know,' said Harry. 'Not on their own, certainly, but possibly as a passenger. You might ask Ryan—his father's a Muggle. I can introduce you.'
The three of them chatted while waiting for Ryan to finish talking to some friends. 'How are you doing?' Laetitia asked Harry. 'You sounded good during Tuesday's broadcast.'
'I'm well. Better than I expected, frankly. But I'm honestly nervous about being at loose ends for the next three days—it turns out I'm no longer accustomed to it.'
Laetitia turned to Eric and briefly whispered in his ear. He raised his eyebrows but nodded, and she turned back to Harry.
'Eric and I are leaving tomorrow for a long weekend in Paris,' she said. 'Would you care to accompany us?'
Harry was taken aback. 'That's a kind offer, but I wouldn't dream of imposing during what I assume is a romantic getaway.'
She laughed and said, 'You wouldn't be staying with us! We'll be staying in a Muggle hotel, but you could stay at a wizarding hotel. My friend Sophie is planning to show us around—I'm certain she'll enjoy not feeling like a third wheel.'
'That's hardly how I'd describe Sophie,' said Eric. 'She's one of Laetitia's modelling friends.'
'Is she a Muggle, then?' asked Harry.
'No, she's a witch. We're represented by the same agency.'
Harry was beginning to feel very tempted to join them. 'What time are you leaving tomorrow morning? I have an important meeting at ten o'clock.'
'We're leaving at half nine,' said Laetitia, 'but we're taking the train. You can just take a portkey and meet us whenever it's convenient.'
'I've never actually left Britain,' he admitted. 'Would I need a passport?'
'You would if you took the train, but for portkey travel all you need is documentation from Gringotts.'
'Perfect, that's where my meeting is.' He turned to Eric and said, 'Are you sure you don't mind?'
'No, not at all. If anything Laetitia and I will have more privacy, since you can keep Sophie occupied.'
'And Sophie won't mind?'
'No, she's mad curious to meet you,' replied Laetitia.
Harry took a moment to consider whether he could just disappear for three days. I haven't anything scheduled, other than possibly contacting Lydia Travers, but that can surely wait.
'Yes, I'll do it! Just a few days ago, a friend urged me to go to Paris,' he said, recalling Penelope. 'But I hardly know a word of French. Will that be a problem?' He knew he wouldn't get very far with the phrase 'Toujours pur.'
'Just learn how to say, "I'm sorry, do you speak English?" and you'll be fine. It's all tourists this time of year, so as long as you're polite nobody will mind.'
Laetitia wrote down instructions for Harry, including the names of several wizarding hotels, and they agreed to meet at her Muggle hotel at two o'clock the next day.
He took her written instructions and said, 'I can't believe I'll be in Paris tomorrow. I know it's actually much closer from London to Paris than it is to Hogwarts, but it feels completely different somehow.'
'I'm sure you'll love it,' she said. 'It'll be a pleasure to see how you react to everything.'
Harry introduced Eric and Laetitia to Ryan and Hermione, and Ryan confirmed that Muggles can ride brooms as a passenger. 'But be ready with Cushioning Charms,' he said, 'since Muggles aren't as resilient in case of injury.'
'Are you certain you want to sprog with me?' Eric asked Laetitia, and she replied by kissing him very sweetly on the cheek.
'Definitely.'
Hermione asked, 'So Harry, does this mean you'll take Dudley up on a broom?'
'Merlin, you're right—he'd love that. I'll have to think about it.'
'Do you have everything you need for tomorrow's meeting at Gringotts?'
'What do I need besides myself?' he asked. 'I thought your team was bringing the artefacts and providing the script.'
'We are. No, all you need to do is turn up at quarter to ten wearing traditional robes.'
'No flowers?'
She hesitated. 'Do you have any with an appropriate meaning?'
'Yes, alstroemeria. They symbolise prosperity and fortune, and also friendship.'
'That's all right, then.' She smiled and said, 'I'm glad we'll be working together.'
'So am I ... see you in the morning.'
After listening to Tuttle's abbreviated notes and then showering, Harry stopped briefly at the Cracked Spyglass to greet the fans. 'Oi, Potter,' cried a fan after Harry sat down. 'We're trying to decide what they'll call that new foul of yours.'
'Oh? Preston and I came up with "Lupinning," in honour of my third dead father, but I'm open to alternatives.'
'Right now the lead contender is "Pocking"—a cross between Potter and Black.'
'Not bad,' replied Harry. 'Or maybe "Plocking."'
'That's good too,' agreed the fan. 'We'll keep you posted, and don't be shy about inventing knew ones. Fouls, that is.'
'I intend to,' he said, and everyone within earshot cheered.
When he returned to Grimmauld Place and prepared for bed he found himself wondering what Paris would be like. Will wizards even recognise me there, or will I be anonymous? As he drifted towards sleep, he wondered about Laetitia's friend Sophie, and how French witches differed from their British counterparts. I can't wait to find out.