Content Harry Potter Original Works Harry Potter/New Battlestar Galactica
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Author Notes:

Disclaimer—Just another fanfic.

Acknowledgements—As always, the help from the gang at Alpha Fight Club is worth noting. Beta work by ZanyMuggle, Rob, Aaran St Vines and Sparky40sw.

Chapter 21—Mind Your Manners

"Just a minute." I hear Poppy's voice on the other side of the door.   Fleur has her wand on the crystal buzzer that vibrates in the Nurse's room.

After we had tried the first set of steps, Fleur gave up and floated me the rest of the way. Here from my vantage point, looking right at her bum, I put on a grin and ask, "Is it okay that I tell people that by the end of our first date, you had swept me off my feet?"

"You are impossible!" she mutters, but there's a hint of a smile amidst her protest.

Poppy opens the door.   She looks at me and shakes her head.   "What happened this time, Harry?"

"A stone bench," I answer, while Fleur floats me in.   Poppy gestures for her to put me on a bed.

"A bench did that?"   She looks at Fleur.   "Do I need to check him for head injuries?"

My new girlfriend laughs. "I did not see him suffer one, though I would suspect you would find past evidence of many such injuries."

Poppy chuckles and says, "You're probably right."

"Hey!   That's not funny," I protest.

The nurse arches an eyebrow and starts straightening my bones.   "From my perspective it is.   So was a troll wielding this bench like a club?"

"No, it was a Poltergeist."

"Peeves?"

"No, the Durmstrang Poltergeist."

"I thought your little wager thing had been canceled."

"And who told you that?"   I grunt as the Numbing Charm is removed.

"Professor Snape."

"Well, there you go."

Poppy looks plenty angry and summons an elf.   She sends the elf to go get McGonagall.   Next, she summons a few vials from her storeroom and uncorks them.

"How about we just leave the Numbing Charm on?"   I ask hopefully.   There are some nasty tasting potions hovering next to her.

"No.   Not until I see how you respond to the first set of potions.   I'll put it back on after that."

"Oh, alright."   I choke two of them down, while she pours the third directly on the wound.

Fleur sits next to me and holds my hand while I try to digest these foul draughts.   By the time Minerva arrives, Poppy has me in a splint and has thankfully re-charmed my leg.   I'll give the nurse her due.   No one in this castle can cast a Numbing Charm like she can.

I greet McGonagall.   "Hello, Professor.   We missed you at dinner."

She takes the news rather well.   "Did this happen to you on the Durmstrang vessel, Mr. Potter?"

"No, but it was their Poltergeist that did it.   Fleur and I were just inside the Forbidden Forest."

"Why did you go into the Forest?"

Fleur answers. She seems to have a lot on her mind, and it comes tumbling out before McGonagall or I can interject a word, "He was concerned about my welfare.   The Geist attacked at that time.   I would like to use a Floo if possible.   My father is at the embassy in London and I would like to speak to him as soon as possible.   I doubt he will be pleased that I was attacked this evening."

"Yes.   I completely understand.   This elf will take you to my office; you may use the Floo there to call him.   Mr. Potter will tell me what has occurred in the meantime."

Fleur releases my hand and then gives me a quick kiss on the cheek.   "I will return shortly."

Minerva and Poppy watch the graceful witch depart, both of them giving me suspicious glances as the door closes.   My head of house gives me a stern look.

"Now, Mr. Potter, I believe you have several things you need to tell me."

------

"You're fired, Mr. Snape," Minerva says the moment Snape steps into the infirmary.   "Pack your things and leave.   By breakfast tomorrow, I do not wish to find you in this castle."

"What lies has the boy been spreading now?"

"It is not his lies that concern me, Mr. Snape, but yours.   You lied to me and said in the presence of several others that the Potter's dinner on board the Durmstrang vessel was canceled."

"That was what I was told," he answers with smug arrogance.   "Perhaps I was misled."

"Yet some of your Slytherins were on that ship for this dinner.   You would be the only one that could have granted permission."

"Were they?   I suppose I shall have to speak with them about it."

"No."

"No?"

McGonagall draws herself up to her full height—tartan fury in all its glory.   "I have changed my mind.   You will leave the castle this very instant.   Your possessions will be delivered to Hogsmeade by the castle elves.   I have had my fill of you.   Your petty vendetta against the Potter family not only led to an attack on him, but on the French Minister's daughter.   You have brought shame and disgrace on this castle and I will see you removed—immediately!"

Snape laughs. "Fine, McGonagall.   Enjoy the temporary trappings of power.   We shall see what happens when the true master of this castle returns."

"Albus won't have a choice."

"And why is that?"

With her back to me, I can only "hear" the smile on her face.   "Because I'll make him choose between the two of us."

Poppy steps out of her office and regards Snape.   "If he's fool enough to keep you, I'll be resigning as well."

McGonagall nods to Madame Pomfrey. "By the morning, Flitwick and Sprout will be on board as well, and I intend to present a united front to Albus."

I'm so glad I won that Pensieve!   I can probably charge admission from three quarters of the student body just to watch this.

Snape is a calculating fucker.   I'll give him that.   He knows when he is beaten.   The pasty-faced half-blood prince shrugs. "I suppose this is the part where I degenerate into petty insults and make pointless threats."

"Actually," I say to the greasy bastard, "I think this is the point where you leave."

There's a slight smile on his face. It's a dangerous one.   "Yes, whelp.   For once, you and I are in agreement.   It is time for me to go.   I'm certain our paths will cross again."

"I'm not the one you should be worried about, Snivellus.   Wait until my godfather finds out that you don't have Dumbledore's protection.   I just want you dead.   He wants to be the one to do it."

He spins and then disappears through the doorway, only to be replaced with a Durmstrang student, who is hovering Millicent Bulstrode.   The Slytherin witch is whimpering.   Her robes are burnt and her arm is clearly broken.

Poppy steps out. "What in the name of Merlin?"

The boy mumbles something in German.   "Speak in English!" she commands, giving the wizard a fright.

"The ship behaving like it is cursed.   Take this one.   I must go back and help beach it before it sinks."

"What is happening?"

He points his finger directly at me.   "I think it is all his fault!"

The wizard leaves and Minerva turns to me.   I hold up my bandaged hands. "Don't look at me.   It was still intact when I left.   Maybe this is all one big coincidence."

"Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"I just went onto the ship and served dinner."

"You're forgetting the encounter with their Poltergeist, Harry."

That stops me.   I had considered what would happen to the Geist if the ship were destroyed, but not the exact opposite.   I quickly piece together what is happening out there.   A big smile spreads across my face and I laugh.   "Oh, that's priceless!   They arrange for me to be on their boat and trick you into not coming so there wouldn't be any adult supervision.   Well, if the Geist was that important to their bloody rowboat, someone should have stopped it from trying to kill me and Fleur."

"Harry, I'm not sure that is the proper attitude."

"Oh, I'm sure they'll try to pin this one on me, but they're still going to have to explain how—and more importantly why—their Geist attacked me and Fleur.   The harder they push, the worse it's going to look for them!   It's brilliant!"

McGonagall processes this and doesn’t seem to appreciate the beautiful irony.   Very slowly, she says, "The next time Albus is away from the castle and I am in charge, you are not allowed to leave Gryffindor tower—even for class.   You will stay up there until he returns.   Is that understood?"

"So you want whatever is going to happen to happen in Gryffindor tower?"

"Yes…No!   I'm getting too bloody old for this."   McGonagall wanders out of the room to deal with the crisis, muttering under some very unladylike things her breath.

-----

About ninety minutes later, I'm leaning on a crutch and staring out the window.   On one side of me is Fleur, and on the other is Millicent Bulstrode, whose arm is in a cast—my own version of 'The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly'.   Below us, we see the tiny pops of house elves unloading the Durmstrang ship and trying to make it lighter.   Smoke pours out of the portholes and at least two fires are burning up on deck.   Magical tents dot the surrounding shore as the weary students of that school dig in for a very long night.   Frankly, I can't muster up a great deal of pity for them.   One rotten apple spoils the bunch.

The ship is listing about thirty degrees.   It's pure Marauder beauty, even if I didn't intend for it to happen, and further proof of the consequences of crossing a Potter.   Padfoot is going to be so jealous when I tell him about this night.   I don't care how many witches he's currently sleeping with—I helped destroy a Poltergeist, badly damaged the Durmstrang ship, got the girl, and got Snape fired.   He'll have to work pretty damn hard to top that.

"Next time Draco wants to screw with you, Potter, I'm taking a sleeping draught and turning in early.   I don't need this shit."

"So what exactly happened down there?" I ask Millicent.

"Draco was busy congratulating Krum on humiliating the two of you when all the lights went out on the ship.   It seemed like no big deal at first, but then the wood started creaking and it felt like the ship was in heavy seas, and I'm thinking, this is the Great Lake, right, and not February in the North Atlantic.   So we start trying to get back on the main deck when the kitchen bursts into flames and the fireplace starts spitting out flaming logs.   A chunk of one smashed into my bloody arm and set me on fire!   That effing little ponce, Draco, he damn near trampled me trying to get out of there."

I try very hard not to laugh at her misfortune.  "Sounds like his style.   What happened next?"

"People were screaming.   There was water coming in on the lower decks.   The four ghouls and the Inferi they had in the hold got loose…"

"What were they doing with ghouls and zombies in the hold?"

"Damned if I know, Potter.   Ask them if you're so effing interested."

Fleur answers. "They use them as practice targets for Dark Magic.   My date for the Yule Ball somehow thought this would impress me."

Both Bulstrode and I stop and stare at her for a moment before I ask, "Is that the strangest pickup line someone's tried on you?"

She sighs, "No.   There have been worse."

"It'd probably have worked on me," Millicent mutters.

"You're into freaky encounters with the undead?"   I ask, somewhat surprised, just before I notice that a group of Durmstrang students sporting several injuries has just wandered into the entrance.   Poppy starts sorting them.   I should go help, but she did tell me I have the rest of the night off.   I should really try to sleep and prepare for tomorrow's competition.   The only champion in a position to do well, at this point, is Cedric.

"No!   I just wouldn't mind having a date," says the Slytherin.

"Then go get a date.   Plenty of boys in the castle."

"I'm fat and ugly.   Don't patronize me, Potter!" She growls.

"I'm not patronizing you.   If you don't like the way you look, fix it.   Use some magic.   Brew a few potions, use some creams, or layer some charms into your hair.   Muggles have long and painful surgeries to enhance their looks.   You just have to drop a few galleons for a similar effect or look into some fancy rituals."

"Pansy said I shouldn't waste my time."

"It's Parkinson that's a waste of your time.   You're a cursed fool for even listening to her!   If you're really curious, brew an aging potion.   See what you'll look like at twenty.   Changing your appearance is pretty easy.   Look real close at Athena Manos and you'll spot that she's fairly plain under all the creams, salves, and charms."

She shakes her head. "That kind of look is expensive to maintain."

"Then learn how do your own creams and wand work. Am I right Fleur?"

"Yes and no," Fleur answers.   "Do it because you want to, not for the sake of boys.   You will find all of them this age are struggling with they're own changes.   Find a look you are comfortable with."

"That's easy for you to say."

Bulstrode withers under Fleur's irritated glare as the latter says, "No amount of potions and charms will give you self worth, girl.   Only you can do that."  

I'd already forgotten how Fleur can be with someone she doesn't know.   Deciding changing the subject would be best at this point, I say, "Hey, I wouldn't mind watching that memory of what happened on the ship in my Pensieve.   Would you mind sharing it with me, Millicent?   They're already trying to blame me for it, so I might as well enjoy the show."

"Four galleons."

"Say again?"   What is it with everyone wanting money from me?

"If I'm going to try some beauty salves, the good ones aren't cheap—four galleons."

"I will pay half, Harry.   I am just as curious," Fleur offers.

------

Bulstrode's memory is far more entertaining than I thought it was going to be.   I even catch Fleur grinning at the complete and utter mayhem.   Paintings screaming in German, Polish, and Bulgarian, mixed with the howls of the mounted animal heads.   I feel a slight bit of vertigo as the ship starts to list violently.   To top things off, there's Krum's terrified expression as he's trying to get everyone out of the galley and up to the main deck.   It's the look of a person who knows that he's utterly fucked.

 I see Athena and her two bodyguards and feel bad for her.   She's been decent through most of the tournament and was looking out for my best interests when I was on board.

Then again, she only got a little scare.   I'm the one in the splint.   Let the merriment resume.

"I believe you are enjoying this a bit too much, Harry," Fleur says, with a hint of her usual sarcasm.

"And which one of us secretly wants to come back and see those bitchy Veelas screaming in terror over and over again?"

She looks elsewhere to hide the smile.   In the false reality of the Pensieve, I can move normally.   I instinctively dodge the flaming log that breaks Bulstrode's arm, which gives Fleur another reason to laugh.

"You were talking with the girl about aging potions like you have some experience."

"I've got a good idea what I'll look like in my early twenties.   Why, you think if I look older, society will be more accepting of the dashing Triwizard champion and his beautiful girlfriend?"

"You have not won this yet, Harry Potter.   I may very well be on top—"

"Really?"

"—by this time tomorrow.   Of the tournament standings, you idiot!"

Apparently she's already started trying to figure out how my mind works.   I laugh and immediately change the conversation to keep her off balance.   "So, tell me more about yourself, Fleur."

"Here, now?"   She seems surprised, but in a good way.

"Why not?   No one can eavesdrop.   There's not enough room in the Pensieve for another person and the memory will just reset and keep playing.   I don't know about you, but I'm having a good time."

"You first.   Tell me something I don't know about Harry Potter."

"I went and saw Aimee in France.   I told her that I was Monsieur Pronghorn."

"She knew!   That's why she was pestering me!"

I get a little disoriented as the memory resets to the beginning and everyone is back at the tables.   Fleur stops to watch the memory of me scold Krum as I chase off after her.   I'll have to thank Bulstrode for including that bit.

"Yeah, but I made her promised to keep it a secret.   I wanted to be the one to tell you.   We could always go visit her together and have a bit of fun.   I'll go in first with my invisibility cloak and start asking for advice on how I can ask you out, when you show up for a visit."

Fleur gets a curious expression on her face.   "So when did you plan on telling me?"

"I was going to wait and see if you came back and asked me out again.   I planned on going out on a date or two to see if we were really compatible, and then I was going to tell you.   The first date?   No, that's not the kind of thing you mention on a first date, except under duress, like tonight.   By the way, thank you for that night with Charlie Weasley and the other bloke.   That was the one thing that convinced me that I needed to get to know you better.   You've got a good heart."   I pause a moment.   "The rest of you isn't bad either."

Wow, I just made her blush.

"Aimee kept warning me about you after the Yule Ball.   She said that you would shamelessly flirt and just when she though she had you pegged, you would say things that no fourteen year old would ever say and it would render her speechless.   Now, I see what she meant.   It is hard to believe how my opinion of you has changed from the day you were selected to participate in the tournament."

"I could always back out and put that memory in here," I offer.   "It would be a good laugh."

Fleur shakes her head and says, "No. I would not mind watching the broom race from your perspective sometime, but my behavior among people I do not know well can be caustic.   I do not wish to revisit it."   She, too, pauses for a moment.   "I just thought of something … I was under the impression that the law requires you to register abilities such as being an Animagus.   One thing I will say is that you should not reveal anything to Gabrielle that you do not wish the world to know.   She does not know how to keep anything a secret."

There's a tinge of older sibling anger there.   "I'll keep that in mind.   Maybe it's just your secrets she won't keep, but I understand what you are trying to say.   As for registering, the law is written in a manner that an adult wizard or witch must register his or her form and on his or her seventeenth birthday…well, I'll worry about that then."

"Clever."   She's obviously capable of sudden topic shifts, as well.   "Do you want to appear as a couple in public, or do you wish for us to be more discreet?"

I like how open the two of us can be with each other.   It's a refreshing change from what I expected dating "again" was going to be like.   "That really depends on you, Fleur.   No one is going to come up to me and say, 'Harry Potter!   You're dating Fleur Delacour.   What on Earth are you thinking?'   People will ask you what you are thinking.   In addition to the silly questions, there's the more serious part—there have been and will be more attempts on my life.   You're smart enough to know that it could possibly expand to include you.   You're also powerful enough to hold your own.   It's your call.   I'm pretty good at sneaking around when necessary.   I can be discreet."

"Really?   History shows that you also seem quite capable of destroying everything in sight.   I believe tonight is a prime example of this."

I smile; she does have a point.   "That's where I'm discreet.   Everyone else will be thinking of the ship or the Geist.   I'll be thinking about something much more important that happened."

My bravado gets another pause out of her.   "You do have a way with words, Harry.   A girl could get used to being flattered so.   Assuming we last as a couple to the summer, I have racing season.   My last boyfriend could not deal with that lifestyle.   Will you be able to?"

"I'll have to spend the early part of the summer with my Muggle relatives, but later, it would be nice to travel with you on tour."

"Why?   From what I understood, you dislike your Muggle family."   We both shift as the memory of the ship shudders.   This likely coincides with Fleur closing the grotto on it and somewhat blocking the connection that the Geist shared with the vessel.

I open my palms to her in a gesture of sincerity and say, "I will be as open with you as possible, Fleur, but there are secrets I am not prepared to divulge.   Not now, maybe in time.   I'll make up for it by honestly answering as much as I can and being upfront about what I won't answer.   Most all my secrets lead back to the half-dead wizard who still wants to kill me."

"I understand, Harry.   I will be as truthful with you as possible in return," she says.   I notice her suppressing a yawn.   I'm rather knackered myself.   It's been a rather productive evening and it's time to try and get some rest.

"Well, it seems like we're off to a good start, then," I add, before looking around.   "I've seen enough of this ship.   Shall we exit?   We do still have to put on a show for the crowd tomorrow... Well, actually, I suppose it's today already."

"Yes, I should try to get some rest.   We'll have to pick a memory to watch tomorrow after the challenge is over."

"I'd very much like to see Beauxbatons through your eyes.   I've never been there before and you are always talking it up.   How about giving me a tour?"

From the look on her face, I seem to be hitting all the right marks, so far.   We exit the Pensieve and I bottle Bulstrode's memory, so I can send it to Sirius soon.   I summon Dobby to take the Pensieve back to Gryffindor Tower.     Fleur and I find ourselves behind a curtained partition with several injured Durmstrang students on the other side of the fabric.   In the muted light, the stains on her clothes aren't visible and all the other traces of tonight's hardships fade away, leaving me in the presence of an angelic witch who seems quite taken with me.

"Good night, Fleur."   I lean in to kiss her, and she rewards me with something that lasts much longer than the usual good night peck.

"It's going to be hard to get to sleep after that," I say, when she breaks away.

"For you, yes.   I hope it will not affect your concentration tomorrow," she replies with an evil grin, before tracing her index finger down my cheek.   "Good night, Harry."

I guess she isn't the only one in this relationship who has to stay on her toes.

------

"And what do you intend to do about this, Dumbledore?   The ship is a precious magical artifact belonging to my school and flies the flag of the German, Bulgarian, and Polish Ministries.   They will want answers and action," Igor Karkaroff demands, going on the offensive.  

They roused me out of bed at seven in the bloody morning for this exercise in stupidity.   Hell, I couldn't even find Hat this morning to bring it along.   I clutch the mug of coffee in my hands and try to mentally command the caffeine in it to work faster.   An anxious Amos Diggory is seated next to Dumbledore probably wondering if his promotion to International Magical Cooperation was really worth it.

"Will they also be asking why the Geist attempted to kill two of the more notable students at this school—and might I add the two students that happen to be ahead of your champions in this tournament?"   Dumbledore asks in a tone that almost sounds friendly, but clearly isn't.

"I do not control the Geist when it is off the ship!   Only when it was on board could I command it."

"On one hand, you claim no responsibility for a creature's aggressive actions, but you seem to be insisting that I punish my student for defending himself and another student.   Since you say it was uncontrollable, we can only conclude that Miss Delacour was also going to be attacked.   Tell me, did it need your permission to leave the ship?"

"No, it was not confined to the ship.   It often wandered into the so-called Forbidden Forest to amuse itself.   Back to the matter at hand—the damage to the ship—"

"Fuck you, Karkaroff," I say, slamming my mug on the table.   "I've had enough of this nonsense!"

Karkaroff is momentarily stunned; he's probably never had a student stand up to him.   "Albus, if you can't control your student, I may be forced to spell his mouth shut."

"Pull the wand, Karkaroff.   See what happens next."

"Harry, please calm down."  

"Respectfully, sir, I will not.   His beast took a run at me last night, and for that, it was destroyed.   Then he has the nerve to come here, demanding some kind of apology or punishment.   We can do this aboveboard.   I'll be happy to draw out a memory of what happened on the ship and take it to the press.   They'd have a field day with Krum's behavior, the little cheat Malfoy sitting at his side as an honored guest, and the part where he terrorized Fleur with a Pronghorn head.   Yeah, bet that would cost Krum a few sponsors and do wonders for your school's image, wouldn't it?"

"We are not here to discuss Viktor's behavior, boy.   You would do well to mind your manners."

"I guess that makes two of us.   You would also do well to remember that this is England and your Geist just attacked me, Harry Potter.   A few choice words to Minister Fudge and you might be more concerned about how you're going to barter your way out of Azkaban a second time!"

Dumbledore clears his throat. "I doubt that would do much for the spirit of cooperation this tournament is trying to foster, but Harry does have a point, Igor.   Your students lost a night of sleep and appear to have a good deal of work ahead of them, but the most severe injuries were suffered by Mr. Potter.   Since you have stated that you are not responsible for the actions of your Poltergeist when it is off of your vessel, I may also say that I am not responsible for the actions of Harry Potter when he is off school grounds.   We have established that both he and Miss Delacour were a few hundred yards into the Forbidden Forest and that Miss Delacour was being comforted by Mr. Potter after a particularly callous joke was perpetrated by Mr. Krum.   At most, I can admonish Mr. Potter for leaving school grounds, but since he was showing kindness to the distraught Miss Delacour, I quite understand his rationale for straying into the forest."

"So, that is your stance, Dumbledore.   A priceless relic lies damaged, perhaps beyond repair, and you do nothing—less than nothing, in fact.   You look like you want to reward the delinquent.   I admire your inaction, so much so that perhaps I will emulate it."

The old man strokes his long white beard, absorbing Igor's threat, and absently says, "Nothing?   Inaction?   Oh, quite the contrary, Igor.   I will be happy to offer the services of my Runes instructor and my NEWT-level Runes students in the repair.   It presents a fascinating opportunity for their educational benefit—a true chance to work together in the spirit of this tournament."

Dumbledore then stops the nice wizard act and looks as serious as I've seen him during life and death fights.   He brings a bit of the "fire and brimstone" look to his demeanor and there is a sudden chill in the room exuding from the Supreme Mugwump.  

"Naturally, with a Poltergeist of my own in this castle; I can accept that you may have had only limited control of yours.   But since it is now destroyed, I know that there will be no further unsanctioned attacks on Mr. Potter.   For if there was another attack or some attempted retaliation, Igor, I would most assuredly hold you accountable.   And whatever destruction young Harry here would visit upon you, you could expect it threefold from me."

I toy with the idea of asking if thrice dead is even possible, but I don’t want to be rude and interrupt Albus while he’s figuratively gnawing on Karkaroff’s hide.

In a flash, the anger is gone, like it was never there.   Even with my understanding of Occlumency, I can't change directions as fast as Albus.   Damn, he's good!

In the same pleasant tone that he started the conversation in, he says, "Fortunately, I am confident that you have your visiting contingent firmly under your control now, Igor, so my mutterings are those of an old man concerned for the safety of all who walk this school's hallowed grounds."

Igor doesn't back down. "You are quick to offer threats, friend Albus.   It's been well over ten years since you've held a wand in anger, and I am less frightened of the man before me than the man that defeated Grindelwald a half-century ago.   Your best magic is behind you and you may be very surprised if you were to come to me with the notion of visiting harm.   Of course, I am also glad we are talking in conjecture, dear friend.   Thank you for the kind and generous offer of assistance, but we will repair our vessel.   Now, if you will excuse me, I need to meet with the French delegation."

Sadly, I won't know for another few days if my "spyfly" survived last night's events.   It's charmed to hang out in Karkaroff's cabin and record for five days before coming back to me.   If I'm lucky, there should be something I can use.

Amos Diggory stands in the silence following Karkaroff's departure.   "Good luck to you today, Harry.   I'll have a few more questions for you, but they can wait.   I've got enough to present a semblance of what happened to Minister Fudge.   You should try to get some more rest before the competition."

"Thank you, sir."   I watch the man leave and turn towards Dumbledore.

"You were quite busy last night, Harry.   Minerva was waiting for me the moment I arrived in Hogsmeade.   She was most distraught about being misled.   Though, she insisted that when I leave for the next outside function that I should bring you along.   I did not see it as a request, more as a demand.   At some point, when she has calmed, I expect she will extend a most sincere apology to you.   Do be gracious."

"She means well.   I don't think she'll ever let it happen again.   I'd say that I'm sorry about Snape, but you and I both know that I wouldn't mean a word of it."

"Quite true on both counts.   I had hoped that the two of you could look beyond your mutual differences, but in retrospect, that may have never been possible.   Nevertheless, we must forge ahead.   As you can well imagine, I am in need of a Potions Professor due to a surprise vacancy.   I'll be sending an owl to Horace Slughorn today and inviting him to join me in my box to watch today's challenge and the Quidditch match to follow.   Afterwards, we'll be having a private dinner, where I will recruit him.   I suspect he will require some convincing, but that is where you come in, Harry.   I know that you've been taking your lessons with Poppy, and that she is quite taken with you, but I am certain that Horace will want to see how you stack up against his memories of Lily.   I know you won't let me down."

I groan at the prospect of a new version of the "Slug Club," but the old man will have none of it.   "You seemed more than willing to do whatever it took to drive Severus from this castle, and I was forced to make a choice between the two of you—not that the outcome was ever in doubt.   Still, since your wish has been granted, there is a bit more work to be done, and we must all do our part, isn't that right?"

"I suppose it is."

"Good luck today, Harry.   I hope your leg does not become too much of a detriment to your performance.   I also managed to speak with the Bloody Baron and was surprised to learn his true identity, and even more surprised to learn of your most honorable arrangement.   Again, you cultivate allies in the most unusual places, Harry.   Do keep up the good work."

------

I'm staring up at the floating platforms and the rotating targets as Cedric is preparing for his run.   "With me at only about fifty percent, I'm pulling for you today to uphold the honor of Hogwarts.   Show them how a Puff gets things done."

Cedric laughs and says, "I'll do my best.   You look like hell, Harry, and the Durmstrang ship is wrecked on the shore of the lake and everyone knows you were involved.   Seriously… What the bloody hell, mate?"

"It's a long story, Diggory.   I'll tell you some other time."

Fleur's voice interrupts as she walks up, escorted by a short older man.   He has a small beard and a look that seems perpetually irritated.   "Papa, this is Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory."

"Hello," I say as Cedric does the same, except he adds a "sir," which reminds me that I need to dust off some manners.   The Hat is a bad influence in that regard.

"Papa" has a pair of penetrating eyes and is currently giving me the once over.   I wonder how much Fleur has told him.

"Armand Delacour at your service," The man introduces himself.   "I hope your leg is on the mend."

I shrug.   "It's going to hold me back, Minister, but I'll do my best.   My hold on first place is somewhat tenuous at the moment."

An official approaches and gestures to Cedric.   "We are ready for you."

He waves to the cheering crowd and heads for the starting point after I wish him good luck.   I look back at Armand and arch an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

"As you can imagine, Fleur and I had a very long discussion this morning, and then I had the dubious pleasure of listening to Karkaroff say that my daughter was never in danger as he attempted to pin this incident entirely on you."

The crowd gives Cedric a rousing cheer as I answer Mr. Delacour.   "If you would like, I'll give you my version."

"Unnecessary; my daughter's is the only version I require.   Naturally, I pressed her for details about your relationship, and—well, you probably are already acquainted with her openness."

"Yes, I am, sir."

"I haven't been forced to give the protective father speech in a long time, so I won't bother, and it's obvious that it is still early for the two of you.   Idle threats from me obviously won't cow you.   You've killed two wizards that I know of in the last six months and have enough rumors and speculation swirling about you for a person three times your age.   What I will say to you is this—I consider my daughters to be my greatest legacy.   Their happiness and safety is my reason for getting out of bed in the morning.   Do not intentionally jeopardize them."

"I don't ever intentionally jeopardize myself, sir.   It just kind of happens."

The man eyes me and my weak attempt at humor seems somewhat lost on his serious nature.   He says, "I see.   Normally, I don't involve myself in the lives of Fleur's current interest.   Partly, that is because they usually do not last and mostly because they generally annoy me.   They are usually five or sometime ten years older than Fleur and seek to immediately insert themselves as a permanent fixture in my daughter's life.   Most eventually weaken and succumb to her charm, or begin making outrageous demands on her life, and try to ride the coattails of her fame.   This is the first time I recall her dating someone younger than she is, and, if I may be blunt, more famous than she is.   It is a rather interesting combination that may force me to shelve my usual disinterest and keep an eye on events."

It's a politically correct way of saying that he'll be watching me carefully.   I can't really blame him.   Would I trust any future daughter I might have with a bloke like me?   Hardly.  

Cedric is furiously Apparating around the course and launching piercing curses with abandon as I nod to Mr. Delacour.   "We're both powerful enough and famous enough, in our own right, that we won't drown each other out.   There aren't that many others that I could say that about, sir.   I'll treat her with respect and as an equal with the hope that she will do the same."

"Very well, young man.   Soon I will host a dinner at the embassy.   My daughters and wife will, of course, be there.   If Fleur chooses to bring you as an escort, I will be happy to speak with you at greater length."

He walks away and shares a brief conversation with the object of our discussion.   Meanwhile, Cedric's score comes up—his time was impressive, but he loses some points in the accuracy portion of the event.   It's still going to be tough to beat.

"Papa seems to like you," Fleur says, coming up to my side, as Athena moves to the starting line and waits for the course workers to finish repairing the targets.   Athena looks a bit worse for wear.   I'll be paying close attention to how she does.

"I suppose.   My manners were a bit off, but hopefully, he'll give me a pass on that.   It's a tad early for meet-the-parents day, but then again, with the fallout from last night, it was all a bit unavoidable, wasn't it?   I hear there's to be a dinner at the Embassy."

"Yes.   Mama will naturally want a turn at you, as well.   Of my parents, she is the one that is truly a stickler for manners and etiquette."

"A vital part of the Beauxbatons' curriculum," I add with a grin.

"It is part of what sets us apart from the rabble," she answers, not rising to my bait.   "Cedric's score is very good.   Athena is not going to catch him.   Do you think Krum is any good in the air without a broom?"

"Krum actually looks well rested.   Bastard probably took a sleeping draught and let all the other Durmstrang students handle the small details of the ship falling to pieces."

We both watch Krum waving to the crowd as they repair the course from Athena's failed attempt at besting Cedric's score.   Fleur answers with an amused chuckle, "You have an irritable streak, as well.   I suspect we will have many fights."

"It'll make 'making up' that much more entertaining," I offer with a smile.

"Yes, you are correct.   I look forward to seeing how you will attempt to apologize to me."

"What makes you think I'll be the one apologizing?"

She gives me a "oh please" stare, before laughing.   "I do not need to be versed in Divination to see what is to come.   Oh look, Viktor Apparated to the wrong platform.   Maybe he was just trying to keep up appearances."

"Or, he stinks at this event.   I like that one better."

She looks down at my leg and I see a flash of concern on her face.   "How is your leg, cher?"

Did I just get a pet name?   "Fifty-fifty that it makes it through the course without giving out."

"And your Apparating skills?"

"I'll be fine.   Maybe I should splinch myself at the beginning and then I won't have to worry about the leg.   Maybe Rita's article could be Potter Gives the Competition a Leg Up?"

"You're terrible!   I do hope the majority of your jokes will not be about whichever body part you have recently injured.   I am uncertain how you derive so much humor from pain!   You really…"

"Fleur."

"Don't interrupt!"

"Fleur."

"What?   Didn't I just tell you not to interrupt?"

It's more than a bit fun to watch Fleur get herself worked up.   "Krum's finished.   They want you at the starting line."

"Oh!"

I squeeze her hand.   "Good luck.   I'd say, 'Break a leg,' but you just told me not to make any more injury jokes."

Fleur walks away, shaking her head.   I can't tell whether she wants to laugh or hex me—probably both.

------

I made it through eight of the fifteen platforms before the injured leg had enough and gave up on me.   It was an awkward fall onto the ninth platform and I completely missed the first target from my new vantage point, a brutal deduction.   That's where I lie now.   I pull myself into a crouch and spell my leg in place.   I don't want to risk putting a Numbing Charm on it, up here, with six more Apparitions ahead of me.   That's a recipe for a splinch if ever there was one.

Gritting my teeth, I pop to the ninth platform and hear the crowd gasp as I almost go off the edge.   Drawing two deep breaths, I take out the targets and focus on the tenth Apparition.   I slow down, knowing that I'm already well off everyone else's pace.   There's nothing left but to finish with dignity.   I overpower my piercing curses and instead of thin holes the width of a wand tip through the targets, I'm making ones that are four and five times in diameter, which turns out to be a real crowd pleaser.

The holes just keep getting larger with every Percutio I unleash.   Screw it!   If I'm going down, it will be in style.   On two of the final three targets on the fifteenth and final platform, I core them and remove most of the bullseye.   The spectators go absolutely spare.   I fight off the part of myself that urges me to break out a firewhip and start hacking the close target to pieces—no need to be a show off there, Potter.

Finished, I Apparate to the ground and make certain I'm all "there" before applying the sweet bliss that is a Numbing Charm.   Unlocking my leg, I limp back over to see my last-place finishing time.   Hermione has found her way down to the field and is standing next to Fleur.   I give her a loose hug and a clap on the back.

"Impressive for someone a full twenty seconds off the last time, even before the penalties are applied," Granger says.

"Well, if I did too well, there wouldn't be a need for the second set of duels and the final task of the tournament.   They'd be presenting me with the trophy now."

This draws a bit of the "haughty" Fleur Delacour out of semi-retirement.   "Yes, it is not a foregone conclusion.   I hope you did not waste your time writing an acceptance speech."

I can see Hermione's protective nature flare up, but I cut it off before she unloads on Fleur.   "We'll get them next time, Fleur.   Regardless, you looked great up there."

"How is your leg, Harry?" Her tone becomes very gentle, and I see Hermione's stunned expression.

"With a Numbing Charm, it's okay—without it, not so much."

"Do you want to stay and watch the Quidditch match?   My classmates know I despise any sport on a broom other than racing.   They will not be offended and your school has more than enough fans here to cheer them on.   I could easily be talked into being elsewhere."

There's no real need for me to watch Cho on my Firebolt.   "Once we deal with the Press, let's get out of here."

"Harry, can I have a word with you?"   Hermione says in her "take charge" voice, as the current overall standings are updated.  

Fleur smiles, knowing what's coming next, and begs off to do her interviews.

I'm still in the lead with thirty-eight points.   Fleur and Krum are nipping at my heels at thirty-five.   Today's second place finisher, Athena, is trailing at twenty-six, and the winner of this task, and proof that a good night's rest is key to focus and multiple Apparitions, Cedric is a distant twenty-three, but a threat to be a spoiler in the final two events.

"You're dating Fleur Delacour.   What on Earth are you thinking?"   Okay, I was wrong; there is at least one person that would come up to me and ask that question.

"Yeah, it looks that way.   You're dating someone three years older too, Miss Kettle."

Hermione isn't amused.   Maybe it's the leg injury, but people usually laugh at my jokes—must be something in the water.   "What, I'm the Pot-ter.   It makes sense that you'd be the Kettle.   If a certain friend of ours was here, I could call him ’Black’ and complete the pun."

"Not funny, Harry.   Do you know what you're doing?"   She's got the foot-tapping thing going.

"Yes, I do."   I put a hand on her shoulder.   "Trust me, like I trust you.   That's all I ask."

"I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"Hermione, you picked the worst possible year for that resolution," I reply with a lopsided grin on my face, before continuing, "Assuming I don't end up back in the infirmary tonight, you can corner me in the Common Room and I'll give you the rundown on what happened last night."

"Well, at least you're not chasing after her like some gibbering baboon.   Just be careful of her charm."

"There's more to her than just an occasional glowing aura."

Hermione accepts that logic and I start to limp towards the vultures in the press tent.   She suddenly sprints up next to me.   She whispers rather urgently, "Wait just a second, Harry James Potter.   I read up on Part-Veelas.   The only time they achieve a perceptible aura is when they are aroused!"

"You don't say," I reply with a smirk.   "Can I go play with the journalists now, please?"

"You!   Common Room!   Tonight!   Or else!"

Her grasp over the English language seems to be slipping.   That's a bad sign.   I'd best be going now.

------

"Where've you been?   You weren't up with the Gargoyle again, were you?"   I bypass a few journalists to get over to the Sorting Hat and its golem body.

"McGonagall shanghaied me into helping beach the ship.   I was there most of the night and into the morning.   Suddenly, the incredible strength of this body is something of a liability."

"I could've used your help out there."

"Apparate better, shoot better, and try not to wreck your leg the night before.   Do all that, and you won't finish in last place.   Does that about cover it, or would you like some more encouragement?"

We watch Fleur getting grilled by the media for a few minutes.   People seem to have some crazy idea that we are dating.   Fleur answers with smiles and charming doublespeak.

"Funny as ever.   Let's get this nonsense over with."

Not that it would surprise anyone, all the reporters are curious about what happened to the Durmstrang ship.   I stick to the basic facts.   Fleur and I were on the ship as part of a friendly bet.   We left the ship.   The Poltergeist attacked us.   I held it in check while Fleur summoned help, and help arrived in the form of the Hogwarts ghosts, who destroyed it.   The damage caused to the vessel was a result of the destruction of the Geist.

"Yes, but Mr. Potter, how does one keep a Poltergeist in check?"   Rita asks, in her nonchalant manner.

"That would be through the use of magic, Rita."

"Care to be more specific?"

"Not particularly.   Next question.   You, sir."

"How about what you were doing in the Forbidden Forest with the French Foreign Minister's daughter?"   This comes from the thickly accented voice of one of the Eastern European papers.   Rita must have just found her soul mate.

"She was upset because of events on the boat.   I followed to make certain she was okay."

"Why was she upset?"

"You'd have to take that up with her, sir.   Next question, Miss Clearwater."

"Are you disappointed that another task has come, and because of outside influences, you were unable to give your best performance?"

"In some ways, yes, but I'm still in the overall lead.   I'll just have to make certain I'm in peak condition for the next round of dueling.   Next question, you sir."

"A two-part question, Mr. Potter—any comment on the sacking of Severus Snape?"

I smile, "Matters of staffing are really the Headmaster's area, but in this instance, I will say that poor performances catch up with us all, and that it was high time the man was removed and replaced with someone capable of teaching.   I am of the opinion that Hogwarts is better off without him, but don't take my word for it.   Take an informal survey of some of my classmates and you'll be surprised.   Your second part, sir?"

"Any comment on his hiring by Headmaster Igor Karkaroff as an instructor?"

"Nothing printable, I assure you.   Let me see if I can come up with something that is.   It's coming to me…Okay, Headmaster Karkaroff just lost the thing used to terrorize his students, so he was in need of a replacement.   Snape was all he could find on such short notice."   My eyes lock with Krum's.   He's already completed his interview and is doing individual "damage control" to try and maintain his marketable image.

I call on the French reporter and he asks, "Miss Delacour would neither confirm nor deny that you and she have struck up a relationship.   You were seen speaking with both her and her father.   Would you care to clarify?"

"I have the utmost respect for Fleur as a competitor and a friend.   Both of us respect each other's privacy and hope that the press will as well.   It was a great honor to meet Minister Delacour and have a brief conversation."

"You're not answering the question.   What did you and the Minister talk about?"

"We spoke about the tournament and he said that he'd be watching me with interest."   A few cameras go off and I hope my grin isn't too telling.

And so it goes—another ten minutes of them trying to weasel more details out of me, and my evasive answers.   Finally, I grow bored and give the last question to Rita.

"What do you think of your chances in the rest of the tournament?   What are your predictions for the next round of dueling?"

I almost answer with "pain" based off of some American boxing movie that Dudley went spare over.   Instead, I say, "We've all improved over the last few months.     I think it will be exciting.   As for my chances, it doesn’t hurt to have a lead at the moment.   It's going to come down to the final event, which should make everyone happy."

Heading out of the tent Hat grumbles, "They seem interested in you and Delacour.   Anything to that, HJ?"

"Nothing worth mentioning in this crowd."

------

Outside of the tent, I see Fleur waiting in the distance chatting with some of her friends and well-wishers, and Hermione and Ron lurking close by.     However, two others are clearly waiting for me—a scared-looking Neville and his grandmother.  

"Tough break out there, Harry."   Ron's still a bit skittish around the Hat's golem body.   I can't really fault him for that.  

"Ron, that's not very nice!"   Hermione says.

"Huh?"   He says, before realizing.   "Oh yeah, I guess that didn't come out the way I meant it."

"No worries, Ron.   It was a tough break."

"We've got some good seats saved, Harry.   Are you going to come watch the match with us in the stands?"   Ron asks.

"No, I've had a long night and need to go somewhere quiet and get some rest.   Tell me about it later.   Record some of it on your Omnis if the action gets real good, or we can watch it in the Pensieve later."

"Fair enough.   Looks like warm-ups are almost over and they'll be starting soon.   C'mon, Hermione!"

He drags off Granger, who simply mouths "Common Room" at me once more.   There's only one more thing separating me from going somewhere else with Fleur.   Let's see how quick I can knock this one out.

"Good day, Madame Longbottom."   I've been getting a refresher course in manners all day.   I might as well give them a try.

"Don't you 'good day' me, young man.   I want a word with you."   The crone starts after me in a stern voice.   She's going for the old "throw her weight around and wait for me to cave" technique.   I'm not sure it would even work with Harry, much with less with HJ.

"Very well, Madame.   What would you like to discuss?"   I give her unflappable civility and try to make Albus proud—assuming, of course, I can keep it up.

"You will cease meddling in Longbottom family affairs this very instant!"

I try to look thoughtful. "Meddling?   I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage.   If you're referring to my agreement with St. Mungo's, I prefer to see it as one friend helping another out of respect for the long friendship shared between them and their respective families.   Do you see it differently?"

"It is a family matter and your interference is not wanted."

"Interference implies that something is being done.   Since nothing has been done, how can you say I am interfering?"

"I've had enough of your cheek!"   Clearly, my strategy is wearing her down.

"Neville, why don't you take a walk over there while she and I have a little chat?"

The poor kid hesitates, but then walks off a few dozen paces.   I take that opportunity to drop Snape's famous Muffliato on us.   "You were saying, Madame?"

"You will owl St. Mungo's and stop this foolishness, or so help me, I will drag you there myself!"

"Neville believes his mother is improving.   Speaking as a son who knows that his mother will never get better, I can say that I'll support his cause with the contents of my trust vault, and upon reaching my majority, my family vaults.   If he never repays me, I won't lose any sleep.   His friendship is worth far more than that."

Clearly flustered, Augusta whispers, "I do not approve!"

"I'll persevere somehow."   A hint of sarcasm creeps into my voice.

"Don't take that tone with me, young man."

I gesture back to the press tent.   "I've got a better idea.   How about we go back in there and discuss it in full view of the reporters?   I'll be happy to tell them how I'm helping a friend get treatment for his mother against your wishes.   Skeeter lives for stories like this.   Put my name into the mix and by the tomorrow night, you could be the most hated woman in all of England."

Augusta's doesn't like the way she's being talked to—no big shock there.   "Now, listen here, Harry Potter.   I won't stand for such behavior."

"Then, may I conjure you a chair?"

"Insolent child!"

Manners clearly are a waste at this point.   I nod to Hat and that's all the encouragement it needs.   "What in the hell is that damn thing on your head, woman?   A vulture for a Hat?   Does it come to life when you die, to clean up the mess left behind?"

"I beg your pardon!"

"As well you should.   I remember you, Augusta Sinclair.   Back then you were a weak-minded fool little Slytherin wanting the world to do whatever you say.   Now, you're just one addled old witch, clinging to what power you married into."

"What have you done to the Sorting Hat?" She accuses me.   "This is a precious artifact and you have done something to it!   I will be taking this to the Board of Governors, I will.   They will know of this!"

Honestly, I'm shocked that people haven't accused me of this before.

"I am as Godric made me, you ignorant hag.   Go ahead and speak with them." Hat mocks her. "That collection of useless fossils!   They know me for what I am."

I try to be diplomatic.   "Hat, you're not really helping here.   Madame, you won't win against me.   If you attempt to go against me publicly, it will only result in your reputation being ruined.   I'd rather not do that, but only out of respect for your grandson."

"I don't think you're a good influence on Neville.   I may have to reconsider where I send Neville for his schooling next year."   She offers a not-so-veiled threat in retaliation.

"I could be polite at this point and say something like 'there would be consequences,' but the simple truth is that I would ruin you, completely and utterly.   I also couldn’t see you sending him too far away from your control, which leads me to believe you’re bluffing.   Finally, if his mother actually be recovering, and I pray that she is, she will be the one controlling his future."  

She walks away abruptly and commands Neville to his side.   I give him a nod letting him know that I've won this round.

I doubt the battle is over, though.

Breaking away from Hat, I meet up with Fleur.

"What did the witch want?   You appear to have angered her."

"I involved myself in something I consider honorable.  She chooses not to see it that way."

My girlfriend sighs. "You have an incredible gift for making people want to harm you, Harry.   There is a saying in my family.   'The easiest way to win a fight is to not have enemies.'   Perhaps I could teach you this."

"Maybe later.   How about we go back to the castle and find a place to relax?"

------

A few days later, I'm in the infirmary—back at "work," rather than being a patient.   Fleur went to France to check up on Aimee and engage in frivolous girl talk—the rumors that I am her latest boy-toy persist.   When she comes back, we're going to this dinner at the French embassy.  

I might have tipped off Penny that she should be there.

Ironically, Snape is still teaching in the dungeons.   Only this time, he's wearing Durmstrang robes and has a "guest" instructor office.   Old Horace Slughorn has accepted Dumbledore's offer and will be starting on Monday.   Sadly, it's back to Potions class for me, but I can probably score some serious points by bringing Fleur to a "Slug Club" meeting.

Hermione is almost there with her Occlumency.   She was briefly able to hold me out.   Soon, I will have to let both her and Fleur in on my greatest secret.   Just like Monsieur Pronghorn, I don't want to keep this one from Fleur very long, and I know that she already has some training in the mental disciplines.

I said it before: secrets destroyed James and Lily Potter.   It's why I hate them so.  

Lost in my thoughts, I almost swat the insect on my hand until I realize that it is my "spyfly" coming in from the proverbial cold and all that rot.

"Poppy, there’s nothing going on here.   Do you mind if I go back to my dorm for a few hours?"

The nurse looks up from the book she is reading.   "Go ahead, Harry.   I'll summon you with an elf if needed."

I move quickly back to the dorms and head up to my room.   The twins are keeping away from me so far.   For their sake, I hope that continues.   Once safe behind my ward line, I slip spyfly up to my ear and start listening for anything useful.   I hear people hurriedly removing artifacts from his office during the "abandon ship" period.   The next thing recorded is what can only be a Howler, spoken in Polish, and Karkaroff muttering.

Snape enters and immediately the buzzing of the Muffliato starts.   I listen anyway, trying to catch a stray word, but it's next to impossible.   I try a few charms to clear it up, but nothing works.

Frustrated, I pick up the mirror and call for Padfoot.   He looks a bit weary when he answers.

"Oi, Blackie.   How are things?"

"The negotiations with the Giants didn't go as well as hoped.   They'll be neutral for now, but it will only last until they get a better offer."

I'm impressed.   "They're willing to deal with us.   That's a lot better than we had any right to expect."

He scoffs in reply and tilts his head in mock arrogance.   "I'm Sirius Black.   Did you expect anything less?   I've heard you've been busy.   The papers around here are all twittering over you and Delacour.   Any truth to the rumors?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"Well done then, HJ!   I'm proud of you!   Shagged her yet?"

I roll my eyes, "Just when I thought you'd developed some couth. The answer is no.   I'm playing it by ear right now."

"There are better things to play with on her than her ear, Potter.   Hey, I'm just saying!"

"Don't ever change.   Hey, I need some inspiration.   More specifically, I need a way to beat the Muffliato charm.   Ask Remus if he has any ideas."

"I'm here as well, Harry," Lupin answers.   I give them the background on the spyfly and what I need, and we debate ways of cracking a privacy ward.   I try casting a Muffliato of my own, and try to listen through it with no luck.

Ultimately, the werewolf makes a good suggestion.   "Harry, the magic blocks your ability to perceive the words, but some of the conversation may still be imprinted on your consciousness.   Listen to it again and then withdraw the memory and use your Pensieve."

That's how I find myself standing next to … myself, and listening to the phantom spyfly in my memory's hands.   Its tough work; reminds me of one of the first few days after I got back to the Dursleys' after my second year, and Dudley got caught watching the after-hours girly movies on the late-night channels.   Petunia blocked his TV upstairs from getting those stations, and so he tried watching through the static, trying to see a glimpse of someone's naughty bits.   It was all rather sad.

This, however, has some potential.   I am actually hearing a few words.  

"…pay…this…"

"Relax Snape…unfolding…position…up..."

"…"

"…"

"…teaching…Slughorn…fossil…blow…"

"…talk about…"

"..."

"…soon … possible… contacted by Pettigrew…"

"…"

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Author Notes:

Thanks for reading and reviewing.   Check out www.jimbernheimer.com to find out how you can read my original short story Existence.   I can be found on DarklordPotter.net and the Space Battles forums for further commentary.

Horror, Humor, and Heroes is still on sale.   The e-book version will be released at the same time as the next chapter of this story.   Thanks to all that have purchased so far.     I really appreciate it.   I'd be even more grateful for reviews on Amazon.   :-)