43

Quidditch practice on Tuesday was going better than it had the day before. Harry was having an easier time spotting the Snitch in twilight conditions, and he was more optimistic about Thursday's match. He knew winning wasn't everything, but he'd invited ten guests—including Laetitia and Madam Hooch—and he didn't want to disappoint them.

They were already two hours into the practice match, and Owen and Harry were taunting each other to alleviate boredom more than anything. 'Do you have any big plans for your date tomorrow night?' asked Owen. 'I bet there's a lot of freaky stuff you can do with a semi-corporeal ghost.'

'Get your mind out of the gutter, Barrowmaker. Myrtle was only fifteen when she died.'

'True, but wasn't she classmates with Voldemort? That makes her at least seventy. Which I suppose is a whole other fetish for you to explore ... shall I introduce you to my grandmum?'

'I don't know—is she rich?' asked Harry. 'I come from a long line of gold-diggers.'

'That's true—your mum can't have been the first. Unfortunately my grandmum's no help in that regard, but there must be other women you can fleece—magical and Muggle. In fact, that might be a good way to save up for your future divorces, seeing as you're too proud to accept money from Silver Arrow.'

'That's how Voldemort got his start, you know—fleecing dowagers,' said Harry, recalling the Pensieve memory Dumbledore had shown him, in which a young Tom Riddle had flattered and ultimately murdered a wealthy dowager to obtain Hufflepuff's cup and Slytherin's locket.

'Right, but wasn't he tall and handsome? You mainly seem to coast on fame.'

'Oi, I shagged a Muggle last weekend! No fame required.'

'Then you must be good at wandless Compulsion Charms. Though I'd really thought better of you,' said Owen. 'But back to your date with a ghost ... is this another Oedipal fantasy? Your mum's dead, after all.'

'You're a sick man, Barrowmaker. Then again, I suppose you've had to cultivate your imagination to pass the time while you're in the skybenches watching me play.'

'No, I prefer listening to everyone in the stands slag you off. They're impressed you've found a way to put off becoming a has-been, but of course it's only a matter of time.'

'Yes, please tell me again about the three matches you won before your career ended,' retorted Harry. 'Is that what you tell your daughters at night to put them to sleep?'

'No, I just repeat all the self-involved blather you bore me with day after day.'

Frequently they had to stop taunting because one or both of them burst out laughing—neither of them took the other's insults seriously. Or they reversed roles and did their best to taunt themselves.

'Hey Barrowmaker,' said Owen, 'remember when you thought you were a big deal because you were a starting Seeker? Ironic, since it turned out you'd only be remembered for coaching someone more talented than yourself.'

'Do you mean Potter?' replied Harry. 'Not very bright, that one. He literally had direct insight into Voldemort's thoughts and movements for years, but he couldn't figure out he was a bloody Horcrux who needed to die. It's sad, really.'

'At least Potter did something useful during the war,' retorted Owen. 'Barrowmaker just sat in the stands with a bunch of Death Eaters watching his teammates play.'

Harry knew this was false, and that Owen had been active in the resistance. 'Meanwhile Potter is torching his reputation just to get his wand polished week after week. But I suppose that's what you have to do when witches keep dumping you, and you're too poorly educated to have any intellectual pursuits.'

'And of course he has no hope of learning anything from that poseur Barrowmaker,' countered Owen. 'The poor man thinks he's clever, but that's only because he spends all his time with other Quidditch players. It'll be sad when Darius finally cuts him from the team and he has to beg Potter to help him get an entry-level job at the Ministry.'

'At least Barrowmaker sat his N.E.W.T.s,' replied Harry. 'Potter will probably have to cover his divorce payments by driving the Knight Bus.'

'Nah,' said Owen. 'He can always charge for autographs and public appearances, though he might need to charm his scar darker if it keeps fading.'

'Excuse me, I thought we were self-taunting!' protested Harry. 'There are rules, you know.'

'I'm bored,' grumbled Owen. 'When's the bleeding Snitch going to appear? You're still practicing good spotting techniques, right?'

'Yes, my awareness is an all-knowing cloud. I am one with the bloody arena. And the Snitch is probably hiding behind one of the goalposts, having a smoke.'

'Now that's an image,' said Owen. 'You're really more clever than you get credit for.'

'It's not too late,' replied Harry. 'For all we know, the Prophet is preparing an exposé entitled "Harry Potter: Genius!"'

'"The Boy Who Thought!"' suggested Owen.

'"Lord Brainiac!"'

'Were any of your dead fathers clever?' asked Owen.

'Remus was. The other two, not so much. Sirius ruined his life trying to catch a rat Animagus, and my dad literally thought he could hold off Voldemort even though his wand was in the other room.'

'Please don't tell me you how you know that last detail. It's got to be some spooky way, right?'

'Yes, I saw it through Voldemort's memories. Welcome to my life.'

Both Harry and Owen suddenly jerked to the left and shot downwards. The Snitch had appeared just past Lyle and Gary, who were both jockeying for the same Bludger. Owen swerved out of the way as the Bludger approached but Harry stayed the course, instinctively knowing he wouldn't be struck, and he closed his hand triumphantly around the Snitch.

'Yes!' cried Harry. 'We can go home now!'

'Thank Merlin!' agreed Owen, removing his goggles. 'Oi, it's still light out.'

'You're right,' said Harry, pulling his off as well. 'What time is it anyway?'

'Five o'clock,' replied Lyle. 'Nice work, Snitchbottom.'

'It felt far later than that,' said Harry. 'Those goggles really play with your head.'

They flew to the benches for Tuttle's notes, and then Harry was free to shower and go home. It wasn't long before Hermione arrived.

'Hi, how was practice?' she asked.

'The match went on forever, but I caught the Snitch in the end.' He described the goggles, which fascinated her. 'How are you doing?'

'I'm well, thanks. Minerva and Professor Babbling were at the Ministry today, and I helped them remove the wards preventing people from remembering the other schools. It was an unusual process, because we had no idea why we were doing it. We just had to trust our written instructions.'

'Amazing,' said Harry. 'That should make a tremendous difference. Do you know how things are advancing at the Prophet?'

'Oddly, they've been harder to work with than the Ministry was, but we're scheduled to investigate on-site early next week. It's embarrassingly slow, of course, but that's wizards for you.'

'It is,' said Harry as they started eating the dinner Kreacher had prepared. 'Is Moaning Myrtle still willing to help?'

'If you're asking whether you're off the hook tomorrow night, the answer is no. She's dead set on your date—no pun intended—and she promises to get to work right afterwards. Unless, of course, she's too knackered,' said Hermione with a smirk.

'Very funny,' replied Harry. 'Hang on a minute—if the wards at the Prophet are still up, they won't be able to fully explain why I'm on a date with a ghost.'

Hermione sighed. 'That's right. I was hoping you wouldn't realise that until afterwards.'

'Thanks for your faith in my intellect, but no, I managed to rub two brain cells together in spite of my lack of N.E.W.T.s.'

'Harry! There's no need for sarcasm.'

'Ugh,' groaned Harry. 'It's the bloody taunting. Owen warned you, right?'

'Yes, in detail. Do you think you can rein it in for your broadcast tonight?'

'I've no idea, but at least Lee has the delay working. He decided not to take any chances and made it thirty seconds long. That should give me time to describe all the Horcruxes and Voldemort's favourite sex fantasy before he cuts me off.'

'Please tell me you never saw any of Voldemort's sex fantasies,' said Hermione nervously.

'No, I just saw how much he enjoyed torturing people, which was close enough.'

Hermione shuddered. 'Anyway, I hate to jump straight back to the topic of your date with Myrtle, but there's another detail you should know: the venue.'

'She agreed to the Three Broomsticks, right?'

'Er, she changed her mind. Now she wants to go to Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop.'

Harry's jaw dropped. 'Are you serious? Do they even serve proper food, or is it just cakes?'

'I think it's just cakes. And tea of course.'

'Bloody hell! I can't eat cake for dinner. That might work for a ghost, but I need actual food.'

'Can you have Kreacher bring you something? Or maybe you can get takeaway from the Three Broomsticks. I'm certain Madam Rosmerta would love an excuse to pop in.'

'I suspect the entire village of Hogsmeade will find an excuse to pop in,' scowled Harry. 'But your Kreacher suggestion is a good one ... the match is on Thursday and I'm forbidden from eating outside food a full day in advance, in case of potions. So I can just have Kreacher feed me.'

'Madam Puddifoot won't like that.'

'Madam Puddifoot can blow me,' snapped Harry. 'Ugh! Sorry! Bloody Quidditch!'

Smirking, Hermione said, 'Wow, you're really something. It's a good thing you never talked to Voldemort like that.'

'I'm pretty sure I talked to Umbridge like that,' he said. 'Or I should have done.'

'You'd have had to write a lot more lines in that case.' She reflexively glanced at his right hand and exclaimed, 'Hold on—where's your Umbridge scar?'

'Glamoured to oblivion! I had the goblins add it to the ring.'

'What a clever idea! You deserve an honorary N.E.W.T. just for coming up with it.'

'Cheers. I actually got the idea from the charmed pendant and wristwatches we got for the Dursleys. Which are apparently still earning their keep ... my uncle was attacked getting out of his car this morning, and my aunt was ambushed at the supermarket. But they were unharmed, and no other Muggles saw what happened.'

'I can't believe people are still attacking them, even though the Prophet has run announcements every day. Is that why you're so keen to do the broadcast tonight?'

'Exactly.'

'It serves them right, you know,' scolded Hermione. 'Obviously I'm glad they're protected, but at least they're seeing how many people are angry at them.'

Harry sighed. 'It doesn't help. All it does is confirm that wizards are a bunch of violent freaks.'

'I know, but it also shows how important you are in the wizarding world.'

'There may have been a time when I'd have cared about that, but I don't anymore. They'd just find some new way to make me feel worthless.'

'You're nobler than I am, Harry. I admit there's a part of me that wishes my old bullies could see how far I've come. I'm tempted to drag Ryan around to restaurants and pubs near where I grew up, just to show him off.'

Eventually their conversation came around to his Friday meeting with Ragnok and other high-ranking goblins. 'It should be very straightforward,' said Hermione. 'We'll tell you where to walk and what to say, and you'll be out of there within half an hour.'

'Half an hour? Just to hand over some artefacts?'

'Well, there's a ceremony to go with it. It's an historic event after all.'

'I don't think that's a good idea—goblins like to keep things simple. When I gave back the drinking horn it took less than a minute. Thirty seconds even.'

'Hmm, you may be right. I suppose the Ministry doesn't have a good track record when it comes to goblins. I'll talk to Octavia and see what she thinks.'

Harry was silent a moment. 'That was odd. I'm not accustomed to knowing more about something than you do. Except flying, perhaps, but according to Ryan you're quickly catching up.'

'I'm sure he's exaggerating. Although I did purchase my own broom last week—a Cleansweep Twelve. Obviously not what you'd fly, but I felt rather bold.'

'Congratulations! Perhaps we'll go flying together sometime. I'd like to visit the ruins of my grandparents' house, and I suspect flying will be the best way to explore. Though I'm afraid it'll be depressing, considering my grandparents were probably killed there.'

'That's not true,' said Hermione. 'I took the liberty of looking them up once we learnt their names from the tapestry, and they both died from Dragon Pox before you were born.'

'Dragon Pox? I thought that was curable.'

'It is, but they were elderly. Apparently they were already quite old when they had your father.'

Harry sighed. 'I can scarcely imagine having parents, let alone grandparents. My mother's parents died prematurely as well, but Aunt Petunia never told me much about them. I don't think she liked to acknowledge we had any relations in common. It must have been a great relief to her that Dudley and I look nothing alike.'

'It's a relief to me, certainly!' said Hermione. 'Other than your eyes, you seem to be all Potter.'

'Yes, but I'm considering changing my name.'

'Really? To Black?'

'Potter-Black. Laetitia convinced me that hyphenation is becoming more common. But I want to talk to Andromeda and some of the other Blacks first.'

'Not Narcissa, surely!'

'Can you imagine that conversation? "My dear Lady Malfoy, I'm considering insulting your pure-blood ancestors by adopting your name and dragging it through the mud with my loose morals and generally obnoxious behaviour. Would you mind?"'

'Naturally, Draco would have to be present as well,' said Hermione. '"Hey Draco, this means everyone will know we're cousins! Perhaps we can go flying together. Oh, bother ... you're still under house arrest. Maybe next year."'

Harry laughed. 'It appears I'm not the only one with a devilish streak! But what's your excuse? Surely Ryan's not to blame.'

'No ... I think I've always been this way, but I'm less inclined to stifle it than I once was.'

'It's entertaining,' said Harry. 'And you'll make me look slightly less odious by comparison. But perhaps you can help me redeem myself ... I could use your advice on all the charitable requests I've received since joining the Cannons.'

'Oh dear, you probably have a mountain of them by now.'

'I almost certainly would, except Mrs Thwip compiled them into a single report.' Harry pulled a parchment from his pouch and unrolled it.

Hermione leaned in for a closer look. 'Impressive! I can see why Lockhart engaged her.' She scanned the list. 'Heavens, there really are a lot of dubious charities in the wizarding world!'

'Like the one that puts commemorative plaques on important places in wizarding history?'

'No, that's pretty good compared to some of them. Like the arts organisation that produces a play every year about a past Chief Witch or Warlock of the Wizengamot. Or the herbological society devoted to the cultivation of new types of pumpkins.' Hermione continued reading the list, and exclaimed, 'Really? The Museum of Broken Wands? Why would anyone want to look at those?'

'Maybe I should give them the Elder Wand,' said Harry. 'Surely that would be their most popular exhibit.'

'Do you still have it?'

'Yes, the pieces are in my Mokeskin pouch. I wasn't sure what to do with it, to be honest. I can't say I've ever wanted to reopen Dumbledore's tomb and put it back.'

'I'm certain the museum would want it, but do you really think that's a good idea?' asked Hermione.

'You mean is it safe? I suppose I'd have to ask Ollivander whether anyone could use the pieces to craft a new one. But otherwise I'd love to offer proof I actually destroyed it, so nobody tries coming after me.'

'Alternatively you could give it back to Malfoy, when you tell him you're changing your name. Technically speaking, he was master of the Elder Wand longer than you were.'

'I'm sure he's not at all bitter about that.' Harry looked again at the list of charities. 'There seem to be a number of good charities—particularly the one for orphans.'

'Wizarding Orphans Relief Fund, yes. I can see why that would appeal to you. And according to the description, they help anyone in need and not just orphans.'

They reviewed the list together and check-marked the charities that seemed the most deserving, and Harry resolved to donate money or offer his services in some other way.

He looked at his pocket watch and said, 'I should head to Diagon Alley for the broadcast in a few minutes.'

'Is that what you're wearing?' asked Hermione.

Harry looked down at his outfit. 'What's wrong with it?'

'You're not wearing any flowers. People expect them now.'

'I suppose, but I don't want to become predictable.'

'That's why you vary the type of flower. Do you have any boutonnières at the house right now?'

'Yes, in my bedroom. The florist keeps sending me them.'

'Let's have a look,' she said, leading the way upstairs to his bedroom. There were a half dozen different boutonnières on his dresser, and she appraised them carefully. 'Some of these are too big.'

'Yes, I need to tell them that. Smaller is better, as far as I'm concerned.'

'This white one is lovely,' she said, delicately sniffing a spray of freesia. 'And so is this one.' She handed him a boutonnière composed solely of greenery, and he slid it into his buttonhole. 'Do you know what you're wearing for your date with Myrtle?'

Harry sighed. 'As much as it pains me to do it, I'm pulling out all the stops. She's doing us an enormous service, after all.'

'Does this mean ...' began Hermione.

'Yes, the floral waistcoat.'

Hermione's face lit up. 'Will you wear a myrtle flower as well?'

'No, it would clash with the waistcoat. I ordered a boutonnière with rosebuds and myrtle leaves, and also an extremely pungent bouquet for when I pick her up at her bathroom.'

'Oh, Harry! You're really quite romantic. How will you travel to Hogsmeade after picking her up?'

'On my broomstick,' he said. 'Do you know if she can sit on one?'

'I'm certain she'll make every effort.' She smiled and added, 'You're terribly sweet to do this, especially considering how much you'll be taunted.'

'It can't be worse than anything I've heard already,' he said as they walked back downstairs. 'And people will learn the real reason soon enough.'

'Will you mention it during the broadcast tonight?'

'Yes, but only respectfully, in case anything I say gets back to her.'

They parted company at the fireplace, with Hermione travelling to Ryan's flat and Harry to the Leaky Cauldron. One of the bar patrons asked, 'Are you going to be on the radio again, Harry?'

'Yes, in a quarter hour. Weasley's Wizard Wireless!'

He strode towards the shop, which was even more crowded than it had been the previous week. A number of young witches were standing outside the entrance, and several photographers snapped his photo as he approached.

'Harry,' called a reporter. 'Are you going to respond to the stories about your childhood.'

'No. That's my own business and should never have been made public. My only statement is that I don't want anyone to retaliate against my relations. For Merlin's sake, leave them alone!'

Harry entered the store and George whisked him through the cheering crowd. 'George, how are you?' he asked.

'To be honest we've been working like mad. It took Lee a while to fine-tune the delay button, and I've been charming Prongs pyjamas whenever I have a spare moment. Ever since Saturday's match they've been flying off the shelves.'

'I'm glad something good came out of it,' sighed Harry.

'Yes, let's talk once we're in the booth.' George led him there, and they sat down next to Lee.

'Hi Harry, thanks so much for coming,' said Lee. 'Are you certain you're all right with this? We can do the show without you if you prefer.'

'People are still attacking my relations—I need to address it. I'm sorry to make your show more serious than it might otherwise be, but there it is.'

'Don't worry, we're glad to provide a platform. But I assume we should avoid the topic otherwise.'

'That's right. It's no one's business but my own.'

'Understood. What about the match with Gilstrap?'

'I'd rather not discuss what he said to me, but feel free to talk about how I punched him and got ejected. Go ahead and take the piss—I should never have lost my temper.'

'Brilliant,' said Lee. 'And is it true you have a date tomorrow night with Moaning Myrtle? Please say yes.'

'I do, and I'd like to publicise the situation with the wards and the other schools, but not at Myrtle's expense. She's doing us a huge favour, and without her we're doomed.'

'Noted ... no making fun of your girlfriend. Is there anything else you want to discuss?'

Harry smiled, remembering the condoms. 'I have a product idea for you, but it's not exactly family-friendly.'

George and Lee exchanged glances. 'Just how inappropriate are we talking?'

'It's something I learnt about in primary school when I was ten, so not terribly, but it definitely pertains to my loose morals. Shall I tell you now, or do you want it to be a surprise?'

'Surprise, definitely,' said Lee. 'It'll make the show much more entertaining if we hear about it the same time as everyone else. But George and I reserve the right to use the broadcast delay and censor the idea if you've gone too far.'

'That's fine. And if I accidentally say something I shouldn't, may I ask you to censor it?'

'Yes, but know that the in-store audience will hear it regardless,' replied Lee. 'In fact, we should probably censor at least one statement, just to get more people to show up next time.'

'More people?' exclaimed Harry. 'Where would you even put them?'

'Doesn't matter,' said George. 'Demand is demand. They'll just have to arrive earlier if they want a spot.'

'Do you mind talking with Walburga?' asked Lee.

'Er, does she know about Rita's latest article?'

'I don't think so, unless one of her visitors told her. But I can't imagine that happening.'

'No, rational conversation isn't her strong point.'

George looked at his pocket watch. 'One minute.'

Harry conjured a glass and filled it with water. 'I'm not drinking anything from either of you,' he said testily.

'Excuse me, we stopped selling Love Potions years ago.'

'You mean after Ron got hit with the one intended for me?'

'Well, yes,' said George. 'Though in our defence, it wasn't originally that strong. It's only became so powerful because you didn't ingest it right away.'

Lee held up his fingers to count down. 'Good evening, and welcome to another episode of Weasley's Wizard Wireless!' Harry could see the crowd cheering but he couldn't hear them. 'Once again, we're delighted to have our dear friend with us, the one and only Harry Potter.'

There were enthusiastic cheers outside, and Harry waited a moment for people to stop applauding. 'You realise I'm far from being the one and only Harry Potter. There are bound to be dozens in Britain, and even more overseas.'

'That's very true,' said Lee. 'Which is why we at Weasley's Wizard Wireless pledge only to host the wizard Harry Potter, Order of Merlin, First Class, and not just some poor Confunded Muggle.'

'Actually, how do we even know this is the right wizard?' asked George. 'You could be Polyjuiced.'

'You're right,' said Harry. 'During the war we had a protocol for this sort of thing. Though I'm not certain I should answer an identifying question over the radio. Would it be all right to cast my Patronus instead?'

Harry could see the crowd cheering wildly. 'Would it be all right?' repeated George. 'It would be fantastic! Bring him out!'

'I should probably stand up,' said Harry. 'I'm not certain I've ever cast a Patronus sitting down, except for on my broom.' He stood and raised his wand. 'Expecto Patronum!'

Prongs leapt from Harry's wand, and the crowd immediately parted to make room for him. But he seemed disorientated, as if unsure why he'd been called forth.

'Listeners,' said Lee, 'I'm pleased to confirm that Prongs is now standing in the store, but he looks a bit lost. Harry, could you give him a task or something?'

'Er, Prongs,' began Harry, addressing the blinking stag. 'Sorry to confuse you like that. Would you mind saying hello to, er ...'

'Draco Malfoy,' said George. 'Go say hello to Draco Malfoy. I'm certain he'd enjoy some company.'

Prongs looked at Harry for confirmation. 'That seems a bit obnoxious,' said Harry. 'Malfoy and I don't have the best history.'

'Nonsense, you kept him out of Azkaban,' replied George. 'Go on, Prongs. Say hi to Draco. He's Harry's cousin, you know.'

'Distant cousin,' said Harry. 'And I'm not certain he'd own the relationship, given my Blood Status.'

'Times are changing!' cried Lee. 'Prongs, don't be shy. Off to Malfoy Manor with you!'

Prongs looked again at Harry, who finally said. 'That's fine, Prongs, go ahead. You can say, "Hi Malfoy. So sorry to drop in unannounced. Enjoy the rest of your evening."'

The stag zoomed out of sight, to more cheers.

'So, Harry,' said Lee, 'now that we've established your identity, and possibly created a new broadcast tradition, is there anything you'd like to say to our audience.'

Harry sat down. 'Yes, and this is very serious. Please stop attacking my relations. If I'd wanted revenge, I could have managed it myself and got away with it. But I've never wanted that, and I beg you to stop. The first thing I did after the match was arrange protections for them—that's why I sent for Hermione. She and Ryan Bellamy accompanied me to my aunt and uncle's house, and they very kindly set up wards. And I went to Gringotts and arranged further protection.'

'That's remarkable, particularly given how they treated you,' said George, in a voice Harry knew was his most sincere. 'Only our in-store audience can see him, but Harry clearly means what he's saying.' Many of the audience members nodded in agreement. 'Please, leave his relations alone.'

'If you want to help orphans,' said Harry, 'there are excellent organisations in need of support. I for one plan to donate to the Wizarding Orphans Relief Fund, and I'm certain there are worthwhile Muggle charities as well.'

'Indeed,' said Lee. 'Does that conclude the serious portion of our broadcast, or would you like to berate us some more?'

'It's tempting,' replied Harry, 'but I'll leave off for now.'

'Excellent! So about your commitment to non-violence, would you care to comment on how you punched Andrew Gilstrap on Saturday?'

'Yes. I used my right hand. Or fist, rather.'

'Did everyone see the photograph?' asked George. 'That was really an impressive blow from such an awkward angle—on a broom no less. Did you ever try punching Voldemort off his broom?'

'No, he didn't require a broom. Plus he was a lot taller than I am, and I was rather frail by the end of the war.'

'You really were. I'm certain Gilstrap could have taken you back then. But is there anything else you'd like to say about the incident.'

'Yes, I'm very sorry I lost my temper. I shouldn't have allowed myself to be provoked like that. And I apologise in particular to the Cannons fans, who deserve a Seeker who can control himself.'

'You really have quite a temper,' observed George. 'You were a serious pain in the arse during my final year at Hogwarts.'

'Dolores Umbridge was running the school! Of course I was a pain in the arse.'

'But to your mates?' persisted George. 'We really bore the brunt of it. In fact, I think you deserve punishment.'

'Not more lines, surely,' said Lee.

'No,' said George with a cheeky grin. 'I think you need a motherly scolding from Walburga.'

'Oh god, no,' cried Harry. 'Not Walburga!'

'I'm afraid so.' George tapped the portrait with his wand. 'Excuse me, Mrs Black. We've got Harry here and he needs a proper scolding.'

Walburga opened her eyes and immediately scowled. 'The filthy half-blood? Why does he keep tormenting me?'

Harry looked at her pleadingly. 'Because you torment me, Walburga, with your empty promises of love. I lie every night in your old bed, yearning for your return. But you never join me—not once.'

'You aren't worthy of the bed of my fathers! You've ruined it with your unclean depravity!'

'How dare you call me unclean!'

'That's right!' said George. 'He's a dandy, not a fop. Fops are the unhygienic ones.'

'Vile abomination! Your very core is tainted with Muggle blood!'

'Oh, it's worse than that, Walburga,' smirked Harry. 'I shagged a Muggle at the weekend.'

Lee and George burst into laughter, and Walburga turned purple with rage. 'I curse you! I curse you, foul imp! Begone from my sight!'

'Furthermore,' continued Harry, 'I highly recommend shagging a Muggle if you get the opportunity. Not you, Walburga—you're a portrait. But everyone else.'

Livid, Walburga pulled one of the mole rats from its cage and threw it at Harry, but it smacked against the front of the canvas and squealed loudly before scurrying off.

'That's enough,' said George, tapping the portrait with his wand. 'Harry, I'm endlessly impressed by your ability to provoke her.'

'It took practice, but remember we lived together for a long time.'

Lee cleared his throat. 'Let's not lose focus, Harry. You just shared some startling new information—you shagged a Muggle. Is it serious? Are you planning to introduce her to the wizarding world?'

'No, I was completely incognito, and we're unlikely to see each other again.'

'And that's what our listeners were waiting to hear,' announced George. 'This week's store discount depended on whether Harry Potter had a one-night stand at the weekend, and the answer is a resounding yes! So bring in our advertisement and receive a ten-percent discount through Sunday.'

'Actually, it was two nights,' said Harry.

'That changes everything,' said Lee. He looked at the audience and asked, 'Judges, how do you rule? Does a two-night stand still unlock this week's discount?'

The crowd cheered wildly, and Harry could feel the floor shake as they stomped their feet. 'That looks like a yes,' he said.

'It certainly does!' replied Lee. 'The discount stands! So Harry, please elaborate. Was Walburga's former bed involved?'

'No, that would have been a clear violation of the Statute of Secrecy. The first night was at her flat, and the second night was at a hotel.'

'A seedy hotel? With hourly rates?'

'No, it was very nice. It reminded me of Malfoy Manor, actually—minus the torture.'

'They should put that in their advertisements,' suggested George. 'What else would you like to tell us about your Muggle adventure?'

'The details are private,' said Harry. 'But this brings me to my product suggestion.'

'Ah, yes,' replied Lee. 'I should warn our listeners that Harry hasn't told us yet what he has in mind, and we may be required to censor him if it's unsuitable. Though our in-store audience will hear everything.' The crowd applauded enthusiastically.

'Lee's finger is poised over a rune right now,' said Harry. 'He's clearly ready to silence me if I cross a line. But here's my idea ... Weasley's Wizard Wheezes should produce condoms, to be used by wizards during encounters with Muggles.'

A portion of the audience exploded with laughter, but Harry could see that the rest were mystified. Lee and George exchanged a quick glance and nodded enthusiastically at each other.

'It's clear that not everyone in our audience knows what a condom is,' said Lee. 'Harry, would you care to explain?'

He took a deep breath. 'Oh dear, I didn't realise it wasn't common knowledge. I learnt about them when I was ten, in primary school. It's a thin rubber wrapper a man uses during sexual intercourse to prevent pregnancy and transmission of diseases.'

Expressions of shock and horror from some of the wizards in the audience. 'Frankly, that sounds dreadful,' said George. 'But it can't be as awful as what I'm imagining if you went back for a second night, correct?'

'That's right. It wasn't the same as without, but it was still perfectly enjoyable. But the problem is the application. It's rather fiddly, and I can't say I was at peak mental acuity.'

'So you can't apply it in advance, like a Contraception Charm?'

'No, it's smack in the middle. Do you see the problem?'

'I'm relieved to say I can't see the problem right now,' replied George. 'You're seated and appear to be perfectly composed. But I can imagine why that would be tricky.'

'Yes,' said Lee. 'So tell us what you're envisioning. It seems you've put some thought into this.'

'I'm picturing something that looks like an ordinary Muggle condom, only magically enhanced. For example it would be self-applying and fortified against breakage. It could also have Contraception Charms, for extra protection.'

George was nodding thoughtfully. 'That's a good idea, yes. But you've only just begun. For this to be worthy of the Weasley name, it needs to be truly outstanding.'

'Frankly, I'd be wary of any contraceptive device named after a Weasley, but I'll overlook that for now,' said Harry.

'Fair enough,' said George. 'But can we add other enhancements? To improve the experience?'

'I can only speak for myself, but I'd certainly appreciate a thinner material.'

'And what do you think the witch might like?' asked Lee. 'The woman, rather.'

'I know they make ribbed ones,' said Harry, 'but I'm told they don't make much difference.'

'I know what would make a difference,' said George. 'Size.'

'Merlin!' exclaimed Harry. 'That didn't even cross my mind.'

'It might have crossed hers,' said Lee. 'Though I suppose she came back for seconds.'

'Damn right she did,' said Harry smugly, and the audience started hooting.

'You've clearly identified a promising market niche,' said George. 'Harry, can we give you the credit in some way?'

'What, Harry Potter branded condoms? Absolutely not. My only endorsement is Livingston's Flowers on Diagon Alley.'

'Yes, of course. But perhaps we could make a charitable donation in your honour, for every condom sold.'

'I'd have to think about it,' said Harry. 'Maybe consult Gringotts first.'

'Definitely. Only an idiot would enter a business agreement without due diligence,' said George. 'Like our original backer, for example.'

'Yes, he was a complete git,' agreed Harry. 'But we've strayed from my original point, which is that every witch or wizard should at least get to know a few Muggles. There are all sorts of brilliant Muggles out there—same as wizards—and you're severely limiting yourself if you never even meet any.'

'But how do you get to know a Muggle without violating the Statute of Secrecy or resorting to memory charms?' asked Lee.

'I'll admit, that takes some ingenuity. But it's definitely worth the effort, and my life is certainly richer for it.'

'And that's nothing to sneeze at,' said George, 'We all know how rich Harry Potter is, after all.'

'Oi! That was last week's Prophet. I thought we were past that!'

'Yes, you're right. Silly me ... you're only set for one lifetime and not hundreds. Perhaps we should establish a charity for you.' Harry glowered at George, who started laughing. 'And that's clearly a sore point. Take note, Miss Preston,' he said, referring to the Caerphilly Seeker.

Lee interjected, 'In the interest of not further alienating our most popular guest, after Walburga of course, I'd like to change the topic. Harry, I understand you have a very important engagement tomorrow night.'

'That's right. I'm going on a date with Myrtle Warren, late of Hogwarts.'

'And you're using the word "late" deliberately?'

'I am. Miss Warren is a ghost.'

Numerous audience members doubled over with laughter, but Harry continued, 'She's assisting us with an absolutely crucial task involving the Hogwarts wards. As you may have heard, for more than eighty years, Hogwarts and other key institutions have been warded to make people forget that any other wizarding schools exist.'

'I was certainly shocked to learn about it last month, and I assume most of our listeners were as well,' said Lee. 'Would the members of our in-store audience who attended schools other than Hogwarts be so kind as to raise their hands?' Roughly two-thirds of the audience members obliged.

'Yes, exactly,' said Harry. 'My teammate Owen Barrowmaker had long suspected the existence of interfering wards, and Hermione Granger took action to uncover them, along with Hogwarts headmistress Minerva McGonagall and George's brother Bill. But with help from Myrtle Warren, those wards will be gone soon, and I'm taking her to dinner tomorrow night to show my appreciation.'

'Where will this date occur?' asked Lee. 'Not at Hogwarts, surely?'

'No, in Hogsmeade. I've a lovely evening planned.'

'Will you require condoms?' asked George brightly, and Harry promptly pressed his finger to the broadcast delay rune.

'She's fifteen,' said Harry, still touching the rune.

'You're right. Lee, how do we restart the broadcast?'

Lee lifted Harry's hand from the rune and used his wand to perform a quick charm. 'Listeners, I apologise for the silence. I can assure you that Harry said nothing inappropriate, for once.'

'There's a first time for everything,' said Harry, and the tense moment passed. 'So if Myrtle is listening, I'd like to thank her for her kind service to wizardkind.'

'You mean by keeping you occupied for a few hours?' asked Lee.

'Exactly,' replied Harry. 'And there should be photographs in Thursday's Prophet, though we don't know yet whether Myrtle shows up on film.'

'Listeners, place your bets now!' announced Lee. 'This will make the third witch Harry is photographed with in nearly as many weeks. Should we expect to see you again with your exceedingly lovely companion from last week?'

'Yes, and I can assure you she's equally lovely on the inside,' said Harry, prompting guffaws from both Lee and George.

'I'm certain she is,' said Lee. 'Listeners, I can't believe it, but Harry's actually blushing!'

'Excuse me,' said Harry indignantly, 'I was referring to her personality—Laetitia and I are only friends. But she'll be attending the match on Thursday night, and I imagine we'll be seen together on future occasions as well.'

'You've certainly had a lot of partners since my sister chucked you,' said George. 'Would you care to comment?'

'No, but I'm certain Doctor Niffler will.'

'I'm sorry, who's Doctor Niffler?' asked George.

'That's my name for the Mind Healer the Prophet keeps consulting about me. Cassia something ... she wrote a self-help book called Be Your Own Niffler, which I haven't read.'

'Oh, Cassia Dexter. My mum has several of her books—she's quite well-known.'

Harry scowled. 'If she's well-known, you'd think she'd understand the value of privacy. She certainly doesn't respect mine.'

'You mean you didn't like how she said you were a walking wound with a Dursley-shaped knife through your heart?' said George.

'Or how deep down you miss Voldemort, because he gave your life meaning?' added Lee.

'Did she really say that?' exclaimed Harry. 'I only skimmed yesterday's article. What a load of bollocks!'

'Are you making an official statement?' asked Lee.

'Yes, my official statement is that I do not even slightly miss Voldemort.'

'Even though he gave your life meaning?' prompted George.

'If by "meaning" you mean I was subject to a bloody prophecy for years, then yes, I'm delighted to be living a meaningless life,' replied Harry.

Lee and George simultaneously pressed the broadcast delay rune. 'Harry, did you intend to reveal that?' asked George.

'Everyone knows there's a prophecy,' said Harry. 'I'm not planning on revealing the details, but feel free to broadcast what I said.'

Lee used his wand to restore the broadcast. 'Listeners, you heard it here first. There was indeed a prophecy. Harry, would you care to say any more about it?'

'It said I had the power to defeat Voldemort, but it was maddeningly non-specific about how to do it or whether success was even likely. Voldemort heard the first half of the prophecy before I was born, and that's why he tried to kill me as a baby.'

'Interesting,' said George. 'And here I thought it was a trick-or-treating attempt gone horribly wrong. Hallowe'en, you know.'

Harry laughed and said, 'It's really a tribute to my Seeker training that I can laugh about this. Owen and I spend hours taunting each other every day, and I'm certain I've heard every possible dead parent joke.'

'And you're referring to Owen Barrowmaker, Chudley Cannons reserve Seeker?' asked Lee.

'That's right. Also known as the man who saved my arse after I was ejected on Saturday.'

'I thought that was the Snitch and not your arse,' said George. 'Or have I long misunderstood a crucial aspect of Quidditch—or your anatomy?'

'No, I was speaking figuratively. My arse is not a Snitch, and Owen has never interacted with it.'

Lee announced, 'Audience members, please raise your hand if you never expected to hear Harry Potter say, "My arse is not a Snitch." ... Yes, that's pretty much every hand in the store.'

'I would hereby like to offer a special bonus for those of you who present this week's advertisement,' declared George. 'If you say "My arse is not a Snitch," at the time of purchase, we'll raise the discount to fifteen percent. Through Sunday only.'

'Hang on, shouldn't the phrase be, "Harry Potter's arse is not a Snitch?"' asked Lee.

'No, we're trying to respect Harry's privacy,' said George. 'If anyone says "Harry Potter's arse is not a Snitch," you won't receive the original discount and we'll charge you five percent extra.'

'Thank you,' said Harry. 'This level of respect is the reason I'm willing to appear on your broadcast.'

'Indeed. We've been downright obsequious,' said Lee. 'Does this mean we haven't scared you away yet?'

'That's correct. I imagine I'll be back regularly, if only to reconnect with Sirius's dear mother.'

'You're right, she's practically family. Will you be taking the Black name soon?' asked George.

Harry resisted the urge to press the broadcast delay rune, but instead said, 'The Cannons publicity department would be furious if I tried, so for the time being I'm still a Potter.'

'For the time being? Fascinating. I suspect we'll hear more on this topic in the future.'

'Don't hold your breath,' replied Harry. 'Anyway, I should probably leave before I say something I regret.'

'Yes, so far you've only scandalised wizarding Britain with your condom idea, insulted a beloved Mind Healer, and revealed a top-secret prophecy,' said Lee. 'If you don't find a way to be more interesting, Harry, we might not have you back on the programme.'

'I understand,' said Harry, nodding soberly. 'I'll try to come up with something more exciting next time.'

'Please do. Anyway, good luck against the Catapults on Thursday night, and see you again soon!'

'Yes, and try not to punch Isla Preston,' suggested George. 'Nobody seemed to mind when you clocked Gilstrap, but hitting a witch might be frowned upon.'

'Thanks for the advice. And thanks again for having me on the show.'

George ushered Harry from the booth and closed the door behind them. 'That was brilliant! Are you happy with how it went?'

'Yes. I'm sure I'll get taunted for something or other, but that's normal, and I'm not worried about Preston. How did you like the condom idea?'

'Honestly, it's a stroke of genius—we'll definitely pursue it. And seriously, pick a charity you'd like to benefit.'

'All right, I'll get back to you. See you Thursday night.'

Harry received loud cheers as he passed through the crowd, and when he exited the store he spent a few minutes signing autographs. The final witch to approach him was particularly bold, handing him the 'Man Who Lived' issue of the Prophet from the previous month. 'I just love this photograph,' she said breathily. 'I'd never seen you before without your eyeglasses.'

'Who should I sign it for?' he asked, admiring her long blond hair and pouty lips.

'Lydia. Lydia Travers.'

Harry's eyes shot open—Travers was an inner-circle Death Eater, sentenced for life to the lowest level of Azkaban.

'He's my great-uncle,' she said without prompting.

'How would your family feel about you asking for my autograph tonight?' he asked.

'It's none of their concern. I'm of age.'

'Yes, I can see that,' he said approvingly. 'Is this your way of rebelling?'

'So what if it is?' she asked, looking meaningfully at him.

'I've no complaints, certainly. Rebel however you like.'

'I can think of lots of ways I'd like to rebel,' she whispered. 'I'm very imaginative.'

He raised his eyebrows. 'Why don't I know you from Hogwarts?' he asked. 'I thought that's where your family went.'

'My father's family, yes. But my mother's people went to Stodgings, and that's the letter I received.'

Harry smiled roguishly. 'It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Travers.'

'Call me Lydia.' She looked at him through lowered eyelashes and said, 'I'm certain your house-elf can find me.'

The mental image of Kreacher interrupted Harry's mood. 'I should leave. I have practice in the morning.'

'Yes,' she murmured. 'Go Cannons.'

'Perhaps I'll see you sometime ... Lydia.'

'Perhaps you shall.'

As he walked away, Harry looked over his shoulder once more and saw her regarding him steadily, her lips slightly parted. He turned on his heel and returned to the sitting room at Grimmauld Place. Sweet Merlin! he thought as he loosened his necktie and sat down.

He distracted himself by sending his Patronus to Ron and Hermione for their opinion on the broadcast. 'I can't believe you sent Prongs to Malfoy Manor,' laughed Ron's dog. 'You are one cheeky bastard.'

Hermione's otter was equally amused but for a different reason. 'Here I was worried about you all weekend, and it turns out you were off shagging a Muggle! You really are a devil!'

Harry smiled, picturing his two old friends with their new partners, and the contrast with his own unattached state. This suits me just fine, he thought wickedly, recalling Lydia.

And believe me, Doctor Niffler ... I don't miss Voldemort in the slightest.