The Source of Magic

Flirt

Chapter 4 ~ Flirt

The Order of the Phoenix decided that Harry should get his Apparation license as soon as possible, now that he was seventeen. Apparation could be a very useful means of escape in a difficult situation. Although he was already able to Apparate, it would be risky to do it without a license, given the current state of affairs at the Ministry of Magic. Two years ago, they had tried to convict him for using a Patronus Charm, even though it was in self-defence. They would have succeeded, too, had it not been for Professor Dumbledore. Harry had been too young to do the test at the end of the last school year. Hermione had passed, but Ron failed by a hair's-breadth — or more precisely, half an eyebrow — so he would be doing the test with Harry.

Bill came to the Burrow the morning of the test to help them brush up on their Apparation skills. He was fully recovered from the horrific injuries sustained at the hands of Fenrir Greyback, although his once-handsome face was now permanently disfigured. Bill carried his scars rather well, Harry thought. His face was no longer handsome, but he still looked cool. The scars gave him a dashing, swashbuckling air — like a pirate who had seen a bit too much action.

Bill accompanied them to the Ministry of Magic for the Apparation test in the afternoon. Mr Weasley temporarily reconnected the Burrow to the Floo Network to allow them to Floo to the Ministry. They emerged from one of the gilded fireplaces set into the wall of the Atrium and proceeded to the security desk. A short, bearded wizard asked them to step forward one at a time. He passed a long golden rod up and down their fronts and backs. Then he placed their wands on a strange brass instrument that vibrated and spewed out narrow strips of parchment, which he impaled on a small brass spike before handing the wands back.

Harry and Ron followed Bill through the gates into the smaller hall beyond, where the lifts were located. The golden grille of a lift slid back, and they stepped in along with several witches and wizards who were too busy whispering furtively to each other to pay them any attention. People seemed fearful of talking openly; you could almost sense the siege mentality, thought Harry. Any Ministry employee caught criticising Fudge and his policies, would be out of a job before you could say: Yes, Minister. A female voice announced their arrival at Level Seven and the departmental offices to be found there; Bill shook his head. The doors shut and the lift continued upwards. The female voice announced, “Level Six, Department of Magical Transportation, incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office, and Apparation Test Centre.”

“That's us,” said Bill. They followed him down a long wood-panelled corridor, lined with doors, until they came to one bearing the sign Apparation Test Centre. Bill led them into an enormous room with numbered circles scattered over the floor. Seated at a small desk, just inside the door, was Wilkie Twycross, the Ministry Apparation Instructor, whom they remembered from their Apparation lessons at Hogwarts.

“Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley,” he read from a piece of parchment, rising from his chair to explain the test, which involved Apparating between the circles in numerical order. They completed the course without difficulty … or leaving bits of themselves behind. As Wilkie Twycross was handing Ron and Harry their Apparation licences, the door opened and Percy Weasley strode into the room, causing Bill and Ron to tense visibly.

“Twycross, you can leave us now,” he said self-importantly. “I have official business with these people.”

“Certainly, Deputy Minister, at once,” mumbled the diminutive wizard, bowing subserviently and shuffling deferentially from the room. Percy puffed himself up, smiling smugly at Twycross' subservience and hoping it had not passed unnoticed by his brothers and Potter.

“We don't have any business with you,” blurted out Ron aggressively. “So you can just piss off, you great git!”

Ignoring Ron completely, as if he were not there, Percy turned to Harry. “Congratulations, Harry, on getting your Apparation licence. Minister Fudge was delighted to learn of your visit to the Ministry this afternoon, and he wishes to take the opportunity to have a friendly little chat.”

“No thanks!” spat Harry.

“I beg your pardon?” asked Percy, as if he had not heard correctly.

“I don't want to talk to the slimy, yellow-bellied coward!”

Percy's face reddened. “Now, see here, Potter, you cannot talk about the Minister of Magic like that.”

“Is there a law against it?” demanded Ron.

Percy again ignored Ron and said sternly to Harry, “The Minister is expecting you in his office, and I am here to accompany you. Refusal is not an option, Potter. Do I make myself clear?”

Bill, who had remained silent, stepped up to Percy so that they were standing toe-to-toe. “I don't believe there is a law obliging anyone to talk to that pathetic, self-serving i***t who is handing the wizarding world to Voldemort on a platter just so he can be Minister of Magic and line his pockets with gold.”

Percy was speechless; his face became even redder as he stepped back from Bill's intimidating presence. Ron could easily be ignored. Like the twins, he had always been just a naughty little brother who was nothing more than a nuisance. But Bill was the big brother he had always looked up to. Bill had been a prefect and then Head Boy at Hogwarts; his academic record had been brilliant. He was the role model Percy had strived hard to emulate. Unable to look Bill in the eye, Percy glared at Harry instead.

“Potter, clearly you do not understand how things work in the real world. Good governance and order depend upon everyone accepting the decisions of those who have been placed in a position of trust, to do what is best for the whole community. You cannot just do what you want because you disagree with some decision or other.”

Harry was having trouble containing himself as Percy trotted out the Ministry propaganda. “Percy, do you really believe Voldemort and his Death Eaters are going to suddenly start behaving themselves like good little boys and girls just because that fool Fudge is turning a blind eye to their activities? Do you honestly believe that?”

“It is not a matter of what you, or I, or anyone, believes; it is a matter of abiding by the decisions of those in authority —”

“Even when they are utter rubbish?” demanded Ron.

Ignoring Ron again, Percy continued to dish up the party line. “Minister Fudge firmly believes that the correct policy is compromise and détente. He is engaging in meaningful dialogue with You-Know-Who's representatives, encouraging them to curb some of their … err, more antisocial activities. The Minister is resolute in his opinion that if they are not provoked by the Ministry or vigilantes gangs, like the Order of the Phoenix, they will have no reason to cause trouble.”

“Well, how come they are attacking Muggle-borns and Squibs, along with everyone who refuses to join them?” countered Harry angrily. “Or does Fudge classify being Muggle-born or a Squib, or not wanting to become a Death Eater, a provocation? Fudge is giving Voldemort open season on recruiting — a golden opportunity to build up his forces until he's strong enough to take over —”

“There is no evidence that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is trying to take over anything. It's just an unsubstantiated —”

“Of course there is,” interrupted Bill. “The Death Eaters are recruiting flat out. It's obvious to everyone they're preparing for war — Everyone except Fudge, that is.”

“That's just paranoid delusions and an excuse to cause trouble and unnecessary panic. Where is your evidence? There's been nothing in the Wizarding press about —”

“Oh, come off it, Percy,” said Bill scathingly. “The wizarding media have been heavily censored since Fudge took over. Scrimgeour's murder was reported in the Daily Prophet as having been carried out by wizards and/or witches unknown without even a mention of the Dark Mark hovering over the Ministry. Anyway, aren't you the one in charge of censorship these days?”

“We don't call it … err, that,” said Percy defensively. “It is a key objective of the Minister to keep the population calm. It is not in the public interest to allow the publication of rumours and unsubstantiated allegations, or unauthorised accounts that might cause fear and panic or provoke You-Know-Who and his supporters.”

“Pretending it's not happening won't work!” exclaimed Harry. “Take a good look at what happened the last time Voldemort became powerful. Why will he behave any differently this time? And how exactly was I provoking him when he tried to kill me as a baby? How about all his other attempts to get rid of me? Does that i***t Fudge consider it a provocation that I won't just lie down and let Voldemort murder me?”

“Enough of this insubordination,” spluttered Percy. “It's all Dumbledore's fault, he gave you far too much licence, Potter. You have been allowed to act on your own and encouraged to pursue your own selfish interests for far too long. You need to learn to obey those in authority —”

“Don't lecture Harry about selfish interests,” said Bill harshly. “You're just as bad as Fudge. All you care about is Percy Weasley, and climbing as far up the Ministry dung heap as you can. You have no principles and no morality. You will do and say — and apparently believe — anything that advances your precious career — even if it means throwing your own father out of his job. I am ashamed to call you my brother. You are an utter disgrace to the whole family.”

Percy's face was glowing red by now. He was unable to meet Bill's fierce gaze. Straightening himself in an attempt to look dignified, he turned on Harry. “I've had quite enough of your insubordination and cheek, Potter. I am the Deputy Minister of Magic. I insist upon being treated with the respect my position demands! I refuse to discuss Ministry policies with those who are incapable of understanding the subtleties and complexities of politics. For the final time, Potter, I demand you come with me to the Minister of Magic!”

“So Fudge can hand him over to Voldemort as another good will gesture … and maybe a big bag of gold?” demanded Ron.

“Don't be ridiculous,” replied Percy, stepping slowly backwards towards the desk. “The Minister just wants to talk with Potter, and I strongly advise you against making libellous accusations impugning the integrity of the Minister of Magic. Don't expect any special dispensation or protection in virtue of your relationship to an important official, such as myself. I will personally see that you are prosecuted.”

“None of us expect anything from you!” spat Ron venomously. “You're not fit to call yourself a Weasley! You've sold your soul to Voldemort, just like that fool Fudge; and if you're not getting your cut of the gold, then you're an even bigger fool than him!”

“How dare you?” exclaimed Percy, who was now standing against the desk. His right hand suddenly shot out towards a button on the corner of the desk and had almost reached it when Bill whipped out his wand and said, “Petrificus Totalus”. Percy fell rigidly against the desk before toppling over and hitting the floor with aloud thud, lying face up, staring at them furiously, unable to speak.

“Nice try, Percy, but it was bit bloody obvious that you were attempting to call in the Aurors. Come on chaps,” said Bill, “I think it's time to leave this layabout and find the Apparation Zone — you're licensed now.”

~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~

They arrived outside the gate of the Burrow, and after using the door-knocking charm, waited for Mrs Weasley to come and let them through the wards.

“Don't mention anything about our run-in with Percy in front of Mum; she's still really upset about the git,” whispered Bill as his mother approached. “Hi, Mum. Well, as you can see, they both passed.”

“Wonderful, boys, congratulations,” said Mrs Weasley, beaming at Harry and Ron. Then turning to her eldest son, she said, “Can you come in for a few minutes, Bill, dear, I need to talk to you about the wedding plans.”

Ron and Harry headed towards the house. When they entered the lounge, they found Ginny and Hermione, wearing even bigger grins than themselves.

“Well, we passed,” said Ron. “OK, Hermione, out with it, what the hell are you looking so bloody pleased with yourself about?”

“Ronald Weasley, kindly show more respect when addressing the Head Girl of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” said Ginny in an excellent imitation of Professor McGonagall.

“Congratulations, Hermione,” said Harry with a grin, giving her a hug. “But pardon me if I don't look surprised — I mean, was there ever any doubt since first year?”

“Err, yeah,” said Ron, hesitating for a moment before shaking her hand awkwardly. “Well, like Harry said, it was pretty bloody obvious you were going to get it; I mean no-one else stood a chance. So the Hogwarts letters have come: Where's mine?” he asked eagerly.

“On the table,” said Hermione. “Yours, too, Harry. We have to give our book lists to Mrs Weasley and write down everything we need from Diagon Alley. She says it's too risky for us to go there ourselves; Bill will get all our stuff for us.” Harry made no move towards the table. He wasn't interested in his Hogwarts letter, but Ron definitely was.

“Don't be too disappointed, Ron,” Hermione said to him anxiously. “McGonagall couldn't choose both Head Boy and Head Girl from the same house.”

“That's not true, Hermione,” said Harry without thinking. “My mum and dad were Head Boy and the Head Girl together, and they were both Gryffindors. So Ron could be Head Boy.”

Hermione and Ginny both raised their eyebrows at him and shook their heads in exasperation. Harry realised they already knew that Ron hadn't got it; the Head Boy's name must have been in Hermione's letter.

Ron meanwhile had opened his letter and shook out the envelope. There was no Head Boy badge inside. “So who got it?” he asked Hermione sourly.

“Anthony Goldstein,” she replied. “He was obviously going to get it. I mean with Malfoy gone — not that he had a chance — it was either him or Ernie McMillan —”

“Or me!” exclaimed Ron angrily.

Hermione sighed. “Ron, be honest, you never even took your prefect duties seriously. And sometimes you abused your position, bundling little first-years out of your way. You're supposed to act like a caring older brother, not treat them like a bunch of bothersome little brats.”

“But they are,” retorted Ron moodily, “and anyway that's exactly how my older brothers treated me!”

Ginny snorted.

“Come on, Ron,” said Harry. “You would have hated being Head Boy — always having to be on your best behaviour and setting an example, it would be no fun at all. I reckon Fred and George had the right idea. You know I was disappointed at first when Dumbledore didn't make me a prefect in fifth year, but afterwards I was really glad.”

“Yeah, I guess you're right,” said Ron. “It probably would be pretty bloody awful. I just don't know how Goldstein got it, that's all,” he said, glaring at Hermione as if it were her fault. “He's just another one of those bloody useless Ravenclaws.”

“Anyway, Ron,” said Harry, “you're bound to be the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, which is way better. You're the obvious choice. You know way more about strategy than anyone else on the team.

“You're not resigning the captaincy, are you, Harry?” asked Ginny.

Harry looked around to make sure Mr and Mrs Weasley were not around. He had not told Ginny that he was not planning on returning to Hogwarts. They had spent a lot of time together since he arrived at the Burrow, but they never talked about the future. There was almost an unspoken agreement between them not to go there. They just enjoyed being together in the moment and acted as if their conversation at Dumbledore's funeral, when Harry had said they couldn't stay together, had never happened.

“Ginny, I'm not going back to Hogwarts, I have more important things to do,” he said softly.

“Harry, we know what you have to do,” said Hermione, choosing her words carefully. She knew Harry had chosen not to confide in Ginny about the Horcruxes or Jason, hoping to protect her. “But you have to do it intelligently, when the time is right. If you act too soon, before you are ready, you won't succeed. Please Harry, use your brains and listen to … to others.”

Harry was angry. He felt like he needed to do something — and now! But he had no idea what. He had a vague plan about visiting Godric's Hollow — but then what? Everyone was trying to tell him what to do: Hermione, McGonagall, Jason … even Dumbledore, from the grave, telling him to trust Jason. Then there was Ginny. She didn't tell him what to do, but she made him feel like all he wanted was to be with her and forget about everything else … the Horcruxes, Voldemort, his destiny … the whole lot. It was all too complicated and confusing.

“Your mother seems to be getting a bit frantic about the wedding,” said Hermione to Ginny, changing the subject.

“It's already been postponed once because of security concerns,” said Ginny, “and Mum is getting really anxious that nothing goes wrong again.”

“When will the date be announced? Why is there so much secrecy about it?” asked Harry.

“Our whole family — well, except for that git Percy, of course — are known supporters of the Order of the Phoenix,” said Ron. “Mum and Dad are worried about a Death Eater attack. Some of the Burrow's protections will need to be relaxed to let the wedding guests in, and there's the possibility of impostors using Polyjuice Potion.”

“So no one will know the actual date of the wedding until the day itself,” continued Ginny, “but I'm guessing it will have to be in the next week before we return to Hogwarts. Only family and a few trusted friends are being invited, and no one will be allowed to bring partners.”

“Too bad for you, Hermione,” quipped Ron. “You won't be able to invite Big Head Boy Goldstein.”

Hermione rounded on Ron angrily. “That's most unfortunate for me, because I'm sure there won't be anyone else present whose company I am likely to enjoy half as much! When are you going to grow up, Ron?”

Ginny was shaking her head and giving Hermione a sympathetic look.

“What did I say?” Ron asked Harry, bewildered. But Harry was not going to get involved. Secretly he agreed with Hermione: Ron really needed to grow up — and fast.

“Is Charlie coming?” asked Harry, before Hermione could lay into Ron.

“No, unfortunately,” said Ginny wistfully. She was very fond of Charlie. “It would be too difficult. He's very busy right now with his dragons and would only be able to get away for the wedding day itself. But with all the Ministry red tape involved in getting an international Apparation permit, and the Ministry lousy with spies, the wedding date would soon be known to the Death Eaters.”

“Are Fleur's family coming?” asked Harry.

“Just Flirt's mum and dad and her little sister Gabrielle,” replied Ginny.

“Flirt?” asked Harry, snorting.

“Well, since Mum made up with her, she's forbidden me to call her Phlegm. And anyway, Flirt suits her better.”

“It suits her brilliantly,” said Hermione, laughing.

“I thought you were getting on better with her?” said Harry.

“Oh, I am,” answered Ginny, “but she's still a terrible Flirt.”

“I don't think she can help it,” said Hermione. “It comes with having Veela blood. No, it's not her I blame,” said Hermione, glaring at Ron, who turned to jelly whenever Fleur came anywhere near him.

“Well, wizards can't help it either,” snapped Ron.

“I don't notice Harry acting like a drooling, pubescent school boy every time Fleur comes near him,” retorted Hermione.

“Yeah, well maybe that's because his attentions are otherwise engaged,” said Ron, nodding towards Ginny.

“Ronald Weasley, you are the most insensitive prat, I've ever met!” cried Hermione, storming from the room.

“What did I say now?” asked Ron, totally puzzled.

“You just don't get it, do you?” said Ginny in exasperation. “Perhaps Hermione thought that if your attentions were otherwise engaged — even a little — you might not be so susceptible to Flirt's charms?”

Ron sat silently looking perplexed while Harry and Ginny shook their heads, looking at each other despairingly.

~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~

Three days before they were due to return to Hogwarts, Mrs Weasley awoke them early with the announcement that today was to be Bill and Fleur's wedding day. After a quick breakfast, they set about giving the garden a good de-gnoming. While they were busy catching and hurling the nasty little creatures as far away as they could, Remus Lupin arrived to create the special circular platform, near the pond, where the ceremony would take place. Rising a hundred feet from its centre was an enormous pole from which hundreds of ribbons cascaded down in a kaleidoscope of colour to the perimeter of the platform. They shimmered in the sunshine as they twirled about gently in the breeze. It was a stunning sight. Around it, Lupin conjured a polished wooden dance floor surrounded by beautifully decorated tables.

Tonks and Mad-Eye Moody were the first to appear. They positioned themselves with Lupin at the garden gate when the guests began to arrive. Everyone had to answer questions to prove they were, indeed, who they claimed to be. This created quite a bottleneck because Mad-Eye, paranoid as ever, was suspicious of everyone and very hard to satisfy. Fleur's parents and sister, Gabrielle, had to wait outside for twenty minutes, their wands confiscated, until the bride arrived because no one else knew them well enough to think of questions to verify their identity. Madam Delacour looked most put out as she strode up and down the lane with her chin raised high in an offended pose, muttering, “les Anglais” and “sacre bleu” angrily under her breath, while her husband tried in vain to calm her.

When Fleur finally arrived, and her parents and sister were able to prove their bona fides and gain admission, Madam Delacour strode regally through the gate and snatched her wand from Mad-Eye, subjecting him to a torrent of abuse in French.

Mr Weasley apologised profusely to Madam Delacour, who was tall, stately, and extremely beautiful. She had the same long silvery-blonde hair and blue eyes as Fleur. It took Mr Weasley several minutes to placate her, with a steady stream of contrite murmurings of: ‘so terribly sorry', ‘absolutely no offence intended', ‘most unfortunate', ‘greatest regret', ‘beastly security requirements' and so on, until finally she regained her elegant composure. However, with the prolonged close contact, Mr Weasley had fallen under her Veela spell. Even after being dragged unceremoniously away by his angry wife, he had the greatest difficulty turning his eyes in any direction but hers. He appeared to find her every bit as fascinating as such arcane Muggle mysteries as batteries, eckeltricity, and felly-tones.

Mrs Weasley kept casting dangerous looks in her husband's direction, but he seemed oblivious to everything but the glamorous French lady. Monsieur Delacour, on the other hand, appeared to be quite blasé about Mr Weasley's attentions to his wife; he was obviously used to the effect her Veela blood had upon other men. He was a very debonair-looking gentleman with immaculately groomed, dark, wavy hair and a luxuriant moustache that curled up rakishly at the ends. He made a point of introducing himself to all the ladies present in a most charming and flattering manner. Mrs Weasley blushed when he kissed her on both cheeks, complimenting her handsomely on the extraordinary beauty of her daughter, Ginny, who was looking ravishing in her bridesmaid's gown.

“I am certain she is inheriting her exquisite beauty from her beautiful mama,” he said, kissing Mrs Weasley's hand and making her blush again.

Monsieur Delacour was not the only one to notice how beautiful the youngest Weasley was looking. Harry seemed to be in a trance as he stared at her wistfully. One might have thought Ginny was the one with the Veela blood. With his attention fixed on Ginny, Harry didn't pay much attention to the ceremony, and it was over before he realised it. The twins set up a Wizarding sound system, which was soon blaring out dance music, and Bill and Fleur took to the dance floor for a solo circuit before other couples joined them.

Harry danced with Ginny whenever he got the chance, but she was extremely popular. Monsieur Delacour asked her to dance twice in very gallant fashion, which for some reason irritated Harry. She also danced with her brothers and her father. Harry could tell that Mr Weasley was dying to dance with Madam Delacour, but he was far too timid and shy to ask. Like father, like son, thought Harry, because Ron spent the whole time — when he wasn't eating — watching Hermione. He glared at Fred and George whenever they danced with her, which was often — especially after they discovered how much it annoyed their younger brother. Ron even glared at Monsieur Delacour when he danced with Hermione.

“Why don't you just ask her to dance?” said Harry, who had wandered over to where Ron was strategically stationed at a large table covered with food, while Ginny was dancing with Bill.

“What? Dance with who?” asked Ron, feigning innocence.

“You-Know-Who,” said Harry with a grin.

“He definitely did not get an invite,” quipped Ron, pretending not to understand what Harry was talking about. “Anyway, I don't feel like dancing. I don't know what people see in it, myself.”

“You do not like ze dance?” said a throaty voice from behind Ron, who turned to find himself face-to-face with the bride. It was fortunate for Ron that his mouth was not full of food at that moment because his jaw was hanging open, stupidly. “I was hoping zat all of my, how you say … brozers-in-law, would dance with me on my wedding day.”

“Err … well … err … yes … err,” mumbled Ron, frozen in fear.

Harry gave Ron a shove from behind, throwing him off balance in Fleur's direction. He put out an arm to save himself from falling, and Fleur adroitly caught his hand in hers. “Enchanté,” she said, dragging him off to the dance floor. Harry could not stop laughing. Poor Ron was in total shock. “Very smooth, Mr Potter,” said Hermione, who had witnessed the whole episode. She was obviously annoyed that Ron was dancing with Fleur, although she couldn't help but be amused at how Harry had pushed him.

“I could give him a shove in your direction, if you like,” said Harry with a sly grin.

“Don't you dare!” cried Hermione. “Anyway, who says I want to dance with the immature prat … and if he wants to dance with me, he can ask me himself, without any help from you or anyone else. And I won't be doing a Flirt either, and throwing myself in front of him!”

“OK,” said Harry, holding up his hands. “Hey, Hermione, you haven't danced with me, yet.”

Hermione grabbed Harry and led him towards the dance floor. “That's because you didn't ask me — in fact I haven't seen you dance with anyone but Ginny,” she said with a grin. “You two are almost as bad as Lupin and Tonks,” said Hermione, nodding towards the pair as they danced by, eyes locked together. “They seem to be lost in their own world, and they look really happy.”

“Yeah,” said Harry, “they do. Hey, did you notice that Mr Weasley seems rather keen on Fleur's mum? Mind you, she is rather attractive — you can see where Fleur gets it from.”

“And you can see where Ron gets it from, too!” said Hermione irritably. “Although, I think Monsieur Delacour has broken Mr Weasley's spell.”

“What, did he challenge him to a duel?”

“Don't be silly. He doesn't seem the least bit bothered by other men falling for his wife. He's been busy charming all the witches off their feet — and I must say, he is rather smooth. He seems particularly taken with Mrs Weasley, and he was dancing with her whenever she was free ... until Mr Weasley finally noticed — he was the one who got jealous. He's been dancing with his wife ever since, and seems to have quite forgotten about Mama Flirt.”

Harry laughed. Sure enough, there were Mr and Mrs Weasley dancing together like a couple of love-struck teenagers. After the dance with Hermione, Harry saw Ginny was dancing with Fred … or was it George? Monsieur Delacour had managed to prise Tonks away from Remus Lupin for a dance, so Harry took the opportunity to talk to him.

“Hi, Harry,” said Lupin, smiling at him fondly. “How you doing?”

“OK,” said Harry. “Hey, can I ask you about someone you went to school with?”

“Sure,” said Lupin, taking a swig from his bottle of Butterbeer. “Who?”

“Jason Trolove”

“Jason Trolove?” asked Lupin, raising his eyebrows. “Goodness, I haven't seen him or heard anything about him since he disappeared in seventh year. Where did you hear his name … oh, I can guess … this is about your mother, right?”

“Yeah, well sort of. Err, was she really his girlfriend at school?”

“Yes, she was. In fact, the pair of them were thick as thieves right from first year. Around fourth year they became an item. I can remember how much it annoyed James. He went out with lots of girls, but it was always Lily he wanted to be with. But she only had eyes for Jason.”

“Did my dad give Trolove a hard time?” asked Harry, half hopefully.

“Well, he certainly tried, ably assisted by Sirius, of course,” Lupin replied with a grin. “Mind you, it was not with quite the same dedication they devoted to harassing Snape. But your dad used to needle Jason frequently and kept trying to goad him into a duel. Unlike Snape, he never reacted; it was like water off a duck's back. He had amazing self-control. He was also very bright, came top every year.”

“I thought my mum beat him,” said Harry.

“Well, she usually beat him in Potions — mind you, Slughorn was rather partial to Lily. And I don't think he often bested her in Charms, either. She was absolutely brilliant there. But Jason came top in just about everything else. He was a strange chap, low-key, a bit of a chameleon really; the sort of person who kept quiet and no one noticed. He never put his hand up in class to answer questions —”

“Not like Hermione,” said Harry, grinning.

“No,” laughed Lupin, “quite the opposite. But if no one knew the answer and the Professor asked him, he invariably got it right. He was Muggle-born, you know, from a working-class family; his clothes were always old and worn, and his books looked like they came from the second-hand section of Flourish and Blotts. A lot of people looked down on him or simply dismissed him as an oddball, but he had an unmistakable presence if you took the trouble to get to know him.”

“Did you? Were you friends with him?”

“We got on well. I always liked him. For one thing, he figured out I was werewolf long before anyone else — apart from Lily, who somehow seemed to know it intuitively, the moment we met. Jason didn't treat me like a pariah; in fact, he was really interested in knowing what it felt like when I transformed. I think he found my being a werewolf fascinating rather than frightening or repulsive. He was supportive and sympathetic, but sadly, I couldn't really be friends with him,” said Lupin with a faint smile.

“And be friends with my dad and Sirius as well?” asked Harry.

Lupin nodded. “James and Sirius disliked him right from the start because Lily liked him so much; when they eventually became an item, their antipathy increased. Your father wasn't the most modest of chaps, especially when he was younger. He and Sirius insinuated that Jason was using love potions and other possibly illegal enchantments. They became increasingly frustrated when he wouldn't rise to their gibes and challenges, and they openly accused him of cowardice. But only up till sixth year.”

“Why? What happened?”

“There was a sixth year duelling tournament; everyone had to take part. It was a knockout competition — best-of-three duels, with the winners going on to the next round. Jason didn't lose a single duel; he took every match in two straight wins. He dispatched Sirius in the semi-final and trounced James in the final.”

“How did he do it?” asked Harry.

“He used spells, jinxes, and shield charms that no one had heard of. Nothing particularly nasty, mostly obscure Confundus Charms that he'd come across in the ancient library books he devoured. Of course, we looked them up afterwards to find out how to use them ourselves and block them, but he never used the same spell twice; he was unbeatable. But it wasn't just the spells, it was the magical power behind them, and the way he blocked everything thrown at him.”

“So, how come my mum split up with him and started going out with my dad?” asked Harry. So far everything Lupin said corroborated Jason's account, but he wanted to know more about how his mother and father finally got together and how they really felt about each other.

“I don't even know if they did split up; I really have no idea what happened. About two-thirds of the way through seventh year, Jason suddenly left Hogwarts; he just disappeared. No one ever found out where he went, or why. If Lily knew, she didn't let on. But soon after he left, she became friendlier with us and started hanging out more in the Gryffindor common room, although she still spent time with a Ravenclaw friend, Miranda.

“James didn't waste time in asking her for a date. Amazingly, having refused him a thousand times before and constantly given him the Ice Queen treatment, she actually said yes — and the rest, as they say, is history. People used to joke that James must have been responsible for Jason's disappearance — that he'd used a spell to Banish him to some remote part of Africa without his wand. There were some pretty far-fetched stories doing the rounds as I recall.”

“But, how come she changed her mind about my dad?” asked Harry. “I mean, she used to hate him; didn't it seem … I don't know … a bit strange?”

“It did at first, especially to me. I was always friendly with Lily, and I knew her much better than either James or Sirius did. Your mother really didn't like James — or Sirius, who was almost as self-satisfied and arrogant. Mind you, they were both very popular with the witches, which only seemed to improve their own good opinions of themselves. I don't think James ever understood Lily's true feelings towards him. He was conceited enough to believe that she was as desperately in love with him as all the other witches. But, because she was Muggle-born, he imagined she felt inferior and could not believe he really liked her, and must be just playing with her. But it wasn't like that at all. Lily never felt inferior to James or Sirius — or anyone else. She really did despise James and Sirius, but they were simply too big-headed to believe it.

“Remember, Harry, your dad was an only child from a very wealthy, pure-blood family who pampered and spoiled him, so it was hardly surprising if he had a rather high opinion of himself when he first came to Hogwarts.”

Lupin's words conjured up unwanted images of Draco Malfoy in Harry's mind. Maybe his mother reacted the same way to his father as he did to the arrogant Malfoy git.

“But then how could they have gotten together?”

“I was talking more about how James and Sirius were in their first few years at Hogwarts. They both matured over time and became less self-centred and more considerate of others …well, with the exception of Snape, perhaps. James would never have made Head Boy otherwise. And with Lily being Head Girl, I suppose they had to work together sometimes, and Lily realised that James was not the same arrogant prat he had been a few years earlier and maybe began to appreciate his good qualities — and believe me, he had plenty. It would have seemed unthinkable while Jason was around because the pair of them were so close, and so obviously in love. But once Jason disappeared, it was not all that surprising that Lily should become attracted to James. What was surprising is how quickly and completely it happened.”

“So you think my mum and dad really liked each other?” asked Harry, awkwardly.

“What a strange question,” said Lupin. “Yes, of course they did. They were really happy together, especially James, after pursuing Lily for so many years. But don't get me wrong, Harry, Lily also liked James, and I believe, eventually came to love him. In fact, it was Lily who proposed to James; she knew exactly what she wanted.”

To fulfil her vision, maybe? wondered Harry. At that point, Tonks came and dragged Lupin off to dance. Harry figured he would probably never know his mother's true feelings about his father. Maybe she really did come to love him as Lupin thought … and maybe not. Perhaps it was just her determination to make her Future of Hope vision come true. Maybe she continued to love Jason for the rest of her life.

Jason had told the truth, he realised, and he had to admire the way he had not tried to influence his mother's decision and got out of the way once she made it. From his own feelings for Ginny, Harry could appreciate how difficult it must have been. He still felt uncomfortable about Jason and his mum, but maybe less resentful now. Then there was the duelling competition. Maybe he had underestimated Jason, maybe he should give him a chance and follow his advice … maybe even return to Hogwarts.