FicWad

Harry Potter and the Dark Lady
Chapter 18

Potter Castle
Dragon’s Den
20 Oct 96
05:00

Harry woke up under a pile of mates. He lay at the bottom of the pile, smelling and smiling. Last night might have been a little out of control. Harry had gone into the Dragon’s Den and then into—well, he didn’t know exactly what to call it but the last thing he remembered clearly was the very, very hot Pansy doing things with Hermione onstage that had to be illegal, while Irma the miniature cow avoided recapture. Brianna and Victoria Markman had taken full advantage of the confusion of the chase the and condition in which Pansy and Hermione had left Harry. That had just served to get things started. Winding and grinding were the least of the things going on as the mates drifted in and contributed. The Den was hot, dark, crowded, and mostly upholstered in taut female flesh.

Now Harry lay gently smiling, thinking life couldn’t get better. “You really like that, Harry?”

“Well yes, Tamara!”

Tamara Frank, a Death Eater chattel turned slave by her own choosing, rolled her eyes. “Not the sex, Harry, we all like that—the smell.”

“Yes, Tamara, I do.”

“You’re weird, Harry. It smells like sweaty girls in here.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Pervert much?”

“I don’t know, Tamara, I just like the way you all smell when you aren’t all perfumed up. The perfumes make my head hurt and I like the way you smell. It’s not like sweaty guys, and you all shower or bathe at least once a day. Winky and the ladies’ maids will be in here soon and this room will be spotlessly clean and odor-free by the time we finish breakfast, so it’s nothing stale or nasty.”

Nym frowned. “The perfumes still hurt your head, Harry? I mean, we all changed and went so light.”

“And I like it too, Nym, I just like this time of day best.”

Chu had been thinking. “It’s got to be the solvents in the perfumes, Harry. I’ll look into it, Nym.”

The mates had begun rising at this point and they all headed for the shower. Luna crawled over to Harry and without preamble sat in his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist. Despite all of the activity in the last couple of months Harry had the normal young male morning difficulties and some how Luna ended up with a, to her, very welcome guide rod. “Hey, erm, Luna, are you okay?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Uhh, do you want me to...uh...do something?”

“Not really, Harry. I just need to think and be centered for a moment or two. You’re very centering.”

Harry watched as her eyes filled with white. She laid her head on his shoulder and hummed Taffy Was A Welshman. Harry looked around helplessly and Jessie Hadley, another of the new slaves, came over and propped him up with pillows before she too left for the shower. Rosmerta shook her head and finished closing the bar. Harry was an absolute machine. She chuckled; it was amazing he didn’t have blisters.

Soon enough Harry relaxed and went with it, and Luna snuggled in for what appeared to be a long haul of having and sorting visions.

Harry noticed that while Luna seemed to be having visions still, she was simultaneously sorting visions of the past and the reality of what had happened. He, and through him the mates, got a view of all their actions up to this point and then got to travel the possibilities of the future. Harry saw few that he liked in the near term. Longer term things got less clear and more troubled. Large-scale conflicts figured prominently. Harry took comfort in the fact that the Clan seemed to do okay in most of them. There were losses in some; Harry replayed those incidents in his head to attempt to figure out how to short-circuit the losses.

Hermione, Daphne, and Hestia drafted a few mates and sat wet and naked, scribbling madly, attempting to record the possibilities.

Luna, apparently finished with her years in review, made a little wave and Mariah Carey’s song Fantasy came up on the sound system. Her eyes cleared and she gave a new meaning to the term lap dance.

Hermione huffed in frustration and Occluded the bond; the mates followed suit until they had finished their mad scribbling. Frieda shuddered as she recorded one near-term possibility involving Giants. The things were devilishly tough even for Dragons. They would need some more exercises as a murder if this was going to happen and they were going to be successful. Zsuzsa and Eliza Goyle Potter were infuriated to find a possibility with a Dark Lord and Lady rising from the current Durmstrang student body—a bonded pair Dark Lord and Lady.

The door to the bedroom opened and Gwenog Jones strode in. “Nym, where is Harry? Mmmmh, very nice, girls. Oh my, this is Hong, the new Dragon?”

Gwenog had been very thoroughly distracted by the bedroom full of naked witches furiously scribbling and by Hong.

Nym started. “Good morning, Gwenog. How are Lesley and Randolph?”

Gwenog’s twins had been born at the start of August. “Fine, Nym—here, I have some photos.” Gwenog reached for her shoulder bag.

Nym took the pictures and started them around. Gwenog was pleased with the ooohs and aaahs, as any new mother would be. “Hey, wait a minute. I came in here looking for Harry. He has to fly for us today; Carol is too pregnant to maneuver and we have Puddlemere. Jocelyn is going to take advantage and put us out of Premier Cup contention.”

Nym frowned. “But he can’t play—he isn’t on the professional list.”

Gwenog grinned. “Oh, but he is. We—that is, the League—listed him as a professional, and most of the teams with females have him on as a reserve to keep their rabid fans happy as they didn’t take to their players seeing someone outside the organization. We—that is, the Harpies—have him listed as second reserve Seeker. Our active Seeker, Carol Londoner, is six months along and Jennifer Goldstone, the reserve, is eight. League rules allow him to play. Besides, this is all his fault.”

Nym cast a jaundiced eye at Gwenog. “How exactly is this Harry’s fault, Gwenog?”

“If he wasn’t a complete hottie we never would have let him in our pants, Nym. It’s not like we don’t have our pick of the wizarding world.”

Nym held up her hand to forestall the impending Hermione explosion and laughed. “If that’s what you want to tell yourself, Gwenog, fine. But I bet you a Galleon the league won’t let Harry fly Seeker for you.”

“Just give him to me, Nym. The solicitor for the team is preparing the arguments. Jocelyn is going to pop an aneurism though, hehehe.”

Cho spoke amidst the giggles. “Gwenog, you mean thing.” She got an impudent pink tongue for her trouble.

Laughing, Nym waved at the entrance to the maze. “He’s in the Dragon’s Den, Gwenog.”

“The what?”

Pansy smiled proudly. “Come on, Gwenog, I’ll show you.”

Gwenog let herself be dragged away by the hand while first admiring and then being slightly intimidated by the perfect, firm, heart-shaped derrière attached to the smiling, gorgeous Pansy. The girl hardly even jiggled, all muscle and youthful tightness.

Gwenog found herself entering a dimly lit room dominated by a low T-shaped stage with three golden colored brass poles (well, maybe brass; with Harry, who knew?) going from the stage to the elevated ceiling over it and pounding, almost tribal, bass-dominated music. Gwenog blushed furiously when Pansy led her up to Harry, who sat propped in a corner with the platinum-blond, bright pink and sweaty Luna writhing in time with the bass beat in his lap. Gwenog sat down rather suddenly in the heavily cushioned blood-red velvet upholstered chair with the little wheels on the bottom that Pansy pushed up against the back of her knees.

Just as Luna reached an obviously shattering climax and Harry joined her, dragging Gwenog in, a thought occurred. When Gwenog recovered from the unexpected proximity-generated shared orgasm she looked to the panting Pansy. “How long has this been going on, Pansy?”

“Harry found the Dragon’s Den on the thirteenth of October, Gwenog.”

Gwenog rolled her eyes. “You all have to stop having so much sex—it’s making you thick. I meant this little session in your strip club.”

Pansy gave a coy little smile. “Why, Gwenog, how would you know what this is? Since last night at about ten.”

“I play professional Quidditch, Pansy, a male-dominated sport. I would hazard to say I’ve attended more after-parties in strip clubs than any other kind of place. This is very nice and very tasteful, though, the best looking and definitely the cleanest, best-smelling place I’ve ever been in.
We’ll have to get the team in after the game tonight. Did he sleep at all?

Pansy smiled her thanks. “Yes, Gwenog, he woke up at about five. I don’t know how much sleep he got; I was—erm—indisposed.”

“Well, that’s a very polite way to say shagged unconscious. You all are like rabbits. Think he’s rested enough to play?”

Pansy smiled dreamily, remembering, and thinking, Oh yes, he’s ready to play, nodded. The same thought Gwenog had had occurred to Pansy. “Get your Seekers, Carol and Jennifer, in here and Harry can use Legilimency on them to learn what they know—he’s already bonded them anyway, so it should just be a refresher.”

Luna, now recovered and able to converse, added, “Oh yes, that would work. Take your clothes off, Gwenog, and come here. We’ll start with you.”

Gwenog, still forming objections in her mind, found herself naked and lying with a freshly, gently Scourgified Harry and her objections died. It had, after all, been almost twelve months. She had not told anyone, but she just couldn’t even consider other males since Harry had weathered her storm and then spent a couple of hours every day for a week trying to make her forget she actually had a sex life before him; he had very nearly succeeded.

Luna skipped from the room, dragging Pansy. “Luna, I wanted to watch!”

“Dirty perv.”

“Luna Lovegood Potter! You take that back.”

“Oh no, we love our pervy Pansy. Or would it be our Pansy pervy?”

Luna continued to drag the now full-body-blushing Pansy straight into the already running shower.

The mates collapsed in paroxysms of laughter.

Sarah, who had come in from her suite, regained control first, and retying her dressing gown more securely went to the Dragon’s Den. She opened the door and looked in, confirming what she was feeling. Harry and Gwenog were locked together and Harry was reviewing her Quidditch knowledge. Sarah withdrew. “Winky?”

Pop!

“Winky brings the Quidditch Harpies, ma’am.”

Sarah gave her a bright smile. “Thank you, Winky.”

Pop!

In the Dragon’s Den the music lowered in volume as Harry gave a little wave. Winky popped in with Carol Londoner and Jennifer Goldstone and popped away again.

Carol looked around and then looked at Jennifer. “Well, obviously Gwenog wants us for something. You know, I’ve always wanted to dance on one of those.” She nodded toward the stage with the pulsing lights glowing through the opaque floor.

Jennifer eyed Gwenog and Harry critically. “I’d say you have a few minutes. I’d join you but I think I’ll be your audience instead.” She nodded down to her enormous belly.

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Potter Castle
Ducal Apartment
Royal Suite
20 Oct 96
06:00

Sarah sat by the fire in a wingback in the Royal Suite sipping a very nice breakfast blend. Harry and Gwenog had finished and Carol had taken Gwenog’s place. Harry was being very careful of Carol, who was already pregnant enough to be showing, but he was driving her completely insane—this would be a very serious orgasm.

Andrew was waking and the girls were engaged with their mates and step-children; hmmm, mommy time. Sarah cast a quick Colloportus and Silencio at the door, put up her Occlumency barriers, and sashayed to the bed. Andrew was grinning hugely by the time she got there minus her dressing gown.

In the master bedroom Nym chuckled as Sarah’s Occlumency barrier went up and then she went back to reading today’s schedule. That run to Chita would have to be put off. The letter from the Ecumenical Patriarch needed Harry’s attention and maybe a conversation with either the Pope or Father Jozef or both and the Queen. Patriarch he might be, but nobody made demands on Harry but her. “Submit for an interview”, indeed. Clearly the old boy needed a visit from a Dragon she knew—or perhaps a vampire.

“Oooh, I can go with a few of the girls, Nym—we can bring him to watch the games and Court.”

“Let’s talk to Elizabeth and Harry first, Amelia Fastida, but thank you.”

And now there were these hundreds of pages of parchment to go over from this morning.

“And the command council and intelligence group will undoubtedly want copies of the memories, Nym.”

“Oh Morgana, I forgot about them, Hestia. Thanks.”

“Nym, I’ll let Pitior know to hold the Marshal.”

“Thank you, Anastasia. Actually, if you want you can go with a detail.”

Nym smiled at the scandalized feeling she was getting from Anastasia. “No thank you, Nym I want to watch the games too.”

Nym was attracted to a commotion in one of the dressing rooms. “Minerva, pleeeeeaaaasssseee?”

“Don’t whine, Parvati. That’s very unbecoming.”

“All right then: please try this on, Minerva.”

“Better, but the answer is still no. Those are Dragonhide. I want to keep the skin on my bits, thank you very much.”

By now Parvati had followed the Regimental-robed Minerva back into the bedroom and into view.

Parvati rolled her eyes. “We softened it, Min, just feel.” She thrust what appeared to be a tiny string-bikini bra in vibrant red leather at Minerva with her left hand and bikini bottom of the same material in her right.

Minerva actually stopped and felt of the material both inside and out. Once she felt it a look of surprise crossed her features and she examined the garments much more closely.

“Parvati, what are you doing?”

“It’s a project, Nym. Harry keeps having those red-leather bikini fantasies so we took the scraps left over from making the armor and re-tanned them and softened the resulting leather, and now we want a model. Harry is fascinated with Minerva so we made the first one for her. They were the pieces with the smallest scales, so we were able to leave the scales on.”

Nym looked again at Minerva’s 32B-24-34, five-foot, six-inch frame and smiled. She had felt Harry’s fascination with Minerva and knew it wasn’t her athletic build or aristocratic looks that so fascinated him, it was the whole package. It didn’t hurt that the magic of the bond had turned the clock back about forty years. Min looked a very appetizing, extremely well kept late thirties or early forties; no wonder Harry was constantly hot for her. Minerva blushed under her Alpha’s frank and unstinting appraisal.

Parvati continued, “We want to do a show in the den for Harry after the Boxing Day ball or maybe after the weddings when the Holy Thorn blooms.”

Nym’s mind skittered for a moment when she realized there were going to be 391 to be judged, created, and handfasted on or about the fifth of January; then she just relaxed into it. Wait until Harry found out—hehehe! “Go on, Min, put it on,” Nym said, and with a wave of her hand Minerva was naked.

“Nymphadora Potter! You give me back my robes—and those were my most comfortable bra, pants, and corset.” Minerva actually stamped her foot.

Around her laughter Nym managed, “Nope, not until you try the bikini. Why do you wear that corset, anyway? It’s not like you need the support. Morgana, Min, you get hotter every day.”

Minerva blushed from the tops of her feet to her roots as the thought of Harry’s inventive ways of getting inside that corset and the lengths she was willing to go to to get him to crossed her mind. Her mates goggled at her; oh my, what a little vixen in Iron Maiden’s clothing.

Min huffed and snatched the bikini from Parvati. She had it on shortly and the goggles turned lascivious as Parvati tied the top and turned Minerva this way and that. Nym quickly restored Minerva’s robes before this devolved into an attack-Minerva fest. “Mind your barriers, ladies. We definitely want to keep this a secret. Morgana, Parvati, good job! Run up ones for all of us. Sarah too—Andrew will enjoy it, I think.”

“We’ll run up several in every size, Nym. Some will have to have more than one top anyway.”

“Why, Parvati?”

“The leather doesn’t stretch like fabric, Nym. The pregnant mates go up a cup size or two.”

Nym was imagining a heavily gravid mate in one of these with her “Harry brain” and lit the whole bond minus Harry, who she was desperately blocking, on fire.

Parvati smiled. “Exactly, Nym.”

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Potter Castle
Ducal Apartment
Dragon’s Den
20 Oct 96
07:00

Gwenog sighed and relaxed. This was the most fantastic pre-game practice ever. She had lifted herself off of Harry and then helped Jennifer lower the pregnant Carol onto him; they had all found themselves in the bond with him, as she had been. She had not really intended to have sex with Harry, but it had been a long time and that iron bar she was sitting on seemed to indicate she was not about to be refused, so she had rocked her hips forward and raised herself slightly and then dropped and slid back for a goal in one. While they had been in the bond reviewing plays and talking Quidditch with one part of their minds, the other parts and their bodies had been playing a game of their own. As she clenched on him she remembered her lack of a contraceptive spell and as he moved to cast one she stopped him: what would be would be. Harry had groaned and Gwenog smiled as she felt the comforting warmth fill her.

Now she sat with one hand on Carol and the other on Harry as Jennifer sat on the other side and they were all in here together. Hmm...now all she needed were the Chasers, Lorena Montclair, Janet Cartwright, and Isabelle Jugson (no relation to the Death Eater Jugsons), Robin Vicar, the other Beater, and the Goalie, Rose Turnbull, and they could test whether this could be used for a team rehearsal.

Her thought crossed Harry’s mind and Winky popped in with the named players in order. The witches looked around and were amazed, and a little embarrassed too. They had attended the same parties as Gwenog and the rest but just like their teammates they always left before it got to the shagging-in-corners part of the evening. A witch had a tough enough time in the league without that sort of thing following her around. They had all had a go with Harry by now, though, and some of them were coming due for another as they hadn’t taken, so they understood the temptation. Morgana! Gwenog, Carol, and Jennifer looked transported, though—Harry too.

Rose was the first up on stage and began slowly and mostly sensuously shedding her pre-game civvies to the driving bass beat. The tight jeans proved a problem. This of course led directly to a little competition which was interrupted by a feminine groan from Carol and they found themselves shuddering with her, then Gwenog’s command of, “You lot come here—we want to try something.”

“What, Gwenog? I was winning.”

Gwenog laughed. “Everything isn’t a competition, Rose, but you can do that after the game. Hmm, let’s see—who had their period a fortnight ago?”

Jennifer shook her head. “Huh,uh, my turn. I’m on fire here.”

Harry leaned up and kissed her. “It’s a little dangerous for you and the twins, Jennifer.”

“You hush, Harry. This is all your fault anyway and I haven’t had any for eight months. I’m losing my mind. Here—we put these pillows on either side of your legs and I use the same position as Carol, kneeling on them. Hey, you lot, help a girl out.”

Jennifer’s teammates somewhat dubiously lowered her onto Harry. Carol, who had just hit Harry and herself with a gentle Scourgify, did the—erm—honors of lining Harry up with his, or rather Jennifer’s intended target. She slid down him gratefully and then slapped him in the chest gently. “Stop doing that shrinking thing, Harry. Bigger, bigger, oooh, hold it right there. That’s the Harry I remember. Now, everybody touch Harry and me. Harry, do your thing.”

Harry looked around and eight naked or mostly naked professional Quidditch players, four on each side, touched him and their teammate. Harry pulled them into the bond.

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Potter Castle
Ducal Apartment
Master Bedroom
20 Oct 96
08:00

“Nym, what is Harry doing? He has to stop or I’m going to kill Andrew.” Sarah entered the master suite with her untied dressing gown billowing behind her.

Nym stared and then laughed. “Practicing for Quidditch. He has to fly for the Harpies today, their Seeker and reserve are too pregnant to fly. Is that a bite mark on your—”

Sarah snatched her dressing gown closed and blushed crimson. Eugenie opened her mouth but no sound came out; the wandless, silent Silencio from her mother had already taken hold. Sarah turned a perfect about-face and strode back to her suite with peals of laughter following.

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Royal Academy
Sports Ground
Press Box
20 Oct 96
08:00

“Good Morning, gentle beings, Percival Gribbs here with your Sunday morning pre-event show, a new feature of WWN Sports, your channels for all the sport and Court news. Joining me this morning are Daniel Boxlighter from WWN 2 and our first guest for this inaugural show, Aidan Lynch, Keeper for the Irish National team. Since Aidan is here let’s jump straight to Quidditch before we get to the schedules for today’s sport and the charges and specifications for today’s court. Aidan, any thoughts on today’s premier professional match, first place Puddlemere vs. second place Holyhead, the last match of the day?”

“Oh aye, Percival. First, thank you for inviting me. I think this top billed match for today is bound to go to Puddlemere. It seems both the active Seeker and the reserve have, erm, mistimed their—erm—contracts with the young Duke and, well, they’re too much in the family way to pass the physical. I see a bleak time coming up for Holyhead as their reserve is a month from her projected delivery and their active is three months from hers.”

Percival was apparently going insane, waving his arms in every direction at this frank discussion of witches’ delicate conditions at 8 a.m. on a Sunday morning. Bruce Titterhorn, however, very firmly motioned for Aidan to continue. Daniel picked up as Aidan finished his thought.

“Daniel Boxlighter here. Aidan, don’t the professional teams keep a third player on reserve for the critical positions?”

“Oh aye, Daniel, but with the level of play in the league now these third-stringers are hardly ever used and normally just aren’t up to scratch. While they can get proficient, it takes time to become used to the speed of professional play; and with the cushioning charms the Duke has required be added, well, the Seekers are mostly fearless. A Wronski won’t get it any more unless pushed to the absolute limit. Bringing your third-stringer up is almost like hiring in a new player.”

Percival had recovered. “So we’re all of a like mind, it looks grim for Holyhead for the next few weeks. Well, we’ll find out who the Harpies will be bringing up to play Seeker soon, as the deadline for rosters has passed and we hope to bring you the list at 8:30. Meanwhile, on to our next to last match scheduled in Quidditch today, the Pride vs. the Magpies.”

“Oh aye, Percival—sure to be a cracker, what with Keeper Meghan McCormack playing in front of her potential mate-bound….”

Percival put his head in his hands as Aidan continued, years of hard work being ruined by the titillating commentary of an Irishman with apparently the gleeful support of his co-anchor and producer. Life really wasn’t fair.

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Buckingham Palace
Private Apartments
20 Oct 96
08:17

“Phillip, what is that twaddle?”

“It’s the Quidditch pre-game show on the wireless, Liz.”

“I knew it was a Quidditch show, Phillip—talking about Wonkies after all. What are they doing discussing Harry’s mate-bound and this potential mate-bound? No one gave them permission to interfere with my grandchildren or my Duke.”

Phillip rolled his eyes. “Wonkies”? She did this on purpose. This needed to be headed off, though; she was throwing those words about again—words like My.

“Their just talking, Liz. It is a sports show.”

“Yes, Phillip, listened to by every loutish brute in the wizarding world entire, no doubt. I will not have my grandchildren and their mothers discussed in every public house in the Realm.”

Phillip sat a moment, thinking, Uh-oh, well, that didn’t go as planned, maybe. Aloud he said, “Well, it’s really Harry’s business, Liz.”

“Exactly! Oh, that’s not what you meant. That’s brilliant, Phillip. Well, come along, get dressed. We have to get to Potter Castle and see Nym.”

“But Liz, the show’s on and they’re going to announce the rost—”

“Now Phillip, you can get a printed roster and schedule at the sports ground like always.”

“Mmmmmble rsssfffraazz....”

“Stop mumbling, Phillip, and come along.”

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The Burrow
Kitchen
20 Oct 96
08:22

“Arthur? Arthur! ARTHUR!”

“Yes, dear?”

“Arthur, have you heard what they’re saying on the wireless?”

“Yes, dear, but it’s just the wireless.”

“Well, I never! Talking about my Harry and his mate-bound like this!”

Arthur listened to the groaning outside. “Molly, dear, be careful. You know what happens to Hu Jin when you get upset.”

Molly huffed and stamped her foot. “Burrow, stop that this instant! You be nice to Hu Jin. I don’t see why you can’t just let him go, you can stop him any time you want to. And it would make it much easier on me if he could feed himself.”

Arthur heard a thump and went and looked out the window. Wang Hu Jin was sitting on the ground shaking his head. He had an odd, shining ring around his neck. “Well, my stars! That’s done it, Molly Wobbles—Burrow turned him loose.”

“Well, go get him, Arthur, and we’ll feed him and go to Potter Castle. Harry can put him on the docket for today.”

Arthur passed through the kitchen and gave his Molly Wobbles a kiss on the way out into the dooryard to retrieve Wang Hu Jin.

Molly got breakfast on the table just in time for Arthur to lead the stunned Chinese wizard into the kitchen by an elbow and guide him into a seat.

Molly looked at the wizard. “Now, Hu Jin, you be a good boy and the Burrow won’t snap your neck, dear. We’re going to Potter Castle and the Duke will judge you. I’ll tell him you’re cooperating and he may bind you to our House instead of incinerating you. If you don’t behave well, then we know what will happen, don’t we?”

Arthur sat flabbergasted at the sight of his wife treating this grown Dark wizard like a five-year-old. Hu Jin obviously didn’t think much of the idea either, as he started to move and then stopped when the flesh of his neck began bulging on either side of the band of magic.

Molly smiled. “See? I told you. Now be a good boy and pass the bacon. We’ll clean up your robes and get you a shower and a chance to clean up before we go—want to put on our best face for Court, after all.”

Arthur watched this exchange, dumbfounded.

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Royal Academy
Sports Ground
Press Box
20 Oct 96
08:30

Percival was never so glad as when the schoolboy runner they employed showed up with a copy of the official rosters for the day. He had totally lost control of the program and it had turned into a review of the Duke’s women, children, and wards. Percival was praying the Duke didn’t show up and light them on fire. Well—Boxlighter, Titterhorn, and Lynch, fine—but he’d tried to stop them; he shouldn’t have to die.

Bruce gave him a sign and he cleared his throat. “While that’s very interesting to some of our listeners, gentlemen, here are today’s rosters. Lets start with the team that started all this conversation, the Holyhead Harpies. At Beater and the team Captain, Gwenog Jones; at the Chaser positions, Lorena Montclair, Janet Cartwright and Isabelle Jugson and Robin Vicar at the Other Beater posistion, and the Keeper is Rose Turnbull. And at Seeker for today’s match—” Percival froze. Oh, sweet Morgana, why hadn’t he read this through first? It played right into the dunderheads’ hands. Percival looked up into expectant faces and the furious face of Bruce Titterhorn who was mouthing, “Dead air!” at him. “His Grace the Duke of Magic and Champion of the Realm, Duke Harry Potter!”

The booth literally exploded in noise as the print reporters had filed in by now, and they were all listening. Bruce Titterhorn was doing an actual jig in the production booth. Percival lowered his head to the desk, wondering how badly it hurt to be incinerated.

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Potter Castle
Ducal Apartment
Master Bedroom
20 Oct 96
08:32

“Harry, it’s eight-thirty, sweetie. Are you and the Harpies done?”

“Yes, Nym, we’re finished—for now, hehehe. Good thing we play last tonight, we need the rest; but Harry should be up to speed. We just have to work on his Firebolt.”

“Gwenog? How are you in here? Carol? Jennifer? You’re all here?”

Gwenog chuckled. “Erm—surprise, Nym! Harry did it. I don’t know if he improved our bonds or what, but there you are.”

“Well, get up and shower. We have to go in twenty minutes.”

Nine voices answered, “Yes, Nym,” in the bond as Nym shook her head. This would not go down well at all with the league if they found out.

Thankfully Harry and the Harpies made their little naked parade to the showers before the single knock came at the door and Elizabeth came bustling in. “Nym, where is Harry? These Quidditch press people have gone too far. I want him to write an edict.”

Molly followed Elizabeth in. “Nym, dear, where is Harry? I got the wards to release Wang Hu Jin and I want him to bind Hu Jin to the House of Weasley.”

Nym looked between the two of them and then groaned and flopped back onto the bed.

“Nym! Are you all right? Jennifer!”

“She’s fine, Elizabeth, she—well, we really had a busy night and then morning.”

Molly was looking around. “Ginny, where’s Harry?”

“In the shower, Mother, do you mind?”

Molly started for the door to the bath. “Oh no, dear, I don’t mind.”

The Petrificus Totalus hit Molly on her second step. “MOTHER!”

Molly blushed slightly and Ginny unfroze her. “Sorry, Ginny, I was just so excited about getting the wards to release Hu Jin. I forget Harry isn’t one of my boys sometimes.

Isabelle Jugson and Robin Vicar chose that moment to scamper naked and giggling out of the bathroom. They stopped and dropped the Queen a curtsy, then scampered into the maze giggling.

Elizabeth and Molly blinked. Elizabeth recovered first. “Well, I see we may be holding up your preparations for the day. We’ll await you in the public sitting room.”

She and Molly turned and marched out the door as the rest of the Harpies scampered out of the bath, dropped little naked curtsies to the Queen’s back, and followed Isabelle and Robin, giggling and snorting. Nym knew Elizabeth saw it through her and groaned again as the mates roared with laughter after the door closed behind the Queen.

Harry wandered from the bath to his dressing room-cum-closet, leaving little footprint puddles behind him. “Nym, did you know there were no towels?”

“I’ll speak to the chief ladies’ maid, Your Grace.”

Harry’s eyes widened and rolled around like a water buffalo smelling tiger as the little shiver of warning crawled up his spine. He called, “Thank you, Nym. Love you.”

The thrown pillow vanished just prior to impacting the back of Harry’s head. He felt the breeze and turned around to see Nym’s face apparently screwed up in pain. Harry tried running but as he already had one leg lifted to put in his trousers he started falling. He finished his fall onto the bed beside her after the fade and took her in his arms. “Are you hurt, Nym? Jennifer! Marcia! Melissa! What’s wrong Nym?”

Nym looked at her panicking mate and pushed him backwards on the bed and slapped him in the chest moderately hard and then kissed him, hard and deep. Harry, proving how smart he was getting, went with it, completely unresisting.

Sarah led the smiling mates away to the sitting room. Wendy Jameson, a former Death Eater’s chattel, now mated slave, sprinted back in and policed up the Harpies. They followed to the sitting room as quietly as they could, smiling at their two cuddling Alphas all the while.

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Potter Castle
Public Sitting Room
20 Oct 96
08:42

The public sitting room was full to bursting with crowds of vassals examining Wang Hu Jin and discussing the WNN broadcast. They were divided into two camps—the males and some of the more Mundane-worldly females mostly taking the view that the previous and ongoing discussion of the mates by the sportscasters was not untoward, and the Queen and the older or less Mundane-exposed mates and mostly female vassals vehemently decrying the travesty of the Royal personages being discussed in the media like cattle.

The mates flowed into this room and the crowd focused on Sarah. “Your Grace, I would have my Duke issue an edict preventing discussion of his—my daughters-in-law or the Prince’s and Princesses’ personal lives or conditions in any wizarding media.”

The whole room blinked at Elizabeth’s outburst directed at Sarah and her obviously furious mottled complexion. She had just elevated Harry to His Royal Highness status, in public.

Sarah thought, Oh my! “Harry, I need you!”

Elizabeth was waiting impatiently. “Your Grace?”

Harry faded in, dressed fortunately, and answered. “Ma’am, our House is as always at your service. Perhaps we should discuss this further.”

Elizabeth was on her feet now. “I will have your answer, sir!”

Harry was gobsmacked. “What in the fuck is going on here, Sarah?”

“Harry, language!”

“Hermione, I love you but we really don’t have time for this. Elizabeth is raising the Realm. It’s not happy—neither is she.”

Sarah supplied. “Apparently, Harry, the WNN has started a pre-game show and the commentary has centered around first who would fly for the Harpies as both Carol and Jennifer are too far along to pass the physical, and then moved into speculation about what other bonded might be pregnant and then the bonded, wards, and progeny in general. Nothing that would be considered untoward, but the Queen has had such bad experiences with the Mundane press that she is, while not overreacting, being very enthusiastic in trying to get a set of restrictions put on them. She seems to believe that if you allow them a foot in the door, they will—erm—run with it.”

Elizabeth let her presence be known. “Exactly. Harry, you must stop this now!”

“Elizabeth? Are you all right, mum—errr, ma’am?”

“I love you too, Harry, but let’s deal with these press people.”

Harry switched to spoken language. “Of course, ma’am.”

Bruce Titterhorn landed on the carpet of the public sitting room and found himself facing a very unhappy Queen and Realm. After five minutes of Elizabeth holding the Realm on him or the Realm holding Elizabeth on him he disappeared and the conversation on the WWN after a moment of dead air turned almost entirely to sport.

Harry smiled. “Thank you, Mum.” He failed to notice the gasp that ran around the room or Phillip and Andrew’s head-splitting grins. “Rita, I’ll need you to speak to the press, editors, and producers, please. They will maintain a decorous and genteel tone when speaking of the mates and children or they will face the Dragon. Take Hong and Frieda with you.”

Now Rita, Hong, and Frieda had the head-splitting grins and as they faded away somehow Frieda and Hong expanded into their Dragons without impinging on the room. It was breathtaking to have the semi-corporeal forms of the Dragons pass through you.

Soon Percival Gribbs’ voice could be heard reporting on the actions of the two massive Dragons and Duchess Rita as the reporters, producers, and editors of the magical media who had gleefully gathered near or in the broadcast booth and added their observations on the bonded were thoroughly chastized. Wet trousers and singed eyebrows abounded.

Meanwhile Harry’s head had turned like a turret to Wang Hu Jin. Molly stepped in front of Hu Jin. “Oh, no you don’t, young man, no lighting on fire until after you try him. Besides, he’s Arthur’s by right as the Burrow captured him and is holding him.”

The room chuckled at Molly defending the Chinese wizard. Ginny stared. “You mean this is that Chinese wizard the wards captured when he tried to kill you, mother?”

“We all make mistakes, Ginevra. Hu Jin is sorry now, aren’t you, Hu Jin?”

The Chinese wizard on the floor looked at Harry with big puppy-dog eyes and Harry had an evil thought. Molly didn’t have anyone to talk to and this was a powerful wizard; hehehe, what better punishment could there be than enslaving him to those whom he had tried to kill? Might have to release him after a few years, though. Molly would drive him completely insane. Hehehe.

“Harry!”

“What, Ginny? It’s true.”

“Well yes, but still.”

Harry strode over to Hu Jin and laid a hand on his forehead; he called on the Realm and asked for its judgment while he perused Hu Jin’s thoughts, slapping his Occlumency barriers aside like tissue paper. He found the same slightly alien mindset as Bao and the other Black Dragons had—hmm, not servile but not challenging those more powerful either. Damn Fidelius covering the location of the hold—no, not Fidelius, something like it though; oath maybe.

Harry felt the Realm call him and came to himself. Harry withdrew his hand and reached down and grasped Hu Jin’s arm over his Mark. Arthur and Molly staggered slightly and Harry removed his hand, revealing an illuminated W where the stylized black Chinese Dragon had been. The bright collar lifted from Hu Jin’s neck. The Realm had enslaved him to the House of Weasley.

Molly was all smiles. “See? I told you it would be fine, Hu Jin.”

Nym stepped up to Harry and kind of wrapped herself around him. “Box, Harry.”

Suddenly the Royals and vassals were alone in the sitting room, minus Andrew and Sarah.

Elizabeth smiled. “Come along, Phillip, let’s go to the box.”

The Queen and her Consort led the parade to the Sports Ground.

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The Royal Academy
Sports Complex
Ducal Box
20 Oct 96
08:56

Harry and the mates landed in the Ducal box and Harry sat. Nym crawled straight into his lap. His completely sincere and unconsciously spoken “Love you” of fifteen minutes or so ago was still working with her hormones. Nym was having a touchy moment and didn’t care about a lot else.

The vassals began appearing and the day began to settle toward a normal Sunday.

Phillip waved a vendor down and paid his two Knuts for a schedule of today’s games and team rosters.

He sat looking them over.

Warg vs. Warg V
Lion vs. Lion JV
Serpents vs. Serpents V
Warg vs. Warg JV
Claw vs. Claw JV
Tutshill Tornados vs. Kenmare Kestrels
Wimbourne Wasp vs. Wigtown Wanderers
Pride of Portee vs. Montrose Magpies
Holyhead Harpies vs. Puddlemere United

And yes, Harry was listed as Seeker for the Harpies. This would be a good day.

Harry looked at Elizabeth over Nym’s head. “Ma’am, we received a letter from the Ecumenical Patriarch. He—”

“Grrrrr.”

“Shhh, Nym, I’ve got you.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“He, well, demanded an interview.”

Elizabeth blinked “Demanded? And who exactly does he presume to be? I’m the leader of the Realm’s church, and your confessor is the Pope.”

“I know, ma’am. Nym thought I should talk to you before we sent Amelia Fastida and some of the Potter Coven to pick him up and bring him here for a talk.”

Elizabeth thought a moment. “I think we should send him and the Pope a letter, Harry. Let’s get them here together this evening. What is the Court schedule?”

Hestia answered, “Fourteen from Eastern Europe. Two will be executed, the rest bound, ma’am.”

Jack appeared on the back of the seat in front of Elizabeth with pen and parchment in one talon. Elizabeth smiled at him. “Good morning, Jack. How are you, dear?”

“Fine, grandmother.”

Elizabeth beamed at him and scratched out a note to the Pope. “Please take this to the Pope, Jack, but don’t interrupt Mass if he’s at it—wait for him to finish.”

“Yes, grandmother.”

Jack faded away and Mary appeared with parchment. Elizabeth scratched out another letter to the Ecumenical Patriarch. “Good morning, Mary. Please take this to Bartholomew I.”

“Good morning, grandmother, and I will.”

“Good girl. Off you go, then, and be careful, dear.”

Phillip was champing at the bit to talk to Harry but he didn’t dare disturb him with Nym in this mood and Elizabeth so tetchy. He became absorbed in watching the Harpies and mates sitting directly in front of Harry with his lapful of Nym and Andrew with Sarah sitting to his left. The Harpies were conducting an impromptu broom-tuning lesson using Harry’s Firebolt. Daphne and Hermione had the Quidditch rulebook out; the mates were dredging up every charm or spell that might be useful, and Hermione and Daphne were seeing if they could use them inside the rules. Soon enough the Harpies summoned their brooms and the broom clinic became general.

Dan Granger looked around and smiled. Now that the excitement was over the day looked to settle right down.

Emma Granger rolled her eyes. “Please, Dan, haven’t you been paying attention? Those girls are the Holyhead Harpies. Harry is flying Seeker for them today. The league is going insane trying to suss out whether it’s legal or not. Joscelind Wadcock is over there turning backflips thinking she’s stolen a march for Puddlemere. Pope John will be here at about two, as will Bartholomew, if he’s smart. Nym is in no mood for any foolishness from him. That Wang Hu Jin thing is settled, though. Poor Hu Jin—Molly is going to mother him to pieces. And while Rita, Frieda, and Hong have very thoroughly cowed the media, Glenda is sniffing around and Imelda hasn’t even appeared yet. Which reminds me—give me a Galleon. I want to get into the Imelda pool.”

Dan blinked. “Erm, that’s a little unfair, isn’t it, Em? I mean, we’re kind of insiders.”

“Bother that, Dan. We aren’t inside their heads—and besides, when they all fire off curses there’s no telling what will happen. Hmmm, give me two Galleons; I bet Glenda catches something today too.”

After Dan handed Emma two Galleons he turned to Phillip and got engaged in a conversation regarding his thoughts about the matches. Phillip was planning his own betting for today.

The newly licensed totes were actually located at the bottom of each of the twelve wedged-shaped sections of the great bowl, except for the Ducal booth where Margaret held the franchise and Narcissa forgave her the fees and percentage as long as she donated twenty percent of her profits to the House general fund (which went to all Margaret’s new brothers and sisters) and thirty percent to the Royal Academy sports fund. Still and all, Margaret was already well on her way to having made enough money to buy out her first licensed tote. She planned to eventually buy most of them out and dominate the gambling activities of the Realm, and Narcissa and her financial team were actively helping her. She paid the older Potter wards to run her board and collect bets. They sat at the front of the Ducal box doing a scrupulously honest, well recorded, booming business. Greg Goyle and Vincent Crabbe hanging around the bottom of the box growling at anyone who got even slightly out of order with their “sisters” did wonders for keeping things civil. Of course punters looking up into the benignly smiling face and lambent green eyes of Duke Firestarter helped too.

Harry and the group finished modifying the brooms and Harry was trying to think of a place to test them. “Harry, just fade us to the other end of the Hollow.”

“Thanks, Nym.”

“Percival Gribbs here, gentle beings, reporting to you on WWN Sports, your source for all the sport and Court news. For those of you just joining us after the commercial break it has already been a fascinating morning.” Perci smirked—he was the only media person present with eyebrows and non-Scourgified pants remaining after Rita, Frieda, and Hong’s little demonstration of why polite conversation was always best. The ground behind the booth was still smoking.

“Today’s schedule has the House varsity teams, minus the Lions of Gryffindor and Badgers of Hufflepuff, going head to head. Then the JV lions and Wargs will play intra-House, Royal Academy vs. Hogwarts; and after those games the professional teams will be playing: Tornados vs. Kestrels on pitch four, Wasps vs. Wanderers on pitch three, Pride vs. Magpies on pitch two, and the premier match of the day has the first place Puddlemere United squad going against the Holyhead Harpies with their first ever squad including a male on the center pitch, pitch one. That’s right, gentle beings, Holyhead will be flying a male at Seeker—and not just any male, but our very own Duke of Magic, His Grace Harry Potter.

“The duels today will include a class three honor match between Madam Malkin and Natalie MacDonald. Please tune in to WWN 2 for Daniel Boxlighter’s dueling coverage. Court today has fourteen up for trial and it’s looking grim for two truly evil Eastern Europeans—multiple rapes and murders on both of them.

“Another great and terrible day of Sport and Court, gentle beings. If you haven’t left for the sports grounds yet, you’d better leave soon. The Goblin Regiment has been hard at work increasing the capacity of the bowl and installing seating on the flanking hills, but in this very mild weather I expect the stands and overflow to fill soon.”

Across the wizarding Realm husbands and sons chivvied wives, mothers, sisters, and girlfriends toward fireplaces or into position for Apparation. In many cases it wasn’t necessary, as they were already being dragged that way by their female relations.

In the Hollow at the Apparation points and from the hundred free-standing grates a constant stream of wizarding people emerged. Mundane parents of magical children used the stones that Duke Potter had provided to them and emerged from the atrium of the Royal Academy in a steady stream. While they stood in queues at the gates waiting to pay their Sickles they watched in awe as the Harpies and Harry put on a demonstration of flying that was both faster and higher G than anything dealing with a broom had ever been.

Harry landed in front of Hermione, Daphne, and the ’Claws. “Hermione, something odd is happening. The broom is great but it’s heating up horribly.”

Hermione, Daphne, and the ’Claws studied the broom after Harry dismounted as it hung suspended, gently smoking.

The Harpies landed and dismounted, experiencing the same problem. All of the brooms were smoking gently and smelt of overheated damp wood.

Nym had moved up to Harry, and while she was not wrapped around him like a boa she was maintaining as complete contact as possible under his right arm. Harry turned and kissed her on the temple. Nym smiled gently.

“Nym, you aren’t even showing. Why are you all nesty?”

“Molly Weasley says it’s because of the magical pregnancies being so close together, Gwenog.”

Gwenog laughed. “Well, if anyone would know....”

All the mates chuckled.

“Marietta, that’s brilliant, how do you do that?”

“Errrh, it comes to me, Cho? I’m not sure really; it’s just easy for me.”

Hermione huffed. “Mind letting us slow people know, brainiacs?”

Cho smiled at her. “Don’t get all threatened, Hermione. Marietta has a thing for energy absorption and transfer runes, it seems. In this case the braking charm, which also functions laterally and anti-directionally during directional changes, is being overrun by the amount of energy being poured into it by the absorption of all that energy from the mass on the brooms traveling at high velocities. We can apply the same rune we use on the individual stones for stopping heating during absorbing the energy from projectiles to the broom, and the energy will be transferred to the sentient stones.”

Daphne frowned and looked in the rulebook. “Errrh, okay—the rulebook says that no modification can be made to the standard braking charm that would adversely affect the charm’s ability to stop the broom.”

Hermione grinned. “We wouldn’t modify the braking charm at all. We’d just be taking the excess energy from it and sending it somewhere else.”

Daphne paged through the whole section on brooms and nodded. “Apparently you can add whatever you want to the brooms, but you can’t take away from certain minimum requirements.”

Gwenog, in the bond now with her teammates, was nodding. “Okay, let’s add it; then everybody back on your brooms and let’s run a few plays.”

“And hello again, gentle beings, Percival Gribbs, WWN Sports 1, coming to you live with the Varsity Warg on Warg match and it’s turned into a scholar’s match here. The technical level of play is very high but the score has been kept to twenty-all by the efforts of the Warg Royal Academy Beaters and the Hogwarts Warg Keeper. Meanwhile the Duke and Harpies have vanished from the Ducal box and are reported to be out in the Hollow running plays, apparently attempting to get the Duke up to speed for professional play.”

Percy took a breath and Aidan Lynch jumped in. “Oh aye, Percy, and a good idea that. I don’t know about up to speed, though; the Duke is fast as lightning and in a Seeker you’re going to want that. The thing he’ll have to get used to is the plays that professional teams run involving Seekers. He’s not to only look for the Snitch but to participate in plays causing distractions and whatnot. He can even function as a fourth Chaser if the team is willing to run the risk of having him that off the Snitch.”

“GWENOG!”

Gwenog snapped her head around and looked at the ground. The team had been running a hawkshead ahead of a dopplebeater attack with the Keeper in a double eight and Harry diving on an imaginary Puddlemere Keeper and visualizing forcing the Puddlemere Seeker into a collision course with his Keeper. She cringed. Gwendolyn Morgan, past Captain and now Manager, was standing in the grass under them and did not look happy. She killed her velocity in a tight spiral and landed in front of her manager. “Yes, Gwen?”

“Don’t you ‘yes Gwen’ me, Gwenog. Where have you all been? And what do you call what you were doing, Your Grace?”

“Errrh, Harry, ma’am, and—errrh—practicing.”

“If you ma’am me one more time you’ll be the late Duke Potter. I’m no older than some of your mates and will be taking my turn at some point. Now you lot, if you all have spent enough time playing slap and tickle—more like tickle and giggle—let’s get some practise in.” She cast a gigantic silver obscuration dome and the crowd in the queues sighed.

Harry would seriously regret the next hour and a half for years to come. The Seeker coach Glynnis Griffiths showed up with an amped-up Snitch, and two female assistant coaches whose names Harry didn’t catch came running up with a set of professional Bludgers, bats, and Quaffle. Gwendolyn had the Beaters aiming at him and Glynnis took the opposing Seeker role. In the course of the practice Harry got faked all the way off his nearly hypersonic broom twice changing to his Dragon, to land thoroughly embarrassed both times. Gwendolyn, meanwhile, pushed the Chasers into near exhaustion having them try to beat their own Keeper while she, Glynnis, and occasionally the Beaters attacked them.

At the end of the torture session, euphemistically known as “practise”, Harry landed and keeled over off his broom into a heap. The mates stood around chortling; they knew he was mostly faking. Glynnis came over and nudged him with a toe. “Up you get, Your Grace. Don’t want you locking up all those lovely muscles.” The other Harpies and coaches landed around them.

Harry got an evil grin and as Nym said, “Oh no, Harry, that’s not a good ide—” Harry faded them away to the cold pool in the exercise hall, clothes and all. Nym shook her head and faded away to save her foolish mate from being drowned by the furious Harpies. When she got there she was greeted by soaking wet Harpies stripping and chasing a madly cackling young Duke through the Castle as he stripped. Nym smiled. If he really wanted to avoid them he could have faded. She sat on a bench by the cold pool and waited. Sure enough, Harry shortly burst through the double doors connecting the hall next door with this cold pool and ran straight in. The Harpies tried to stop, but their teammates chasing Harry bumped into them and knocked them into the pool. Nym wished she had a video camera.

Gwendolyn screamed a little and then looked at Harry. “Harry, why are you attempting to freeze my players to death?”

“I’m not, Gwendolyn. Marie came up with this. It prevents microbleeding and speeds your recovery time. Just stay in until you start shivering, then we’ll go get dry and warm up.”

Gwendolyn was looking down at her chest. “Hehehe, I haven’t been this tight in fifty years. Hey—small, either.”

All the Harpies looked at their shrinking breasts. Nym laughed at their shocked faces. “It’s just everything tightening up, ladies. They’ll come back.”

Robin Vicar gave a relieved sigh. “Thank Morgana! My poor little A-cups don’t need any help being small. Gwendolyn working us until we’re zero percent body fat is bad enough.”

“But they’re very pretty.”

Every female head in the room turned to the blushing Harry, who was now holding his hands over his mouth.

Robin took two steps in the neck-deep water and Gwendolyn’s arm stopped her. “After the game, you two, save it for after the game.”

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Kunming, China
Xi Shi’s Hold
20 Oct 96
17:00

Ming Na was nervous. Staring out the window, she watched the Mistress talk to Guroku of the Anak. She was planning something and trying to get Guroku to lead his tribe to do this march for her. Why would she want the Anak to march, and where was Manzhouli? Thankfully the Mistress had taken precautions. The Black Dragons were watching Guroku with the huochong loaded.

Ming Na watched and juggled the little blue flame from hand to hand and smiled. This was new and fun. She briefly wondered where the knowledge to do this came from, but then the Anak leader stood, turned, and left. The Mistress was returning and she looked angry.

Ming Na set her little blue flame on the floor and watched it fade away. She smiled, turned, and scampered to the throne room.

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Vilnius, Lithuania
Slushko Palace
20 Oct 96
11:00

August IV of the Wettin line shook his head and stood. Time to go beard the young lion, or at least get a look at him. August Wettin stood and left, headed for the magical travel agent. He would need an international Portkey. He could see the Saxe-Coburgs while he was in Great Britain, perhaps even at this Royal Academy. He had last seen Elizabeth in person at her wedding to cousin Phillip, 20 November 1947. Could it really be almost fifty years ago? Where had the time gone?

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Cathedral Church of St. George
Phanar, Constantinople (Istanbul)
20 Oct 96
13:07

An owl, in the middle of noon Mass! Very pretty, though, with her pure white feathers just edged in black. And very polite; she had waited patiently in the Rose window. She had seemed to listen to the sermon, but that was impossible—wasn’t it? Then the answer: he had gone to his study and the owl had faded into view standing on his desk and held out her leg imperiously. Bartholomew took it and called for an attendant to bring water and some raw beef cut up small.

Bartholomew opened the letter.

Royal Academy
Ducal Box
20 Oct 1996

Patriarch, you are invited to attend the Sports events at the Royal Academy today. Please send a note with this owl to confirm your attendance. Transportation will be arranged.

Elizabeth II, Dei Gratia Britanniarum Regnorumque Suorum Ceterorum Regina, Consortionis Populorum Princeps, Fidei Defensor.

Well, well. Hmmm, Mass was done, he had time—yes, let’s get this out of the way. Bartholomew flipped the parchment over and wrote his reply. He smiled at the owl. “I’m really not that bad, dear. Tell your father.” Bartholomew held out the note and Mary nodded and took it. She faded away.

Bartholomew was left with no doubt. That was a child of the chosen of the Realm. No doubt he had felt the Realm watching him and protecting her. Back to the old days, then. Please God, be merciful—not another Crusade.

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Chita Oblast
Tsarina’s Military HQ
20 Oct 96
18:12

“Marshal, good morning.”

“Ha—morning my ass, Pitior. And it’s Sergei. So when will the Tsarina arrive to judge me?”

“Tomorrow, Sergei. You have decided, then?”

“What are my choices? I can work for an alcoholic gangster who would sacrifice you, the 4th Guards Tank Army, and the population of Chita Oblast so he can be comfortable with his skinny little fake-titted sluts with the fake lips and asses. Christ, Pitior, they inject botulism toxin into their faces. So much for our advanced capability in biological warfare agents. They use it to turn their sluts in to slack-faced clones! Or, Pitior, I can offer my remaining years to the Tsarina and hope for a Russia I can be proud of.”

Pitior nodded. “The Tsarina and the Grand Duke will be here tomorrow, Sergei; perhaps a tour today?”

“Tomorrow, Pitior. I’m not as young as I once was and should probably not drink a liter of vodka.”

Pitior laughed.

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The Royal Academy
Sports Complex
Ducal Box
20 Oct 96
10:56

Harry, Nym, and the Harpies returned to the box and Nym gave her customary every-couple-of-hours little wave. The silver dome appeared over the box.

As she and the mates played with and fed the babies while watching the events through the dome, first Mary and then Jack faded into view and circled in for a landing in front of Elizabeth.

“Dad, Bartholemew man says to tell you he’s not that bad.”

“Thank you, Mary and it’s Bartholomew.”

“He gives meat, no treats.”

“John Paul man gives treats, Dad. Says hello, would like come, Grandmum.”

Harry smiled. “Thank you, Jack.”

“Fly, Dad?”

“I have to fly later, Mary, on the broom, and I’ve been flying while you were gone. Tonight we hunt, okay?”

Jack and Mary both did this odd little kind of foot to foot dance while they nodded.

Elizabeth had been reading the letters. “Nym, we’ll need to pick up John Paul and Bartholomew at 2 p.m. our time.”

“Jack and Mary can do it, Elizabeth. You two take a few of your brothers and sisters in case there are more than just John Paul and Bartholomew who want to come.

“Yes, Nym Mother,” accompanied two little nods.

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The Royal Academy
Sports Complex
Dueling Arena
20 Oct 96
11:30

“And here we are back from the break, folks. Daniel Boxlighter here, covering the dueling action from the Royal Academy sports ground for you on WWN 2, WWN Sport, your network for all the Sport and Court news.

“While we’re waiting for the only scheduled duel of honor for today to begin, let me describe the work that has been done on the Royal Academy sports ground. As many of you already know, the grounds were originally a large open field at the bottom of a huge depression with sections of seating built into the sides of the bowl. Those sections and, it appears, the bowl itself have been expanded right back to the edges of the hills leading up to the sheer cliffs of the Hollow, forming a plug, if you will, between the agricultural end of the Hollow and the School and Potter Castle end. Now surrounding what must be five hundred acres of Quidditch pitches, an archery range, a gobstones area, a swimming pool, and the dueling arena are first a broom racing course and then twelve wedges of stands, or rather eleven wedges and the Ducal box separated by wide stairways to the upper edge of the bowl.”

“Taking the Ducal box, over which you can see Potter Castle majestically standing at twelve o’clock and moving clockwise, subscribers have their private boxes in the center of the sections at just the right height to watch the broom sports, with the public seats being both above and below those boxes. The Royal box is in the section at the six o’clock position but the Royals generally spend their time in the Ducal box. They generally occupy their box only for Court. The Wizengamot has two boxes at the three and nine o’clock positions, the dueling area press box is at the five o’clock position, and the Quidditch press box is at the top of the six o’clock section, spanning the entire section.

“Seating capacity has been expanded to 120,000 and subscription has permanently filled most seats. Around the top of the sections there are booths or stalls where every imaginable merchant has set up, and some that you might not have imagined like Fred and George Weasley’s shop, Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. If you’re going to WWW, though, bring your nose plugs and don’t touch or eat anything unless you like feathers. On the hills leading to the walls of the Hollow are the half-price admission seats and those, like all the rest, have a great view of the action but you had better bring your omnioculars.

“Elves with trays and pushcarts circulate with all kinds and manner of food and refreshment at very reasonable rates, and at the edge of the pitch the licensed totes do business.”

“And it looks like the duelists are ready to go for today’s scheduled class three honor duel. Madam Malkin is the challenger for this duel, having apparently challenged Natalie MacDonald over the advertising that Ms. Macdonald has been running both in print and on the WWN. Filius Flitwick is the judge for this duel and the duelists are under the judge’s orders; and here’s the count.

“Two Protegos; the duelists being very cautious here. Stunners from MacDonald and a dodge as her Protego fails from Malkin. Oooh, very good, Malkin has clipped MacDonald with a Jellylegs and then followed with an Incarcerous. Should have gone to the Expelliarmus as MacDonald has Finited both. Back to shields now and some more minor jinxes. I say! Malkin has flipped MacDonald’s robes over her head somehow and sewed them closed; and there is the Expelliarmus and it’s over. Here’s the judge.”

Filius cast the Sonorus. “Winner: Malkin!”

“Very creative use of trade spells there, gentle beings, and an impressive win for Malkin. I understand the stakes were that all of MacDonald’s advertising for Glad Rags would have to be submitted to a impartial panel of Duchesses for approval.

“And now a commercial break before we pick back up with the undefeated Chudri vs. fifth place Warnock Uni tournament match, and now a word from our sponsors.”

“Do you recognize my voice? Most people do, but just to be safe I carry the Barclay card when I’m out and about. So much safer than cash and you aren’t bothered by that heavy sack of Galleons. Remember, for safety and less bother do what Percival Gribbs does—carry the Barclay card. See your Gringotts representative today in the booth behind section eleven of the Royal Academy sports complex.

“Certainfeesandchargesmayapply.”

“And we’re back, gentle beings. The count is under way: two, one....”

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The Royal Academy
Sports Complex
20 Oct 96
13:46

Harry was escorting a pack of his wards around the stalls with several of the mates. Nym had finally gotten less nesty and shooed Harry and the kids off by giving him a smile, a kiss, and a shove. Harry had been disappointed; he was very comfortable with his lapful of lovely. Nym had stored that little sappy thought of his away and would reward him later. The Harpies smiled at her plans as she moved to sit with them.

Harry paused at a stall and tried to purchase a shepherd’s pie to eat at one of the little tables under the awning of the stall as the wards rampaged through the WWW stall. Ginny looked at him as the elves refused his money and laughed. “Harry, why are you trying to pay yourself for your own food?”

“Uhhh.”

“We do have to slow down; it’s making you thick.” Ginny stole a kiss and a forkful of pie.

Elmwood Zonko came steaming out of his stall and straight at Harry. He found himself looking at the business ends of five staffs, two full-on vampires, three Wargs, and about a thousand wands belonging to citizenry.

Harry chuckled. “You might want to moderate your pace, Mr. Zonko.”

The mates slowly changed or lowered their staffs and the crowd turned back to what they had been doing. “Your Grace, you have to do something. My sales are off one hundred percent except for the old standbys, and they’re off forty percent.”

Harry looked at him. “It’s a free market, Mr. Zonko. Have you considered updating your product line?”

“Your Grace, who could keep up? The Weasleys introduce something new every day.”

Harry nodded sympathetically. “But they only have their stall here and owl-order Mr. Zonko. You have stores and factories all over wizarding Europe. Perhaps you could carry some of their products? Maybe a licensing deal could be arranged.”

“Harry, what did you do? Mother will go spare. The twins have been waiting on this type of thing to drop out of school. They only have the rest of this year left.”

“I have plans for the twins, Ginny. They’re going to Uni. They can hire workers and factory space in Dragon Alley to produce their products or contract to Zonko. Besides, Alicia and Angelina won’t take to kindly to being separated from their bonded for nine months a year, which will happen if Fred and George drop out, as non-students can’t stay in the dorms. Narcissa, you probably want to talk to Angelina and Alicia and walk them through what would be most financially advantageous to the twins and them.”

Ginny smiled at Harry. “Who loves her evil genius, then?” And to ooohs and aaahs from the crowd and shocked “Mothers!” from the female wards, Ginny leapt into Harry’s lap and snogged him hard.

Harry laughed outright when Ginny let him up for air and the mates joined his laughter in the bond.

Elmwood Zonko bowed himself back to his stall.

Harry kept sitting with a shining-eyed, happily exuberant Ginny, feeding her forkfuls of pie in exchange for kisses as the elves kept the warm pies coming, much to the crowd’s glee and the wards’ eye-rolling displeasure. Parents acting like lovesick sixth forms right in the street, how embarrassing!

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The Royal Academy
Sports Complex
20 Oct 96
13:50

Nym looked around and smiled. This was how it was supposed to be: a nice day, a good time, and family. Nym was unconsciously humming a little tune as she played with Julius, Juliet, James, and Lily in an area of the box intentionally bare of seats and with a permanent cushioning charm while Sirius hovered. Her mates smiled at her. The mothers took their babies and joined her.

“Jack, Mary—it’s time.”

The two owls nodded to the Queen and Jack faded away with Eugenie’s Jill, Daphne’s Alice, and Hermione’s Persephone, and Mary faded out with Susan’s Peter, Sarah’s Ike, Beatrice’s Tina, and Hestia’s Harold.

Dan looked at Phillip and shrugged. “Here we go.”

“It’ll be fine, I’m sure, Dan. Bartholomew didn’t get to be a patriarch being an idiot. Church politics are even more cutthroat than ours and Harry is the Realm’s Chosen, just like Elizabeth. In the final analysis no one can overcome him without overcoming It and then I don’t think we’ll have time to be worried about it, what with running for our lives and trying to get our families someplace safe.”

Dan nodded. “Well, it looks like he’ll get to watch Harry play. The last JV game for pitch one just started.”

Jack and his sisters appeared with the Pope, two nuns, and a Vatican City Auror. “That was marvelous, children, thank you.” John Paul looked around after this pronouncement and you could see him becoming Father Jozef. “Nym! And the babies!” Father Jozef trundled over to the play area and sat down in a seat at the edge of it. He immediately had a lapful of babies and a huge grin.

Agnes, Prioress of Tabennisi and the senior resident Seer of the Holy See, looked at the Pope in his white silk and rolled her eyes. Molly Weasley smiled at her. “They’re all the same, dear, they don’t do the wash so they have no idea.”

Agnes nodded. “It wouldn’t matter, though. He’s absolutely enamored of the Duke and Duchesses and babies—well, it doesn’t matter who those belong to.”

Agnes looked over the mates. “Excuse me, ahh, Mrs. Weasley, isn’t it? I must speak with Duchess Luna.”

Emilio stood against the row of seats slightly back from the Pope and looked around the crowd and then at the box. It suddenly dawned on him that he was standing amidst hundreds of vampires including the awake vampire Elder and, if the reports were to be believed, two Alpha female Dragons of different species. Frieda looked at him and smiled, then she blew a little flame from her nose. Emilio started and she laughed.

“Frieda!”

“Yes, Nym.”

Pope John Paul II looked at her. “Frieda, don’t scare Emilio or he won’t come back with me.”

“Yes, Holiness.”

“See, Emilio, just like everyone else. Sit—have a break, watch the Quidditch.”

Emilio sat, right next to Amelia Fastida. He sat there stiffly, knowing exactly who he was sitting next to. Amelia gave him a one-armed hug. “I promise I won’t let them eat you...today.”

Emilio smiled nervously.

Mary chose that moment to fade in with Bartholomew, who had nearly the same reaction and entourage as John Paul. Soon both Patriarchs were sitting in the cushioned play area surrounded by babies and smiling mothers.

A giant cheer went up and the Hogwarts JV ’Claws came away with the win. Elizabeth looked at the two Patriarchs and as Nym mentally rounded up Harry and sent him to the locker rooms to meet the Harpies, she informed them, “Holiness, Patriarch Duke Potter is flying Seeker in this game and then he has Court. After that I’m sure he would be happy to talk with you.”

The Pope looked at Bartholomew and smiled; soon the betting was on. The two of them handed the babies back to their mothers and moved to seats in the center of the box together. The apparently scandalized nuns followed, while arranging their own bets in low voices.

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The Royal Academy
Sports Complex
Harpies Locker Room
20 Oct 96
14:38

Harry faded in amidst the Harpies in various shades of dishabille. He covered his eyes.

“Harry, quit being stupid—you’ve slept with all of us, for Morgana’s sake. That’s the reason you’re here. You’re the best we could get and it doesn’t matter that you’re male, we’ve already dealt with it.”

Harry looked confused and then shrugged. He shrugged his way out of his civvies and took the robes from his locker. His Harpies locker. His professional Quidditch Harpies uniform from his professional Quidditch Harpies locker. Ron would go spare. Harry grinned until his face hurt.

Gwenog, Carol, Jennifer, Lorena, Janet, Isabelle, Robin, Rose, and the other Harpies watched and smiled, remembering their own first time into a uniform. Gwendolyn sighed; she hated to break him out of it but it was time. They were looking at a 15:00 start time. “Ready, Harry?”

It was scary to watch the smile fade and the deadly serious face replace it. Even scarier was the light in those green eyes. Gwendolyn nodded. “Right, then. Gwenog, watch for the plays. Harry, do the best you can do. It isn’t all on you. Let’s get out there and get ahead and stay ahead, ladies.

The players moved onto the ramp into the Quidditch pitches and waited. Soon enough the announcers were announcing Puddlemere. “All right, Harpies, once around as fast as we can fly and then to positions for the start. We’re in it to win it! Ready, steady—GO!”

Harry was already mounted on his broom simply hovering and at the “Go” he leaned forward, accelerating hard to stay above and behind Gwenog. They burst into the light and the roar of the crowd hit them like a physical thing. They ripped around the broom racing track, approaching mach numbers, and then spiraled into position for the start.

Harry found himself facing Carlton Morris. “Top o’ the day, Your Grace.”

Harry smiled at Carlton and nodded. “Mr. Morris.”

“Carlton, please, Your Grace.”

“Harry, Carlton—just Harry.”

Carlton looked at him and thought to himself, Oh aye, and I’m the queen of Sheba.

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The Royal Academy
Sports Complex
20 Oct 96
14:58

Percy smiled; it had been a great day and it would only get better. “And after that rousing entrance by the Harpies and our commercial break, we’re back and almost prepared to get underway with this anxiously waited match between the first place Puddlemere United squad and the Holyhead Harpies flying their first male ever at Seeker, our own Duke of Magic, Harry Potter. I’m Percival Gibbs, ladies and gentlemen, and WWN Sports 1 will be bringing you this match without commercial interruption except in the case of a time.

“The players are in position and the Captains, Gwenog Jones and Joscelind Wadcock, are on the pitch. Obviously a little psychological gamesmanship going on here.”

“Joscelind, good to see you could make it. Have you spoken to Nym yet? I’m sure she can get you on Harry’s schedule before it’s too late.”

Why the unmitigated bitch! “Well, I was just getting to it, Gwenog, when I was told the Duke had taken on a charity case. I can wait, though; apparently it won’t take long to work it out one way or the other.”

Xiomara stood on the pitch rolling her eyes and glanced at the clock on the front of the broadcast booth. “Well, you’ve got about another minute to be bitches, then I’m kicking this box open.”

“The captains are settling slightly and the Umpire, Xiomara Hooch, is issuing her final instructions.” Perci leaned back and reached for the water after turning his microphone off.

Gwenog mounted her broom and moved to her Chaser position. Joscelind followed.

Xiomara smirked and drew her wand.

Percy took a swallow of water and flipped his microphone on. “And here we go, gentle beings. The Umpire has drawn her wand, the players are in position, and there it is—the box is open and the Bludgers are gone. Gwenog has hit one on the way by and it’s taken Puddlemere Beater Jonathan Hurley right off his broom. Hurley is up and chasing his broom. The Snitch is just sitting there but the Duke isn’t waiting; he’s diving on the box and finally the Snitch is up. And the Duke is on it like a shot. Morris is caught completely flatfooted, and Duke Potter and the Snitch are leaving him behind.

“And there’s the first score! Montclair led that Harpies attack behind two very well hit Bludgers from Jones and Vicar which cleared the Puddlemere Beaters right off and left their Keeper no time to prepare. The Duke and Morris must be trying their Bubble-Head charms as they went vertical chasing the Snitch and are now out of sight to even omnioculars. And the Harpies score again! Jones and Vicar firmly controlling the Bludgers here.”

Harry had been amazed when the Snitch had just lain there in the box as Xiomara had launched the Bludgers and the Quaffle. He had actually looked over at Carlton and found him staring back. Harry didn’t know whether the Snitch was technically in play yet but he wasn’t taking chances. He dove on the box and just as he got there the Snitch shook itself and exploded into motion. Harry nearly had it as it passed him, but it jogged left and eluded him. Harry spun the broom in its own length and then accelerated, closing the distance and then attempting to get in position to snatch it, but the damn thing kept just out of reach.

Carlton was watching the young seeker in amazement. Harry was pulling away from him on that hopped-up Firebolt but he was still maneuvering. Carlton’s broom was smoking and he knew he was overrunning the braking charm’s steering function at these velocities. Everyone in the grounds flinched as a boom rolled down on them from above.

Percy stayed with the action. “Well, gentle beings, some kind of disturbance there. And the Harpies have continued their unanswered run as the Seekers have disappeared into the ether; sixty-nil, Harpies.”

“What was that?”

“Sonic boom, Nym. I think Harry went supersonic.”

“Really, Hermione?”

Harry watched as the Snitch seemed to struggle and then fell. He cursed again as he missed it again. This time the turn on the broom didn’t work nearly as well. The broom was vibrating heavily. Harry finished the turn and saw Carlton already turned and in pursuit of the Snitch. Harry pointed his broom at the Snitch and accelerated hard, straight down.

A double boom rolled over the sports ground and Hermione said, “Morris and Harry have both apparently gone supersonic.”

Nym sat looking up very alertly.

Percy gleefully reported, “Finally an answer from Puddlemere, gentle beings, but the shot on the low hoop is blocked by Turnbull and she passes the Quaffle to Jugson. And there’s a Bludger to the broom of Wadcock from Jones off a pass by Vicar. That’s taken out about half of Wadcock’s straw; we may see a timeout here.”

At that moment Harry flashed silently into view and then down to the pitch almost faster than the eye could follow. The shrieking of punished air followed Harry as Carlton flashed into view and, unable to stop, crashed into the cushioning charm and rolled to a stop in a heap at the foot of the Harpies’ goal.

Xiomara called time as the medics of both teams rushed to the scene.

Percy shook his head. “And there’s an official timeout to clear the field; Harpies sixty and Puddlemere nil. I don’t know how the Harpies will get their Seeker back again, ladies and gentlemen. The Duke seems to have outrun his sound. He’s disappeared again, chasing the Snitch. Now a word from our sponsors.”

Imelda popped up in the Ducal box along with Glenda, and Emma Granger was proved correct: the two of them were hit by a combined charm from a hundred mates and ended up as what appeared to Emma to be a pushmepullyou from that Dr. Doolittle book. She laughed.

“Harry, Xiomara called time. Morris piled into the pitch.”

“Oh, okay, Gwenog. Errrh, what do I do? I mean, I’m still on the Snitch.”

“Let me ask Xiomara, Harry, but I think she’ll go for a restart like normal.”

“Oh. Okay. So come back then, Gwenog?”

Gwenog rolled her eyes and smiled. “Yes, Harry.”

Harry suddenly appeared on the pitch and then that odd shrieking caught up with him. The crowd roared.

“Is Carlton all right, Xiomara?”

“Fine, Harry, just shaken up. Two minutes, captains.”

“And we’re back, gentle beings. Percival Gribbs for WWN Sports, your source for all the Sport and Court news. The Puddlemere vs. Harpies game is just about to get back underway after an officials’ timeout for injuries. Everyone is back on their brooms and here we go. The Bludgers are released and Wadcock has the Quaffle. She circles back to pick up her other Chasers and she’s off for the Harpies’ goal.”

Harry watched as the Snitch leapt from the box and cut left and down, right at the grass. He lost it at the edge of the pitch and pulled up. As he pulled up he turned his head and saw Joscelind coming toward him with the Quaffle in her right hand, outstretched away from Janet. Harry kept his loop going, went all the way around Joscelind, and snatched the Quaffle from her hand on the way by. Lorena braked and Harry dropped the Quaffle to her on the way past. He gained altitude and began searching for the Snitch while watching the action.

Percival was ecstatic. “And Potter, in an inspired bit of flying, snatches the Quaffle from Wadcock and passes to Montclair using a perfectly executed Porskoff Ploy. Montclair makes the run on goal alone; she shoots and beats the Keeper, Meadows. Seventy-nil Holyhead, and Wadcock is enraged.

“Potter is back at altitude now, searching for the snitch; and I must say Morris and really all of Puddlemere are not much of a challenge for Holyhead right now. There is a scrum for the Quaffle at center pitch after the Puddlemere throw-in and Roselawn comes away with it for Puddlemere.

“Here’s Potter diving on something—yes, it’s the Snitch and he’s stolen a march on Morris. Oh, Roselawn takes a Bludger from Vicar and the Quaffle’s loose. Picked up by Crane, and Puddlemere is back on the attack. I must say, gentle beings, this Snitch is not messing about. It’s staying low on the pitch after being chased to the stratosphere by Potter and Morris before the time. And Potter has chased the Snitch right up through the Puddlemere attack, breaking it up.

“Something appears to be wrong with Morris’s broom as he’s trailing smoke. Puddlemere’s attack is reset and here they come in a hawkshead. Great save by Turnbull and the throw-in, Jugson takes it down the left side. Pass to Montclair and she loops. Puddlemere broke up the attack with the Bludgers and Montclair passes back to Cartwright. There’s a Parkins pincer thrown at Cartwright and broken up by Potter, and Morris chasing the Snitch. This will be close; the Seekers are headed for the Puddlemere goal and Potter is through the large ring, still in pursuit. Gentle beings, you’ve never seen flying like this! Potter is on fire.”

“Jozef. that was blatching. The Duke is intentionally breaking up Puddlemere’s attacks by flying through them.”

“Blatching is intentionally flying to collide, Bartholomew. I believe Harry is simply chasing the Snitch. And he hasn’t tried to collide.”

Bartholomew pouted; Puddlemere was getting slaughtered and this young Duke was a lot of the cause. He was completely fearless, and who’d ever seen brooms this fast?

August Wetten sat in the Duke of Aumale’s box. “Richard, so kind of you to have me. So your father—”

“—was a traitor and is not to be discussed, sir.”

“I’m sorry, Richard, but I must understand what happened in order to explain it to the nobles of central Europe.”

“My father was sworn but then—well, he questioned the Duke and accused him of being the next rising Dark Lord. The realm judged him and his compatriots and found them wanting. They were sent to a trial by combat by their liege and lost. If your nobles would keep their titles and stay alive, they’ll swear truthfully and then live up to their oaths.”

The crowd roared and the people in the Aumale box turned back to the game.

“And Puddlemere finally gets on the boards, gentle beings. A long goal coming in from Wadcock, 100 to 10 Holyhead. This is Percival Gribbs, WWN Sports 1 live, from the Royal Academy. For those of you just joining us we’re thirty-four minutes into a cracking game which has seen outstanding coordinated play from the Harpies and great play from Puddlemere, but nothing approaching the Harpies’ level. Captain Wadcock is obviously frustrated and now Puddlemere is taking chances. Another long shot off an intercepted throw-in and the shot is intercepted by Jugson, long pass to Cartwright followed by another long pass to Montclair who’s in the clear.

“Oh, and there’s a Bludger to the body of Crayfield by Jones as he was lining up on Montclair. That’s caused some damage. Montclair takes the long shot and Potter flashes in front of the Keeper, Johnson. The Quaffle is through the large ring. 110 to 10 Holyhead.”

Gwenog was amazed. She had found herself looking into first Harry’s head and then all the Harpies’. She could see the whole field. It had been disconcerting in practise and had scared her, but now she had gotten used to it and was using it to the team’s advantage. The witches were settling right into it too. What the hell was that?

“Harry, stop that! I can’t play and make love to you. Later, baby, let’s just finish this up. Harry, concentrate on the Snitch. Morris isn’t helping them at all any more. They’re trying to Snitch it away before we put it out of reach. Rose, stay tough—Robin, help Rose; Isabell, coordinate attacks and let me take care of the Bludgers over the Chasers.” She smacked a Bludger back at Frank Crane. “Let’s put this away quickly.”

“Percival Gribbs for WWN Sports 1. And Cartwright intercepts the throw-in after the goal, and here come the Harpies; Potter is up at about a hundred feet and running a very high-speed flat double eight. A formation loop and a Bludger cannonballs through, clearing Puddlemere off, and it’s the Harpies vs. Meadows. I can’t see the Quaffle and I don’t think Meadows can either. Another formation loop and another, and the Quaffle is through the left hoop. One hundred twenty to ten Holyhead.

“Wadcock takes it before it hits the ground and there’s a long pass all the way down pitch to Fairlane. Fairlane turns and the Quaffle is knocked loose by a Bludger from Vicar. Montclair swoops in and—what’s this here? Seeker Potter is diving on her—it looks like blatching on his own player. Morris has followed him in the dive and Montclair brakes right and down with the Quaffle. Potter is gaining; Montclair turns and the Snitch seems to be following her—she’s right on the deck and streaking for the Puddlemere goal. Puddlemere is diving to defend and Potter is diving on her, followed by Morris.

“This is going to be bad, gentle beings. It looks as if we’re heading into an eight-way collision. Oh, wait—Montclair breaks up followed by Potter. She takes the shot, Potter snatches the Snitch, and Puddlemere collide. Two hundred ninety to ten Holyhead, and that’s the game Puddlemere looks to be out of first and maybe out of the season after that crash. The crowd is going wild.”

The Harpies were going wild too. They piled on Harry and Janet, who were already in a hug, and as Nym yelled, “Ground!” Harry faded them to the play area in the Ducal box.

“Harry, Gwenog, stop that! The Pope and the Patriarch are right here.”

Harry raised his lips from Gwenog. “Father Jozef, how are you? I’m sure you’ll excuse us?” He leaned over and kissed Rose and the team faded away.

Bartholomew looked at the smiling Pope. “Aren’t you going to admonish him, Jozef?”

“For what, Bartholomew? They’re mated—you can feel it, I know. Our Lord said, ‘Go forth and multiply’.”

“Is that a command, Father?”

Father Jozef smiled at Amelia Fastida and opened his mouth.

“Jozef, hush. Amelia, be a good girl.” Agnes sat back after reestablishing order.

Nym smiled. “Thank you, Agnes. All right, everyone, Harry will be back in a few minutes and then we have to wait for the other games to finish.”

Bartholomew looked at Jozef. “So that’s our young Duke. Just a normal boy, then?”

“He would rather be, Bartholomew; unfortunately he doesn’t get to yet or, unfortunately, perhaps ever.”

“But what kind of man will he be, Jozef?”

The Pope stared at the Ecumenical Patriarch. “The kind you see, Bartholomew. It’s not an act; he maintains no pretense. He is what he seems to be.”

“So a power in the old sense.”

John Paul II nodded silently.

Harry and the Harpies faded into the locker room and the witches wasted no time. Harry was naked and in the shower before the coaches and reserves made it into the locker room. Gwendolyn, Glynnis, and the other coaches and trainers stripped and joined them. Harry was gobsmacked.

“Oh relax, Harry. You’ve made love to most of them and the rest are on the schedule. Go with it. We’ll call when Portree and Montrose finish, if you’re still busy. Ooooh, hurry, though—you’re going to want to see Meghan McCormack in person. Very pretty redhead. She’ll be fun.”

Harry sighed and grabbed one of the little green and gold poofy sponge-like things and squirted some soap on it and began soaping up. He failed to notice all activity glide slowly to a halt while the witches watched the show. Jennifer and Carol watched from the doorway. Gwendolyn finally broke the spell. “Cor, and he plays Quidditch like a witch, too. God is great indeed.”

Nym and the mates were all wearing little secret smiles as they watched the Pride demolish the Magpies in front of their indomitable Keeper, Meghan McCormack.

“Percival Gribbs here, gentle beings, after that match between Holyhead and Puddlemere, won by Holyhead 290–10 in the fifty-third minute, a match which redefined speed of play. We have shifted our coverage to the already in progress Portree vs. Montrose game and it’s a shut-out, Keeper Meghan McCormack having already stopped thirty-nine shots on goal. Too bad Lord Potter isn’t in his box yet. His contracted potential bonded Meghan is putting in a ripping good afternoon’s work.” Bruce Titterhorn paled as Percy smirked at him and then changed the subject.

In the locker room Gwenog managed, barely, to keep a lid on things and get them all showered and dressed. She herded them to the Ducal box and sat Harry amidst the field of flowers that were the mates. Gwenog flopped down next to Nym, and her elf Daisy popped in with Lesley and Randolph. Nym took Lesley while Gwenog took Randolph and sat up to feed him. Nym waved a negligent hand and the dome silvered from the outside; Rose and the other nanny elves popped in with the Clan’s progeny.

The holy men and women studied Duke Potter. They saw a smiling, contented young man enamored of his mates and in love with his children. Every child that was handed to him drew the same loving looks and gentle pets. Bartholomew shook his head. “We’ve canonized others for less, Jozef.”

“Yes, Bartholomew; but the horror is yet to come.”

Bartholomew nodded his head at John Paul’s comment. He had read the papers and listened to the wireless. Britain seemed to have gone back in time a thousand years in some respects, but it was hard to reconcile with the happy, prosperous-looking people around him. Bartholomew looked around and was shocked to see what looked like a blond nine-year-old kiss the Duke in a very—errrh, well, not like a child should kiss a young man. John Paul followed his gaze and chuckled. “The duchess Gabrielle, a half-Veela, Bartholomew. Don’t let her apparent age deceive you; she is fully matured.”

“How do you keep all this straight, Jozef?”

“Oh, I don’t. I trust the Alphas, Duchess Nymphadora and Duchess Sarah. They keep the Clan straight. Plus the mothers and fathers-in-law are always around somewhere.”

Bartholomew shook his head.

Soon enough the last game of the day finished and it was time for Court. Bartholomew watched Harry’s smile fade.

Court was over quickly enough; fourteen were enslaved and two offered single combat. The two were incinerated so fast it was hard for the eye to follow. There was no cheering from the crowd, just a look of grim determination mirrored in tens of thousands of faces.

After Court Harry walked with Bartholomew and Father Jozef as the ladies herded everyone home. “Harry, how have you been?”

“Fine, Father.”

“And the ladies, Harry?”

“They’re trying to kill me,” Harry grinned “But they’re fine too. We had a little trouble with Jack getting hit by an airplane and Daphne stepping on an anti-tank mine in Chita, but I found I can call on the Realm and she helped me heal them.”

Bartholomew asked, “She, Your Grace?”

“Harry, Patriarch. Yes, definitely a she. Also I met her again when I healed Xi Shi.”

John Paul frowned. “Why did you heal her, Harry?”

“Father! She was injured. I couldn’t just leave her.”

Father Jozef smiled at Harry. Bartholomew asked, “You say you met the Realm, Harry?”

“It’s a little hard to explain, Patriarch. Lilith borrowed Nym’s consciousness and talked to me.”

John Paul started. “Lilith, Harry?” Bartholomew was also suddenly very wary.

“A consciousness like Rowena and Roxanne—she says the ‘mother consciousness’. Seemed like a nice lady. I got the impression she intends to join the Clan in her physical form soon.”

Jozef and Bartholomew looked at each other. “Well, Father, Patriarch. If you’ll excuse me, the ladies are waiting for me for the after-party.”

John Paul smiled at Harry. “Of course, Harry. We wanted to talk to her Majesty anyway.”

Harry nodded and faded away. “Jozef, have you lost your mind? You can’t let him go! The boy is consorting with demons.”

“Bartholomew, please. The sentient stones are millions of years old and monstrously powerful. If one chooses to call herself Lilith, who are we to disagree? I will withhold my judgment on whether or not the consciousness is a demon until I witness its acts. Between them the Duke, Duchesses, mates, and the two stones he is already bonded and handfasted to, I suspect they could perhaps overcome this Lilith. I also suspect that they are the only ones who could.”

Bartholomew sighed; it was very apparent to him that the Duke and Clan were a dominant power. It was also apparent that Jozef was skillfully teaching the Duke the nature of politics. Well, he had better put himself in position to assist. Don’t want Rome stealing a march.

August IV approached Elizabeth II. “Majesty, it’s been years.”

Elizabeth smiled at him. “August, how are you? I see the Communists didn’t manage to inconvenience you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Elizabeth, but they didn’t manage to kill me. I would like to talk to you about the Duke.”

“Certainly, August. Why don’t we adjourn to the Castle?”

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Potter Castle
Dragon’s Den
20 Oct 96
21:00

Nym had finally managed to get the kids fed and down and Harry had returned. The mates, now including the Harpies, had wandered into the Dragon’s Den and Pansy had parked Harry in front of the stage and given him her very erotic best. She was now ensconced in her favorite lap in her favorite position, reverse cowboy, and giving feedback to her mates on the state of—erm—appreciation Harry was in over their performance. Harry was looking from the perfect butt up the long back to the trim but muscular shoulders. Morgana, they were all hot but Pansy was a gift from the goddess. Pansy smiled and wriggled. She was so glad to be Harry’s she didn’t know how to express it. She had started dancing to express it and the club had grown from there.

Harry couldn’t take it any more; between Ginny writhing across the stage and Pansy’s wet warmth and...he shoved Pansy half onto the stage and the party really got started.