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Harry Potter and the Fifth Element by Bexis
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Harry Potter and the Fifth Element

Bexis

Wherein there is a Death Eater attack; Harry apologizes to Eliza and ends up with a date; Harry arranges a floo meeting with Ron and Ginny; Harry and Hermione have flight training on powerful new brooms; Harry nearly gets himself killed; Hermione is nearly assassinated; Harry goes to the rescue again; the assassination plot is revealed; and Harry Dumbledore discusses squaring accounts. Flying scenes abound.

This chapter features flying, near-death escapes, flying, a Death Eater attack, flying, and just a touch of H/Hr fluff.

Disclaimer: I neither own nor claim any other rights in the characters and other concepts created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money, nor do I seek any commercial advantage from this work. As such it constitutes "fair use" as defined in 17 U.S.C. §107.


Chapter 12 - Squaring Accounts

Harry arrived home from Monday's training in Auror survival spells in a mood of nervous expectation. Survival training had been plenty rigourous. He had learned spells against extremes of heat and cold, charms for locating food and water, transfigurations that conjured shelter and anti-insect netting - along with distress signals, magical mapping techniques that provided insight into the workings of the Marauders' Map, and some field potions and healing techniques. These were useful things to know, even if using ones wand as a dowsing rod was not nearly as flashy as dropping a ceiling on an opponent or immersing him (or her) in fire and brimstone.

Still, Harry had some trouble focussing because he was thinking of a number of other immediate - and more daunting - issues.

Most disturbing had been the news of a Death Eater attack, the first since Voldemort's defeat at the Ministry the month before. To be sure, Harry had never expected attacks to cease (unlike the Ministry, which had been planting optimistic speculation in the Prophet over the past week), but it was nevertheless upsetting to contemplate that the hiatus of Phoney War may well be over.

More upsetting still was the nature of the attack. The Death Eaters had diverged from the previous war's pattern of terroristic attacks upon isolated small groups or helpless families in their homes. Instead, they had staged another daring assault similar to - and in some ways even more audacious than - the trap they had laid for Harry in the heart of the Ministry Building. When the training session ended, a grim-faced Kingsley Shacklebolt informed both Harry and Hermione that a group of at least twenty Death Eaters had attacked an Auror barracks hidden in a supposedly flooded tin mine in the southwest.

Harry had suspected that there was something amiss, as his instructors had seemed distracted over the last two hours of the training session. They had hardly commented when Harry had used an Escalatio Charm to scale a 50-metre ice-covered cliff face in the teeth of a gale whilst carrying the mock-injured Carluke on his back. Rather the instructors (except Carluke of course) were clustered around a Wizard's Wireless listening to a dedicated Auror Corps magical frequency. They deflected questions from their two trainees about what was happening. Therefore Harry - already inured to having bad information withheld - immediately assumed the worst.

The Death Eaters had been repulsed, but not before two Aurors had been killed and another four sent to St. Mungo's suffering from varying degrees of spell damage. Since (belying the Ministry's public optimism) the Aurors had received permission to use Unforgivables two weeks ago, at least seven Death Eaters had also been dispatched.

The body count was uncertain because the Death Eaters used a new enchantment that caused their corpses to spontaneously combust after death. The spell was extremely thorough. Even after the Aurors picked their way through the wreckage and the stench, they had been unable to identify individual bodies in the charred remains.

The Aurors were also surprised that the Death Eaters had engaged in suicidal tactics rather than surrender when surrounded. Other than the occasional rogue last-ditcher, self-sacrifice had never before been a Death Eater standard operating procedure. Rather, Voldemort's supporters had put their trust in their Master's ability to rescue them. No longer. This unexpected change in Death Eater tactics (an attack after a white flag had been displayed) had been directly responsible for two of the Auror casualties. Not a single Death Eater was captured alive.

With no prisoners to interrogate, the Aurors were mystified over what objective that Death Eaters had sought to achieve. The Dark forces had briefly seized the barracks' communication facility before being beaten back by Ministry reinforcements summoned from bases throughout the region. But after recapturing the area, Ministry investigators did not detect any attempt to compromise Auror codes. All in all, the attack bespoke a new level of Death Eater ferocity and fanaticism, whilst its purpose remained maddeningly obscure.

The second reason for Harry's nervous anticipation was tomorrow's combat flight training. It seemed like forever since Harry had last flown a broom - the previous November, to be exact. That was when that vile Umbridge woman had seized his broom and banned him from playing Quidditch at Hogwarts as punishment for fighting with Draco Malfoy.

After Umbridge was removed from Hogwarts, Harry had briefly gotten his Firebolt back. Unfortunately, he had not had a chance to fly it before he loaned it to Ron to use at the summer Quidditch camp in Denmark.

Harry loved flying more than any other activity. It gave him a sense of exhilaration and freedom that was so lacking in his lonely and ever more highly scripted life. He longed to be back in the air, to feel the wind whip through his hair, to see the broader horizons visible only from the back of a broomstick a hundred or more metres in the air.

The more he thought about it, the more Harry became convinced that inability to fly contributed to his frequently bleak emotional state. Certainly being grounded in the literal sense was not as much a factor as the constant threat of sudden and violent death that Voldemort posed to him and anyone he cared for. But Harry could not deny that flying had been one of the few pleasures in his life, and he wanted it back.

Harry smirked a bit as he thought of the diametrically opposite opinion that Hermione held about flying. She hated being on a broom and avoided them like the plague. Harry was not quite sure why. Ron had once let slip that there had been an incident in First Year flying class (after Harry's skill had placed him out) involving an unsteady broom, a sudden wind gust, and the Whomping Willow. Harry could not extract more details from either Ron or Neville. Given their reactions to the inquiry, Harry suspected that Hermione had threatened to hex them into the next century if either of them told him what had really happened. Hermione had both feet firmly planted on the ground, and that was the way she wanted to stay.

Harry wondered if Eliza liked to fly.

Eliza was the third and most immediate reason for Harry's current discomfiture. Having put off the inevitable on Sunday, he had spent most of Monday marshalling the nerve to ring her up and apologise, as Hermione had practically demanded that he do. He understood that Occlumency techniques could also be put to distinctly non-magical uses.

Using his new mobile, Harry had tried three times already - before leaving for training, during his lunch break, and right after training ended. Each time there had been no answer at the number she had told him to use. He did not dare try the other number, since Eliza had forbidden it. He was quite firmly enough in the doghouse already.

Nervously, Harry ran his hands through his already mussed hair, paced a bit, fed Hedwig, paced a bit more, flopped on his bed, meditated. Finally he pulled out his mobile (Howe had been right, it was a useful little gadget) and tried again. Once again he got that infuriating answerphone with the mechanical voice and vague greeting that left him wondering if he had even reached the right number.

"Er … Eliza, it's me again, Harry Potter. I really would like to talk with you, if you don't mind. Like I said, I got your letter…."

[click]

"Hello, Harry." He instantly recognised Eliza's voice and successfully fought the urge to hang up and run away. "Do you know this is the fourth time you rang today? You could have waited for me to return your calls."

Harry choked out a response. "I know.… And maybe I should have, but I didn't know if you would want to ring me back.… And I really had to talk to you.… I'm really sorry, you know. I didn't mean anything like what it looked.… I had no idea…."

Eliza smiled into the receiver. Harry was so utterly honest and so utterly naïve at the same time. He was definitely not like anybody else she had ever met. Men never apologised for anything. She thought something in the Y chromosome made them genetically incapable of apology. Hell, most men would never even bother to call her back - unless they wanted sex - let alone ring up four times in one day.

If anybody else had done what Harry had done, Eliza admitted to herself that she would have been so insulted that she would not have even bothered including a note - just an envelope full of torn up red bits of bank notes. With Harry, though, she knew to an absolute certainty that there had been no ulterior motive. However, no good deed could go unpunished that was capable of being misread so badly.

"Harry, relax," Eliza soothed. "It's not like it's the end of the world. You just have to think before you act.… Think about appearances."

Harry stammered on, talking when he would have been better off listening. "But…. After Hermione explained it to me…. I was a bigger prat than I ever thought possible.… Please listen to me!"

Eliza was taken aback. "You discussed this with Hermione Granger?"

Harry gasped. After all, their rendezvous was supposed to be a secret. "Not who your were … I mean are, no, but otherwise, yes," he rather disjointedly admitted. "I'm really thick about this kind of thing. She's always been able to explain girls … er … women to me. She knew what I had done better than I did. She set me straight…."

"I suppose it was her idea to apologise to me?" Eliza growled.

Harry struggled on. "Er.… Not really. That much even I could figure out for myself. It's more like she told me what I had to apologise for."

Eliza was flabbergasted. She could hardly believe her ears. Hermione Granger had a well-earned reputation as the cleverest witch Hogwarts had seen in many years, but Eliza thought her a fool. Harry's heart was lying in the street, there for the taking. This wonderful, unique wizard was so obviously under that girl's spell if she ever so much gave him the slightest encouragement. Yet, the Granger girl was inexplicably content to advise Harry on how to mend things with her!

Eliza shook those thoughts off. They were not her business. She said simply, "apology accepted, Harry. Now stop being so serious. This was supposed to be fun, remember?"

"Fun, yes, of course," Harry went on, not quite sure what he should be saying.

"Yes, Harry - F U N," Eliza purred. "It's fun to have fun, but you have to know how. The idea was for both of us to relax and maybe have good, normal fun together, whatever that might be. I don't want to add to your already overly full plate. No strings attached - capisce? Everything is zipless."

"Zipless - right." Harry felt like a zombie.

Eliza sensed Harry's verbal helplessness and took the initiative. "So now that you have finished apologising, Harry, when do you want to get together?"

A thoroughgoing pessimist about all matters of the heart, Harry had not even thought to develop any "Plan B" for what to do if his apology were accepted. Nevertheless he felt incredibly relieved. "I guess I'm free all Wednesday afternoon. I have a karate lesson in the morning."

"Good," Eliza said briskly. "After you're done, you can Apparate to my flat. We'll go to the Docklands theme park near Canary Wharf. Just ring me up before you do, so I can have everything presentable."

The call ended moments later, and Harry - after he got over his numbness and shock - was elated. He had a date! A real date! He could hardly believe it. Eliza made everything seem so easy.

Harry awoke early the next morning awash in nervous energy. He had gone to bed early, and listened to a full lesson and a half on his Aural Pensieve. He was going to be flying today and he could hardly wait. As he was dressing for his morning run, an owl arrived. It was from Ron and Ginny:

Dear Harry:

Congratulations. I saw the Prophet article about the O.W.L. results, with your and Hermione's pictures. I didn't do badly, not by recent family history, anyway, but I didn't do anywhere near as well as you two, or Bill, or that prat Percy. I'm struggling with course selection right now. I hope this won't be the end of the "Trio."

Ginny, who is reading over my shoulder, is telling me it's now the "Sextet," whatever that means. I don't know what this has to do with sex. I've got to talk to her about Dean, I guess.

At this point Ron's scrawl trailed off into unintelligible inkblots.

Sorry about the mess. Ginny just kicked me.

We'd both really like to talk to you face to face. It's been a month, and so much has happened - about marks, and awards, and Quidditch, and relationships and all. I've enclosed some Floo powder, in case you might have problems getting any. The address here is Elsinore, Hafnia (that's what the Wizards here call Denmark), Library Hall. We can be free any evening after 9:00 p.m. BST. Just send us a note by return owl to let us know when to be there.

Your friends and family,

Ron & Ginny

With Dudley waiting downstairs for him, Harry had no time to sit down and figure out his schedule just then. He would write Ron back that evening.

Returning from his run, Harry was somewhat surprised to see Bill Weasley waiting for him. Wondering what else he had done wrong, Harry braced himself for something unpleasant. But what Harry received from Bill was more mystifying than mortifying.

Bill handed Harry a folded up parchment with four sentences written on it - at least Harry thought they were sentences. Harry looked at Bill quizzically, then held the parchment at arm's length. "Let's see, cover the right eye and ... D-A-V-A-L-A-Q…."

"No Harry," chuckled Bill. "It's not an eye chart, it's Gobbledegook. You need to memorise these phrases for Saturday night's ceremony."

"Well, what do they mean?" inquired Harry.

"They are formal phrases that you say at designated points during the ceremony," Bill explained. "The first one means something like `I accept the obligations of this agreement freely and willingly.' The next one is about subjecting yourself to goblin law. The one after that is about becoming a full member of the goblin community with all rights and responsibilities. The last one gives thanks and accepts a commission as a general officer in the goblin army. There are probably nuances that I don't know, even though I've worked with goblins for almost a decade. Dumbledore can tell you more when we prepare."

"Alright," said Harry. "I'll memorise them. I can't do worse than Bagman, can I?"

"If I were you, Harry, I wouldn't mention Ludo Bagman in front of the goblins," a suddenly serious Bill cautioned. "I don't even want them to know that he's back from his trip. There's too much bad blood there."

Harry explained to Bill that he was intending to Apparate to London on Wednesday after a morning session with Lao Kung. Bill was a little worried about Harry taking such a long jump with so little Apparition experience. Mindful of how awful he felt during the process, Harry agreed that he would make the jump in the presence of whomever the Order assigned to guard him - just in case he splinched himself.

Harry gave Bill Eliza's address (not that had much of a choice) but extracted Bill's word that his minder would not try to learn her identity. Bill promised that the Order would remain a "respectful distance" away from them. Harry, in turn, agreed not to take any evasive manœuvres.

Harry met Hermione after both of them had Apparated to the Auror Candidate School. While they were both impressed with how much travel time Apparition saved them, Harry wondered if the process affected her as badly is it did him. It did not seem to.

Hermione was planning to use the extra time gained by Apparition to get a head start on her course work. She now knew what books she had to get, and all this training ate heavily into the time she would ordinarily have spent studying for school.

Harry had trouble believing that she was planning to start schoolwork already - but this was Hermione. Harry thought he might use the extra time to answer more of his "Santa Claus" letters. There certainly were more of them. "Morale," he had to remind himself.

Harry was eagerly looking forward to combat flying training. Hermione considerably less so. Anything she did, she liked to do well, but she had never been very proficient at flying. Thus she avoided it whenever possible. Now that she knew Apparition, Hermione saw even less reason to practice flying. Today, however, there was no ducking it, even if security seemed considerably tighter after yesterday's attack.

Together with an Auror escort, Harry and Hermione Portkeyed (using a greasy fish and chips basket) to the Ministry's aerial training facility. It was located on an abandoned R.A.F. base in Perranporth, Cornwall that the Muggles had transferred to the Ministry in the late 1950s. Throughout the first war against Voldemort, Perranporth had served as the Ministry's primary air base. Difficulties in concealing operations from an ever-growing number of Muggle tourists had recently forced the Ministry to redeploy its active duty forces. However, the Perranporth Aerodrome still served as the Ministry's aerial training facility.

Several stone-faced Aurors met Harry and Hermione's group, along with two wizards dressed in what Harry soon learned was wizard military flight gear. The Ministry's military flight wing, although not exactly secret, was still not a matter of common public knowledge. The two trainees were curtly informed that one of the reasons for tight security was the aerodrome's proximity to the Auror barracks attacked by Death Eaters the day before. Many Perranporth personnel had been in the first wave of the relief forces. What they found had not been a pretty sight, and it was still fresh in everyone's minds.

Harry and Hermione received flight suits, with their names already embroidered on them in red and gold block letters, the colours of Gryffindor house. They were led into a large building, and saw - side by side - two identical brooms.

But what brooms!

These were the sleekest, most impressive brooms Harry had ever laid his eyes upon. They almost seemed to radiate power. Their broomsticks were long and tapered, with some sort of device at the tip.

Harry was unable to tell if the broomsticks were made out of wood or something else with a close-grained composition. Hermione asked, and they were told that the manufacturer had used wand-quality white oak, harvested on the last day of the Bowtruckle mating season. The wood was then soaked in an Unbreakability Potion for two weeks.

The brooms were countershaded, painted light grey on the bottom and brownish black on the top. The back of each broom was flanked on either side by metre-length stabilizer bars on which the rider could rest his or her legs, or even stand up in flight. The effect was to give the brooms a triangular appearance when viewed head on. The tail twigs must have been 70 centimetres long by themselves. They were aerodynamically sculpted and shorter in the middle.

The tail thus looked "V" shaped, reminding Harry of nothing so much as the guitars used by the Weird Sisters wizard rock group (Seamus Finnegan, a Weird Sisters fanatic, called them "axes"). Harry later learned that leading edges of the "V" on each side automatically lowered at high speeds, compressing the air beneath the broom and generating additional lift.

"Alright trainees, listen up!" barked one of the pilots. He introduced himself only as Mannock, something confirmed by the green and silver lettering stitched into his flight suit. "You will learn your combat flying skills - elementary or whatever level your experience merits (he shot a glance at Harry) - on these brooms. These are," Mannock paused for effect, "the fastest, most formidable brooms in the world, the Valkyrie-70. You, Potter, what broom are you currently using?"

Harry jumped. "Er … I have a Firebolt, sir."

"Ah, yes," half-sneered Mannock. "A Quidditch broom - quite a good one, at that, but nevertheless inadequate for combat purposes. The Valkyrie is not a Quidditch broom, Potter, even though I daresay it would leave your Firebolt in the dust if ever used for sport. This is a fighting broom. For defense, it is equipped with a Protego Totalum curse/hex repellant, and an Iffendus glass. The glass is capable of detecting any witches and wizards within a radius of 500 metres, regardless of concealment, and determining whether they are friendly … or not."

"For offense, the Valkyrie has triple-wand ordnance. The broomstick and stabilizer bars are all cored…."

"Cored, sir?" Harry questioned.

Mannock explained, "That's what I said Potter, cored. The handle has a magical core just like your wand - and it functions like a wand. The stabilizer bars too. All of them contain magical wand cores, specifically Norwegian Ridgeback dragon heartstring. Upon insertion of your wand in the handle of the Valkyrie all of these cores are activated. In combat you aim your broom through the sighting mechanism, there, on the nose of the broomstick. The entire broom acts as an oversized wand, or more precisely as three wands that fire simultaneously."

The other pilot trainer, a witch named Cheryl Markham (yellow and black embroidered lettering), asked Hermione the same question Harry had answered. "Miss Granger, what kind of broom do you use?"

"I, I, I don't have a regular br, broom," Hermione stammered. "I've used the school Shooting Stars on those occasions when I had to fly, but I really haven't flown much - on a broom that is - since the end of first year.…"

Mannock flashed a grin halfway between evil and appraising. "Granger, remember to fasten your safety belt, you'll need it."

Hermione gasped, and for a moment Harry thought she was on the verge of refusing the training. Perhaps Mannock also realised that, or perhaps he caught Harry's furious glare, or just possibly he responded to Pilot Markam's Inverso Curse that left him suspended upside down trying to keep his flight robes over his Y-fronts.

Whatever the reason, Mannock hastily added, in a much more sympathetic tone of voice, "Granger, I'm sure you'll perform far better than you think right now. Anyone who can ride a Thestral she can't even see bareback for several hundred kilometres can ride one of these. The Valkyrie is superbly balanced, and turns with the merest shifting of your weight. It has anti-inertial cushioning, so that G-forces from acceleration, deceleration, pitch, yaw, and roll never exceed 2. That means it feels as comfortable as an old Bluebottle to fly, no matter how fast you start or stop. You don't even have to hold the stick to steer."

Markham winked at Hermione as she gently returned Mannock to normal, upright position. Mannock's not altogether voluntary concession to Hermione's skittishness defused any immediate problem. Much to Harry's annoyance, however, they stayed on the ground for another hour, reviewing aspects of the Valkyrie that were too new or too highly classified to be in the standard Auror lesson plan.

The Valkyrie cast a brilliant light in response to "Lumos;" but also possessed an infrared ranging beam that provided the rider with night vision. There were a number of special charms. In addition to the Protego Totalum Charm, a Furtim Charm that made the Valkyrie practically invisible to opponents. An Anti-Collision Charm would activate at the last possible instant to turn the Valkyrie away from large solid objects, including (in all but extreme cases) the ground. In a pinch, there was an Ejection Charm.

The windscreen was charmed to protect the rider from the wind. This was necessary because the Valkyrie was almost twice as fast as Harry's Firebolt. It could reach top speed of 450 kilometres per hour in level flight after twelve seconds and could approach 500 klicks in a powered dive

Beyond teaching the attributes of the Valkyrie combat broom, it took considerable time to activate its personal security features. Each Valkyrie was charmed to respond only to its designated rider. This required both Harry and Hermione submit to a number of recognition spells, involving passwords, their auras, and their wands. For his part, Harry perceived the Valkyrie's recognition charm as similar (involving the same colour light, anyway) to the one cast on the quill in his communicator.

In normal mode, the Valkyrie would only operate for its designated rider. Prolonged contact with unrecognised persons or unauthorised attempts at movement caused Valkyries automatically to return to their designated riders. In combat mode, the same circumstances would cause the Valkyrie to emit a powerful stunning spell, disabling any intruder. Only if placed in maintenance mode by its designated rider could a Valkyrie be handled by anyone else.

Harry casually remarked, "All these lengthy broom security procedures … aren't they a bit excessive for a one-day training course?"

Pilot Markham's reply was shocking. "Not at all Mister Potter, these brooms will be yours to keep for as long as He Who Must Not Be Named is a threat to you. Direct orders from the Ministry."

Harry found his jaw dropping, an increasingly frequent occurrence. To own a Valkyrie exceeded his wildest dreams. Even though Harry instinctively knew that, after a fashion, he (and secondarily Hermione) was being bribed to behave, Harry could not resist the present. He knew now that he needed to fly. It was psychological sustenance to him - a release for his pent up emotions and an antidote to his poisonous black moods of depression.

The anticipation that had been growing inside Harry all morning ended soon thereafter. Mannock, a pilot from a family of pilots, visibly sympathised with Harry's impatience to become airborne. "Let's fly Potter," growled Mannock. "One circuit, then stop."

Harry did not need to be told twice. He kicked off for the nearest of the windsocks that lined the edge of the aerodrome and pelted away. The Valkyrie handled so smoothly and the anti-inertial cushioning was so effective that Harry had trouble believing he was really moving as fast as his eyes were telling him.

Cautiously, Harry released the Windscreen charm. Big mistake. The blast of wind rushing by at over 300 kilometres per hour would have knocked him off the broom if not for his safety belt. As it was, the air stream forced him backwards and almost pulled his glasses, affixed with their unbreakable band, right over the top of his head.

The Valkyrie automatically responded to the rearward shift in Harry's weight, and slowed down. Harry heard Mannock (who had been marking him) swoosh by, laughing. Partly in anger and partly in embarrassment, Harry snapped the Windscreen charm back into place, and sped after him.

Harry had been Hogwarts' youngest Quidditch player in a century for good reason - flying came as naturally to him as eating or sleeping. Pushing the Valkyrie to its limit, Harry caught up to Mannock about three-quarters of the way around the circuit. He rode in Mannock's slipstream for several seconds, catching his breath, drawing some of the power from Mannock's Valkyrie, and slowing Mannock down a trifle. Less than 500 metres from the end, Harry rocked from side to side and sling-shotted himself around and under Mannock. Harry finished in front of Mannock by less than a broom's length.

Hermione, who was being closely marked by Pilot Markham, had been taking short straight-line sprints to get used to her broom. They both stopped to watch as Harry and Mannock came thundering down the home stretch. As it ended, Hermione clapped and cheered for Harry as if he had just caught the Snitch.

Pilot Markham simply stared. Under her breath she told Hermione that Mannock provoked impromptu races whenever he could, and that Mannock had never lost to a trainee before. Even against regular pilots, Mannock was unbeaten in over two years, since Shak had been promoted and given up regular flying.

When it was over, Mannock flew beside Harry. "Your reputation preceded you, Potter," he remarked. "And from what I've just seen, every bit of that reputation was fully and justly earned." Harry beamed at the remark from the tough, veteran pilot, and he could feel his chest swelling. He snapped back to attention when Mannock barked, "Twenty minutes free flight, Potter. I want to see everything you've got."

The weather was producing another hot July day - broken only by occasional puffy clouds. Harry was already glistening with sweat from his previous effort. Nevertheless, when given that kind of an invitation, and this kind of broom, he was once again off like a shot, diagonally across the field. "Bloody Hell," spat Mannock, and he took off in pursuit.

Harry was practically prone on his broom, continuing to familiarise himself with its capabilities and limits. Streaking over the center of the aerodrome, he stomped hard on the stabilizer bars, yanked back on the broom handle, and shot straight up. With nothing but the azure sky before him, Harry laid himself flat against the broomstick, letting the rhythmic power of the Valkyrie pulse through him.

This was as close to ecstasy as Harry had ever been. Before his eyes the wild blue yonder got bluer and bluer. There were no longer any clouds in the sky. For an almost sixteen-year-old orphan, starved of love, under constant threat of death, and fated some day to kill or be killed - it did not get any better than the mesmerising quality of high-speed flight.

Very shortly, however, reality pulled Harry back. He started getting cold, despite the Windscreen charm, his pilot trainee robes, and the bright sun. Looking around at the violet-blue sky, Harry realised that he was having trouble breathing - or rather that he was breathing normally whilst his lungs were telling him he was gasping for breath. From his lesson Harry recalled, with a start, that high altitude flight carried with it a very real danger of anoxia. Fighting to keep a clear head, Harry leaned back on the broom and brought it to a vertical stall.

Within seconds, the broomstick flipped over and Harry put the Valkyrie into a power dive. Harry's teeth were chattering and he was desperate to return to the oxygenated reaches of the lower atmosphere. Nevertheless, Harry could not possibly ignore the awesome sight spread before his eyes.

He was pointed almost straight down. In front of him stretched the jagged Cornish coast, the green lay of the land abruptly changing to bluish grey ocean, separated by a winding thin ribbon of blinding white surf punctuated by black waveswept rock. To Harry's right, the coastline doubled back abruptly at Land's End. He could see the Scilly Isles beyond as desolate droplets in the boundless sea, and then nothing but blue, until the grey-blue of the sea merged in the far distance with the cerulean sky. To Harry's left, the abrupt division between emerald isle and sapphire sea meandered to the horizon.

Scattered billows of cloud were starting to form over the land, but Harry was, for the first time, looking down upon their phantasmagoric shapes. Near the barely perceptible curve of the horizon, Harry could barely make out the Isle of Wight. Spread out in front and above Harry's broomstick was the majestic English Channel, La Manche, and beyond that the Channel Islands and the Norman coast of France. A large cloud bank - brilliant white in the midday sun - lay towards the horizon where Brittany should be.

Like a bird - like his own miniature satellite - Harry was perched above it all with a gloriously unobstructed view. He could practically reach out and touch it. It seemed so close. If he tried he could make the entire world revolve around him. There was Wales coming into view, then Bristol, then the English Channel again.

It was so beautiful. So peaceful. So very beautiful. If only Hermione were here to share it with him, she would understand why he loved to fly. Flying was worth it. It was worth anything…. The wind was hissing by….

The hissing grew louder and louder. Harry could hear someone shouting in the distance. "Dammit, Potter. Come out of it."

Harry jerked his head up. He was still in the air as best he could tell. He was definitely still on his broom. But his vision was partially impaired, and there was this hissing sound in his ears.

Harry's head was feeling very hot and the air was bright, but indistinct. It was as if he were inside of a fishbowl, but the fishbowl was covered in mist and all he could see was light and shadow. The hissing was coming from bubbling liquid only a foot or so in front of him. The liquid was frothing around cut-up pieces of something brownish. Harry reached for it, but his hand hit something hard.

"Ouch!" Harry yelled.

Something, somebody, had grabbed his arm and squeezed down hard. "Don't move," he heard Mannock yell. "What's your name?"

"Harry Potter," Harry mumbled. "Why are you…?"

"Where do you live?" Mannock asked urgently.

"Er…, Four Privet Drive."

"What are your parent's names?"

"James and Lily Potter."

"Who's your girlfriend?"

"Herm…. Er…. I don't have one. What is this all about?!"

"Thank Merlin's lucky stars! Finite."

The fishbowl vanished, and Harry could clearly see Mannock's creased and frowning face less than two feet in front of him. "Evanesco." The foaming liquid with its auburn bits vanished.

"Wha…? What happened? Whe…? Where am I?" Harry asked unsteadily as he glanced this way and that, taking in his surroundings.

Mannock responded, "As for where, at this moment you're about 3,500 metres over the Perranporth Aerodrome. Effectively out of sight of the ground. As for what, that depends on your meaning. I could tell you that you just broke all-time Fédération Aéronautique Magique flight records for unpressurised broom altitude and speed - I know because it was my record. But if I told you that, then I'd go to Azkaban and you'd be grounded."

Mannock continued, "What I need to tell you is that you almost bought the farm. You just lost consciousness at around 8,000 metres after the biggest damn fool abuse of a broom that I've ever seen. You went into a death spiral, and you'd be a damp spot on the ground right now if your Anti-Hex shield had been up and had prevented me from stopping you. Even the Anti-Collision charm can't stop a power dive."

"What I hope you'll agree to, Potter, is that what just happened never did," Mannock spat. "But you should let this be a lesson to you. If you ever - I mean ever - have to fly an unpressurised broom anywhere near that high again, use the Bubblehead Charm and heat hydrogen peroxide mixed with bits of Fwooper liver inside it like I did for you. The oxygen it generates will save your life."

Mannock finished, "Now, I can give you about ten more minutes. How about showing me how well you can manœuvre on a broom instead of just how bloody fast and high you can make the damned thing go."

Suitably chastised, Harry started slowly, with a couple of figure-eights. But as he flew to lower altitudes, his head cleared and he regained his confidence. Soon Harry was attempting the more aggressive manœuvres that he had either tried on the Quidditch pitch or read about in books on the sport. Harry executed an inside loop. He executed two inside loops in succession. A barrel roll. A barrel roll during a loop. An outside loop. A deliberate stall and reversal of direction. A half-loop/barrel roll causing reversal of direction. Finally, in a series of kilometre long Wronski feints, Harry brought the Valkyrie to the ground once more.

Hermione had been performing far more basic manœuvres - although they did not seem at all basic to her. She had not flown seriously on a broom (as opposed to a Hippogriff or a Thestral) since helping Harry save the Philosopher's Stone in First Year. When she saw Harry descending, she broke off and flew swiftly to him. "Harry, where on Earth … er … not on Earth have you been? I was beginning to go mad with worry!"

"There was nothing to worry about, Hermione," Harry said blandly, trying not to display any emotion. "Mannock wanted to see what I could do, so I showed him."

"I guess you did," Hermione said more softly. "It's just that you seemed very happy…. And then, nothing. That worried me, but you seem fine. I was also concerned because I've never seen anybody - not even at the Quidditch World Cup - fly straight up like you did at such a high speed."

"That's nothing to be concerned about," Harry lied. "Mannock tells me it happens all the time around here, when the real pilots train."

The next several hours passed in real (shields up) combat training. About the only concession their trainers made to Harry and Hermione being mere student flyers was to have them keep their brooms in normal, rather than combat, mode. That way nobody got accidentally stupefied.

The two trainees had target practice to measure how well they could aim spells from their brooms. The targets were generously sized, as the object was simply to disable the broom, not to hit the rider. Both Harry and Hermione did well enough at this, although Harry once again showed an uncanny ability to hit targets from impossible angles, even during inverted flight.

They also had in-flight training - broom on broom. Here, Hermione was at a pretty basic level, and was content to learn entirely defensive skills. Harry, on the other hand, was soon immersed in advanced techniques, like Immelman turns and stall rolls (actually, he could already do these, but had been unaware of their tactical use), four- and eight-point rolls, reverse figure-eights, yo-yo turns, and positioning the sun at his back whilst attacking. After Harry twice made mock runs at Hermione, she told him in no uncertain terms to back off and stop using her for simulated target practice.

After lunch the training turned to close air support, which primarily consisted of attacking targets on the ground, rather than other flyers. The two of them were again approximately equal in this type of marksmanship, but as always Harry was the far superior flyer. Harry quickly graduated to zigzag strafing runs and the like, whilst Hermione continued to have trouble with the basic straight down and in high-speed run. Pilot Markham was still required to guide Hermione through her runs - especially trying to keep her from letting her airspeed drop dangerously.

Waiting for Hermione to finish some practice runs, Harry and Mannock got into an argument about the merits (or lack thereof) of Muggle aerial technology, whilst hovering lazily about 500 metres above the ground:

"Why do we keep fiddling around with brooms at all, then?" Harry asked. "Muggle aircraft are so much faster than any broom ever can be. We should just charm them."

"Won't work, Potter," replied Mannock. "Brooms do because they operate on pure magic. Muggles can't control performance aircraft without avionics, and avionics and magic don't mix any better than computers and magic. All the defensive charms necessary to send an aeroplane against wizards would fry the Muggle technology they need to work."

"If the aircraft are fast enough and well-armed enough, would they even need defensive charms?" persisted Harry.

Mannock sighed. "Potter, there's no reason for you to learn it here, but almost any fully trained wizard not taken by surprise is capable of downing an unprotected Muggle aeroplane with little difficulty. Muggle aircraft are just too vulnerable in too many ways to.…"

Mannock was interrupted by the cheery voice of Pilot Markham flying up to them. "I think I've finally got her to the point where she can make the run by herself. It's just a matter of self-confidence. Hermione has the potential to be an above average flyer. Not in Harry's league, mind you, but until now I've had to shepherd her everywhere…."

"Oh bloody Hell!! What now?" Markham pelted off behind Harry.

Harry saw Mannock's eyes grow wide. "She's in trouble! Follow me Harry!" Mannock flattened himself on his broom and was gone.

Harry went spare. "Hermione!" he yelped. Facing the wrong way, Harry instinctively dropped the Valkyrie into a descending Immelman from a standing start. Coming out of the turn, he pulled himself prone against the broomstick. In a frantic effort to get more speed, he deactivated all the defenses except the Windscreen charm in order to free up more power.

With no time to think, Harry at first simply followed his instructors. All too soon, however, he spotted Hermione at least a kilometre away and a couple hundred metres above him. Harry had no idea why, but Hermione and her broom were tumbling end over end in a macabre series of aerial cartwheels. Worse, rather than stopping, the rate of tumble seemed to be accelerating. Hermione and her broom were spinning faster and faster.

Trailing behind Mannock and Markham, Harry saw them firing spells at Hermione and her broom. Her shields were up, and the spells had no effect. She was spinning so fast now that she was practically a blur. Harry could tell that whatever was going on was entirely beyond Hermione's control.

Her anti-inertial cushioning was nonfunctional. Neither her hands nor her feet remained on her broom. Centrifugal force generated by the spin was splaying Hermione's arms, legs, and hair out crazily behind her. At 600 or more metres in the air, she was attached to her wildly rotating broom only by her safety belt.

Even though he was moving at close to 450 kilometres per hour, Harry felt like he was taking forever. As he closed in, his stomach seemed to fill with lead as he discovered that he was unable to tell if Hermione was still conscious - or even alive. "You can't die, Hermione!" he silently begged. Despite the instructors' spells having no discernable effect, Harry felt that he had to try something.

Hermione was right. Harry did have a "saving people thing" - and now he put every fiber of his being into trying to save his best friend. At this speed, he was only going to get one shot….

"Dammit!" Harry yelled to nobody in particular.

His instructors were in his line of fire. Harry stood on the left stabilizer bar and yanked the broomstick up. He sailed high and to the left. Aiming again, Harry jammed his eyes into the broomsight. Beads of sweat popped up all over his forehead as he squinted in intense concentration. "Three, two, one … Immobilus!!" Harry screamed. The three cores of the Valkyrie emitted angry blasts of yellow light, the likes of which he had never seen.

The recoil from the Immobilising Curse slammed into Harry like a sledgehammer. The Valkyrie bucked and shuddered. Somewhere in the depths of his consciousness in that frantic moment he regretted sacrificing the Anti-Inertial Cushioning Charm for more speed - but only for the briefest instant. His Seeker's instincts took over as Harry struggled for command over the crazily veering broom.

Despite his fight for control, Harry's eyes never strayed from the beam of yellow light streaking towards Hermione's wildly spinning form. Harry didn't believe in God - at least not the sort of corporeal God so popular with the Muggles - but at this moment he found himself praying to any and all deities that might exist to ensure that his aim was true.

It was.

The blur that was Hermione lit up like a daisy as Harry's spell found its mark. A split second later the yellow glow burst apart like an aerial firework as Harry's spell shattered the Protego surrounding Hermione and her malfunctioning broom. In the blink of an eye, the pinwheeling broom froze in place. Harry allowed himself to breathe again.

But to his horror, Hermione did not stop. Her safety belt snapped and off she went on a wide arc that inevitably led down - some 600 metres down. As he flattened himself on his broom once more, Harry noticed that his magical indicator light was glowing yellow. Harry's overloaded mind took note of the likely gremlin and promptly ignored it. He wrestled the Valkyrie into position and aimed again. This one would be trickier, because the spell required a flick at the end. "Wingardium leviosa!"

The colourless spell rocketed out of the ends of the three cores on the Valkyrie. Except for a slight flutter in the atmosphere, Harry could not see what he had done. He could feel it though. For a second time, he felt the sledgehammer recoil as he went pirouetting wildly sideways.

This time though, Harry also heard sputters and pops beneath him. He saw smoke begin to rise from the socket where his wand was inserted into the broomstick, and also from the connection to the left stabilizer bar. Cursing like a sailor, Harry yanked his wand free with one swing of his right hand. "Merlin, what more could go wrong?" he thought.

In the same millisecond, that question was answered. As Harry was grabbing for his wand, he saw Markham and Mannock closing in on Hermione's falling form with what looked like a large net strung between them. "Noooooooo!!!!" Harry screamed, as they flew into the path of his spell. The spell passed through the net, which instantly fouled, wrapping around itself, and flipping the instructors out of Harry's sight like balls on a string. Where they went, Harry did not know - because his eyes never left Hermione.

This time, Harry's spell had missed its target and taken out Hermione's rescuers instead.

Not knowing what else to do, Harry dove after her. Fortunately, at the low altitude, the rational side of his brain still worked. She was falling at maybe 150 kilometres per hour, close to terminal velocity. Harry was in a full power dive at around 450 kilometres per hour. Even if Harry were to catch up to her, what could he do? If he tried to catch her, their closing speed of 300 kilometres per hour would produce a collision that would surely kill them both - she would hit ground with less violence. Hermione was far too large for him even to consider catching her like the snitch at this speed.

The sight of the ground rushing up caused Harry to go numb in the groin. As that numbness spread to his legs, Harry reeling mind came up with one last desperate idea. Slowing his broom to get the best possible aim, Harry went to his knees on the stabilizer bars. He was too shaky to stand properly. He swallowed once to calm himself, aimed his wand at Hermione by hand, and shouted, "Aparecium parachutio!"

A reddish orange beam streaked from Harry's wand and found its target. A parachute appeared on Hermione's back. Some feeling returned to his legs, and he noted the relative lack of recoil. "Alohochuto," he bellowed. The parachute opened, instantly slowing her descent.

Still in a moderate power dive, Harry shot by Hermione whilst trailing black smoke. He hastily reactivated the Valkyrie's anti-inertial cushion, which seemed to work, and executed another Immelman. When he had Hermione in view again he realised that she was falling towards the remains of the concrete R.A.F. runway. Whilst the parachute was slowing her descent, it had nonetheless opened at far too low an altitude to prevent serious injury - or worse. Harry was too close to both the ground and Hermione for another spell. He could see people running frantically below him. He had no other choice. He jammed on the brakes….

FWUMP! Harry deliberately flew into the canopy of the parachute, rolling left and upward as he struck the chute in order to foul it as much as possible around him and his broom. Just before his vision became totally obscured in the white nylon, Harry located the ground and jerked his broomstick up once again. Blindly, Harry rose straight into the air.

Operating entirely by feel, Harry eased back on the broom causing it to lose its remaining speed gradually. He deliberately put himself into a vertical stall. Slowly he felt the pull of gravity return, and when he did, he put a much gentler version of the Wingardium leviosa spell on the Valkyrie itself. Now Harry was floating rather than flying. Completely wrapped in opaque fabric, Harry could tell up from down only from the direction that the parachute cords hung.

Furiously, Harry tore at the cords, grabbing them upward and draping them over the broomstick. With each yank of his sweaty fingers on the cords, Harry cried out, "Please don't be dead." Soaked in sweat, Harry continued to pull - metre by agonising metre. Friction from the cords burned and cut into his hands, but he noticed neither the pain nor the blood as he frantically tugged away.

Surrounded by nylon, Harry was terribly hot, physically exhausted, and perspiring profusely. Almost as if viewing himself in the third person, he willed himself to continue. A part of him dreaded what he might find at the end. The possibility of ending it all that always seemed to lurk in the darkest recesses of his mind came more and more to the fore. Harry's lungs and muscles ached as he rhythmically grappled with the tangled web of parachute cords.

After what seemed like an eternity, Harry pulled Hermione's inert and unconscious body into view. She was bound up in the parachute cords. With one final heave he dragged her onto the Valkyrie. She was all he could see. She was all he wanted to see. With his last dregs of adrenaline and anaerobic muscle function rapidly fading away, Harry could contemplate doing nothing more to do than hugging Hermione's body to his.

"She's breathing," he realised. A wave of relief swept over him, dissipating tension that he had hardly known was there. Utterly drained from minutes that seemed like days, seconds that seemed like hours, Harry could push himself no further. Eerily like the experience on Privet Drive less than three days before, he retreated into his own little world with Hermione - only this time white, rather than black surrounded them.

Harry felt totally bereft of energy. He remained more or less conscious, but was incapable of thought, much less action. Even a thunderous crash in the distance could not disturb his reverie. He had no idea how long he and Hermione sat there immobile on his broomstick. He had no idea how long Aurors and others on brooms had been circling and shouting at them. Harry remained inert, in numbness and exhaustion, until Hermione finally stirred, "Har… Harry? Harry! Is that you? Are we alive?" Hermione murmured.

"It's me, Hermione," Harry rasped, his voice hoarse from all the earlier screaming. "Yes, we're alive."

"Help me, please," she said more urgently. "I can't move!"

Harry flicked his wrist. Nothing. He remembered he had jammed his wand in his pocket rather than reholstering it. As he fumbled for it with one hand, he asked Hermione for an appropriate severing charm. She told him. "Disassocius," Harry muttered over and over, carefully freeing Hermione from the parachute cords one by one - all the while making sure she stayed balanced in front of him. As he sliced at the cords, Harry heard yelling from outside the nylon barrier. "Diffindo!" With a sweeping arm movement, Harry used the less precise severing charm he knew best to slash a large gash in the parachute canopy, which quickly fell away from them.

As the two sat blinking in the bright sunlight, their eyes adjusted to a chaotic scene. The air around them was thick with aerodrome personnel, Aurors, and mediwizards all circling the exhausted pair. At least ten witches and wizards hovered some distance below them holding another large net. Above them, several uniformed Aurors were in the process of tying themselves to bungee cords, evidently planning to rappel down Muggle-style to where Harry and Hermione were. On the ground, about 100 metres below, was a small crowd of gawking onlookers. Flashing lights were in abundance. In the background, a siren wailed.

Mannock eased his broom in close and straddled the space between his stabilizer bar and Harry's (thank Merlin for normal mode). After their ordeal, Harry and Hermione were both content just to let themselves be led for a while. Mannock helped move them from Harry's Valkyrie to two floating evacuation stretchers that the mediwizards quickly conjured. As Harry was moved, he looked in the opposite direction from where he had been staring since he had cut away the canopy. He was shocked to see half of the main aerodrome building lying in ruins. "Was…? Was there an attack?" Harry asked weakly.

Mannock smiled, shaking his head. "No, Potter," he confided. "It seems that a very strong Levitation Charm caused half of the building to float away. We didn't know what else to do, so after getting everyone out, we ended the spell. What you're seeing is what a 200-metre fall can do to a rather old Muggle aeroplane hanger."

Although the mediwizards were impatient to whisk Harry and Hermione away to the nearest Auror medivac facility, there was one thing left to do. Both of them personally had to switch their respective brooms to maintenance mode, to permit a thorough inspection - of Hermione's broom for sabotage, and of Harry's broom for investigation of the failure of its magical cores. After what had happened, Hermione was understandably hesitant to even touch her broom again. She was also surprised that it was so nearby, and she asked about this.

"It came to you as intended when I held on to it long enough to activate the security spells," Pilot Markham explained.

"So you stopped it, then?" Hermione asked.

"No, I'm afraid that Pilot Mannock and I both failed rather badly," Pilot Markham admitted. "It was your own Mister Potter who accomplished that."

"Why wasn't I on my own broom, then?" Hermione asked.

"Your broom was sabotaged, Miss Granger," Pilot Markham explained. "The safety belt was cut almost through. Someone wanted you to be thrown from your broom, presumably to your death."

"Why did you activate the security spells, if the broom was sabotaged?" Hermione pressed.

"After the situation had stabilized, it was the fastest way I could think of to be sure that the plot had failed," Pilot Markham answered. "Since your broom came to you, it meant you were still alive. If you had died, the security spell on your broom would have ceased to function. We were quite relieved…."

"What ever happened, then?" Hermione persisted.

"You had best ask Mister Potter, Missy," Pilot Markham responded. "He's the only one who saw it all. After you were thrown from your broom, all I know is one minute I'm convinced that you are a goner, but in the next minute not only did you survive, but there you were, under a parachute with Mister Potter."

Needless to say, the nearly successful attempt upon Hermione's life put an abrupt end to that day's training session. Mannock had seen enough, however. Taking his leave as Aurors came to debrief both Harry and himself, the grizzled pilot told Harry. "Mister Potter, I've been flying brooms in combat and in Quidditch for over half a century, but I've never seen flying like you showed me today. I know it's not my place, but if you sought entry into Ministry's flight wing right now, I'd be chuffed to be your wingman."

Hermione had significant internal injuries, including aggravation of her prior spell damage. She spent the rest of her afternoon at St. Mungo's. Harry suffered only assorted cuts, bruises and superficial rope burns. He spent the rest of his afternoon under interrogation - first by jittery Aurors and aerodrome personnel, all of whom seemed to tread very lightly around him - and later by Headmaster Dumbledore. Harry quite willingly told the entire story over and over. He probably learnt as much from his questioners as they did from him.

Harry discovered that everyone was astonished that he had penetrated the Protego Totalum Charm on a Valkyrie with a mere Immobility Charm. The Valkyrie had been under development for five years, and both Dumbledore and Professor Flitwick had been involved in creating this charm. It was thought to be impenetrable by anything short of Unforgivable Curses. Harry's interrogators were further impressed by his Levitation Charm. First, it imparted enough force to a loosely woven net to hurl two experienced pilots and their brooms more than half a kilometre. After that, the spell retained sufficient power to float the better part of a large aeroplane hanger 200 metres in the air. Dumbledore had a theory, which sounded right to Harry, that something (the Fifth Element?) amplified Harry's magic when he was in pain or under extreme stress.

His questioners' reaction to the parachute was also informative. Initially, they were surprised that Harry knew of that spell at all. It was advanced aerial combat conjuring, and had not been included in his assignment. He had to admit to learning unassigned material.

Beyond that, Harry found out to his surprise (since the materials he studied had been ambiguous) that both the Aparecium parachutio and Alohochuto spells were short-range magic designed solely for the caster to use on him or herself. Neither spell had ever been attempted before absent physical wand contact - let alone upon a free-falling individual at a distance of more than a hundred metres.

Being kept on base had other advantages for Harry - since being kept ignorant was probably what he detested most. The base commander ordered everyone on duty for the week (since orders arrived concerning Harry's and Hermione's training), starting with herself, to be interrogated with Veritaserum. She also encouraged a thorough search of the aerodrome's perimeter with powerful magic detectors. Harry was in the next room telling his story for the fourth time, when an uproar ensued.

Under Veritaserum, a Valkyrie mechanic confessed that a Death Eater had surprised him in the lavatory the day before, and had placed him under the Imperius Curse. The description of the Death Eater matched that of Peter Pettigrew. Later, Dumbledore told Harry that Shak had told him that an Auror scouring the perimeter had turned up a fresh three-inch cut in the base of a fence. The cleanly sliced fencing was tested and found to have surface traces of enchanted silver.

Harry shuddered when he realised that the recent Death Eater attack that had cost the lives of two Aurors was probably a mere diversion - intended to draw down the guard of the Aerodrome to facilitate an infiltration directed at his best friend, and thus at him. Was there yet more blood on Harry's hands? He had, after all, once made the choice that allowed the rat Animagus Pettigrew to live.

After Dumbledore told Harry rather firmly that nothing would be gained by going to St. Mungo's to see Hermione, the boy was allowed to observe the rest of the interrogation. The unfortunate mechanic had been compelled to place a Confundus Charm that overrode the anti-pitch portion of the stabilising magic that enchanted Hermione's broom. As confunded, the charm sensed high-speed pitch when there was none, and its misdirected corrective action caused the broom to tumble.

The mechanic had also tampered with Hermione's anti-inertial cushion. However, this sabotage was took effect only when the Valkyrie's Iffendus Charm detected nobody within range.

Finally the mechanic was ordered to weaken the safety belts, but only from the underside, where his tampering would be particularly difficult to detect. This elaborate sabotage would have succeeded - but for Harry's "saving people" thing, and pure luck. It was entirely fortuitous that Hermione had initially been flung partially upwards when the safety belt gave way. Had the angle been different, the same centrifugal force would have propelled her straight into the ground, leaving no time for Harry's rescue efforts.

The mechanic's testimony was confirmed by a physical inspection of Hermione's Valkyrie.

Harry saw Mannock once more before leaving for Privet Drive under the personal escort of Headmaster Dumbledore. Mannock had good news for him. The magical failure of his broom was not caused by any deficiency in the dragon heartstring cores. Rather the cores had been connected to Harry's wand and to one another by insufficiently magical circuitry - charmed metal rather than actual wand-core quality material. "Damn low-bid contracting," Mannock grumbled.

Harry's powerful spells had burned out, literally vapuorised, the metal. Harry's broom (and eventually all Valkyries) would be refitted with continuous heartstring circuitry. Mannock had ordered that the retrofit of Harry's broom be given the highest possible priority. Harry was thrilled to learn that he could expect his Valkyrie delivered to him within the week.

It was not late, so Harry and Dumbledore stopped off for some tea, crumpets, and conversation at Mrs. Figg's house. At Harry's insistence, the Headmaster summoned someone from St. Mungo's and received a report that Hermione was in no danger, and would be discharged later that evening.

Dumbledore then gave Harry more details of how this Saturday's Ashrak would unfold (a big fire, an even bigger cave, and a ceremonial altar), and how they would get there (via Gringotts). He assured Harry that, if there were any last-minute difficulties, he would be available to resolve them. Dumbledore explained that, because Minister Fudge was determined that there be a treaty, the Ministry had vested the Headmaster with plenipotentiary powers to bring matters to a final conclusion.

They also discussed Harry's Auror training and his progress with Occlumency. Dumbledore agreed that he seemed ready for learning the rudiments of Legilimency. Harry took advantage of the Headmaster's availability to obtain permission to have a Floo-based conversation with Ron and Ginny on Sunday evening after his Occlumency lesson. The recent increase in Death Eater activity ruled out Harry's actually going to Denmark, but Dumbledore was willing to allow him use of a fireplace at Hogwarts to pop his head into a fireplace at Elsinore. Dumbledore would arrange security at both ends.

Harry also asked Dumbledore for phoenix feathers from Fawkes for making spare wands for Hermione and Ron. Harry planned to have such wands custom turned at Ollivander's, and he hoped to have Hermione's in time for her 17th birthday on September 19. Dumbledore found the idea intriguing, but indicated that he doubted that the wands would have the desired Priori Incantatem effect in the event of a close encounter of the Voldemort kind. It was likely that two wands not only had to share the same core to create this rare effect, but also had to be created at the same time. Dumbledore was no wand expert, but Octavian Ollivander should know the answer to this question, and the Headmaster promised to "contact him expeditiously."

Dumbledore also seemed unduly interested both in Harry's trip to Muggle London and in his relationship with Hermione. Harry was largely successful in avoiding the Headmaster's questioning. Harry declined to tell him anything at all about what he was planning to do in London, and he discussed Hermione only superficially.

The Headmaster's main point about Hermione seemed to be that the events of the day had perversely demonstrated how Harry's worry about exposing her to unnecessary danger was groundless - or at least fruitless. Dumbledore emphasized that there was nothing Harry could do to prevent Hermione from being placed in such danger, since she was already among Voldemort's prime targets. Isolation was not an option.

The Headmaster further explained to Harry that he, Dumbledore, would be going from Mrs. Figg's directly to St. Mungo's because he was personally taking Hermione home to her parents. Dumbledore did not think it wise for Harry to accompany him, because that meeting would be "delicate." Dumbledore confessed that he "had some explaining to do" for Hermione's parents, and that he was not looking forward to it.

All this information jangled Harry's already frazzled nerves by raising his fear of another parental attempt to remove Hermione from the magical community. Dumbledore explained that his visit to the Grangers' this evening was intended precisely to forestall this possibility, and that every step that needed to be taken would be.

Harry sighed in apparent resignation at this information. "Well, at least I squared my accounts with her today."

"Your basis for that belief is?" queried Dumbledore.

"She saved my life last week, and I returned the favour today," Harry replied. "In the course of three days, we discharged wizard debts to one another."

"Ah," Dumbledore wheezed, with his eyes twinkling. "If only it were that simple. Your `accounts,' as you call them, with Miss Granger are far too complex and interwoven after five years to be settled by any single event - however traumatic or cataclysmic. It may take a lifetime to square those accounts. Indeed, it may not be possible to square them as separate accounts. Some matters just do not lend themselves to a ledger book solution. You must continue to explore your magic. It is deeper than you suppose."

More than a little puzzled, Harry returned home. To his disgust, he arrived just in time to be tasked by his uncle with responsibility for preparing dinner. Although the boy grumbled, he was able to cook up a passable meal of onion soufflé and Salisbury steak from the contents of the Dursley refrigerator. Harry was even able to keep his use of magic to a minimum, resorting to his wand only when necessary to restore a collapsing soufflé that was inopportunely threatening to become a pancake.

After dinner, Harry went to his room to think and to write a letter to Ron. Most of his thinking was about Hermione. He admitted to himself frankly that had not even the slightest idea whether his rescuing her from a near-death experience had, or should, change the nature of their relationship. He would like for that to happen, surely, as long as things changed for the better. Harry did not, however, desire to end up like Viktor Krum after Krum's marriage proposal - "too rich, too famous, and too pure blood" and thus relegated to an occasional letter now and then.

In his confusion, Harry strongly felt the loss of his father and godfather. He really felt the need to talk to some man he trusted about his feelings, but the adults who could guide him were dead. Those remaining were all unsatisfactory confidantes, either because they had their own agendas (Dumbledore), were too close to the situation (Arthur and Bill Weasley), or were simply unavailable (Lupin and Hagrid). Grasping at straws, Harry thought that perhaps Lao Kung could provide some insight. By himself, Harry felt paralysed - unable to resolve anything in the face of intense and contradictory feelings.

Harry then sat down and wrote to Ron and Ginny.

Dear Quidditch fanatics:

Congratulations on what sure sounds like your ripping good Hogwarts Quidditch team.

I've got some good news and some bad news. The good news is that Dumbledore will let me talk to you by Floo at 9:00 p.m. on 19 July. Be there or be square. The even better news is that I just got a fantastic new broom. It's almost twice as fast as the Firebolt, more nimble, and the broomstick has its own core that works like a giant wand. Slytherin won't have a chance this year!

The bad news is that both Hermione and I almost got killed whilst flying today. With me it was the same old story. I did something stupid on my new broom, wound up unconscious, and had to be rescued. What happened to Hermione was scarier. We had flying lessons with the Ministry Flight Wing, and a Death Eater snuck in and tampered with her broom. She was thrown off the broom and would surely have died, except I reached her in time.

I hope you've gotten mine and Hermione's course schedules by now. I hope they made it easier for you to select your classes. Like you said, we can talk more about it by Floo.

Talk to you soon

Harry

Harry decided not to talk about his inheritance, his inescapable fame, his special exemptions permitting Apparition and underage magic, or his relationships with the opposite sex. He knew Ron, and he was afraid that Ron would just get jealous if he mentioned the first three. Harry also knew himself, and was afraid that he would get jealous of Ron if he dwelled too much upon the fourth topic.

Exhausted, both physically and mentally, Harry turned in early after he gave this letter to Hedwig (the international delivery albatross Ron had used having long since vanished whilst Harry was out). He chose a chapter about magical herbs that did not appear on his training curriculum for his nightly study, followed his increasingly familiar ritual of clearing his mind each evening, and fell to sleep.

* * * *

Author's notes: Cornwall was the site of tin mining for some 4000 years until the last mine closed a few years ago. It closed because flood prevention was too expensive

The Death Eaters' gradual loss of faith that Voldemort would rescue them is an important catalyst of future events

I'm assuming that Harry placed out of first year flying. The course vanishes in PS after Harry's abilities become manifest

I have been informed that £50 notes are red in color

Harry's heart lying in the street is a variant on the metaphor that power was lying in the street during the 1917 Russian Revolution

"It's fun to have fun," A line stolen from Dr. Seuss

"Zipless": Eliza is already a little randy, having read Erica Jong

There's no Docklands theme park to my knowledge, but Docklands is an area of London close to Canary Wharf

Elsinore is the Danish site of Shakespearean magic; Hafnia is the Latin term for Denmark, which also finds expression in the element hafnium

BST stands for British Summer Time, the same as daylight savings in the US

Perranporth is a real Cornish town, and was the site of an RAF base in WWII. It's being overrun by tourists

Countershading is a common form of aircraft camouflage: light like the sky when seen from below; dark like the ground when seen from above

The Valkyrie brooms are modeled after the XB70 Valkyrie, an experimental US high altitude bomber from the 1960s that was technologically ahead of its time. Among other things it featured, v-shaped wings that could change positions to foster supersonic flight

Mannock and Markham are names of WWI British flying aces

Iffendus: "IFF" means "identification friend or foe" in military jargon

Slipstreaming is standard racing practice, whether in the air or on the ground

At his altitude Harry was well into the anoxia zone

The vertical stall is a fast way of changing a plane's direction from up to down

All the landmarks Harry was seeing are accurate. I worked with an atlas to write it

Heating hydrogen peroxide with bits of liver liberates oxygen through the action of liver enzymes. A prior draft had used the Lavoisier method of liberating oxygen from mercury calx, but I have been informed that toxic amounts of mercury vapor would also be produced

The Fédération Aéronautique Internationale is the organization that keeps track of flight records

The aerial maneuvers are accurate

The discussion of Muggle aircraft foreshadows something that happens later

A "gremlin" is an aviation term for something unknown going wrong

A wingman's position is generally a subordinate one

In his characteristic elliptical fashion, Dumbledore is trying to tell Harry something about Hermione

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