"All right," said Sirius, as the group of four sat at the long, dining table in the afternoon. "Which one of us is in charge of late lunch today?"

The dining room was basically connected to the kitchen; the entire room being a pleasant shade of lilac.

"Not me," said Lupin, speaking from behind a newspaper. "I'm no expert in cooking for more than a couple people, sorry."

"Harry?" Sirius asked.

Harry gave a sly little grin as he snapped his fingers at Hermione. "Kitchen, please." Then he ducked as a salt-shaker flew over his head. "I was just joking!"

Sirius and Lupin both laughed, until the latter spoke. "Perhaps you can make it up by doing lunch? I'd suggest putting an extra bit of effort into Hermione's meal, as an additional apology."

"Hmph, he'll need more than that, Professor."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Come off it. There's no 'Professor' nonsense around here; it's either 'Remus' or 'Moony'. And that goes for you and your 'Lupin' thing too, Harry."

Lupin looked slightly embarrassed. "There's no need to force first-name basis here, Sirius. The children can call me whatever they'd like — provided it's respectful, of course."

By the evening of Harry's first day at Sirius' place, he'd comfortably memorised the layout of this cottage and its surroundings. There were two floors, an attic, and a cellar inside. As for its exterior, the cottage was built from greyish stonework and was surrounded by a spacious expanse of grounds, which — much like Pansy's place — was surrounded by trees and hedges.

"See the exterior?" he asked, while standing beside Harry in the grounds that evening. "Looks like a 'proper' Black's home, eh? But come inside and it's anything but the dark and gloomy hellhole I grew up in. I like it cool and calm —"

"— which explains the style," Harry said. "The house is kinda like you."

Later that night, Harry joined Hermione as they decorated her room — which soon took on a pinkish-lavender theme. "You'll need more than this to apologise for that sexist remark," said Hermione, while sitting on her pink-covered bed. "I'll let you decide on your next bit of penitence."

Harry seized the opportunity. "I'll just do your toenails, then."

"W-what?"

"Penitence, right?" Harry sat before the bed and clipped Hermione's toenails, which were slightly too long. "Quit moving around so much."

"Stop! OK, fine! You're forgiven!"

The door opened as Sirius stepped inside, then he whistled upon seeing Harry knelt before the bed. "Marriage proposal already? You're quick on the attack there, Harry."

Lupin eventually arrived and looked over Sirius' shoulder, in the doorway. "What's with all the laughter? Oh, er, I'd suggest vanishing those nail-clippings, you two. 'Elementary personal-safety', as Mad-Eye would say."

"Neither of us can vanish anything yet. That's fifth-year level," said Harry, although Hermione fidgeted with her fingers.

"I might've, um, practised a bit on simple objects." She drew her wand and looked extremely apprehensive. "Are you sure we're not going to get into trouble for this?"

Harry thought he heard a faint popping noise coming from downstairs.

"The Ministry has no choice but to ignore the Trace from here," said Lupin, speaking as if addressing a student in class. "They know they can't expect us to forgo all magic just because there are children around. Imagine the consequences of imposing such a rule across society?"

"It'd cause one hell of a riot," said Sirius. "So the two of you are free to practise your spells, potion-making, and whatever else here. Just, er, try to minimise the duelling, OK? Never know when some nosy sod might start questioning the use of Stunners and stuff."

Lupin looked surprised, while leaning against the wall beside the doorway. "Never thought you'd be the overly cautious one."

A familiar voice came from the hall, behind them. "Wotcher, guys! Work ended early, so..." Tonks saw Hermione about to cast a spell. "No need to be so nervous. Hopkirk's lot focuses more on Muggle-dwelling areas — like the Dursleys, etc."

"And whatever happened to common courtesy?" Sirius turned to face his cousin, who had shoulder-length black hair today. "You could've at least announced your Apparition in my house, you know."

"And you should've been keeping an ear out for pops and cracks." Tonks looked quite proud of herself for having remembered something. "'Dark wizards won't announce their presence with friendly words', as Mad-Eye once said."

Lupin patted Sirius on the shoulder. "She's got a point there, Padfoot."

The rest of the afternoon was spent with Harry and Hermione attempting to vanish whatever small objects weren't needed around the house. Just the thought of being able to use magic freely, and to hold their wands at the ready, felt like a blessing to both students. The possibilities were relatively endless these days, especially with Lupin and Sirius being on hand to offer tips and advice.

However, not everything was as perfect as Harry would've liked, and the hardest part of his holidays was trying to explain Sirius' decision to Pansy and friends — via owl post. It was even harder for Harry to read their replies, which were forever so understanding and supportive... not to mention sarcastic as well. He really missed those girls these days.

The weeks moved on with Harry and Hermione reading, practising, learning, and simply having a great time at Sirius' place. They even tried their hand at potion-making but were quite limited by the leftover ingredients in their trunk, as travelling to Diagon Alley wasn't worth the effort at this stage.

Harry's fourteenth birthday was by far the best one he'd had thus far. Not only was it the first birthday he'd spent in the company of Sirius, Lupin, Hermione, and Tonks, but it was also the first one away from the Dursleys — as far as he could remember. In addition, all the Weasleys bar Percy — who was far too busy at the Ministry — came to visit on Saturday, the 31st of July.

"Happy birthday, dear!" Mrs. Weasley grabbed Harry into a hug the moment she stepped through the front door. "Been eating and keeping well?"

Harry barely said 'yes' before being greeted by Mr. Weasley, the twins, Bill, Charlie, and even Ron — which was a tad awkward in itself.

"Er, happy birthday, then," Ron said, shaking Harry's hand quite formally in the hall. "I hear you got tickets to both a semi-final and the final! That's brilliant!"

It wasn't every day that Harry struck much conversation with Ron Weasley. The bulk of their previous interactions had involved the Philosopher's Stone and Chamber of Secrets events. "Yeah, been a bit of a surprise for me as well. Who do you think's gonna be in that semi?"

"Bulgaria's a definite yes, especially with Viktor Krum as their Seeker. He's way better than you, no offence. Not sure about America against Romania, though, that one's far too close to call." Ron turned left to enter the packed dining room, leaving Harry to simply shrug off the earlier remark. "Look at all this stuff to eat!"

"Happy birthday, Professor!" Ginny almost ran through the front door to give Harry a long, affectionate hug. "I'd totally give you the best present of the day if, well..." Her smile faded a slight bit. "If I had the coin."

"Hey, it's not always about gifts and coin," said Harry, returning the hug with equal affection. He saw the truth all too well in these words, which was why it wasn't so much the haul of presents than the company that made this his best birthday so far.

"OK, well, in that case... let's go fly outside," said Ginny, walking straight down the hall towards the back door, beside the staircase at its end. "I heard you've been having a go on that Firebolt —"

"Mainly at night, and with both the broom and me being Disillusioned."

"Oh, I guess that makes sense." Ginny reconsidered the notion of flying around in broad daylight here, regardless of the trees and hedges surrounding the grounds. "Let's go sit at the table then!"

The long, dining table was capable of seating up to twelve people, in the corner of the dining room. Harry therefore found himself a spot somewhere amidst the noisy crowd of Mr. Weasley, the twins, Bill, Charlie, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Lupin, and Ginny.

"Mum, you can't seriously be cooking at a time like this!" said Ron, gawking across the room at Mrs. Weasley wandering up and down the counters. "There's more than enough food and dessert on this table."

Sirius turned to look at Mrs. Weasley, who stood peering out one of the two windows overlooking the front garden. "Whoever you're expecting is likely to arrive by Floo, Molly. Nobody would bother Apparating when we're on a temporary connection again."

Minutes later, a faint popping noise announced a green-haired Tonks' arrival in the dining room (much to everyone's surprise). "Nailed it! Happy birthday, little Auror-fighter!" And she pulled Harry into such a tight hug that he struggled to break free. "Whoops! Been messing around with upper-body strength again."

"Yeah," said Harry, rubbing his neck. "Must be nice changing anything on a whim."

Mrs. Weasley was simply delighted to see Tonks, and she showed her to a seat in no time. "Sit, dear, sit! There's more than enough food to go around! We'll have to extend the table and add some chairs, though; Harry's definitely getting a good share of guests on his first free birthday."

Another faint popping noise could be heard, and this time it was a scowling Moody who'd arrived in the kitchen. "Absolutely foolish, this, leaving the place open to Apparition." Then he drew his wand and began walking around the ground floor, while setting up some protective enchantments. "And don't even think of taking these down, Sirius. You too, Lupin."

There were even some people who Harry had never seen before in his life that turned up for his birthday today. These included a bald black wizard, who wore a single gold hoop in his ear. "Congratulations on your birthday, Harry Potter."

"Um, thanks." Harry shook the mysterious wizard's hand after standing up from his seat. Then the man spoke while looking over the heads of many chatting guests.

"Hey, Sirius, I guess you were right. He does look a lot like James after all — except the eyes." He turned to look at the puzzled Harry. "Kingsley Shacklebolt. You'll understand if I can't stay too long?"

Harry was briefly joined by a few other neatly dressed, mysterious guests as well — including Hestia Jones, Dedalus Diggle (whom he'd met before), Emmeline Vance, Sturgis Podmore, and Elphias Doge. And although none of them lingered around for more than half an hour each, Harry was grateful for their company nonetheless.

It's like I'm famous or something.

"Hey, Harry!" Tonks struggled to get his attention, even though she sat right opposite him near the middle of the table. "Could I speak with you for a moment? Got something important that needs to be said, in private."

Harry stood up and glimpsed a curious look on Hermione's face as he followed Tonks out into the hall. From here, she took him down its end, up the staircase, and into his room. "If this is about all the underage magic we've been doing here, Miss Soon-to-be-Auror —"

Tonks shut the door and placed an Imperturbable Charm upon it. Then she took a seat at the silver chair near Harry's desk, which stood in the corner opposite that of Harry's bed. "So, must be nice to finally settle down into a normal, un-deprived life, huh?"

Harry nodded, although he remained perplexed over this random conversation.

"OK, so, both Remus and Sirius are really swell blokes, yeah, but they're lacking in a few key areas of your life. You're fourteen now, big little-man, which makes it three years until you're of age." Tonks gave him an appraising sort of look; her dark eyes scanning him up and down as Harry remained seated on his bed. "Let's cut straight to the point. Tell me, Harry, how many girlfriends do you have?"

"None at the moment, I guess? Although, Pansy Parkinson and Hermione Granger are probably top of my list..."

"Yeah, that's what I thought. All bark and so little bite." Tonks sat with one leg crossed over the other. "Must be tough living in a girls' dormitory these days, huh? How often do you wank in the bathroom?"

"W-what?"

"No beating around the bush here; this is the real talk. Stuff that neither Sirius nor Remus might end up getting out." She eyed him carefully, if not amusingly. "You do know how to rub one off, do you? Surely you don't sit all pent-up like a shut, boiling pot all day?"

Harry didn't know whether to take this conversation as a joke or feel slightly uneasy at discussing such things with Nymphadora Tonks, of all people. "Er, yeah. What's it to you?"

"Fourth year's no joke, Harry, and neither's this age you're going through. Can I assume you got the birds-and-the-bees talk before?" She saw the amused look on Harry's face and snorted. "Of course you have. I'd be concerned if you didn't, somehow, hear it in some way by now."

"I... really wasn't expecting to discuss such stuff on my birthday."

Tonks smiled. "Last thing I'd like is for you to end up making a hell of a mistake and knocking up some skank who's too embarrassed, or spiteful, to stop that shit from happening. Really, Harry, I'm sure there are more than a few girls who'd like a share of the Boy-Who-Lived. You're rich, godson to a richer — and also single — guy, quite cute, and just a little naive when it comes to relationships..."

Once their private talk was over, Harry and Tonks returned to the dining room to rejoin the party. Some questions came their way, as expected, which Tonks waved off as having given Harry the 'girlfriend-talk'.

"That's very mature of you, Tonks," said Mrs. Weasley at the table. "You ought to take a leaf out of her book, Sirius."

"Excuse me?" Sirius looked highly offended. "I'm perfectly capable of giving my godson advice too, thanks. Hey, Harry, I wouldn't mind it if you hung up pictures of Muggle women in bikinis, or something, in your room."

Everyone but Mrs. Weasley (who frowned) and Moody (looking as battle-ready as ever) laughed at the table. Then it was Bill who managed to swallow his pudding and speak. "So, about their Portkey, Dad..."

"Oh, right, yes." Mr. Weasley withdrew a pouch containing a golden ticket. "Here you go. It won't blow away, don't worry; but it'll only activate on the morning of the 19th."

Charlie leaned forward to have a closer look at the ticket. "It's not every day you get a Portkey with that kind of delay, Dad."

"Yes, well, it took a good bit of Ministry-work to get this one sorted," said Mr. Weasley. "All right, so... who's in the mood to watch a bit of tellyvision after all these lovely treats?"

With the morning of his birthday having been spent at Sirius' place, Harry spent the remaining afternoon over at The Burrow. Here, he hopped onto his Firebolt and seized the opportunity to have a go within the orchard, in broad daylight. He even flew a few rounds against Charlie and, as expected on a Firebolt, came out on top in their Chaser contest.

"Next time I get my hands on a Snitch," said Charlie, "I'll be sure to organise something more Seeker-related for us over the holidays. Maybe a rematch?"

"Yeah," said Harry, hovering on his Firebolt. "And maybe I'll make it fair on the brooms too. Nimbus or Cleansweeps for us both, then."

Nothing lasts forever, and Harry's birthday soon reached its end as the month of August finally arrived. In addition, Hermione opted to spent the next few weeks with her parents at home, which left Harry in the company of Sirius and Lupin from here on out.

"I think Hermione actually likes you," said Sirius to Harry, as the trio sat at the breakfast table in early August. "It's hard to tell, though, considering how she's forever into her studies and stuff."

Harry stirred his cereal while speaking. "Tonks said Hermione will come around whenever she's ready... whatever that means. No need to rush in like a charging bull."

"Remus? Nothing to say on the matter?"

Lupin gave a 'don't-look-at-me' look with regards to this topic. "Just be a gentleman and treat her well, I guess. Any other questions? No problem. But as for relationships" — He chuckled — "I'm about as useful as Snape on this matter."

"Wow, no need to set the bar that low on yourself," said Sirius, raising his brows. "At least you never killed off any of your friendships with the 'Mudblood' word —" Lupin shot an alarmed look at him, and Sirius simply rolled his eyes in response. "Whatever. I already told Harry about the whole Lily-Snivelly story anyway."

"You... you did?" Lupin blinked, and then he quickly turned to face the narrow-eyed Harry. "Please don't go bringing up that issue with Professor Snape. Honestly, Harry, that's one friendship that ended with such disappointment that your mother still lamented it at Godric's Hollow, years later."

"Yeah, I know."

"And I'm sure Professor Snape hasn't forgotten about it either," said Lupin, raising his voice just as Sirius was about to speak. "Have you, Sirius, forgotten that Snape never had much friends at school?"

Sirius scoffed. "I wonder why?"

"He was a Dark-Arts-obsessed creep for sure, yes," said Lupin. "But he was fairly decent with Lily over the years, except for failing to take her advice." He sighed. "Listen, Harry, Sirius doesn't always get the whole picture straight —"

"Hey!"

"— but if you ask me, I might be inclined to think that Lily just might have overreacted a tiny bit," said Lupin, much to Sirius' surprise. "What I mean to say is... don't go holding a nasty grudge on your own Head of House. We were all idiots back then, Harry... and yes, I'm sorry to say that that includes James as well."

Sirius nodded. "I already told Harry that; he knows we're not proud of everything we did."

"Ever thought of apologising to Snape, then?" Harry asked, causing both Lupin and Sirius to laugh in disbelief.

"That'd never work."

"No way in hell, sorry."

Harry didn't quite know what to feel as the month of August moved on. On the one hand, it was nothing less than sheer perfection to be away from the Dursleys these days; but, deep down, there was forever this creeping guilt stirring within Harry. Was he a tad too vindictive against Severus Snape last year? The man did have some valid reasons for all those punishments and remarks back then... sort of.

Moving on, Harry took pride in his decent bit of progress over the next week or so. This included a fair bit of improvement on his weak-but-decent Shield Charm, causing Sirius and Lupin to suggest that Harry had a particular knack for it.

"You might think that's weak," said Lupin, after he'd smashed Harry's shield with a powerful Knockback Jinx, "but it's actually better than what Mad-Eye said most of the older students are capable of."

Sirius was about to throw his own jinx down the hall, at Harry. "You're only fourteen and already coping this well... let that sink in. So, shall we have another go now?"

During the final week leading up to the 19th, Harry resumed his efforts in convincing Lupin to join them for the World Cup. But these were fruitless efforts in the end, seeing as Lupin had already been outed by Pettigrew a while back. That, and the fact that the next full moon was on the 21st meant there was absolutely no chance of changing Lupin's mind.

"I'll curl up on the couch, watch some TV, and maybe run a few laps around the house too," Lupin said, while the trio sat in the living room. "Thanks for the countless offers, though."

"What if we smuggled you in under some Polyjuice Potion? We'll bring extras for after your transformation," Harry said, to which Sirius looked hopeful.

"That could work, yeah! The only problem is getting a last-minute ticket and thinking up a decent fake-identity for Remus. Wait, why not just use the Invisibility Cloak? It could work to smuggle Moony in with the Portkey —"

"Really, you two, there's no need to go out of your way for something so trivial. You go on ahead and I'll stay home, OK?" He saw the look on Harry's face and smiled. "I could always find a way to watch your Quidditch matches at school anyway. Better than the World Cup, I'd say."

Harry looked puzzled. "But, I haven't even played any matches when you were still teaching."

"Exactly, I just know you're that good, Harry."

With just a few more days left until the 19th, Harry spent many an evening thinking about the past. He thought of what Sirius and Lupin had said regarding Lily and Snape, which Harry tried likening to his own friendship with Hermione Granger. The similarities were astonishing: both Harry and Snape were half-bloods coming from Muggle-like backgrounds (although Harry had nary a clue about Snape's home-life), both Hermione and Lily were talented Muggle-borns with their ups and downs — personality-wise, and both friendships crossed the boundaries between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

There were more than a few differences, though, including how these two friendships had formed. Harry knew that in Snape's case, things kicked off before Hogwarts — a neat little headstart. But as for Harry and Hermione, that friendship had started on the Hogwarts Express, back when Harry sat alone in his compartment. It felt like a lifetime ago that Harry had once been lonely, deprived, and devoid of any affection in his life. Now there were people like Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, Hermione, Cho, Ginny, Pansy and her gang, and all the others who filled the void in Harry's life.

Harry got up at around half past seven on Tuesday, the 19th. He'd just begun wondering about Hermione's upcoming birthday, in exactly a month, when Sirius announced that breakfast was ready. All in all, the morning proved to be a bit of a rush as both Sirius and Harry made sure to triple-check their camping gear.

"Looks like we're all set!" said Harry, and he shot another quick look at Lupin sitting at the table. "There's still time to get smuggled in with us, Remus."

Lupin shook his head and finished today's dose of Wolfsbane Potion. "Do ensure that Sirius behaves himself out there."

"Ticket's glowing, Harry... Time to go! Do take care of yourself, and the house, while we're gone, Moony."

Having never travelled by Portkey before, Harry found the sensation utterly bizarre as he left Sirius' place and, eventually, landed on a deserted stretch of moor somewhere. The warmth of a cosy cottage was swiftly replaced by a breezy chill out here; the sounds of breakfast and a crackling fire replaced by a distant noise somewhere.

"And here's the one we've been waiting for," said a voice nearby. "Twenty to eight; special delivery from Northumberland."

Harry turned and saw a pair of tired-looking wizards standing beside a box of used Portkeys. The pair were dressed rather inexpertly as Muggles, with one gentleman wearing a suit and galoshes, and the other clad in an outfit featuring a poncho. Their job was to discard the used Portkeys, register the World Cup's visitors, and direct the new arrivals to their designated campsites. For simplicity's sake, Sirius had booked both himself and Harry under the name 'Black' — which was relatively easy for the kilted wizard to find on his parchment list.

"Well, well, Sirius Black and Harry Potter..." — The wizard's eyes darted to the scar on Harry's forehead — "your site's around the north-western part of the first field. About a quarter mile's walk over there; ask for Mr. Roberts at the cottage."

As Harry and Sirius made their way across the damp grass towards the small cottage up ahead, Sirius began chatting so excitedly that he accidentally tripped over a stone and tumbled through a veil of mist. "Damn!"

Harry laughed. "Better to fall forwards than backwards, I'd say." And he helped his godfather up as they carried on with their journey. "Let's pay the guy and go find our campsite already."

Ten minutes later, the pair got past the suspicious Muggle and made their way towards a mass of tents — which were spread across this misty field. It wasn't hard to understand Mr. Roberts' suspicion, given the obvious signs of magic (or 'abnormalities', as Uncle Vernon would say) on some of these tents around here.

"It's like they don't even care about secrecy," said Harry, walking down a pathway between the many tents out here. He was pretty sure that Muggle ones didn't have chimneys, sunbaths, weather vanes, or anything of the sort on or around them. "There aren't any Muggles camping among us, I hope?"

Sirius shook his head. "Thankfully, no. But that doesn't stop the Ministry from trying to do their job. Look at those poor folks running up and down trying to curb any magic. Must be tiring as hell."

There seemed to be more empty spots than pitched tents around here, which Sirius explained as being reserved for those who'd yet to arrive. Tickets for the previous games were relatively rare when compared to the final, and not many folks were willing to camp on Muggle ground for this long.

"Excuse me? Are you Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived?"

Harry blinked and spun around; there were at least a dozen witches and wizards — mostly around his age — who converged to have a look at him. They didn't look nor sound like anyone he'd seen at Hogwarts, though, and it was hard to tell where they were from — given their Muggle-like clothing.

"That's right, yeah, and this guy's my godfather —"

"Sirius Black," said one of the male students, as the crowd stood and stared. Then, as quickly as they'd arrived to glimpse the pair, the group hurried off while eagerly chatting among one another... leaving Harry quite confused.

"You'd think they'd stay a while and chat, hmph."

Sirius laughed. "Don't take it personally, man. I think those were American students, probably from... er, what's that school's name, again? I know it starts with an 'I'."

Harry didn't much care; he already took offence at the come-and-go-like nature of these foreigners coming to stare at him. It felt as if Uncle Vernon's occasional remarks were true, back when he sat mocking the overseas news-reports on TV.

Minutes later, once they'd finally reached their campsite, Harry stopped in his tracks. A very familiar witch stood with her back facing them. She wore an elegant, sporty tracksuit top and trousers; both of which were partly covered by her waist-length, silvery blonde hair. It was Fleur Delacour, and she stood surveying the sign labelled 'BLACK' with great interest.

"Hey, girl, this spot's ours!" said Sirius, to which Fleur turned around and eyed the pair. "Don't think we'll give it up just because you're good-looking."

"Wait, I know this chick —" Harry felt his insides do a somersault as Fleur suddenly smiled, once her big blue eyes caught sight of him. "She's, er, one of Pansy Parkinson's cousin's schoolmates."

"Bonjour, little Monsieur! I 'ave a name, you know." Fleur huffed and crossed her arms. "Eet is ze French word for 'flower'."

Harry smiled; he'd been hoping to get a chance to say his little joke. "Farine? It's great to see you again!"

Fleur raised her brows and gave a 'really now?' expression. "So, ze little Potter theenks 'e is a comedian, 'mm? Vairy funny."

"I know I am, Farine."

"I don't get it," said Sirius, watching the pair with a perplexed look on his face. "And neither do I know much French — except for my stupid family motto."

Fleur tilted her head and walked past Harry and Sirius, to which the former hastily apologised. "OK, OK, I was just joking, Fleur."

After that, Fleur looked Harry up and down and smiled. "You didn't grow at all since we last met, but zat is OK. So, 'ow was your birthday? Did you get lots of presents? Make any new friends? Get lots of 'ugs and kisses?"

"You sure know how to pick your girlfriends, Harry," said Sirius, dumping their camping bag onto the ground. "And I'm still confused over her name."

"Meester Black, your godson thought 'e was funny in saying ze French word for 'flour' instead of 'flower'." Fleur saw the confused look on Sirius' face and rolled her big blue eyes. "One is made from grounded stuff like wheat, and the uzzer — my name — is ze beautiful one zat grows from seeds."

"Oh!" Sirius laughed while unpacking the tent. "Nice one, Harry!"

"So, what brings you here?" Harry asked Fleur, as they stood watching Sirius do some of the hard work in setting up the Black-campsite's tent. "Well, besides watching the World Cup, of course."

"Let us talk after 'elping your godfather set zings up, OK?"

And set things up they did, with all three of them gradually working the pegs and erecting the tent. There was nothing extraordinary about Harry and Sirius' one when viewed from the outside, unlike some of the other show-offs pitched around the campground.

"I've been 'ere since some of ze quarter-finals," said Fleur, standing beside the tent's entrance — with Harry. "Eet was fun watching ze Americans win against Romania, and Peru just about beat Transylvania. But Ireland's ze one team in ze final; zey seemply smashed Peru in ze semi-final. Oh, and I 'ad a slight suspicion zat you'd be camping 'ere."

"That's pretty obvious," said Sirius, "considering that I'm the last living Black around. I could introduce you to my deranged mother at my original, shithole of a home, if you'd like..."

Harry turned to look at Sirius. "She's a quarter-Veela, though..."

"Is zere a problem with zat?" Fleur looked quite taken aback. "I wasn't expecting zat tone of derision from you, of all people, 'Arry Potter!"

Sirius smoothed things out immediately. "Oh no, don't get the wrong idea, girl! It's just that most of my family were very vocal about their discriminative beliefs. Harry's just concerned that you'll end up being screamed at by that crazy, irremovable portrait of my mother."

"I'd still like to visit your original home someday," said Harry, to which Sirius declined. "And what's with the temper, Fleur? I thought Alyssa said you don't care when people comment on your heritage?"

Fleur remained standing with her arms crossed. "I try not to care when idiots mock my ancestry, zat's what. Because it's almost expected of zem. Let's 'ave a look inside your tent, shall we? I'll bet eet isn't anywhere near as magnificent as mine."

Sirius' tent had pretty much the same, calming theme as his new place inside, although it only had one floor within. There were two toilets, a small dining room, and two bedrooms in here. That was it.

"Five out of ten I would say." Fleur surveyed each room, which were adjacent to the long hall opposite the front door. "But you two are sorely lacking sufficient decorations and niceness in 'ere — unless, of course, we put 'Arry on ze walls."

"Hey!"

Sirius slapped Harry on the back. "Take the compliment like a man." Then he whispered, "I guess this one likes you too."

Harry could swear that Fleur overheard that remark, but he played it cool nonetheless. "Shall we, er, go and fetch water or something? Sirius said it'd be fun to cook like Muggles out here."

"Yeah, I'll stay here on my own while you two go wandering around, or whatever." Sirius nudged Harry down the hall while whispering, "Reel 'em in!"

This only caused Harry to fidget with his fingers while walking beside Fleur outside. It felt quite strange to be so nervous, considering that he'd long since got over walking beside Pansy or Hermione.

"Eyes up and stop looking down while you walk," said Fleur, observing Harry as they left the almost secluded campsite. "You are going to walk into someone at zis rate — which would be vairy funny, of course."

Harry knew that Fleur knew he was likely nervous around her, which only increased his nervousness over the next few minutes. "Can I, um, meet your family?"

"No. Zere will be anuzzer time for zat later zis school year."

"What?"

Fleur gave him a quizzical look and gasped. "You don't know about zat? But, almost everyone in my family already does! Monsieur, I am one hundred per cent confident zat I will be chosen as part of ze upcoming tournament. Zen you can meet my family when zey pay a visit to your 'Ogwarts." She saw the lack of understanding on Harry's face and gave him a pitying sigh. "Promise me you will only tell your godfather, OK? Ze rest of your friends can find things out on zeir own, although Pansy already knows."

"Knows what?" Harry asked, as they carried on walking down another pathway... somewhere. He'd already raised his hood to conceal his identity, in order to avoid the foreign point-and-starers. "Yeah, keep me in the dark, sure."

"Zere is a vairy prestigious inter-school tournament 'appening later zis year: ze Triwizard Tournament. It will be Beauxbatons — and therefore, me — 'Ogwarts, and Durmstrang 'oo will be competing... with one participant selected from each. And no, you are — unfortunately — too young to enter, little Monsieur." She smiled and patted him on the back. "But, you can always betray your silly Champion, 'ooever they might be, and cheer for me instead. Zat sounds reasonable, yes?"

Harry felt rather fuzzy as Fleur bent over, about a foot down, to bring her face level with his. "No way. I'm supporting my school's Champion no matter what." And he couldn't help but smile as Fleur smiled.

"Good attitude, Meester fourth-year 'Arry." Fleur sniggered as Harry almost tripped over a stone. "Did I not tell you to keep zose eyes ahead?"

They carried on walking between a line of tents until, finally, coming across the tap in a corner of the field. To Harry's relief, the queue wasn't that long at all — and it soon dispersed in no time. "Let's fill 'em up and I'll put a Feather-Light Charm on them, OK?"

"No, no. It is good exercise to carry such weighted goods, 'Arry." Fleur joined him in filling up Sirius' kettles and saucepans. "So, I 'ear everyone is talking about zis Viktor Krum. Didn't I 'ear you once say you're a good Seeker yourself?"

"Damn right; I even brought my Firebolt with as well." Harry's face shone with anticipation. "I know it sounds silly, but, imagine if I could catch a few pointers from players like Krum! Too bad there's no way the Ministry would let us fly anything around here."

"Come now, 'Arry, I don't theenk ze American-Bulgarian game will be too long; definitely not ze allotted three days. Everyone is betting on Bulgaria reaching ze final in ze end, so maybe you can — somehow — get into ze stadium while Krum is practising? 'E obviously won't go all-out on you, just in case ze Irish are watching."

Harry's heart skipped a beat; the prospect of sneaking in a flying session with Viktor Krum, in the World Cup stadium itself, was simply unbelievable. "Yeah... I'll try that. Hope I don't get into any trouble, though."

"For what?" Fleur stopped Harry from spilling any more water, from the kettle, while walking. "'Ow about we try and find Meester Krum right now? After returning ze water, of course."

Once they returned to Sirius' campsite, Harry eagerly told of his plans to try and sneak in a practise session with Viktor Krum. Naturally, Sirius was one hundred per cent in support of anything which could benefit his godson, and the trio set off in no time. "Got your broom? Tent secured? Let's go! The Bulgarians aren't too far from us, thankfully."

Fleur saw the apprehensive look on Harry's face, as they walked upfield. "Stop worrying; this'll be lots of fun! And besides, zere is nuzzing to be ashamed about eef ze much more experienced Seeker outflies you. Zis'll make you better in your own upcoming matches, Meester."

Those large, deep blue eyes were so reassuring, so encouraging to Harry as he stared up at them. He was lost for words now, until a blast of wind whipped some of Fleur's silvery blonde hair right against his face. "Ow! You ought to tie all this up."

"Well, yours looks like eet is forever caught in ze wind, young Seeker." She chuckled. "Look at you, walking around with zat broom like an excited little child."

"He's got his dad's hair," said Sirius, and he snorted as the trio stood before a large patch of tents upfield. "You'd swear there's only one player on the entire Bulgarian team. Viktor Krum posters as far as the eye can see here!"

"Zere zey are! Zere zey are! Zere zey are!" Fleur was positively hopping on the soles of her shoes now. She appeared to have spotted something which made her act less like a seventh-year student, and more like an excited child. "'Arry, you must understand eef I go and talk to zem!"

"What? Who's the little child now, huh? You talking about the Bulgarian players?" Harry looked from an excited Fleur to a clearly confused Sirius. "What's her deal?"

"Don't look at me; she's your friend."

"Use zose nice eyes and look carefully!" Fleur grabbed Harry by the scruff of his neck and pointed towards the middle section of the tents. "See zat beeg silvery glow zere? Zat is ze light of lots of full Veela, like my grandmuzzer! I would like to meet zem, for I am partly like zem, and I have a few cousins like zem."

Sirius scratched the back of his long hair. "Er, how many Veela are we talking about here?"

"About a 'undred, I theenk."

A lengthy whistle came from Sirius as he sat down upon a rock. "Harry, you're the one with a bit of Occlumency training, not to mention being thoroughly used to the company of females. I, um, don't think I'd cope well being so close to that amount of Veela. Hey, Flower-girl, if anything happens to my godson in there..."

"Oh, relax." Fleur grabbed Harry by the hand and led him towards the mass of Bulgarian tents up ahead, while Sirius sat at its outskirts. "Not every Veela is as kind as my grandmuzzer, just so you know, so don't be surprised eef some of zem make fun of me, or something. I 'ighly doubt it, though, considering zat many Veela would like to meet a decent wizard at some point in zeir lives."

"But you're not a wizard."

Fleur laughed. "Theenk a little further, 'Arry. I am what more zan a few Veela would like to see: good-looking, mixed offspring. But you do get a few 'oo frown upon such relations... I 'ope zere aren't many of zat sort 'ere." She shuddered. "And before you inevitably ask, full-Veela are all female."

Harry kept on walking beside Fleur as they passed many curious Bulgarian supporters. "I take it they have their own means of reproduction? What about mixed offspring who turn out to be males?"

"Zey would be good-looking too, yes, but we girls get ze Veela Charms and stuff. Even if, say, a part-Veela man and woman make a sort of 'full-Veela' child, it will not be a boy. Males can only come from when ze offspring isn't 'full-Veela'."

"Who are you? Irish or Western spies, maybe?" asked a male's voice from somewhere nearby.

Harry turned around to see a few red-robed Bulgarian supporters standing beside their tents. And although they had their wands at the ready, they were at least willing to consider Fleur's request.

"You vant to see the Veela? Vell, OK. But don't try looking around the players' tent or anything. Ve already caught one American trying his luck around here yesterday." One of the Bulgarian supporters cracked his knuckles. "Sent him running back in no time."

Soon, Harry and Fleur reached the brightly-lit centre of the tents — and both stopped to appreciate the sight. In Harry's case, he'd never seen a collection of such magnificent, extraordinary women before; and in Fleur's case, she was beaming with pride. "Bonjour, my full people!"

Harry couldn't help but chuckle as Fleur greeted and mingled with the puzzled group of Veela in their campsite. They were each quite tall and shone like the moon, and their gravity-defying hair were all white-gold in colour. Then, slowly but surely, the Veela realised that Fleur was partly of their own — and the conversation gradually became two-sided.

"Vot is all the loud talking about? Ve are trying to sleep back here!" One of the Bulgarian players — a tall, black-haired woman — emerged from her tent, and she immediately caught sight of Fleur. "I vosn't expecting a girl to go on like that vith the Veela!"

"She's... partly descended from a Veela herself," said Harry, and the female player immediately caught sight of his Firebolt. "Yeah, I was hoping to, um, practise with Viktor Krum."

"Surely you are joking?" The woman roared with laughter. "Viktor is the best player in the vorld, young fan-boy, but I can maybe persuade him to give an autograph, perhaps."

"Well, I'm the best Seeker at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Harry smiled and lowered his hood. "And I survived the Killing Curse." This changed things, and the woman immediately returned to the large tent near the Veela's campsite. Yeah, that's right, go and fetch your boy for the Boy-Who-Lived.

Minutes later, the entire Bulgarian team emerged from their tent while speaking in very fast, very excited tones — although Harry understood nary a word of what was said. And then, standing among the group of players was none other than Viktor Krum himself. His surly expression turned to curiosity as he darted his eyes to Harry's scar. "You came all this way to haff a practise session vith me, Harry Potter?"

"Yeah, if you don't mind."

Krum gave this a fair bit of thought before responding. "OK, ve can fly vith a practice-Snitch one hour after the next game is done. You vill be supporting Bulgaria, right?"

Harry nodded, and he soon rejoined a happy Fleur as they made their way back towards Sirius. "Why do I get the feeling you only came here for the Veela?"

Fleur smiled. "We both got what we wanted, didn't we? And besides, I wanted to check eef maybe someone zere could be related to my grandmuzzer, and zerefore me. But, no, I guess zey are all strangers. Nice ones, though." She took a deep breath and stopped. "'Arry, I want Bulgaria to win ze World Cup. I do not like ze arrogance of zose Irish and, especially, zeir leprechaun mascots."

Harry took his earlier thoughts back; it wasn't just Sirius' place that made this the best holidays ever. He was now determined to show that his father's talent could go toe-to-toe — or rather, broom-to-broom — against even the best of Seekers out here.

"You show 'em what James passed down to you," said Sirius, pep-talking Harry all the way back to their tent. "It's what he would've wanted, you know, to see his son get on the biggest stage of them all."

"Yes, 'Arry, and maybe you can give Meester Krum a good training session in ze lead-up to ze final. No disrespect to America, of course, but zeir Seeker ees just too weak to keep up with Krum."

"Come on, guys, let's not get ahead of ourselves." Harry couldn't stop smiling while walking. "One thing at a time, OK?"