Chapter 19

Two bloody miles and he was already drenched. Two bloody, lousy miles! Usually he could run three of his usual five before breaking a sweat. Ever since his injury he couldn't manage to finish his standard five morning miles, and the Singapore weather wasn't helping at all. Hot and humid – whatever it was, whether clear, covered, or raining – it was hot and humid. And the rain! It was nothing like the nice English rain. English rain you could ignore and just keep on with whatever you were doing. It was a little bothersome for those who were unaccustomed, but if one was English he would certainly be used to it by the time he was old enough to do anything at all. Here, the rain was different – it sent you running for cover. After two long weeks, Harry reached the conclusion that the reason the city had so many shopping malls was so people would always have a place to escape from the rain, and to buy a new shirt since the one they were wearing had got all sweaty in the (short) time since they'd bought it, one mall up the street.

Right then, ran two miles, now just do it all over again!

When he'd come to the city he was barely able to walk without aid, and he'd been working ever since to get his body back in shape. In a way, it was harder now than it had been in the beginning of the summer, for two main reasons: first, in the beginning of the summer Harry had been healthy and in decent physical shape, so he had a good starting point to work from. Two weeks ago his whole lower body had to be - well – reconstructed seemed to be the appropriate word. The Healers explained that they'd had to regrow his pelvis and left femur. The femur wasn't a problem, they explained, but the pelvis has a spine connected to it, and inside the spine there are nerves... It all amounted to three very agonizing days in bed. Even Hermione was out of bed after just a day and a half, with her new kidney and all. Harry couldn't help wondering how long it had taken Voldemort to get all patched up. He hadn't seemed to be in such a wonderful state when the Portkey took him away.

Just one more mile now...

By now, Harry was already both drenched and out of breath, and fighting, forcing his untrained and healing body to go on. For a minute he found his second wind and kept up with the tall blond girl who overtook him on the path between the trees. She was wearing dark blue training gear, although he didn't know why it was important enough to notice. He did notice that she was a very nice person to run behind, and after miles and miles of running behind girls like Hermione, Ginny, Su, and obviously Fleur, he considered himself to be somewhat of a connoisseur. Soon enough she disappeared ahead of him on the path, which twisted through the forest that flourished in the heart of the city, leaving Harry to labour at his run alone.

The forest was another interesting thing. After so many forays into the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts, Harry considered himself to be somewhat of a connoisseur regarding forests as well, but nothing prepared him for this ancient rainforest that nestled at the heart of the city. The visitor's path wasn't cleared on the forest floor but was a wooden deck that twisted in between the trees, giving the impression that the foresters had taken special care not to disturb the forest. As far as forests go, this was the real thing. Harry jogged on the path, looking up and almost expecting Tarzan to come charging through with his pack of gorillas. Soon enough the forest path opened into the wide, manicured lawns of Singapore's botanical gardens, and the rain started to pour down on him. In the distance he could see his haven – the small tea house by the entrance to the park. He forced his tired body to sprint the few hundred yards to the tea house and slouched, panting, near a free table.

"Darjeeling, scones and cream, and a large bottle of water, please," he said to the waiter. It had taken him about a week to understand that "tea", by itself, wasn't good enough for these people. The blond girl ran past the tea house, seemingly not bothered at all by the rain, and waved at Harry, giving him a cheeky smile. He was sitting there, still catching his breath and having breakfast, when she dropped into the chair across from him, startling him. He managed to stop himself from drawing his wand – just.

"Don't do that to people!"

"Sorry," she shrugged, not looking sorry at all. "It's the only place open," she continued. "I'll have what he's having," she told the waiter, who nodded in understanding and walked away.

"Veronica," she said, reaching her hand across to Harry after wiping it on her wet running trousers.

"Harry," he answered, taking her wet hand carefully. This was a game they'd been playing for a week now – pretending not to know each other on their morning run.

"Working on your fitness?"

"Re-working," he answered. "I was injured, and I'm trying to get back on form."

"Oh!" was all she said. A shadow crossed her face for a moment, but her smile returned as soon as the waiter arrived with her order. She drank half a bottle of water in one go and turned back to Harry.

"So? Was it sexy or boring?"

"Huh?

"Well, did you fall during a cliff-climbing trip, or just get caught in a car accident?"

It took Harry a few seconds to shake the mental image of Tom Riddle standing over him with his wand out.

"There was nothing sexy about it," he said finally.

"Shame."

For a while they sat in silence, watching the green lawns of the gardens sparkle under the sun, which had reappeared.

"Some shopping?"

"Huh?"

"We're in Singapore, the shopping capital of Southeast Asia. Will – you – come – shopping – with –me?" she spelled out for him.

"Shopping? I'm a bloke – I don't do shopping."

"Shame."

"See you tomorrow?"

"Running?"

"Every day I'm not in the hospital wing."

"See you running, then." She smiled, left a note on the table, and disappeared out the garden gates.

Harry smiled softly to himself. He'd noticed her from the day he started running. She was a hard person not to notice, but he couldn't find a way to start talking to her. Now, two weeks later, he had something to look forward to tomorrow. A small distraction reminded him that he had to go take care of his sheep. Shaun and Bitzer were probably having one of their friendly disputes again. Then he had an important meeting tonight.

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It had started the day he arrived in Singapore. Actually, he wasn't sure just why he'd arrived there. The first evening he returned home he'd said something about needing to get away from it all to take care of his mind. For weeks he'd been working on his Occlumency and was quite fond of his sheep. Then the first time his shield was actually tested, it turned out to be useless. He just had to find a way to keep Tom out of his mind, and he had the impression that he needed to put some distance between him and Mr. I-Am-Lord-Voldemort for this to happen. Dobby read him a list of the Potter properties around the world, and when he reached the Singapore house Tonks said that a good friend of her was in Singapore at the time and said it was a cool place to go, so Singapore it was. Early next morning he took an international Portkey to Changi international Portkey terminal, from where he took a regular cab to his house's address.

It was an interesting story, actually.

On 29 January 1819, Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles landed on Singapore's main island and decided that the sleepy fishing community had the potential of becoming a strategic British stronghold in Southeast Asia, thus changing forever the fishermen's lives. Naturally, it was raining that day. Raffles signed a treaty with Sultan Hussein Shah on behalf of the Honourable East India Company to develop Singapore as a British trading post and settlement. An era of growth and ethnic migration started, largely spurred by a no-restriction immigration policy and the East India Company's monopoly over all European trade in Southeast Asia. The British India Office governed the island from 1858, even though it was already in the process of dissolution following the events of the Indian Rebellion of 1857. Singapore was made a British crown colony in 1867, answerable directly to the Crown. By that time 100,000 people lived on the island and trade flourished.

Singapore's city planning was a live experiment in the "Divide and Rule" framework that was such a favourite with the empire officers around the globe. Different ethnic groups were settled in different regions of the southern part of the island. The Singapore River was largely a commercial area that was dominated by traders and bankers of various ethnic groups, with mostly Chinese and Indian coolies working to load and unload goods for the well-being of the empire. As usual, the original inhabitants of the island were all but ignored by the new administration and were pushed inland by the new settlers, who found no use for them in the new and better community. The "Divide and Rule" policy backfired on the British governance everywhere it was employed – India, Cyprus, and Israel being interesting study examples – but surprisingly enough, in Singapore it created a cosmopolitan and interesting city to live in.

Apparently a young Potter Squib was an officer on Sir Thomas Raffles' fleet, and upon the establishing of Singapore as a British outpost he received the position of city clerk. The Potter House was at its peak back then and found it convenient to support their Squib son on the other side of the globe, far from the eyes of other English magical families. The family invested in a nice colonial house for their son and his wife, used their reasonable relations with the Goblins to ensure that trade would be sent in their son's direction and made sure to cement his position in the new colony within English politics. They also made sure to build a nice magical house right next to their son's home, in case they ever wanted to come and visit, or one of his descendants should ever reintroduce magic into that branch of the family. The Singapore Potters prospered for over a century, till World War II came and almost decimated the family. Most of the Singapore branch of the family died in Japanese prisoner camps, including their single magical descendant – a witch girl who was barely six years old at the time. The English branch of the family was greatly damaged during the war against Grindelwald. This was in fact the reason for Voldemort's success in the seventies – while liberal(ish) England fought the war against Grindelwald in the forties, losing a great many of their young in the war, conservative England sat back and did nothing. A generation later, when Voldemort started looking for support, he found pure-blood, conservative England in control and happy to assist – or at best, reluctant to fight back.

These days, both the English magical and the Singapore Potter families were reduced to a single nuclear family. The English Potters had lost most of their political influence – something Harry, with the help of Neville and Sue were struggling to correct – though they had managed to keep most of their fortune intact. The Singapore Potters were now an elderly couple with a young daughter, who attended the local university. They were small merchants, having lost most of their commercial and all of their political connections during and after the war. They lived in their old family house, which they found to be too big for their current needs but surprisingly comfortable, clean, and in good shape, in spite of the fact that they lacked the funds normally needed for the maintenance of such a big house. They had thought about moving into a more modest house, but apparently they felt connected to their home and just couldn't make that decision.

Harry vowed to himself to have a word with them before leaving the city, and also to have a word with the Goblins to see that some of the Potter family trade went their way. He also wondered if any other branches of his family were lost/hidden elsewhere around the world.

Occlumency – right!

On his first day in Singapore Harry followed a recommendation he received and went to visit the local botanical gardens. The bloke who gave him the advice suggested that he would like it, but this was an understatement – Harry fell totally and utterly in love! His first visit was at five o'clock in the morning. He was suffering from insomnia, due to jet lag, and decided it would be better to go ahead and start the day than toss and turn in bed for hours. So early in the morning, just before the sun turned the air into soup, the gardens were enchanting. He forced his body into a laboured mile-plus run and then found a secluded bench inside the orchid garden where he could rest and inspect his mind.

When he entered his mind a few sheep ran to him, eager for his greeting. He was already familiar with most of his sheep. There was the worried one, who thought of his friends; beside it was the happy one who also thought of his friends. There was the serious but mischievous sheep, who looked after the other sheep –Harry called this one Shaun. Harry didn't know where this name came from, it just seemed appropriate for some obscure reason. In fact, the only other sheep in his flock that had a name was the little lamb in the corner, whose name was Ron. That sheep was his hunger, and grew quite rapidly just before dinner time. Sometimes it reminded him of the Death Eater's head in the Chamber of Time and made him chuckle. This was the field of his mind – every leaf, every flower was a memory. Every sheep, bunny, or butterfly was a thought. Harry didn't even know how to access his memories by himself any longer. When he needed a memory it would blossom somewhere in his garden and one of his sheep, usually sent by Shaun, would fetch it for him. Harry was sure no one else could find their way around his mind, even if he or she could get in. He was also quite sure that his sheep wouldn't be so accommodating with a stranger, and that Tom would become sick even taking just a peek into Harry's "garden" - it was so full of cheerfulness and love that Tom would suffer from even the slightest of exposure to it. Yet somehow, all of this was useless! Harry had to fix it fast. He just didn't know where to start...

"In some parts of the world it's considered rude to be so loud in public, young master." A voice startled Harry out of his mind. He looked around but saw no one.

"I do wonder how you can live with all that noise yourself, though," the voice added.

Harry got up in haste, looking for the voice. He walked slowly around the garden, holding his hands close to his wands, ready to draw, and trying his best (but failing) to minimise the noise he made while treading on the gravel.

"You are making noise walking and thinking, I can see," said a middle-aged Asian, wearing what looked to be an expensive business suit, just as Harry came around a bush.

"Sir?" Harry just didn't know what to think, or do. The man didn't seam to be hostile, though.

"What are you doing with all those sheep in your mind, in any case?"

"Erm..."

"Mind shield," the man continued. "I have never seen one like yours. Protecting your mind with sheep? Where did you come with that idea?"

"Errr..." Harry was really lost for words and for any idea about what he should do about the man.

"As eloquent as you are silent, I can see," the man remarked dryly.

"Sorry, sir, but just who are you?" Harry finally found his voice.

"Sim Wong Hoo," said the man, and he offered Harry his hand. "New to Singapore?"

"Harry Potter, sir. Just visiting for a couple of week, although I understand my family has some history in this city. I have a nice home downtown that they established years ago."

"A Potter, say you." The man looked pensive for a while. "There was a Potter city clerk here, back at the foundation of the colony. There was a lot of trade going through his family up till the war."

"Well, that war wasn't kind to my family anywhere it found them around the world."

"Planning your family's comeback to the Southeast Asian trade arena?"

"I don't know, sir. I just discovered that my family has some money – and that I have any family at all. I haven't even had a chance to meet them yet."

"Are you not staying at your...?" The man looked thoughtful for a moment. "Oh, I understand," he finally said.

"I feel I should do something for them, so probably directing some trade their way is the best way to go."

"Here." The man handed Harry his card. "Talk with me when you make your decision. Maybe we can find a solution that will benefit both of us, and your relatives here in the city as well."

Harry looked at the card and nodded. He noted the logo Creative before he pocketed it. "I'll have to talk with my investment advisor in London. I know nothing about this."

Sim nodded. "Be careful if you are working with that Ironblaze old fool of a Goblin," he said.

"He's a good guy," Harry objected.

"I do not know how good his type can get, or how guy for that matter, but he's lost more than two billion SGD for his clients with his games recently. I hope it was not your money he was playing with."

"What? Yes, my money – no! He lost all that money on purpose?!"

"On purpose? Why would anyone want to lose so much money on purpose? No, do not tell me – I do not want to know. Just tell me this: is he going to play any more of his games here in Singapore?"

"I assure you he isn't playing games, and all the money lost was either mine or belonged to people who can't be described as innocent by any criteria."

"Just please – whatever your reasons are – keep your games away from Singapore. The money markets are sensitive enough these days without you playing around with that kind of money."

Harry nodded. "I'm glad I met you," he said.

"Have a good day, Mr. Potter, and enjoy your stay in Singapore." Sim Wong Hoo bowed slightly to Harry and turned to leave, only to stop and turn back. "What do you plan to do about your sheep, Mr. Potter?"

Harry sighed and shrugged. "I don't know, sir. I meant for them to protect my mind, but my mind was just an open book for him," he said, not bothering to clarify just who HE was.

Sim smiled slightly. "You planned for your sheep to keep people out of your mind?"

Harry nodded, frustration clear on his face.

"I am sure they are quite effective at that," Sim said with a slight smile. "I am certain no one will enter your mind – not if he is in his right mind – with all that noise, never mind finding the information that man is looking for. Now, if you will listen to my advice, try and keep your sheep from escaping your mind, and do try to keep them quiet!"

Sim Wong Hoo bowed again in goodbye, and turned to go away, leaving a very pensive Harry behind. Very slowly a slight smile crept onto Harry's face. He sat down on the nearby bench and entered his mind once more. In the garden of his mind his sheep rushed to meet him, happy for his return. Shaun gave him the most sheepish of looks, and Ron looked much larger than he had been less than an hour earlier.

"Sorry folks – err, flock. You're being too loud, and we need to put this place a bit more in order." Shaun seemed a little nervous as a brown shepherd's dog with a wristwatch and clipboard in hand appeared next to Harry and blew his whistle. All the sheep immediately went silent, and Shaun looked even more sheepish than ever. "This is Bitzer, and he's gonna help me keep this place in order from now on…."

Fifteen minutes later Harry rose from the bench, ready to make his way back home. As he stood at the gate of the orchid garden a slight, pretty girl in a tight, dark blue training suit jogged past him and flashed him a smile. Life was definitely looking better!

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"Mrs. Potter?"

Harry had gone over this conversation in his head a dozen times, yet he was as unprepared as the moment when he first knew he would have to talk with his relatives in the neighbouring house. He had gone shopping especially for the occasion and now looked like the very definition of a private-school nerd, and felt as uncomfortable. This was as far from his real self as wearing one of Dumbledore's "magician" robes. At least that thought made him chuckle.

The elderly woman at the door nodded cautiously and gave him a questioning look. The only thing that connected her to her family's English heritage was her name. Thinking about it, this was the whole of her English heritage, since she was born a proud daughter of a Chinese merchant family.

"My name is Harry Potter. I would like to meet with you and your husband, if you have the time."

"Do we know you?"

"We've never met, ma'am, but we are somewhat of a family."

The woman nodded and opened the door wider in welcome. She led him to an old armchair in the parlour and offered him a seat.

"Would you mind waiting here for a short while? I need to go and notify my husband so he can get ready for you. We weren't expecting company this evening."

Harry nodded and sat down. The woman walked out of the room through a wide double door at one side. Harry could hear a hushed conversation coming through the closed door. He couldn't make anything of it, but he did hear the name Potter mentioned once or twice. The room around him was very colonial. Comfortable looking couches lined the wood-covered walls; a large staircase led to a wide landing that stretched along three of the room's walls, with a decorated wooden banister running along the front. On the wall opposite the main door hung a portrait of the original owners of the house, Mr. Ethan-Lewis Potter and his lovely wife Olivia. Harry rose from his seat to have a closer look. Ethan, he noticed, was definitely family, with the obligatory spectacles and untameable hair, though his was brown and his eyes blue, as opposed to the brown eyes that were so common with the Potters. I wonder who his mother was, Harry found himself thinking. Olivia looked like the epitome of the minor English aristocracy, looking for their fortune in the far lands of the Empire. She was blond, petite, and delicate, but appeared to have a sense of strength and happiness about her; it was as if there was a smile hiding behind her formal posture.

"My ancestors, not that you'll ever believe it," came a voice from behind him.

Harry turned at once, fighting the instinct to reach for his wand.

"You, on the other hand, might just pass as a Potter," said the young Chinese-looking girl who had just walked in through the door. "Nuo," she said as she walked toward him and offered him her hand. "Are you here to see my father?"

"Harry," he said, taking her hand. "Harry Potter, in fact," he added as an afterthought.

Nuo's eyes darted to the portrait above their heads and back to his face. "Figures," was all she said.

Just then an older man walked into the room. "Mr. Potter, my wife says?"

"Harry Potter, sir. It's nice to meet you."

Qiu Potter was a Chinese gentleman, well past middle age. He was a product of the cosmopolitan metropolis of Singapore. His business suit was perfectly tailored, but various aspects of its design offered tribute to his eastern heritage. His English was as perfect as his suit and conduct.

"I don't like to sound stupid, but I have to ask – are we related?"

"Sure we are, Father," Nuo replied, and motioned with her head at the portrait.

"I wasn't aware of any other family members," said Chun. As opposed to her husband, she was dressed in comfortable, traditional home clothes.

"We would have to look back to him," Harry nodded at the portrait, "in order to find it, but yes, we are."

Qiu looked uncomfortable. "Which brings up the question – what brought you here today? As opposed to our family's glorious past, we are not doing as well these days, and if you think that we might support you somehow..."

"You might stay here for a few nights, though. The house is certainly big enough." Chun tried to soften her husband's remark.

"Maybe he wants the house," Nuo said sarcastically.

"What? No! I don't need any money! And I don't need a place to stay, either. I have my own place here, behind yours."

"Now you're lying." Nuo looked disappointed. "There is nothing at the back but the small yard and the river."

The conversation was going badly, and his small mistake hadn't helped. Harry wasn't sure what he could say to correct it, or just how much he should say. "Look, I really don't need money, and I do have a house here. May we sit somewhere and talk?" He stopped for a moment to think and better choose his words. "How much do you know of our family's history?" he finally asked.

"Qui has heard of it, like every single heir of my family, though none of them ever believed it, starting with my own son," came a voice from above.

They all looked, startled, at the portrait of Ethan and Olivia Potter, who were now smiling softly down on them.

Chun sat down heavily, while Qiu looked at the old portrait in shock.

"What is it, Daddy?" Nuo asked with more than a little fear in her voice.

"Magic," he whispered in response.

The rest of the evening passed quickly. Harry sat back, letting his hosts converse with their newly found relatives and relearn their family's history. Then Harry showed them his hidden magical house. He explained about the possibility of having a magical child in the family. He also explained that such a child would be able to see the hidden house and would have full access to it from the time he or she was of age. He also told them a little about what had happened to the European part of the family. He told them that now that he knew he had some family, he was about to instruct his business managers to get in touch with them and redirect most of his eastern trade through them. With the help of Ethan Potter, Harry waved Qiu and Nuo's objections aside, explaining that this was not charity by any means. Inheritance law might have prevented them from receiving a share in the family's equity, but there was no reason for them not to earn their due by helping to manage part of that wealth.

It was almost midnight when the Potters were ready to call it a day.

"So, where to now?" Nuo asked.

"To bed?" Harry answered.

"At this time? Are all English guys that boring? Come, I'll take you somewhere fun!"

"Err, right."

"Do you have anything decent to wear?"

After Transfiguring his clothes into several potential outfits, trying for some of the pictures Nuo showed him, to her great amusement, they found themselves in a crowded dance bar, where Nuo had huge fun parading Harry and presenting him as a long-lost relative. It was almost three in the morning when they were ready to walk home. Outside was a tall blond girl, who looked familiar to Harry.

"See you running, in a few hours," she said with a grin just before she entered a cab and disappeared into the night.

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A week passed – early runs in the botanical gardens, Occlumency training in the orchid garden, a smile of encouragement from Mr. Hoo, a cheeky smile from the blond girl, new shirt (or three) on his way home, maybe coffee with Nuo – and all that while, Harry was healing. His legs were now hurting – although for the lack of training rather than due to injuries – his mind was much less noisy and much, much clearer, and mainly, he wasn't afraid any more to think of that battle.

It was late at night and Harry wasn't in a mood to go to bed, so he decided to go out. Twenty minutes of wandering the empty streets found Harry in front of a cheery bar full of young men and women. He walked in and looked for an empty seat.

"May I join you?" he asked a blond girl who sat alone on a sofa.

"Share a bottle of white?"

"Huh?"

"It's a wine bar here, didn't you notice?"

"Sure," he answered, fighting his embarrassment. "Actually, I didn't look. The place seemed cheery enough, so I came in."

"Veronica," she said offering him her hand. "Roni actually," she added.

"Harry, Harry Potter," he answered, taking her hand.

"English?"

Harry nodded with a smile.

"What a small world," she said, her own smile lighting her face.

On the other side of the bar Uma smiled softly to herself; she paid her bill, leaving the barman with a very nice tip, and walked out into the warm night.

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Soft early morning light filtered through the blinds, painting Roni's back with criss-crosses of light and shade. Harry's ear rested on her back, listening to the soft swishing sound his hand made as he caressed her. That's a nice sound, was all he could think.

"Mmmmmmm..."

He stopped immediately to look at her.

"That was mmm – don't stop," she moaned, and Harry went back to his work immediately.

She was soft and tender, and there was this wonderful swish of his hand over her skin. He tried to remember just were they were and how he'd got to this place, with this girl – Roni, the name came to his mind. He wasn't that drunk the other night. He remembered them laughing in the bar, then walking together out into the night. He remembered the warm rain starting to pelt down on them, and the cab to her grand hotel. Then there was only bliss.

"Plans for the day?"

"Mmm?"

"What do you plan to do today?"

Harry was shaken out of his daydreaming. "As usual – morning run, breakfast, morning meditation, then I don't really know."

"Didn't have to stop that to answer," she complained, and he returned to caressing her back.

"Shopping?"

"Mmm?"

"Would – you – come – shopping – with – me?" she said deliberately.

"Shopping? I'm a bloke!"

"We are in the shopping capital of southeast Asia."

"Might as well give it a try," he shrugged. "Afternoon?"

"Great. I'll wait for you here in the lobby – at four?"

"Sure, it's just – where exactly are we?"

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The next week passed quickly between morning runs, breakfast, Occlumency, then a lot of time pleasantly spent with Roni. They went around the city enjoying sightseeing, art, history, and culture. Together they tasted the local food, from night food markets to sophisticated restaurants. Roni took him dancing and partying, and suddenly Harry discovered that he could have fun and find friends even among people he hadn't known before. He was amazed by Roni's ability to enter a room full of foreign people and immediately find friends to spend her time with.

And of course – there was shopping...

He couldn't grasp how she could do all this and not sleep at night, but ever since he'd practically moved into her hotel room at the Raffles, he hadn't had a full night's sleep – not that he had any reason to complain, mind you. He just used the Time-Turner to get a little sleep later during the day. But Roni didn't have a Time-Turner, did she?

They were strolling, arms round one another, in the warm afternoon towards Fort Cunning Park, not yet ready to go back to the hotel after a long visit to the Singapore art museum.

"Any ideas for tonight?"

"I thought about trying the night safari," Harry offered.

"Might be interesting," Roni agreed. "Shall we stop in the hotel for fresh clothes and go?" she asked, looking at her watch.

Harry shook his head. "I have an important meeting in about an hour and a half. I can meet you later, at eight or so."

"Your family?"

"You might say so," he smiled softly.

"You and your mysterious business in Singapore," she chuckled. "What do you actually do? You're only seventeen aren't you?"

Harry was silent for a moment, thinking about what he could actually tell her. "I lost my family when I was just a child, and just found out about my family's business. I'm trying to learn about our trade here in the city," he finally said.

"Is it interesting?"

"Not very, but it's something I need to understand. I'll tell you more about it later, if you're interested."

She nodded solemnly. "I'll have to do something similar soon enough, but I'm trying to postpone it for as long as I can," she said. "I'm going away in about a week," she added after a long silence.

"Back home?"

She shook her head. "There's a skydiving festival in Alice Springs in a little more than a week's time. I've dreamed of participating ever since I started skydiving," Roni answered, looking much more enthusiastic.

"Skydiving as in jumping out of airplanes?"

"Yes, that skydiving," she answered, grinning.

"Wow! I'd love to try that!"

"So come! Can you?"

"We'll talk about it tonight, all right?" He turned and gave her a small kiss. "Must rush," he said, and he walked away. After a few steps he turned and walked back to her. "Sorry," he said, and he gave her a long, tender kiss that lingered for a few very long seconds. "I needed more."

"There will be more tonight," she said, laughing. "Now go, silly. You'll be late for that important meeting of yours!"

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Harry rose from the armchair he was sitting in when the front door rattled and cracked open. He lit the room with a wave of his hand but took special care not to draw his wand from its holster. This was going to be a complicated meeting even without him looking threatening in any way. The open door revealed a slight, bent figure that limped heavily on his left leg. As soon as he noticed Harry standing in front of him, the man turned – surprisingly quickly for his physical condition – slammed the door shut with his wounded leg, and sent two red curses at Harry from both of the wands he carried. Harry sighed and blocked both curses with a wandless shield.

So weak, he thought worriedly.

The figure in front of him kept hurling curses at Harry but was obviously tiring quickly. Harry was tiring too, although more slowly, and he could only deflect the last of the curses, which ricocheted to hit the room's walls and furniture.

"Will you stop destroying your own house, finally?" Harry call in exasperation, after a few long minutes of deflecting magic. "I don't have all night to fix it up!"

A few moments later the figure stopped fighting and just leaned on a wrecked sofa, panting heavily but still pointing one of his wands at Harry. "Where did you get my hair?" he asked-stated.

I don't remember being that wounded, Harry thought, shaking his head slightly. "No hairs, but I have something better," he said, and he took the Time-Turner out of his pocket, holding it in front of him for the – Other? Younger? Wounded? oh, never mind that! – Harry to see.

The new Harry watched the Time-Turner warily. "The rules say you can't be seen," he stated. "I could have killed you – me – you know what I mean!"

"Unless I've already been seen, in which case I shouldn't do anything to change what I know to have happened," Harry answered, smiling slightly.

"But..."

"Never mind!" Harry cut – himself? – up. He slowly took out his backup wand with his left hand and carefully tried to repair the sofa. Harry wasn't the best Transfiguration wizard at the best of times, and certainly not with a backup wand and his weak hand, so the sofa only sorted itself into a somewhat crooked state, much to the younger Harry's amusement.

"You're definitely me," he said.

"Enough with that cheek and have a seat. It pains me to even look at me. Now listen – in a moment, when you've rested enough to walk without falling, you'll go through those doors and take a Time-Turner trip back a couple of weeks. You have lots to do and not much time to do it. Here's a little Pepper-Up potion. Do you feel better?"

Younger Harry nodded thankfully. He put his wands away, sighed, and rose unsteadily to his feet. Harry gave him his hand to help.

"Can you walk?"

Young Harry nodded, albeit a little uncertainly, and walked slowly towards the noted doors.

"Hey!" Harry called. "Three more things. Go see the botanical gardens – you'll like them! In about a week's time you'll have half a bottle of wine and be in a position to do a very stupid thing – don't hesitate too much! And last – the bedroom is up the stairs, last room on the right. I don't think you're strong enough to go looking for it."

"Thanks!" young Harry said, and he walked thorough the doors.

Harry waited for a minute, then waved his hand and grinned as young Harry peeked through the crack in the door. The door shut again immediately. Another minute later Harry walked through the double doors into the empty living room.

"Right, then – let's clean up the place."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was Sunday morning, ten days after Roni has left. Harry decided to stay at Singapore for another two weeks, before going back in time and joining her for Australia. He still needed the time to train.

Harry stood near his fireplace thumbing through an old Floo directory and pondering whether to go knock on Nuo's door and ask her out for breakfast, or ask the old elf for something and have a (very) long soak in the bath. He was surprised that the two options were identically appealing to him. After a while he became aware of two distinct feelings – the first was that he was missing something important; the other was that he had seen something familiar. Taking a better look at the notebook in his hand, he noticed that it was the personalized Floo directory for Southeast Asia from the year 1827. Apparently someone had highlighted some addresses that he now found interesting. Harry flipped through the directory once more, taking note of the highlighted addresses and looking for any that seemed familiar. He stopped and smiled as he noticed the name Weasley. It seemed he wasn't the first Potter to be on friendly terms with the Weasley family. He lost his smile when he noticed the rest of the address – Hong-Kong! Seconds later, without even a look at his watch, he threw a large pinch of powder into the fire.

"The Burrow!"

Harry wasn't prepared for what followed. First he received an earful from Molly for waking her in the middle of the night for no good reason. Truth be told, Harry hadn't thought of the time or considered the time difference between Singapore and England. He apologized and wanted to extinguish the Floo intending to call back later, but Molly was only starting. She gave him an endless lecture about being inconsiderate in times when people were constantly worried and afraid of bad news. Next, she went on about putting her family in danger and getting her precious daughter wounded. Never mind that it hadn't been Harry's idea for the whole Weasley family to go to the trials, and neither was Ginny really wounded. It was more like a little scratch, especially in comparison to those who'd really got wounded like Hermione, Sue, and Harry himself – not that there was any importance in the severity of the injury a certain person suffered. There was no dispute that Ginny had put herself in grave danger when she decided to help Hermione storm the Death Eaters in the Atrium.

It took almost forty minutes for Molly to wind down and extinguish the call from her side, sadly - without calling Arthur to the fire. Harry sighed and resolved to try Arthur in the morning – English morning – at work.

Almost an hour later, Winky appeared at his side. She stayed only long enough to give him a cell phone and then disappeared once more. Seconds later the phone rang, with a frantic Hermione on the other end. It took Harry almost half an hour to assure her that even though something was up, there was no emergency and it could wait till (English) morning. Apparently, once Molly had finished scolding Harry she had hurried and Floo-called Grimmauld Place to complain about him to Bill. She woke everyone in the house and lectured Bill for what seemed like an eternity about his dangerous friends and about how impolite and inconsiderate Harry was to wake her up like he had, in the middle of the night, frightening her as he had, and about the fact that she wanted her baby girl to come back home that very moment.

The thing was that Molly had no idea what the reason was that had made Harry call the Burrow at that hour of the night. It was then that Hermione decided that the only reason for Harry to call so late was that he was in some kind of danger and needed help. She wasn't persuaded when Ginny argued that If Harry really needed help, he would have Floo-called Grimmauld Place directly. Hermione insisted on finding a way to contact Harry immediately, hence Winky and the mobile phone – thank Merlin for GSM roaming.

That evening Arthur, Bill, and Hermione sat in Harry's living room and discussed their plans for the coming day. There was no reason for Hermione to be there; she jumped on the international Portkey in order to deal with something she felt was important that had come up, and because she missed her friend. Arthur knew of no Weasley family in Hong-Kong, but they planned to investigat the next morning. For now, Arthur was on his way to bed to sleep out the jet-lag, Hermione was on her way back home, and Bill was anxious to have a taste of Singapore's night life.

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"How are you doing?"

Just a shrug.

"Hermione?" he asked softly.

"Better," she said finally. "I miss you, though. Luna's helping."

"I'm worried about you."

"I'm worried about you, too," she said after a while, a shred of a smile appearing from behind the tears. "Now we need to stop being silly – I have a Portkey to catch."

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The trip to Hong Kong was strange, for lack of a better word. They tried the Floo, without too much hope, and were not surprised to find it disconnected. Without other options, they took the long way – The Floo to Changi international terminal, then International Portkey to HK international (God, I hate Portkeys!). Then they took the Floo to HK Ministry, where they spent the rest of the morning queuing in front of various officials' doors. It was obvious that the Hong-Kong Ministry was in total disarray because of the recent change of sovereignty over the islands. Finally they located an address registered in the name of Weasley. It was clear to them that they had no chance at all to get a Portkey there, from the chaos that was the HK Ministry of Magic, so they went outside to stop a Muggle cab.

"It's quite nice!" Arthur said in surprise.

Harry just nodded.

"Shouldn't there be more room for the legs?"

"Nope, that's about it in the back seat. This car is actually quite spacious."

"It's a bit cramped for the three of us..."

"It's only for a short drive," Harry assured him.

"Why is he always stopping behind the other cars?"

"Why don't you just look at the view out of the window? We'll be there soon enough," Harry said, avoiding Bill's look so he wouldn't start laughing.

"These Muggles are amazing!" Arthur sighed, grinning.

After a short drive and ferry ride they found themselves in front of a little old house by the river bank. The cab driver couldn't locate the address, but by that time he was more than willing to drop them off there, apparently in the middle of nowhere, and he drove away muttering to himself.

"The wards here are only basic," Bill said after a short examination of the place and a walk around. "Muggle Repelling, Notice-Me-Not, simple boundary alarm – that's about it."

"Should we cross it?"

Arthur tried a notification spell, the Wizarding equivalent of knocking on the door, with no reply. "We came all the way here – we might as well," he shrugged. He crossed the ward line, and – nothing happened.

A simple Alohomora did nothing to the locked door. Arthur tried a similar spell Harry didn't recognize, and the door opened silently.

"It's the Weasley special unlocking spell," Bill explained. "Kind of a Weasley master key."

Arthur tried to move forward but was stopped by Bill, who took the lead into the deserted house, constantly waving his wand in front of him. The house lit as soon as Bill entered, but despite all Bill's wand waving there was nothing to discover. It was just an empty house, with little decoration and very few books. They searched the house but found no information regarding its former owners, nor did they find any portraits that might have helped with such information. The only lead they could find was an old Floo directory scroll, where they located the address "Weasley manor, England".

"Weasley manor?"

Arthur looked at his son. "There were always rumours, but I thought them nothing but dreams of a poor family about lost riches."

"Well, we're not dreaming and this house is certainly a Weasley one, according to the locking spell."

"We can probably look for this house's registration in the local Ministry records," Harry remarked.

"Sure," Arthur agreed. "As soon as they manage to put themselves back together."

"Well, nothing else to do here. Let's clean the place a little, leave a note on the table, put the locking spell back on, and find our way back to civilization."

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Harry had just said his goodbyes to Arthur and Bill. He stood in his room at the Potter house and had a new and exiting feeling – He missed Roni! Normally he should have waited for another couple of days of training, before joining her.

Sod it!

With a wave of his wand, all of his possessions were packed, shrunk and stored in his pocket. A turn of a dial took him ten days back. Outside his room he could hear the sound of someone – probably he himself, climbing up the stairs. Harry smiled, and Disapparated to join his girlfriend.

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Alice Springs international skydiving festival was a bit of a misleading name, since the fair actually took place at an abandoned military airbase some two hundred miles to the south of the desert city. Once every other year, in the middle of the winter, the godforsaken concrete strip transformed into a colourful, lively collection of young people, airplanes, parachutes, music, and endless rivers of beer.

The fair campground was quite quiet till noonish, when people appeared out of their tents and cars and sacks and started looking for breakfast. Soon enough jumpers started to gather into small groups, small aircrafts screamed into the clear sky, and the sky itself filled with colourful canopies. Later in the evening, large screens showed footage from the various contests which had taken place earlier in the day. Later on the music started, and the beer flowed deep into the night.

Harry let himself drift around following Roni, who seemed to know everyone worth knowing, and many others who just seemed to be nice people. A few times she took care to introduce Harry to her acquaintances; more often she just exchanged a hug and a kiss and drifted on.

"Roni!"

Roni turned around, let out a scream, and ran to embrace a chubby older man who stood beside a small aircraft, dressed in a colourful jumpsuit.

"Dave, you old bastard, haven't seen you since Marseilles, two years ago. You look good!"

"Our favourite pommy, did I miss you. Still taking the sky, I see."

"Starting Uni next month, so that's my last chance to have real fun before I turn into a pumpkin. Tell me, are they going for the record this year?"

"Yeah. They always need to do it bigger. I just hope no one karks it trying. Six months ago Ko-Samui had a crack at 400, but three jumpers got tangled up and only two made it with the spare. I don't know, Ron. People get so obsessed with the record that they tend to forget it's harder to break formation than get into one."

"Is there a place for me?" she enthused.

"Sure, Ron. There's always a spot for you in my group, if you like. Come to the main hangar at eleven tomorrow for preparation. We'll go train jumping in the afternoon and the next morning, if you can handle a night without amber."

"Sure, I'll do anything for that jump."

By then Harry had moved closer and was looking at her with a questioning expression.

"Oh right, Dave, this is Harry, he's with me. Harry, this is Dave – he practically taught me what real skydiving is all about."

"How do you do." Harry politely offered his hand to Dave.

"G'day," Dave said, grinning, and he clapped Harry on the shoulder, shaking him to his bones. "Come to take to the sky?"

Harry felt his shrunken Firebolt, which he held in his pocket. "Never tried it before, but I'd love to give it a try."

"Hey, can't have one of Ron's friends not trying for the sky, can we? Why don't you take him to the tunnel, and if he gets the hang of it I'll take him up in the morning. What do you reckon, mate?" he asked, turning to Harry.

"The tunnel?"

Roni laughed cheerfully. "Come on," she said. "I'll get him ready for you by the morning," she told Dave.

Harry let Roni lead him to a round construction, where a crowd was cheering for a girl dressed in colourful suit who seemed to be floating in the air.

"Come, we need to suit you up." Roni took him below deck and handed him one of the colourful suits and a pair of goggles, which looked a bit like a modern version of his Quidditch goggles. "Go on, suit up!" she ordered. "She finishes in a couple of minutes." A few minutes later he was standing on a platform, watching as a man reached for the floating girl and pulled her, giggling, back to the platform.

"Your turn," Roni stated. "This thing simulates free-falling. It's used for getting used to the feel of free-falling and to work on the diver's equilibrium in the air. All you have to do is jump over the hole in the platform and try to keep your balance in the air. Right?"

"Err, right..."

Harry jumped forward hesitantly and was promptly pushed back by the wind, which caused him to land on the platform, on his behind, staring up at Roni.

Right then, let's try it again...

His second jump was a bit too enthusiastic. Harry was surprised by the wind, which turned him over and threw him to the platform on the other side of the hole. The watching crowd broke into laughter as Harry stood up shakily and waved with some embarrassment.

"Easy on, mate!" someone called.

Yeh – easy...

His next try took him just over the middle of the hole, and Harry was surprised by the force of the wind once more. For a few long seconds he just hovered there, trying to understand what was holding him in the air.

"Good work, Harry," he heard Roni call.

The crowd made sounds of approval. "We'll make a skydiver out of him yet, Ron!" someone called, which made everyone laugh again.

This is really fun, Harry thought. Just like falling off a broom. Falling off a broom he could most definitely do. This was actually better than falling off his broom, since there wasn't the whole The-Ground-Is-Coming-At-Me-Quickly factor, which was a considerable limiting factor on the fun derived from broom-falling incidents.

Let's try something else. Harry levelled himself into the position used to slow down the fall and found to his delight that the wind carried him even higher into the air. Now let's dive! Harry lowered his head into the wind and immediately fell rapidly towards the ground.

Whoa!

He threw his hands out and levelled himself in a desperate effort to slow himself down. Much to his surprise, the wind carried him back up in the air. Again! His mind shouted at him, and Harry lowered his head into the wind once more. Diving he could most definitely do! The encouraging noises from the crowd grew louder as Harry's dives got cleaner and more precise and daring.

Let's try something else, he thought. Slowly he lowered his head into the wind and turned into his favourite corkscrew motion, which grew faster and faster as he gained confidence. The crowd was first shocked into silence, but the cheering grew louder and louder as Harry's motion became more rapid; but this was no broom, and he lacked the forward thrust he was used to. A small change in his posture drove Harry into an uncontrolled spiral motion and threw him far out into the safety nets surrounding the tunnel.

"Harry!" Roni cried. She rushed to check on him. "Are you hurt? What were you thinking? You've been wonderful! Are you sure that was your first time?"

Harry wasn't fully healed yet, and the fall had hurt a bit, but he'd been wounded enough times in the past to identify a real injury and this wasn't one. "I'm fine, just a bit bruised," he said, "and I'm still not sure what this thing is, though it sure is fun."

"Come," she said. "Let's get you a prize for that performance of yours." She pulled him off the platform to the cheering sounds of the crowd. The cheering got louder when a girl with some kind of a board connected to her feet took his place and started a complicated dance of turns and rolls which she performed with ease, grace, and well-practiced comfort.

Not far from the tunnel they met Dave, who stood watching the girl's acrobatics as he waited for them. "Jody from Cairns," he remarked as they reached him. "She has a good shot at the Skysurfing title tomorrow afternoon. I'm surprised she's taking the risk here today, but that's youth for you. You don't know you should be afraid to take risks, so you're able to reap the big prizes," he said looking thoughtful. "Got yourself a legend, aye, Ron? See you in the morning," he added, and he moved off into the crowd.

The next morning Harry was surprised by the metamorphosis Roni had gone through. Gone was the careless girl with the happy-go-lucky attitude, and in its place was calm precision. First she refolded her chutes under Dave's scrutiny; she then listened without a word to Dave's instructions for Harry. The instructions were elaborate, but could be shortened to the following: "I know what I'm doing, so relax, follow my lead, and enjoy the ride." Finally they suited up, with Dave going over Roni's gear and Roni checking over Dave's and Harry's. Minutes later their little aircraft was soaring into the lightly clouded sky.

"I envy you a little," Roni whispered into Harry's ear as she held his hand. "There's nothing like your first time, and you still have a chance at a first solo, if you'd like it."

"Right, time to go," Dave called. He slid the door open and secured Harry's suit to his. "Don't worry, I'm not going to push you out, but I will try and persuade you If you're too reluctant," he said, grinning.

"I'll be jumping right after you, and I'll keep a position facing you in the air."

"It'll be great, mate," Dave said as they approached the plane's open door. "No bloody worries, aye?"

"One," Harry heard Dave counting. "Two..." and Harry jumped. Harry was obviously not afraid from the sky. He had both his wands and his Firebolt shrunk in his pocket. Nothing bad could happen to him out there in the morning air. The dodgy aircraft, on the other hand, made him feel uneasy...

Freedom! In front of him he could see Roni approaching them, shouting in joy, with which he could fully identify. She reached out and he took her hands. They turned slowly in the air, watching the desert view and the drop-zone and airstrip below them. Far out on the horizon a round mountain rose out of the plain red desert.

"We're trying for that large cross to the right of the strip. In a moment I'll open the chute and you'll just hang, look around, and let me direct us there," Dave called from behind. Roni let go of Harry's hand and drifted away, waving to him. He felt a pull on his straps; the downward rush stopped and a colourful canopy bloomed above their heads. Roni flew past them for a few seconds before her chute opened too, and they all glided down towards the big white cross on the round.

"Nicely done, mate!" Dave disconnected himself from Harry after they landed and went on to collect his parachute from the ground. "It's been a while since I jumped with someone so eager to get out of the plane, and that chap wasn't that mentally balanced. It was fun. Ron, I'll see you later today for the first group meeting and practice," he said, and went away.

"You really love it up there," Harry remarked, watching Roni smile as she collected her chute.

"I really do," she answered, snuggling into his arms and kissing him lengthily. "There's a kind of freedom there that I can't find anywhere else. An Israeli guy once told me that scuba diving is very similar in that respect, but I haven't had the chance to try it for myself yet."

"You looked as if you were glowing with happiness up there," he whispered to her.

"I don't know about glowing, but happiness is something I desperately need these days."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Here, mate, have a stubbie holder. I tell you, you Poms shame all beer drinkers worldwide. A beer must be cold for you to really enjoy it, and you can't really keep it cold unless you use the holder," one of the guys told Harry, and thrust another beer into his hand. "And here's tea for you, hen fruit, fried potatoes and snags, just like breakfast and lunch, but without the sun in the sky."

There was laughter around.

Lately Harry had been introduced into the Australian concept of the Shout. They had been driving for a day now to Dave's place, which was said to be "just down the road" to the south, and stopped at a town along the highway for the pub. Never mind that the "highway" was actually a gravel track and that the "town" consisted of no more than twenty small houses. As soon as they entered the pub, a stubby was thrust into Harry's hand by one of the guys.

"No worries, mate – my shout," he said, clapping Harry on his shoulder, and he went back to the lively conversation going on about how they'd almost got the world record the other day, and what a miracle it was that the chap whose chute hadn't opened got away with only a few broken limbs. Harry made an effort to stir the conversation away from that subject, but it was a futile effort. The story made headlines in papers around the world and was going to be the talk of the skydiving community for years to come. Harry was glad to get away from the fairgrounds before a certain kind of people came to investigate.

Harry didn't want to be in debt, so he took care to buy the next round of drinks; he was quite content nursing his first beer and staying off to the side. About ten minutes later someone tried to hand him another stubbie and was shocked to discover that he hadn't finished the first one yet.

"Mate, what's wrong with ya?" the man asked in genuine concern.

"I'm fine, just not used to so much alcohol is all."

"Got yourself a bloody piker, aye, Ron?" one of the girls called pleasantly.

"Can't have one of those here," laughed another girl. "Here, finish yours up and get this one. Quick – it's getting warm out of the holder. My shout!"

By the time they left the pub and drove on, looking for a place to camp for the night, Harry was properly – and for the first time in his life – drunk. He just couldn't resist the friendly pub-goers. Maybe it was the fact that not having another drink was getting him even more attention from everyone around. Or maybe it was their smiles. Somehow he got the feeling that people in Australia smiled more than any other people he had ever met, or maybe he was keeping the wrong company back home – in that respect, at least.

Now he and Roni were lying with their new friends around a small fire in the bush, cuddled together under a sleeping bag, looking up to the night sky.

"It's so beautiful," she whispered, mostly to herself. "Shame you have to travel so far to enjoy it."

Harry hugged her closer.

"Do you know about the stars?"

He nodded. "They teach it to us in my school, but this is my first time to see the southern sky for myself."

"The stars remind me of my father," she whispered. "He was an astronomy enthusiast and always took me with him whenever there was something special in the stars to watch. How do you handle it?" she asked after a long silence. "I miss them so very much!"

"I don't know, Roni. I was little more than a year old when my parents died. People always tell me how wonderful they were and how much I look like them, but I didn't know them and I have almost no recollection of living with them.

"The pain is so raw, I sometimes need all that I have just to hold myself together," Roni murmured.

"How did they die?" Harry knew this was a painful subject so he'd waited for her to bring it up, but now he felt that she needed to talk to someone about it.

"Four months back. They both got that disease that put people into comas and left them to fade for weeks till their death. One night I went to bed early. I was awakened by a nightmare. I went downstairs to the living room and found it full of that vile fog that plagued England until few weeks ago, and my parents staring straight ahead with no spark in them. The doctors didn't know how to treat them and still have no idea what it was all about, with all those people getting sick all around the country. Now I have to go on with my life. I asked my trust manager if I could take a year off but he insists that I go straight to the Uni and start 'putting my life back together'. I just don't know if I can do that..."

Harry didn't know what to say, or whether he should say anything at all. He just held her even closer, and comforted her until she was ready to speak again.

"Make love to me? I need to feel alive!"

Harry looked around reluctantly.

"Don't mind them," she said, starting to pull off his shirt. "They're either asleep or minding their own business."

Harry had to admit that she was probably right. Just for his peace of mind, however, he casted a Silencing and Notice-Me-Not charms around the two of them before he returned his full attention to the beautiful girl in his arms.

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"I talked to Claire and she's willing to let me take you up by myself early tomorrow morning. She said it's not the age but the skill that counts, and we're in the middle of nowhere anyway. I want us to do something special for the end of this summer."

It was a few days before their flight back, and the awareness of the end of their vacation was in the air. Roni insisted on Harry changing his "flight schedule" to correspond with hers. This made the Goblins busy, and Harry a bit nervous – the former because of the need to prepare the appropriate paper trail to enable Harry to leave Australia and enter old England, even though he had never formally entered or left, respectively, and the latter because Harry didn't know what would happen to a modern passenger jet if he became upset during the flight and his magic spiked. Also, Harry wanted to continue his relationship with Roni, so he needed to tell her at least some of his secrets. Maybe this was an opportunity.

Once again Harry was amazed by Roni's meticulous sub-personality as he watched her prepare and double-check their gear. They both suited up and let Claire go over their gear.

"I'll drop you over the reservoir. It's the prettiest morning jump around here," she called over the noise of the engine. "Get ready!"

Roni slid open the door and at Claire's call they were out.

"Harry!"

He turned his head to look at Roni and was met with a tender kiss.

"I love you!" she said into his ear, and she opened the chute early. "Sorry, I want this to last."

"I love you, too," he chuckled. "I need to tell you something – well, show you, actually. Do you remember the guide?"

Earlier, when they still were in Singapore, she'd bought him The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy to read.

"What, you mean to tell me you're not from Guildford, Surrey?" she said in mock horror.

"I am from Surrey actually – Don't Panic!"

He took his broom from his pocket and enlarged it. With his other hand he drew out his wand and with a swish of his hand the parachute's strings were cut.

"Harry, you crazy bastard!" Roni pulled to open the spare, but they were in a bad position and it got tangled all around them. It did manage to knock the broom out of Harry's hand. A few swishes of his wand later and they were free of the spare, too. Now they had neither a parachute nor a broom.

"Don't panic, I said!" Harry shouted. "Accio Broom!" he called, pointing his wand at the broom, which was now falling in the air far below them.

Nothing happened, since racing brooms were charmed against summoning while in the air. That was to stop the opposite players or audience from summoning the players' brooms out from underneath them during the game. According to Quidditch Through the Ages, this was a common misshap back in the days when the Arrows' fans were still shooting metal arrows at the air and at the other team as a means of cheering their squad, Harry recalled bitterly. Now he was starting to panic. He imagined a bleat and a recollection of his first flying lesson flashed in his mind. "Up!" he called, and seconds later the Firebolt was back in his outstretched hand. Harry sighed in relief. He mounted the broom and seconds later they were soaring back up to the sky.

"Roni?" he asked after a long silence.

"You almost killed us!"

"Err – not really."

"What's this thing?"

"My broom?"

"No, stupid bloke! How does it fly?"

"That's because it's a racing broom, and because I'm a wizard?" Harry answered hesitantly.

"Don't give me that nonsense, Harry."

"No! It's God's honest truth – look!" He conjured a red rose and passed it back to her. He still wasn't the best of Transfiguration students, so the rose fell apart almost as soon as Roni took it hesitantly from his hand. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Not my strongest field of magic."

"Don't take your hands off that thing!" she cried, noticing that he'd taken his hands off the broomstick in order to conjure the rose.

"What? Afraid of heights?" he asked her in mock concern.

"Oh hush, you," she answered and swatted him on the back of his head.

"Here," he smirked, "let me show you what diving from the sky is all about," and Harry pointed the broom downward.

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A long AN:

First – I received some creative (a little harsh though ;-) ) criticism saying that the former chapters were not up to my usual standards – language wise. I went through the beta process for chapters 17 and 18 once more, only to find that the criticism was indeed in place.

It now makes a much easier read now, and you might like to go over it again.

No changes were made to the storyline.

Secondly – here is the new chapter. Once again – the longest ever.

Finally – the net chapter will probably take a wile. About a month ago I got into a nasty motorcycle accident. I'm getting better, but I'm sad to say that the time healing threw me out of my writing rhythm. I'm getting better, and I'll try to go back writing, but it may take a little while more. Also, my computer was involved in the same accident as me, and was sadly deceased. This is the main reason for the delay on the posting of this chapter. Fortunately, it's much easier to buy a new computer, then a new ankle...

Finally – please please review!? I have a very decent number of readers, but so very few reviews. It makes it harder for me to notice where I can do better. I do need your help here!

Thanks!

Niv