Harry woke up in an unfamiliar bed. The mattress felt softer than he was accustomed to- better than foam, in his opinion. He was still fully clothed, and just a little too warm.

He opened his eyes and saw that he was almost certainly in the Leaky Cauldron once again. Hagrid was occupying a chair opposite his bed, either staring at a wall or sleeping in the most uncomfortable position possible.

"Hawgwid?" he asked, slurring the name.

"Haggid," he tried again.

His tongue was numb. That was new. Alright. So why was his tongue numb?

Ahah! He snapped his fingers and sat up in the bed. The mediwitch had given him a calming thingy, a draught. Which was apparently a foul tasting concoction served in a glass phial. He wasn't entirely certain why he'd required one, but that was fine with him. He felt refreshed.

"Hawgrid, hello." This time he'd managed an arr, he was making progress!

"Hrmph?" Hagrid shook himself and looked at him blearily.

"Morning!"

"'Arry!" Hagrid beamed at him and stood.

Harry was entirely unprepared for the hug that followed.

"'Arry you tosspot, I was worried about yeh!"

"Gnf," said Harry.

Hagrid released him momentarily, and Harry took the opportunity to breathe again.

"Well, I'm fine."

"Fine inna what I'd call it, 'Arry. Didja know yeh had a concussion?"

Harry looked at him steadily. This was not news. "I suspected as much, yes."

Hagrid sighed. "Righ', an' I reckon I gave it to yeh."

"That you did."

"Sorry about tha'."

"Not much harm done, Hagrid. Where are we?"

"Leaky Cauldron, got a room for the night on the cheap."

Harry swung his legs out onto the floor. "Alright, you got my stuff from Ollivanders, or do we need to pick that up?"

"All 'ere, 'Arry." Hagrid pointed toward the window, and sure enough his bags awaited his attention. Harry was still wearing his scarlet robes, but through happenstance or enchantment they didn't look the least rumpled. He could afford to stave off changing.

He patted his pocket. His wand was accounted for as well, good.

"Alright." Things were looking up. "So after last night I'm assuming we'll be heading to Hogwarts soonish, yeah?"

"Righ' after breakfast."

Harry sidled past Hagrid and grabbed his bags. "Lead on, good sir."

The pair ambled into the second floor hall and trod down the stairs to the main room of the inn, each step creaking under Hagrid's considerable weight.

"Lets just say that it was interesting," Harry said.

"Interestin', he says," Hagrid groused.

"Morning sirs!" cried Tom from behind the bar.

"Mornin'!"

"Good morning Tom."

"Staying for breakfast or heading out?" Tom asked, eying Harry's bags.

"Eating first," Harry hastened to say.

"Excellent. What can I get you? Anything you like!"

Harry waved at Hagrid to make the arrangements and found them a table with a view. While it was next to impossible to see inside, the grimy windows actually offered a pleasant enough angle of the street.

Faster than he'd believed eggs could be cooked without burning, a pair of trays landed in front of him, and Hagrid lumbered over to dig in.

Over coffee, Harry had to ask, "So why the accent, Hagrid?"

Hagrid squinted at him and leaned close.

"Come on, I won't tell. I'm just curious."

"It's a secret," Hagrid said quietly.

"Oh. Alright."

"Thassit? Alrigh'?"

"Sure! If it's not my business, it's not my business."

Hagrid relaxed and leaned back. "You're a good sport, Harry."

Harry smiled at him. "Shall we go?"

Stepping out into the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron, Harry looked for signs of the poor men Hagrid had disagreed with the previous evening. None were in evidence.

He strolled over to the dumpster and peeked inside. One of the men had lost a shoe in making their escape. Poor bugger.

"So what does a Portkey actually do?"

Hagrid did not appear to believe this was a very wizardly question."Step over here and see," he said.

Harry stepped as ordered and stood beside the man, who was now brandishing a can.

"That's a Portkey?"

"No, 'Arry, this is a can of soup that is also a port key. Important, that. All enchanted like. You'll be able to tell one day."

"Right." Harry pursed his lips and eyed the can. It didn't look very magical to him at all. But most things didn't.

The not magical looking wall beside them began to shift, and Hagrid decided they'd waited long enough.

"Just touch the can, 'Arry."

Harry touched.

A moment later the world turned inside out and pulled his head clean through his navel and out-

Into mid air.

Harry screamed obscenities and flipped head over heels.

"NO, no, no, no, no! Not happening!"

He continued to fall.

Harry screamed some more at a slightly higher pitch. He could see an ocean beneath him, at this height he was not going to land softly.

He was going to die.

Maybe Portkeys were supposed to do this?

. . . Nah.

"Damn it!"

He flipped over again and contemplated the sky. Screaming plainly wasn't helping matters.

But just maybe he could shout productively instead?

Trying to control his flailing, Harry pulled out his wand and stared at it, hard. "Work!"

It flashed silver and the world turned right side in.

He landed heavily on his back and stared at the sky, still clutching his wand in both hands. Hagrid stood beside him, looking slightly confused and holding his bags.

"That took a bit longer than usual," Hagrid murmured.

Harry whimpered.

"Well, come on then!" Hagrid pointed at something, and Harry forced his eyes to follow. Over yonder was a truly colossal castle. One straight from a fairy tale, with pennants flapping in the wind. The path leading up to it was a long but manageable walk.

"I don't think I like Portkeys," muttered Harry.

Hagrid looked at him with some concern. "Are yeh alrigh'?"

Harry rolled over and punched the dirt, then stood up shakily and pocketed his wand.

"No, but I'll be fine."

He made to grab his bags from Hagrid, but the man waved him off and started walking.

"You're going to be tall again, aren't you?"

Sure enough, Hagrid lengthened his stride.

Harry trotted after Hagrid and cursed the man's legs every step of the way. He did not like running at the best of times, and his steps were still a bit shaky after his trip through portkey hell.

"Why does this always happen?" he moaned.

"What was tha'?"

"Nothing! Just me being shorter than you and all, back here, don't mind the hill, I'll be fine, thanks."

Hagrid snickered at him. Snickered! That wouldn't do.

Harry strongly considered taking aim with his wand and saying some magic words. Then again, it would be mightily unsporting of him to, what was the term, curse? To curse a man in the back. Even if it was a very large, tall, leggy man who was running him bloody ragged with his pace.

The castle steadily grew as they neared. There was a word for it: Enormous.

Frankly, it didn't look very Hogwarty at all. No hogs were in evidence, and even if there were invisible, magic hogs, he wasn't able to verify the presence of warts.

Perhaps the name was a sort of unfortunate magical tumor, growing out of a perfectly good and otherwise serviceable castle with a long and proud history of castledom.

Harry was broken from his thoughts by an owl.

The owl hooted at him, fluttering around his head.

Harry cringed away. "Hagrid! There's this owl here!"

"Eh? Oh! Tha's just a post owl, 'Arry, nuthin' to worry about."

"But it has great big claws! And a beak! And it, hey! Bad owl!"

"It just wants to deliver something to yeh. Just hold out your hand, nice and still."

Harry held out his hand as ordered and prayed the owl wouldn't take a chunk out.

After a moment the owl deposited a letter in his palm and flapped away, hooting all the while.

Harry stared down at the yellowed envelope in his hand with some alarm.

It was addressed to his cupboard, where he'd spent the first ten or so years of his life.

"You alright there Harry?"

He pocketed the envelope in his robe and marched past Hagrid. "Come on, then! Places to be and all that."

Harry followed Hagrid into what he called the Great Hall with some trepidation. The building possessed an almost homey atmosphere that it really had no business having.

The silence was anything but deafening. It was downright mousey, in fact.

Harry spoke up first. There wasn't anything for it. "Hello!" he said brightly.

"Welcome back Harry!" shouted a squeaky little bugger in the corner.

"Pot-ter, Pot-ter, Pot-ter!" went the chant from the red side of the room, led by two . . . Very red young men. Firey, even.

Soon other members of the breakfast crowd joined in, and before long they were rattling the roof while Harry fingered his wand and pretended not to be confused. Was everyone he met, everywhere, in all places, going to act this way? Like he was the toast of the town, the Sultan of Swing, and possibly the Queen of Sheba in disguise?

Fine, then. He'd roll with it.

"Thanks, everyone. Really! Thank you!"

"Pot-ter, Pot-ter!"

"No, really, you can stop. The teachers are going spare!"

"Pot-ter, Pot-ohbloodyhell."

"Yeah. Lets all be quiet for a moment," soothed Harry.

"Harry," boomed an old man with the fashion sense of a toasted herring. "On behalf of the staff, allow me to welcome you back to Hogwarts."

"Dumbledore," said Harry, "Hello."

"Please, come with me, Hagrid will take your bags to your room."

"Sure. Sorry to interrupt your breakfast," he said pleasantly, striding across the hall. His feet tap, tap, tapped on the stone floor, and the student body watched him with keen eyes.

"Not a problem, dear boy."

Were his eyes sparkling? Harry could swear they were. Creepy.

The pair rounded a corner, and Harry heard someone blow the silence away. In short order chatter filled the room, and it grew faint as they walked.

"So," said Harry.

"Yes, mister Potter?"

"About this little gem," he said, pulling the yellowed letter out of his pocket and handing it to Dumbledore.

"Ah. This. Indeed."

"Indeed," parroted Harry sweetly.

"Allow me to explain once we reach my office, please."

"Of course."

They reached a likely looking Gargoyle in the middle of an empty hall, and Harry flatly refused to be surprised when the man said the magic word, "Marsbar," and the sodding thing stood up, shuffled off to the side, and presented a perfectly normal archway in the wall. Not a single moving brick in sight.

They clomped up the stairs, and Harry took in the sight of a renovated, ultra modern office. All black, white, metal and glass, quite at odds with the rest of the castle's decor. In one corner sat a large perch, with a ratty looking peacock clinging to it grimly.

Harry's eyes slid right over it, and he stepped past the unfortunate creature to the guest chair.

It squawked at him commandingly, and Harry froze in place.

Dumbledore paused on his way around the desk to watch.

"Nice peacock?"

"SQUAWK!"

"Er. Polly want a head rub?"

"SQUAWK!"

Harry gingerly reached out one hand and rubbed its head. It leaned into his touch and crossed its eyes.

"Good boy. Girl. Peacock."

"Fawkes," said Dumbledore. "The cowardly bird is named Fawkes. A phoenix, the very same phoenix that provided the core for your wand, in fact."

"Oh hell. This thing is the reason I buggered up the sky?"

"In a very broad sense, yes. Though I'm sure you'll be happy to learn that the time dilation was only temporary, and to my knowledge, nobody has yet died as a result."

Harry squinted at him. "So how many people are probably going to die as a result in the very near future?"

"Four."

"Oh. Well then. Could have been worse."

"It could indeed! I'm glad to see you are the type to view the glass as half full, mister Potter."

"Please, call me Harry. Just about anyone who's anyone does. Potter implies respect, and I can already tell you keep that commodity very close to your chest."

"Very astute of you, Harry."

"And don't pretend I'm a special snowflake, either. I might as well be a random joe off the street, but I share an important face. All I want to know is why."

"The why is very simple. You are Harry Potter, the once upon a time saviour of the Wizarding World. The real one."

"So who was this impostor of yours, and what happened to them?"

"The impostor was a woman named Nymphadora Tonks, a young metamorph who assumed your form at my direction and operated for all the world to see in your stead. Certain health issues have prevented her from making frequent occurrences of late, and her condition has worsened steadily to the point that she is very much knocking on death's gilded door."

"So with her dying, you needed the real thing."

"Very much so. Please do not misunderstand, Harry. We would much rather have had you, the real thing, right from the start. But, due to circumstances outside my control, you were . . . Misplaced. Permanently, we thought at the time. For all our magical power, we could not find you until very recently, and even then it was a desperate fluke that brought you into light at all."

"So this note," Harry pointed at the letter in Dumbledore's hand, "Should have arrived on time, and all would have been well?"

"Not quite. In truth we never intended to leave you with the Dursleys. Terrible people, truly. The worst sort of muggles. That they raised you as well as they did is astonishing. The character you've displayed on your short foray into our world despite their meddling has been astonishing. You displayed great courage in the face of the unknown, single handedly opened negotiations long thought dead with the Goblin tribes, and, I might add, proved that you have a great font of magical power when you received your wand. I'm very pleased with you, Harry."

"Most of that was a product of being too stupid to be afraid and too drunk to care," Harry said flatly.

Dumbledore opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a bottle of Firewhiskey, before withdrawing two glasses.

"Drink, Harry?"

"Please."

"Some of my best decisions in life, and my greatest accomplishments, were all thanks to a hint of medicinal courage," Dumbledore said soberly, pouring them both a healthy shot. "Here."

"Thank you."

"Bottom's up."

It burnt like a thing that burns, thought Harry. His shoulders loosened instantly, and he slouched into the chair with a sigh.

"I didn't realize I was so tense."

"A sign you have a healthy sense of self preservation. You were right to be wary."

"So what do you want from me, anyway?"

"In part, I want your cooperation in maintaining the fiction I've built up regarding your skill, expertise, strength of character and dashing good looks, all while lending some of your not inconsiderable, though unfocused, power. To accomplish this, I would have you assist Madame Pomfrey: the school healer, and professor Snape: the potions master, in recovering our young Metamorph from her morphic coma."

Harry nodded absently. "And in return?"

Dumbledore spread his arms. "All the fame, fortune, women, men, exotic pets, friends, lackeys and mortal enemies you have been so cruelly denied for your entire life."

"I'm iffy on the mortal enemies, and you can keep the exotic pets, but this all sounds good. What's the catch, really?"

"You will need to cooperate with Nymphadora as she makes personal appearances in your stead, until such time as you learn enough about your identity and contacts to muddle through on your own. Alternatively, you could potentially convince her to maintain her role indefinitely, only making appearances yourself when absolutely necessary or convenient. Essentially leaving the schmoozing to her while you live a life of luxury. Either outcome would suit my purposes. I can not allow you to roam free, but I have no interest in leaving you unrewarded for your efforts."

Harry looked at the man intently. "But will I learn magic?"

"All the magic you want, dear boy. This is a magical school. We need simply air the news that you are suffering from amnesia, and nobody will look at you askance as you further your education."

"Well, hell. For a gilded cage this is one hell of a step up, all told. I'm in." Harry leaned forward and offered Dumbledore his hand.

"Very well, Harry. I look forward to working with you," Dumbledore said, and took his hand.

The shook, and Fawkes squawked at them raucously.

"Does he always sound like that?"

Dumbledore looked pained. "He fell into the lake the other day, and he hasn't been quite the same since."

"SQUAWK."

"Yes, quite. Thank you, Fawkes."

"I remember Ollivander mentioning something about eternal narcissism?"

"Fawkes will live up to that poetic turn of phrase some time after his next burning day, but until then I'm afraid he'll be his miserable looking self. Phoenixes really do not do well with water."

"Huh."

"SQUAWK!"

"Incidentally, he can actually understand what we say."

"Can he speak to you?"

"After a fashion."

"Must be handy!"

Dumbledore smiled. "It certainly can be, dear boy. Now, let us adjourn for the moment and see if we can't catch Poppy, madame Pomfrey, that is, in a good mood. She will be delighted to finally meet you. Not least because she needs a sizable quantity of your blood for her treatment of miss Nymphadora."

"Oh. Goody."

"I promise you won't feel a thing, and after a thoroughly disgusting blood replenishing potion you'll be on your feet and ready to greet the goblin ambassador."

Harry tromped down the steps ahead of Dumbledore and tried the Gargoyle, "Marsbar." It worked! Before turning to ask, "About this ambassador business. What did I actually do when I slept with that goblin, and how much am I likely to regret it?"

"Well, Harry, as it happens . . ."

"Poppy! Poppy, I have wonderful news!" Crowed Dumbledore as he made his way, was he floating? Harry stared. Yes, he was floating. Whatever. Made his way into the infirmary. Harry padded along behind him and looked around curiously.

"This had better be good, Albus!" shouted a matronly looking woman from behind a desk, in a room slightly removed from the line of beds.

"Harry is here. In the flesh."

She shot out of her chair and came at them at a dead run.

"Harry! Harry, dear, please help me!" she cried, grasping his hands.

Harry blinked at her owlishly. "Whatever I can do to help, ma'am."

She flushed pink and smiled brightly. "Thank you, dear. Thank you! Right this way, please."

"Go on, don't let an old man keep you," said Dumbledore.

"Right."

Harry followed her at a sedate pace, keeping a watchful eye out for flying needles, bedpans and anything else that might decide to take flight and have a go at him.

"We've been trying or level best, but without the real thing, you, we've been stretching the limits of magical science."

Magical science, Harry mouthed to himself.

Poppy noticed, and she smiled sheepishly. "Yes, it is a strange sort of term, but what else to call it? We've been experimenting on the fringes of healing and potionry, trying to regulate an inborn magical trait. By rights the poor girl should have died years ago from simple magical exhaustion."

"What do you need? Dumbledore mentioned blood?"

"Yes, just step past this line, yes, and here we are."

The scene was completely different to his eyes. Gone was the wall, for one. And in its place was a positively threatening looking room filled with all manner of glass beakers, burners and containers. There was a peculiar copper tang to the air that caused his nose to crinkle.

"Huh."

"That's right, we've kept this room well warded for miss Tonks' treatments. Though lately . . ."

"She's been a permanent resident, right?"

"Yes. I was afraid you wouldn't arive in time, but we still have a chance."

"What will we be doing?"

"You will be bleeding into this cup, and I will take the blood and mix it into what used to be a Polyjuice potion before Severus got through with it."

Harry eyed the cup. It was a bronze looking affair, and he thought the snakes carved into the bowl looked mighty sinister. It was also a very large cup.

"Do I have to fill the whole thing?"

"Yes, but I have a potion here to help with that. Just drink this," she said, uncorking a vial and handing it to him.

Harry drank as directed. It tasted vile.

At his face, Poppy giggled lightly. "Yes, it has that effect on every one. But now you won't suffer the effects of blood loss, so lets get started."

"Sure."

"Just sit down here at the desk, yes, and hold your arm out for me."

Harry held his arm, and she rolled up his sleeve.

"Right, this won't hurt, I promise. Not even a little bit. It just looks scary."

Harry tried his best to look unruffled when she withdrew a kukri from her desk drawer.

"Just hold still," she said, and drew the blade down his arm.

It cut his flesh without any apparent effort, and in a moment blood was pouring freely down his arm and flowing directly into the cup, without a hint of spill.

The cup, apparently, had quite the affinity for blood.

Harry felt very slightly ill at the sight, and looked away.

Poppy beamed at him. "Thank you again, Harry. This will be so helpful for us!"

"My . . . My pleasure, miss."

"Please, call me Poppy. I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot of each other!"

Just as soon as the cup was very nearly full to the brim, Poppy ran her wand down the cut, and it sealed itself magically. The final drops flowed down, and it was done. Harry didn't even feel light headed.

"Excellent! With this, we'll be able to complete the potion within a day! We may see results tomorrow!"

"I'm glad," Harry said, smiling at her.

"Thank you so, so much. That girl will be very grateful, I know she's been in terrible pain."

"Hey, I'm happy to help where I can. And you were right, it didn't hurt at all."

"You should go back to the headmaster, I'm told he has a guest for you to meet."

"Right. I'll see myself out."

Harry stepped over the blurry line on the floor, and he was once again in the immaculate infirmary. Dumbledore was taking his ease in a guest chair.

"All done," he said.

"Good, good. Then let us be off to your next appointment! After you meet with mister Kazrend, I shall get you settled into your room. You can meet the staff at dinner, and tomorrow we'll give you a temporary house assignment and guide to the castle."

Harry nodded. "Sounds good."

"Remember Harry," Dumbledore whispered urgently, "His name is mister Kazrend, and you are very happy to meet him."

"Thazzit?"

"Yes."

"Right. Off to the bloody races, then. I'll let you know if he axes me off at the knees. You'll know on account of the screaming. I'm good at screaming."

"That's the spirit, Harry."

"Also good at kicking them in the nadgers and running, mind, so be prepared to trip me on the way out if you don't want him axing you off at the knees instead!" Harry sing songed as he walked to the door.

He waved his hands and the doors failed to open, so he sighed and waved his wand instead.

Both heavy, possibly mahogany, though any similarly fancy sounding wood would have passed muster, doors slammed open with such force that they impacted the walls beside them and settled down on their hinges.

The noise echoed throughout the entire castle, and Harry stepped through the doorway cautiously, eying both doors with suspicion.

"There wasn't anyone standing in the way, was there?" he asked the room as he walked in, trying to look over both shoulders at once.

Several goblins were cowering behind a long table, their chairs upended and numerous official looking papers strewn about. They did not look very happy to see him.

"Hi," said Harry, smiling toothlessly. "I'm Harry, pleasure to meet you all. Is mister Kazrend here?"

A chair shifted out from the table, and a goblin wearing a bowler hat hopped off, casting a dark look at his compatriots. They shifted nervously and straightened up from behind the chairs they were using as shields.

"Greetings and salutations, mister Potter!" he said officiously.

"Pleasure to meet you, sir," said Harry, leaning down and offering his hand.

Kazrend looked at Harry in disbelief, and the other goblins chattered amongst each other.

"Do goblins not shake hands?" asked Harry.

Kazrend took his hand firmly, squeezed, and pumped his hand twice before letting go. "Today, we do," said the goblin.

"See? We can all get along if we try."

Kazrend smirked, showing teeth. "Indeed. Now, mister Potter, I won't waste your time. I'm here today to discuss your courting of the Rockchewer clan, and what that entails for all of us here at Gringotts."

"Right. Big deal, I'm told."

"Very big deal, as you say. A human wizard has not taken a goblin as one of their wives in well over a hundred years. A date coinciding, I should note, with the day the last human wizard was killed for taking a goblin wife. It was all very political and before your time, but we at Gringotts feel that history should not be ignored. To that effect, you and your betrothed will be under constant guard, both at Gringotts and abroad."

"When you say guard, what sort of numbers and capability are you talking?"

"You will be considered a national treasure, as such, no less than six goblin guardsmen will be in your presence at all times."

"Isn't that a bit much? How will we all fit inside a carriage, or my room?"

"They will, of course, be most discreet. Intangibility and invisibility charms are at their most advanced in years, and they will prove no inconvenience to you or your betrothed. In fact, you might soon find them indispensable, as they will be happy to attend to small errands, like checking your food and water for poison, sweeping your clothes for snooping devices, and subduing assassins while you are otherwise occupied."

"Are assassins likely? I mean, how many have I dealt with in the past ten years?"

"Thirty."

"I thought it was only twenty eight," Harry said with a straight face.

"And we believed you were only aware of twenty two! You are most well informed, mister Potter."

"So assassins and the dealing thereof are a concern, I'll admit that. And I wouldn't want to place Lizzie in further danger."

"Of course not," Kazrend said silkily.

"How is Lizzie holding up, anyway? Last I saw her I had to leave in a bit of a hurry, on account of being dragged out of her bed."

"That was an unfortunate misunderstanding. The guards responsible have been sternly reprimanded and assigned to dragon cleanup duty."

"Life is full of misunderstandings. But at the very least the let me get dressed again before they marched me outside. That won't happen again, then?"

"You are ever a guest at Gringotts. We simply needed some time to adjust."

"Right. Well, if it helps, I totally forgive those guards. They were just doing their jobs, and none of them tried to shiv me."

"In light of your mercy, their sentence will be reduced. I'm certain they will be most pleased to hear it."

"So, Lizzie?"

"Ah, yes. She sends her regards, and after she stopped shouting we managed to convince her that you left unharmed. You've made quite the impression on the young lady. She looks forward to your next meeting."

"And when will that be?"

"Likely during the Triwizard tournament, if all proceeds apace. Traditionally, the marriage partners are kept apart for some time to afford them the chance to reflect upon their decision. If, after this period of reflection, both parties agree, the courting will proceed in much the same manner as the human tradition. She will expect flowers, and chocolate."

Harry nodded gravely. "I understand that chocolate is very important to her."

"It is to us all, mister Potter. It is one of our greatest pleasures in life."

They reflected upon this in silence for a moment. Mmm, chocolate.

Harry shook his head and smiled. "So, was that about all you had to discuss today? Just the guards and us being apart for a while?"

"No, there is also the matter of your controlling shares in the Honeyduke's chocolatery . . ."

"I see! Chocolate. Very important. What is it you would like, mister Kazrend, exactly?"

"An increase in shipments of twenty percent over the next five years. Paid accordingly, of course."

"And is that all?"

Kazrend looked pained. "And we would like to request a . . . Gift. One Honeyduke's chocolate bunny for every child, every year, on Christmas."

Harry smiled. "I'm all for it. But bear in mind that Honeydukes may require assistance to increase their output, if their chocolate is in nearly as much demand as I suspect it is."

"Of course, Gringotts would be happy to invest in new plantations and processing facilities. We would not have Honeydukes starve the Fairies or the Sylph of their own shipments."

"Well, here's what we'll do. You pass along your requests to Professor Dumbledore, with my blessing, and he will do his level best to use those controlling shares in my stead to prod Honeydukes into line. Is that acceptable?"

Kazrend's eyes glittered. "Yes, mister Potter, thank you!"

Diplomacy, Harry figured, was easy. All you had to do was find a fancy way to say yes.

I hope the chapter made you smile. Cheers!