The news had hit The Profit like wildfire ever since Harry had graduated from Hogwarts the previous June, that Luna Lovegood—one of the best friends of his former fiancée, Ginny Weasley—had been kidnapped by Tom Riddle. It had been a bitter blow for her widowed father, Xenophilius Lovegood, a recluse and editor and chief for the competing wizarding paper, The Quibbler, who barely left the house, now that Luna was gone. Harry felt badly for the man, but he had his own things to worry about, he knew that.

After reaching the age of five, Harry's magical core had developed to the point that strange happenings went on at the primary school he had to share with his cousin, Dudley. He managed to Apparate himself up onto the roof, and so he was promptly sent to the Little Witch and Wizard Academy, where he thrived. The other amazing thing that had happened was that the various professors and instructors had figured out that Mr. Vernon and Mrs. Petunia Dursley, his uncle-by-marriage and his mother's elder sister respectively, had been brutally abusing him, through regular beatings and starvation. Because of this, Harry was promptly put into the care of his godfather, Viscount Sirius Black, and taken in to the ancestral Black family home of Grimmauld Place in Islington, London.

Harry had had a splendid childhood after Sirius had gained custody of him, moving on from the little primary school and into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a little more than a month after his eleventh birthday, in September of 1753. While there, underneath the caring and considerate leadership of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Harry had sorted Gryffindor, and had made friends with many of his housemates, but his closest ones were Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Ron was a Pureblood from a large family, but his Blood Status, unlike many other Purebloods, meant no extreme wealth or a title, which suited Harry just fine, as he was welcomed into the fold almost instantly by the loving Molly Weasley. As for Hermione, she was a Muggleborn, yet the brightest in their year, and had been the only child of a dentist father and a nurse mother, who pampered their little girl as much as they could without spoiling her outright, but Hermione had always hungered for books over trivial material possessions.

It was on the occasion of his fourth-year that a grand celebration was held, a Yule Ball, and Harry was surprised when popular and attractive seventh-year Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory, singled him out and asked him to come along with him. Harry instantly agreed, having had an attraction for the fellow wizard since the summer before, when he had attended the finale of the Quidditch World Cup with Ron's family. Cedric had treated Harry excellently, and the pair shared their first kiss at the end of the evening, with Cedric asking permission to court Harry. Harry told him that he would need his godfather's permission, which arrived within the week, and their formal courtship began.

Everyone around school knew that Harry was being courted, and Harry loved that Cedric would hinder the attention from him. As the weeks and months went on, however, he noticed that Cedric had been consistently pulling away from him as winter bled into spring, and Harry was determined to figure out why. However, when he came upon Cedric embracing and passionately kissing pretty Ravenclaw student Cho Chang, Harry was devastated. Cedric then informed him that Cho would be seen as a more suitable partner, and that his parents had rejected his suit to court Harry, as Harry was male, and merely a Half-Blood. With Cho being a female and a Pureblood, she was deemed suitable, and their engagement was announced rather quickly, with Harry focusing on his studies more than ever to drown out the sorrows from his thoughts.

The summer during his sixteenth birthday, he thought he was seeing Ginny, Ron's younger sister, in a different light. The girl was pretty enough, and had always seem to harbor romantic inclinations towards Harry, so it was quite easy to fall into step with her, and play the part of an enamored young man. However, his shared kisses with her, once their courtship was approved and their engagement announced, rang hollow, and Harry began to fear that there was something the matter with him. Determined to put it out of his mind, he instead prolonged the engagement, telling Ginny he would marry her once she left school, which gave him another year in addition to the ones he had to complete. While Ginny was smart, she seemed to be blinded by her affection for Harry and immediately agreed, although she did look at sample books and patterns with Hermione and Luna on a regular basis, although she claimed that they were for Hermione's engagement to Ron, and Luna's to their friend Neville Longbottom.

Harry passed his final year at Hogwarts, barely keeping his head above water, and knowing that he would never be able to make Ginny happy. He broken down in front of Hermione the evening before, telling her that he only fancied wizards and, although upset with him that he had seemingly strung Ginny along for well over a year, she immediately told him to be upfront with her and break off the engagement. Harry had done so, at the graduation ceremony, but, in retrospect, Harry considered that, perhaps, it would have done better to have done so in a more private setting.

"Harry!" Ginny had cried, launching herself into his arms as soon as he stepped out into the crowds of people gathered.

"Gin, please," he said, but his words were cut off as she grabbed ahold of his face and pulled it closer, kissing him firmly upon the mouth. "Ginny, no!" he cried out, retching away from her, his green eyes flashing.

Ginny looked shocked by his words, as they had been kissing and steadily for over twelve months at this time, and he had seemed to enjoy every moment of it. "Harry, is it because of the people?" she asked, her tone quiet. "The engagement is public, and although we've not yet set a wedding date, people are bound to know the status of our relationship..."

"Ginny, we cannot have a relationship apart from that of a brother and sister," Harry replied, his voice trembling, and he hated it.

Ginny stumbled backwards. "Harry, what...? What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that my relationship with Cedric wasn't a fluke," Harry said, dragging a hand through his raven hair.

Ginny shook her head. "But... But Cedric threw you over, Harry!" she cried out, tears pricking at her eyes; her cheeks were flushed, and she looked terribly attractive, and Harry was devastated that he could never return the affection and love she had so willingly given him. "He's been married to Cho for well over a year now, and they've a son between them—"

"I realize that Cedric and Cho are married, Ginny, and they've got their son, Amos, between the two of them," Harry said, forcing his voice into that of a more steady tone; he had read the birth announcement in The Profit six months ago, and Cedric had proudly named his firstborn after his father. "However, I was attracted to Cedric. I'm unsure now if I truly loved him, but I was indeed attracted to him..."

Ginny gritted her teeth; not from anger, but in an effort to keep herself from sobbing too loudly, not wanting to draw attention to their situation. "So, you're not attracted to me?" she whispered, her voice shaking. "Don't you think I'm beautiful?"

"Ginny, you're very beautiful," Harry said quickly; that was true, it was. "Any fool would think you beautiful, Gin. But, I, however, cannot think you beautiful as a husband may do a wife, for I can never take a wife, for it would be a false union if I ever did so."

Ginny whispered, "But you love me. You've told me you loved me—"

"And I do, Ginny, as a man would love his own sister," Harry told her. "I cannot love you as a husband would love his wife. If I were to take a spouse, or lover, it would have to be a man, for I am a homosexual, Ginny."

Ginny stepped backwards then, shaking her head. "Harry..."

"Please, please don't be angry with me, Ginny," Harry begged.

Ginny held up her hand, thus preventing Harry from coming any closer. "Please... Don't follow me, Harry," she said, and she turned around then, dashing across the grounds in the opposite direction, crying her heart out, and Harry was not surprised to see Dean Thomas, a seventh-year Gryffindor Half-Blood who had also graduated that day, running after her.

Turning, Harry nearly stumbled backwards himself, as he saw Ron stepping closer, brandishing his wand aloft. "Ron..."

"What have you done to my sister?!" Ron roared.

"Ron..."

"I ought to hex you for hurting her—!"

"Ron, stop!" Hermione shouted, suddenly coming up behind her fiancé and grabbing at his arm, causing the hex itself to burn at a patch of grass. "Don't blame Harry! It's not his fault!"

"So, you're presuming that my sister is to blame, Hermione?" Ron demanded.

Hermione shook her head at him, and yanked the wand out of his grip. "No, Ron, of course I'm not, for the blame lies with no one—"

"I had to do it, Ron," Harry said, his voice filled with sadness as he cut across Hermione. "I had to break things off with Ginny."

"She's so cut up, Harry! How could you do that, after she's loved you since we were children, and had to stand by while you wasted your time on that great pillock Diggory—"

"Ron, please," Hermione begged.

"It wasn't a waste of time, for it was a discovery of who I truly was," Harry said, his voice stronger than it had ever been before, and Ron's eyes snapped from Hermione's to his. "I am a homosexual, Ron, and I could never be attracted to a woman, of any caliber, and although Ginny is the highest caliber of them all, I could never love her, or keep her truly happy, for I would be unhappy, and unhappiness does not a marriage make."

Ron snagged his wand back from Hermione, but shoved it into his pocket instead of aiming it at Harry again. "I suppose that's true," he said bitterly.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stayed at The Leaky Cauldron in Diagon Alley that night, nursing tankards of Butterbeer, with Harry apologizing profusely, as well as penning a letter to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, telling them that he renounced his engagement to Ginny. He stated that Ginny would be permitted to keep the ring and all of the gifts he had given her if she wished, as he truly had no use for them, and that he was ending the engagement due to his homosexuality, and nothing that she had done. After signing his name, he sent the letter off with his snowy owl, Hedwig, who gave a small screech of disappointment before she flew off through one of the windows of the inn and into Wizarding London. Harry begged Ron's forgiveness, and Ron agreed, realizing that having his best mate and his only sister miserable for their entire lives simply wouldn't do.

"I'll write you all summer," Harry promised.

"Decided what you're doing yet, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head, sipping at his Butterbeer. "No, not yet. Sirius has ideas for me coming out the woodwork, with the highest being a nobleman of leisure," he joked.

"The Earl of Murkwood doesn't have any other placements open," Ron said softly, mentioning his position in a nobleman's house, where he would be assuming the position of the new head chamberlain, while Hermione was to be a maid. "I mean, I know that 'Mione and I were lucky to get the spots we did. Mum's been in his service for years, so I suppose that helped..."

"And Neville's going to be there, too," Hermione said brightly, mentioning Neville's position as valet, although indirectly, as she leaned backwards in the booth they shared, and let out an indulgent purr as Ron put an arm around her waist. "I know he'll miss Luna, since she'll begin her training to take over The Quibbler from her father, but they'll figure out a way to stay in touch, due to the engagement and all."

"Least we won't have to deal with Malfoy, Crabbe, or Goyle for a while," Harry muttered, as he stared into the amber depths of his tankard. "Joining the ranks of the Wizarding Army is, I'm sure, admirable in some circles, but I think he's going to attempt at getting injured, then make it out worse that it is, all to come home quickly and honorably."

Hermione nodded. "And Crabbe and Goyle will jump onto the bandwagon, no doubt," said the seventeen-year-old witch, pursing her lips.

"Perhaps they'll get their heads blown off, and we'll all be rid of them," Ron said happily, and took an almighty swig of his drink, nearly choking as Hermione smacked him. "Oi!"

Hermione hummed innocently around her Butterbeer. "Mayhap something exciting will happen whilst we're in service to this elusive earl," she murmured.

Harry lowered The Profit as he sat in the parlor at Grimmauld Place; Kreacher had already brought him his breakfast, and Sirius was off somewhere tinkering, as usual. Ron and Hermione had kept up with their correspondence, thankfully, and it had been nearly a full six months since their graduation from Hogwarts. He was due to go for tea with Headmaster Dumbledore and his husband, Gellert Grindelwald, who was the Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts as well as Head of Gryffindor House, in less than a week, and would be doing some shopping that day in Diagon Alley. Sirius, meanwhile, was to go to the market in Colchester to sell some of his wares, as he did every late-autumn, not because the Black family needed its coffers filled, but because he was a creative gentleman, and liked selling them, although his mother, the late Viscountess Walburga, had attempted more than once to put a stop to his creative tinkering during her lifetime, but it had done no good.

Harry rang the bell, thus summoning Kreacher, and the aged house-elf cleared away his dishes from breakfast as promptly as he could, the smell of eggs, rashers, and toast still filling the air as Harry casted a Cleaning Spell upon his hands and wandered towards the basement, where Sirius's workshop was kept. He was permitted in there as often as he liked, for Sirius had quickly developed the skill of multitasking from the time he was a young lad, and quite liked Harry's company while he worked. Stepping down the stairs and into the great room, he saw Sirius waving his wand at one of the many objects he would be taking with him to sell at market, and Harry smiled.

"Please tell me you had Kreacher bring you breakfast," Harry said by way of greeting, knowing that his guardian had the capability of growing more than a little distracted.

Sirius huffed, raising his blue eyes towards his godson, and smiled warmly at him. "I eat plenty, as you well know, Harry, although I thank you for your concern," he replied. "Come. I want you to see what I've made. It's the last piece to be loaded into the cart with Buckbeak before I head off to the market later this afternoon."

Harry smirked and stepped forward, pushing himself off from the wall he'd leaned against and moved towards the work table, upon which was scattered many objects and tools that Sirius was constantly working with to make his little inventions perfect. "What is it?" he asked, peering closer at it.

Sirius smiled at the curiosity of his godson and waved his wand, the little circular object quickly opening at the command with a soft click, and presented itself to him. "That, my dear Harry, is a newly invented compass," he explained.

"New? How is it new?" Harry asked as he inspected it for anything out of the ordinary, knowing very well that Muggle compasses had been around for over a millennia.

"It is a specialty object, Harry, wherein its owner must prick their finger upon the dial, and it will, hopefully, lead them to the one they seek most, due to the drop of blood the user sacrifices, in order for it to work properly," Sirius explained.

Harry blinked, looking up at his guardian in a moment of confusion. "A soulmate, then? Or a family member?"

"Either," Sirius said, "if you feel a deep, abiding love towards that person."

Harry laughed aloud then, shaking his head. "If this is a roundabout way for you to scold me about how I ended things with Ginny, you needn't bother. The Profit announced her engagement to Dean just last week."

Sirius smiled and squeezed Harry's shoulder. "You know very well that I only scolded you on the abrupt and public manner on which you ended things, Harry, for I know very well that I raised you to care about a maiden's feelings, or anyone's really."

Harry sighed. "Yes, I suppose so..."

"And," Sirius said, ordering the compass to close itself with a mere wave of his wand, before he banished it into a cushioned box for the trip, "were I to scold you about your true and intimate reasons behind ending your engagement to Miss Weasley, it would be most hypocritical, do you not think so?" he asked, his blue eyes full of kindness and understanding.

Harry smiled at that and helped Sirius in packing up and loading the rest of his things into the cart, which was to be pulled by Buckbeak, their hippogriff. Harry tried not to laugh as Kreacher grumbled his way out into the November early afternoon, and presented Sirius with some food for the road, so as he would not have to stop for lunch or his tea. Harry stepped forward after Sirius had gotten up onto the driver's seat of the trunk, not fully prepared to say goodbye to him just yet.

"What can I bring you from the market?" Sirius asked.

Harry smiled up at the man; he had asked the same question each year, from the time Harry was five, and he always asked for the same thing. "A bunch of lilies, so that I may put them upon my mother's grave," he replied.

Sirius smirked. "Again? You always ask for lilies," he said with a laugh.

Harry nodded solemnly, for he still chose to mourn the woman who had given him life, and yet, also a woman he would never know. "I know I always ask for lilies," he replied, "and I'll not change my mind."

Sirius gave a nod towards his godson, reaching down and squeezing his hand for a moment. "If it is lilies you want, Harry, I shall bring you as many of them as I can get," he said, before spurring Buckbeak and going down the cobblestoned street, and disappearing around the corner.

Harry ventured back into the house, opting to take a light lunch before having a bath and changing before his shopping trip. Kreacher knew of his schedule that afternoon, and would provide a soup and sandwich lunch if he so wished it, as he had always done. Although he was a rather gruff fellow with a crotchety disposition, Kreacher truly cared for Harry, for he had known from the time that Sirius had brought him to live at Grimmauld that he would be the master, once Sirius passed from one world and into the next.

After finishing his absolutions and changing himself into a casual afternoon suit, Harry returned downstairs and into the parlor, the afternoon edition of The Profit having already been delivered by Hedwig, and a platter of sandwiches and a tureen of soup waiting for him. The soup was known as "White Soup" to Muggles, and was a delightfully delicious dish which complimented his ham sandwiches quite nicely. He would tear off bits of ham every now and again and hand them off to Hedwig, perched nearby, who would twitter softly and accept them in a gentle and ladylike manner with her elegant beak.

Once he had finished eating and casted yet another Cleaning Charm upon his hands, he bid Kreacher farewell, letting him know he would return to Grimmauld in time for dinner. He Floo'd quickly into The Leaky Cauldron and greeted Tom, the proprietor, politely, before stepping out into the late-autumn sunshine and down the cobblestone street. He passed by Ollivander's and several other shops before he made a beeline for Flourish and Blotts, letting himself in almost at once and walking over to the romantic novel section. At first, he had been quite embarrassed to admit that a gentleman of his standing enjoyed such things, but Hermione liked the section as well, and so he made himself feel better about it.

"Good afternoon, Remus," he called to the proprietor, who looked up from a book he was reading behind the counter, and smiled at him.

"Harry, wonderful to see you," the soft-spoken man replied, marking his book before setting it upon his desk and getting to his feet. "How may I help you today?"

"The new Jossie Buckling novel is out today," Harry replied, his eyes flashing with excitement as he meandered over to the section.

"Ah, yes, the novels sweeping the wizarding nation," Remus said fondly, shaking his head with a smile as Harry darted in between the shelves, his eyes running along the titles and authors to find the one he wanted. "I thought Sirius wanted you reading Shakespeare."

"Fah!" Harry said, standing up straight and fixing Remus with a look. "Not you too!"

Remus held up his hands. "I would never presume to make you read anything, Harry. Your father wouldn't hear the end of me telling him so, back at Hogwarts, when we attended with Sirius over twenty years ago," he said.

Harry sighed, leaning temporarily against the shelf he stood in front of. "You know very well that the plot of Romeo and Juliet is entirely misleading. Two lovers in fair Verona who find love despite difficult circumstances." He shook his head. "They take their own lives, Remus, instead of finding an ally, or a means of escape. It's downright tragic, and I'm quite tired of such a tragic end," he said fiercely.

Remus nodded, conceding the point as Harry dove back into the shelves, finding what he was looking for and holding it aloft. "Fair point, Harry," he mused, taking the book once Harry had offered it to him, and brought it to the counter directly.

"I wish that Muggles could understand about homosexual relationship," he said wistfully, as he admired the cover of the novel, featuring that of a clean-cut, handsome older nobleman, who was holding tightly and possessively to an all-too-willing younger man, clad similarly, although both their rippling chests showed for all to see.

"Perhaps one day, if not today," Remus said, telling Harry the proper amount, and Harry counted out the Galleons and handed them over. "Has Sirius left for Colchester yet?" he asked.

Harry nodded, taking the book back once the money had been exchanged. "Yes," he replied. "I asked him for the lilies as usual."

"You are a tribute to your mother, Harry. Lily would be so proud if she saw you now," Remus told him gently.

Harry's brows knit together then. "Despite her Muggle parents and sister, you truly believe she would not have minded my homosexuality, Remus?"

"I know she wouldn't have, for she knew about Sirius's and my own predilections, and seemed to bear no ill-will towards us because of them," the man stated.

Harry smiled. "The sooner you reveal your feelings to Sirius, the better," he said.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Perhaps one day," he said.

Harry sighed. "Well, I'd better get back to Grimmauld. You know how Kreacher worries," he said with a small laugh.

Remus nodded. "I do. See you soon, Harry."

Harry nodded back at him. "Goodbye," he replied, before slipping out of the bookshop and making his way down the cobblestone path.

Meandering down the street, Harry shrunk his book and put it into his inner breast pocket, and poked his head into various windows. He bought a loaf of bread and some hard cheese, knowing that Kreacher quite liked having such things around Grimmauld, and continued on his way. It was when he was assaulted by the scent of red carnations that he fully realized they had been all but shoved into his face that he stumbled backwards, and, upon looking up, saw that Draco Malfoy himself—with his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle standing in the background—was looking down at him rather eagerly.

"Malfoy," Harry said, drawing himself up to his full height, although it did no good, for he was a good three or four inches shorter than the Malfoy heir. "What brings you to Diagon? I had heard that the Wizarding Army's training was quite picky about when its new recruits were permitted breaks during the initial phase."

"Purebloods like Crabbe, Goyle, and me get special treatment," he boasted, preening visibly for Harry to see, which caused the window of Madam Malkin's to sag beneath the weight of Miss Lavender Brown, plus Miss Parvati and Miss Padma Patil, who were ogling Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle respectively.

"I see," Harry said, and took another step backward, truly hating it whenever Malfoy attempted more than once to invade his personal space. "I don't understand why you would tell me such a thing, Malfoy."

"Does it not impress you?" he asked, his silvery eyes gleaming with excitement, his mouth practically salivating as his gaze all but raked over him. "The fact that I, Lord Draco Lucius Malfoy, can get privileges that many people must be senior Aurors or the minister himself to get, all because of who my father is?"

"No," Harry replied pointedly, "and you've already answered why such a thing would not impress me, Malfoy."

Malfoy blinked, confused at Harry's abrupt answer. "I'm sorry, please excuse me. To what are you referring?" he asked.

Harry sighed, knowing that he had to be patient, for the Malfoy heir was too full of himself to really know, one way or the other. "I'm saying that, sir, it is far too simple not to be impressed with you, for you've clearly stated that you've only gained these privileges because of who your father is, meaning that you did not gain them because of your own merits."

Malfoy huffed for a moment, growing impatient. "And what brings you to the alley today, Harry?" he asked, and Harry quickly grew annoyed, for he had not given him leave to refer to him by his first name. "Surely, it was for something more than procuring a loaf of bread and some hard cheese, for such tasks must surely fall to women, or your servants."

Harry swallowed, continuing to grow annoyed. "As you well know, Sirius and I only employ one servant in the form of Kreacher, who is old and quite weary most of the time. I help him out where I can, because I've not yet decided what to do with my life, now that we've graduated from Hogwarts."

"Perhaps marriage would be a good way to go," Malfoy said quickly, seeing an angle and grabbing it, the Slytherin that he was.

Harry blinked. "Marriage? Oh, I hardly think so," he said, and moved to step around Malfoy; he just had to get away from that disgusting carnation smell.

"Why? Perhaps the right man is out there waiting for you," Malfoy continued, his ostentatious boots clicking hard onto the cobblestones.

Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Oh, I hardly think my marriage—or lack thereof—has anything to do with you, Malfoy."

"Perhaps I want to make it so it does," Malfoy said, grabbing ahold of Harry's shoulder and turning him around, and shoving the carnations in his face again. "Perhaps you and I could speak of this further, over a meal?"

Harry promptly shook his head. "Such a thing would be inappropriate, I fear."

Malfoy blinked. "Why?"

"Well, for one thing, Sirius, my guardian, is away in Colchester for the next week, and, given that your intentions seem to be of the romantic kind, such a dinner would be an intimate one, and I can hardly have such an intimate meal without a chaperone," Harry said candidly. "And, Malfoy, further, were I to accept your invitation to share in a meal with you, it would denote some form of interest, and I would not wish to give you false hope."

"Me?" Malfoy asked. "False hope?"

"Yes," Harry said plainly. "You tormented me to no end during our Hogwarts years, belittled my friends and my association with him, made me feel guilty for living while my parents did not, and, not to mention, the fact that it is publicly known that you have been betrothed to Miss Pansy Parkinson since infancy, yet continue to bed any willing man or woman you come across. None of those things do I find attractive, nor seek out in a potential mate, so the notion that I would ever willingly share a meal with you with the intention of it leading to a courtship is, in my opinion, downright laughable."

Malfoy appeared to be chewing on lemons. "I find I do not understand."

"Oh, I should think not," Harry responded, "for the fact remains that I have just rejected your suit to court me. I don't think I even want to be in the same room with you, if I can avoid it, although I am quite positive I will have to endure numerous functions with you in the near future, which I will attempt to bear, for I am a gentleman, as you are. And, as a gentleman, I will bid you 'good day', and you will respect that, as a fellow gentleman, and take my opinion to heart, for I will never be anything more to you than an acquaintance because, whether I like it or not, we attended school together for seven years, and those are not easily forgotten," he said, before nodding his head to the Malfoy heir and turning about, vanishing into The Leaky Cauldron, and Floo'd back to Grimmauld Place.

~*~

Tea with the headmaster and his husband, Professor Grindelwald, was the next engagement that Harry had upon his books. He'd not heard from Sirius for several days, which was odd, as the man always sent a letter from the Colchester market. Thinking nothing of it, for the man had to have made friends along the way—or some within the market town, as he had been going there since his mother's death—Harry decided to put it out of his mind. He dressed in a bottle green suit which matched his eyes, which he had received as a birthday present the summer before, and bid Kreacher farewell, before he went to the Floo.

The headmaster had permitted him the use of his own Floo, so he would not have to Apparate, and Harry was extremely grateful for the consideration. Apparition made him ill, and Portkeys were worse, so suffice it to say, the Floo Network was the lesser of three evils. However, Harry's preferred method of transport within the Wizarding World would always be by broom, and he was never too far away from his Firebolt, which just so happened to be a gift from Sirius just before his fourth-year at Hogwarts.

"Ah, Harry, dear boy," Headmaster Dumbledore said, gently easing Harry to his feet as Professor Grindelwald good-naturedly put a Cleaning Charm upon him, not wanting soot to douse the office they stood in. "Much too long, my dear boy. You've grown taller."

Harry laughed at that and shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose my difference in height had to occur at some point, sir," he replied. "How are the two of you?" he asked. "Have you managed to procure a new Transfiguration professor up to snuff yet?"

"If only," Professor Grindelwald replied, waving his wand, thus making the teapot pour some tea for each of them, as they sat upon the couches in the headmaster's private office section. "This year is a complete twit of a woman called Dolores Umbridge..."

"Now, Gellert," the headmaster scolded gently.

The Defense professor huffed. "Well, I am sorry, Albus, but I truly believe that she is working against us with Minister Fudge, and thus will poison the young minds of the students we're supposed to teach properly," the man said, shaking his head as he stowed his wand into the sleeve of his robes, and picked up a cup of tea. "The fool of a man still doesn't believe that the kidnapping upon the Lovegood girl was because of Riddle."

"You believe it was Tom Riddle who kidnapped Luna, professor?" Harry queried, sipping at his tea, for every witch and wizard within the Wizarding World knew full well that Tom Riddle, who went by the self-imposed title of Lord Voldemort to his followers, called Death Eaters, was a complete madman who had attended Hogwarts back when Headmaster Dumbledore was still the Professor of Transfiguration, and the headmaster position was held by Armando Dippet.

Professor Grindelwald nodded; the man boasted two different colored eyes—one silver, and one brown—and used the silver one to peer into the minds of Dark wizards, and his skills rivaled that of the Professor of Divination, Sybill Trelawney. "I believe that Tom Riddle was a very gifted individual, one who was capable of doing such wonderful things for our great Wizarding World, but, he was corrupted by power and, once he had it, used to it enslave the minds of perfectly competent witches and wizards. In the most extreme cases, it drew them into a blind obsession, most notably with Bellatrix Lestrange."

"The one who tortured Frank and Alice Longbottom, Neville's parents, into madness," Harry breathed, shaking his head, a bitter feeling entering his psyche at the notion that the once free-thinking Aurors were now locked away in a warded division of St. Mungo's Wizarding Hospital for their own protection, although Harry knew full well that they would have been placed within the confines of a lunatic asylum and treated far worse, had they been Muggles.

"Quite right, my boy," Headmaster Dumbledore acknowledged with a brief nod. "It is most unfortunate that such people were blinded by the ways of Riddle, and permitted their minds to be shrouded by the hatred that he preached."

Harry slowly lowered his cup of tea back onto the table, and made no move to take up a biscuit, his stomach turning sour. "I just hope that Luna isn't treated too horribly," he said quietly, not wanting any of his friends to be treated ill by anyone.

"It will likely be in her favor that she was born a Pureblood," Professor Grindelwald observed as he took a final swig of his strong tea, which he always took black. "Although she's quite good at keeping quiet when it is necessary, I'm quite sure that her mind will be screaming at her, in an effort to figure out a way to escape from his clutches."

"No guarantee that Riddle will not barter with Xenophilius for her release," the headmaster put in softly. "I think he will demand that he hand over The Quibbler, or worse..."

"Worse?" Harry asked, having to struggle to reply to the man. "What could be worse than losing his daughter, and potentially having to lose his livelihood? Of course, it would be all to get her back, but they would need to eat eventually, not that I wouldn't help them..."

"Harry, I've seen the inner workings of Riddle's mind," Professor Grindelwald told him gently, his voice grave. "I fear that Riddle will, if he fails in obtaining The Quibbler, or, he grows bored with it, he will demand Luna's hand in marriage."

"But, he can't do that!" Harry cried out then, launching to his feet. "Luna is engaged to Neville, and the betrothal contract was announced when they were children—"

"Such contracts can be dissolved, my boy, if one has the proper people on their side, which, as you well know, Riddle does," Headmaster Dumbledore said softly, knowing that Lord Lucius Malfoy's position, high up in the Wizengamot, would surely turn some heads, as he could easily whisper some poison into an unsuspecting person's ear, this rendering them helpless, and get them to dissolve the betrothal, and engagement.

"Miss Lovegood is a smart girl, and one of the few young ladies in this school with the ability of blocking her mind to Unforgivable Curses," Professor Grindelwald whispered, for the Dark Arts courses taught such things by third-year. "I believe she can hold off for a while, by shielding her mind towards his attempts at the Imperious Curse, but she'll not be able to hold out for long. I am quite positive that Riddle will resort to beatings and starvation, like a child having a temper tantrum, if his will is not met upon this."

Harry shook his head. "Merlin help her," he whispered.

"Merlin help us all," Headmaster Dumbledore replied.