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01
Chloe disliked Rita Skeeter’s article.
She disliked Harry Potter’s reaction to it even more.
Saturday, Michael called her in a fury and tore apart every single sentence in the piece.
The moment Chloe found out what the article said, she was deeply worried about Harry’s emotional state.
There was no precise scientific basis for it, but in her experience, once a counselor guides a client toward genuinely confronting their wounds, that client’s emotions become far more volatile.
The process opens something up.
It takes time to stabilize.
And the things written in that article were vicious.
Truly vicious.
They erased everything he had ever done.
Chloe couldn’t understand how Rita Skeeter could do something so foul, as though Harry hadn’t devoted himself entirely to the wizarding world, as though he wasn’t pulling all-nighters at the Ministry of Magic for the sake of the peace they all now enjoyed, as though he actually cared about the Chosen One title, as though he actually wanted any of that power and influence.
Everything Chloe had previously known about Harry Potter came from Michael’s descriptions.
But in the few times she had encountered him herself, she was quite certain: Harry Potter was nothing like the person that article portrayed.
[M: Sis, I’m really worried about the boss.]
Sunday morning.
A text from Michael.
[C: What’s wrong? Did something happen?]
[M: The Auror Office called an emergency overtime meeting today… The boss doesn’t look well. I keep feeling like he’s running on empty.]
Chloe stared at the message in silence.
As a psychologist, she often felt this particular kind of helplessness.
Psychological trauma could form in a matter of seconds, healing it took time, and careful guidance, and more time still.
But just as she had feared, this had stirred something in Harry.
[M: I think the boss secretly ran a mission Saturday without telling us. He seems to have strained something, he keeps pressing and rubbing his left forearm. Do you think I should sneak some potion onto his desk?]
Chloe’s grip tightened around her phone.
[C: I don’t think that’s necessary. Did his expression ease up after he finished rubbing his arm?]
[M: It did… The boss definitely shouldn’t become a masseur, he looks like he’s pressing way too hard.]
Chloe had a suspicion.
Now it had been confirmed.
She typed a quick reply to Michael and set her phone down, her expression going flat.
The television played on in front of her, its noise fading to nothing in her ears.
Her blood ran loud with anger.
“Rita Skeeter…” she murmured softly.
“Cee, were you just saying something?” Maria was in the kitchen making bean stew.
The pot gurgled steadily, and the smell had filled the whole flat.
“Yes, Mum.” Chloe stood up.
“I just remembered, I didn’t water the plants Friday. I need to pop by the studio.”
“Be back before lunch!”
“Of course. I’ll bring you something sweet — caramel pudding?”
She said it with a smile.
Maria would never turn that down.
“What would I do without my favourite darling?” Maria kissed her on the cheek.
02
Harry had not used a healing charm on his wound.
He used to do that.
He used to work hard to make sure no wound stayed on his body, because the relief that pain brought was nearly impossible to give up.
Once he started, he would do everything in his power to stop it from healing.
It was like an addictive poison.
When the restlessness and misery closed in, all it took was the lightest pressure against that broken patch of skin, and he could find a moment of quiet.
It would go on like that, until he took serious damage on a mission and ended up at St Mungo’s.
Then he would let the healers treat the wound as an honourable battle injury and close it completely.
Sunday was hard to get through.
He had to force back nausea and the urge to fall apart, and somehow chair a joint meeting between the Auror Office and the other departments of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, all of it about Robards Avery, and the fallout from what he had caused.
It wasn’t until the lunch break, when most of the wizards had split into clusters of two or three to argue about where to eat, that Ron came bursting through the door with lunch in hand, practically glowing.
Harry was genuinely curious what could put Ron in this kind of mood, considering today’s last-minute overtime had already killed the date with Hermione.
“Merlin! Harry! Hermione! You will not believe what happened!” The moment Ron spotted them, all control went and the laughter burst out.
The other wizards all turned to look.
“That infuriating pest, Rita Skeeter! Ha ha ha ha ha — her house burned down for absolutely no reason! And the fire was incredible — water couldn’t put it out at all! Just stood there and watched the whole place burn to nothing.”
“Did she get out?” Hailey asked, eyes wide with excitement.
Ron confirmed it.
Everyone in the room let out a sigh, collective, unavoidable disappointment.
Harry sat in his chair and blinked.
Disbelief.
“This is karma! Serves her right for twisting everything upside down, Merlin punished her!” Ron slapped the table in satisfaction.
“You’re sure it wasn’t you or anyone from the D.A.?” Hermione asked quietly, when no one else was paying attention.
“Of course not! I heard it from a customer at the joke shop, someone who happened to walk past,” Ron shot back. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
“And if it ever came out, it would drag you and Harry into it too! We didn’t do anything. This is Merlin’s punishment!”
Ron grinned and clapped Harry on the shoulder.
“Mate, Merlin’s looking out for you.”
Harry managed a weak smile, still stunned by what had happened to Rita Skeeter.
He couldn’t deny it, hearing that she had gone through all of this gave him a rush of satisfaction, like landing a hit back.
Even though he had nothing to do with it.
But who had done it, then?
Harry was certain Skeeter would demand the Aurors launch a full investigation and find the arsonist.
The corner of his mouth curved.
He genuinely hoped that arsonist would get away.
For now, he could let himself read it as something else: Merlin, who had always seemed to look right past him, finally showing a little favouritism.
He accidentally caught his arm against something and pulled at the wound.
Strangely, this time it didn’t bring the familiar comfort.
Just a dull, quiet pain.
03
Michael’s first reaction to all of it was pure glee.
Then came the fire, no apparent cause, wouldn’t respond to water, and something vague and nagging settled into the back of his mind.
“Hey, sis, where are you?” He stepped out of the Ministry and called Chloe.
“Hmm? I’m at the flower shop, buying flowers.” Her voice sounded completely normal.
Michael could clearly hear the sounds of conversation somewhere behind her.
“Oh, right, did you eat lunch?” He let himself relax and pushed the thought away.
It was ridiculous.
Merlin, what was he thinking, he didn’t even know Skeeter’s address.
How could Chloe possibly have been the one to do it?
“Already ate. Maria and I had caramel pudding for dessert.”
“That sounds amazing. I want caramel pudding.” Real envy.
“We’ve got more meetings this afternoon.”
“Come to my flat tonight. I’ll set a portion aside for you.” There was a warm smile somewhere in her voice.
“Deal!” He brightened immediately.
“Can I stay over?”
“Of course.”
She hung up.
Chloe handed the seven red camellias she had chosen to the florist.
“Hello, could you wrap these up for me, please.”
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