(epilogue) The Goblin Fair

Harry stood between compartments on the Hogwarts Express, gazing out an exit door window, watching the hills of the Scottish Highlands receding in the distance of an early June day.

"Are you all right, Harry?"

He turned and saw Giselle looking at him sympathetically from the passage, her hands full of treats from the cart.

"I'm fine," he said.

"I'm so sorry about Cedric. I know how close you two became during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. I wish... I wish there'd never been one."

Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I guess we could've done without it. I don't expect there will ever be another one."

Then he looked at Giselle steadfastly. "Cedric won't have died in vain," he said. "Not if I can help it."

"It's true then? You-Know-Who is back? Dumbledore was not just trying to make Cedric into a hero?"

"No, it's true. And it's going to be a long summer. Living with the Dursleys, I can't expect to learn much of what's going on. I would rather be at the Burrows; well, rather be just about anywhere other than the Dursleys, but Dumbledore thinks it's best if I stay in the muggle world. I'm better protected there, he says."

Giselle remembered how Dumbledore protected her from the wrath of Armando, disarming and binding him, just in the nick of time.

"And speaking of long summers," Harry said, "is it true you'll be attending Grimaldee Hall next month?"

Giselle sagged. "Unfortunately, yes, through mid August. But Aunt Minerva has arranged for me to take just one course. The Charms course. From nine to eleven, and I can go home everyday after class. So maybe it won't be too awfully horrible."

"Will you be visiting the Weasleys then, before Fifth Year starts?"

"I hope to," she said, smiling wistfully at the thought of Charlie being there during her stay. She saw that Harry was thinking the same thing, except that his thoughts were on Ginny.

He stepped toward her. "Shall we join Ron and Hermione, and see how much money they'll pay for some treats?"

Giselle laughed. "Right!" she said, shaking the goodies bag.

The train pulled into Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at ten o'clock that night.

The goodbyes had all been said, and for Giselle there was the annual mix of joy and sorrow at watching the parents of her friends, and their little brothers and sisters, greeting them with hugs and kisses, while she stood alone on the crowded, boisterous platform, waiting for Heathcliffe, Auntie's squib servant, to arrive and take her trunk to the alley behind King's Cross where they would use a portkey for the journey home to Topper Smack village.

"Gee!" It was Roger, his Slyherin robe over an arm, wheeling his small trunk behind him. A short grey-haired wizard with a monocle in one hand watched him with a studied disapproval.

"Goodbye again," he said, coming up to her. "I suppose I'll be seeing you at Grimaldee now and then. Mum doesn't want me hanging around the estate this summer. Don't know why, and I'm past caring. Oh, and that new antidote Madame Pomfrey gave me has done wonders. Can you tell?"

They both laughed.

"Ripping," Giselle said, and they laughed again.

"Roger, my boy," the greying wizard said preemptorily. "Your social life can wait. Come, that's a good chap."

Roger smiled into Giselle's eyes and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, quite close to a corner of her lips.

"See you soon!" he called back as he trundled off. "Enjoy your vacation!"

When he had disappeared among the crowd, Giselle touched her cheek lightly with her fingertips.