"Well, you did it, Harry!" beamed Neville, his weeks of mistreatment at the hands of the Carrows, the school Death Eaters, apparently forgotten."We al... did it, not just me, Neville," replied Harry warmly. "Have you still got the sword?" No, Professor McGonagall has put it somewhere safe. She said she didn't want me to cut myself."Just then there was a loud Pop, which caused Harry to jump. Kreacher, the house elf, had appeared behind him."Would Master Harry like some breakfast? Kreacher is proud. So off I went dutifully across the road to mum’s bridge partner: A real life homemaker; a clone of that tall fashionable one in that Desperate Wisteria TV show.The Stephenson’s would be so frickin boring I would be happy to study.Mandy Stephenson was cloying. Settling me in like a mother hen. Well she was late forties and her own chickette had flown the coup.Roger Stephenson, possibly fifty, but I’m no judge of age, well that sort of age; apparently didn’t give a shit about nubile skin under. More

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