The head that was in the fire when Harry arrived was completely unexpected, a fact that was mirrored in his greeting.
"Lavender?"
The woman in question gave Harry a small, tight smile.
"Hi, Harry. Do you mind if I come through?" she asked.
"Be my guest," Harry replied with a welcoming gesture.
Lavender's head quickly withdrew before, a couple of seconds later, she stepped from the fireplace, the flames instantly dying from green back to a soft yellow.
As was the case the last time that Harry had seen her, her clothes looked slightly the worse for wear, something that still amazed Harry when he compared the fashionista from Hogwarts all those years ago to the woman that she was now. Her brown hair lay loose and mostly covered her face, including the scars that marred her. In her hand, Harry noted, she clutched a newspaper.
"Would you like to join us for breakfast?" Harry asked.
Lavender shook her head, instead perching on the very edge of the chair closest to her.
"Have you seen today's Daily Prophet?" she asked.
Harry blinked at the non-sequitur.
"I haven't read that paper in years," he admitted. "And even when I did, it was never worth it."
"I remember what it was like for you when we were in Hogwarts," Lavender nodded.
"I'm guessing that I've made the front page again?" Harry sighed.
"You and your team," she replied.
Harry closed his eyes and counted to ten. When that didn't help, he simply held out his hand.
"Let's see it."
Last of Ancient Pureblood House Maimed for Life, the headline screamed.
Quickly, Harry scanned the article. For the most part, it was entirely truthful; it was simply the emphasis that it spun.
Yes, there'd been an attack and students had been kidnapped. Yes, they'd been rescued, by a bunch of muggles, no less. But, in the process of the students being rescued, Draco Malfoy, the last of the Ancient House of Malfoy, had lost his hand and, instead of proper, magical, medical treatment being sought and the hand being reattached, the wound had been cauterised so that that was impossible. It was simply an outrage that this was allowed to happen with no penalties being given to those responsible. And especially to The-Man-Who-Conquered, considering that he was there and should have known better.
The accompanying photograph didn't help matters either, showing a moaning Malfoy lying on the grass in front of Hogwarts, his wrist clutched in his remaining left hand while a group of the Avengers stood around him, staring down at his body.
Harry threw the paper to the coffee table in disgust.
"No more than I expected," he grunted.
"But it's not right, Harry, you and your friends got all those kids and Neville and Professor O'Grady out safely," Lavender protested.
Harry simply shrugged. "When has the Prophet ever printed something good about me? Even after the Battle of Hogwarts, every article proclaiming how great I was was tinged with comments about the 'disgraceful loss of pureblood life'."
"I know, Harry, that's why … that's why I talked to Professor McGonagall and Neville and a few of the students and the wrote this," Lavender said, hesitantly.
From the pocket of her robe, she pulled out a folded piece of parchment. Curiously, Harry took it, unfolded it and, after a last glance at her, read it.
It was a masterfully written article, emphasising the role that Harry and the Avengers played in saving lives, including the life of Malfoy, for he would have easily bled to death if his wrist hadn't been dealt with as quickly as it was. Included were a number of quotes from the students and even an auror. Harry read it once and then a second time, his smile growing each time.
"This is truly brilliant, Lavender!" he praised. "But would the Prophet even print it?"
"I've still got a couple of contacts that owe me a favour or two," she said shyly. "They'll print it."
"Thanks, Lav, I really owe you," Harry beamed. "I never would have thought to rebut that article like this."
"I know," Lavender said simply.
"Hey," Harry said, snapping his fingers. "You want a job? With the stuff we do, a good press secretary who knows how to write good, positive, articles like this would be brilliant."
"Really? You'd want me to do that for you?" an amazed Lavender asked.
"Sure. The only thing is, you'd need to move to New York," Harry said.
Lavender looked deep in thought for a moment and it was easy to see the conflict on her face.
"Tell you what," Harry said, grabbing a blank piece of parchment and a pen. "Think about it. And if you decide you want to, let me know; I'll even pay for you to fly out there and find you a place to live. Here's my number. Give me a ring, any time."
"Thanks, Harry," Lavender said. "I'll definitely think about it."
ooo00ooo
"Come on, Sparrowhawk, you know you wanna," Tony practically begged. "Change. Become your true self again."
Harry resolutely stared forward. He was so very tempted to retaliate, but he was hoping that if he ignored Tony, then the man would give up his incessant teasing.
"Change," Tony continued, this time adding a poke to Harry's arm. "Become the Sparrowhawk. Be one with your inner self. Be the bird that I always knew you were."
"You know he's not going to stop, don't you?" an amused Clint commented.
"He's right," Tony agreed. "I won't stop until you do it. Again and again and again. And then you'll need to show Bruce, too. The science involved." The man gave a happy shudder. "Where does all your mass go? What causes the change? Is it purely a physiological change? How can your human mind fit inside a brain the size of a bird's? What …"
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