Feeding Harry did put him in a better mood. Indeed, Harry loved the heated strained rice mixed with milk and honey so much that he fell asleep as soon as he had his fill. This enabled Marcia to remove his jumpsuit without another struggle. It took some fumbling and careful explaining on Ria's part to do what Marcia had always managed to avoid before - change a baby's diaper. With that finished, Marcia decided to indulge herself.
Carefully, moving with an out-of-shape fighter's grace, she cuddled Harry.
"You won't spoil him," Ria warned her daughter as she looked over the rim of her teacup.
"Why not?"
Ria sniffed. "Because that's my duty as grandmother. Your duty is to discipline him afterwards."
Marcia scratched her head and tried to make heads and tails about that logic. "So, if he throws a fit or something, and I swat him because it's inappropriate behavior and I don't want it to become a habit, you'll give him a cookie to make him feel better?" Ria nodded her head. Marcia rubbed one ear as she thought about that. "Oh."
Nandin wandered in to the dining room, his nose raised in the air as he followed the scent of the milk and honey. He stopped in mid-step and stared with open-mouthed surprise at Marcia.
She regarded him with hostility. "What are you staring at?" she demanded defensively as her grip around Harry tightened. Harry snuffled in his sleep and wiggled about before stilling. He pressed his face against the crook of Marcia's arm.
"Nandin," said Ria from where she sat beside Marcia, "come meet the newest addition to the family."
Nandin closed his mouth and pursed his lips together. "Do I dare?" he asked as he looked distastefully at Harry.
"You'll like him." Ria gestured him close. "Do you not remember how you used to hold your younger brothers and sisters?"
Nandin walked over to Marcia. "Before or after they got too big to hold?"
Ria looked at him sharply. "When did you ever hold them before they became too big?"
Nandin looked more interested in examining Harry's fingers than answering his mother's question. Harry stirred again, moving his head from one side to the other. Nandin's eyes narrowed in interest; he pushed the tiny blue cap back, brushed Harry's wild black hair out of the way, and scrutinized the scar without touching it.
"What's that?" he asked as he pointed a clawed finger at it.
"No idea," Marcia replied. "It was glowing when his runes were still visible. 'm thinking of calling it a birthmark if anyone asks."
Nandin stood up. "I'm hungry," he said as he zeroed in on the two little containers that contained milk and honey.
Marcia watched her brother for a moment before she stood up, still cradling Harry close. "I better go look for Bumbledore," she said reluctantly. "I promised I would. I'll be back soon with Harry." Ria straightened her shoulders.
"Wait." She stood up. "I'll give you some Dores to take along." Marcia followed her mother as they left the dining room, again following the signs. The one time some mischievous Ice Elves switched the signs, a desperate search party had to be sent after Ria after she got lost. When she was found two days later, she declared tampering with the signs a crime of treason against the Throne. "From what I understand, you must formally adopt Harry to retain legal parental rights. Social workers, home visits, psychologists, character witnesses, paperwork galore. Quite a hassle."
At Ria's last words, Marcia had a vision of people bearing pads of paper and pencils being chased away by a sword-wielding Nandin. Ria, she knew, did not face such inquiries when she adopted Marcia and Nandin. It's hard to argue law with the person who is the ultimate legal authority and law-maker.
Ria reached her laboratory. It was a room in the far corner of the castle that was warm because of the small fire that burned in the stone chimney. Windows on three of the sides allowed light to stream in at all hours upon the tables that were covered with Ria's passion — plants. Some of the potted plants were small-growing flowers and herbs. Many, however, were tall and bushy, and were staked inside tubs that covered the tables. Various plants grew to the very ceiling and the room was filled with green leaves and bright blossoms. Ria weaved around the plants to the far front of the room, and they twisted as if following her with invisible eyes. Marcia, carefully shielding Harry, followed after her mother. She glanced carefully side-to-side because her last experience in this room had been a rather unpleasant one. (It involved one new specimen that had tried to eat Marcia. She managed to beat it off with a trough, but it insisted on leaping out of its pot and chasing her on its roots. Only by hiding behind Ria was the plant appeased, but Ria had suspected Marcia of "provoking" it, whatever that meant. Marcia thought the whole thing was a set-up anyway because the plant had been a "gift" from the Lord of Chaos. A curse by any other name…) Before the floor-to-ceiling windows was a desk much like the one in her Stateroom. Ria opened the top drawer and rummaged through its content for a moment before she withdrew four rubbery balls roughly the same size as her closed fist.
They jiggled with every movement as she also withdrew a small cloth bag. She dropped them inside the bag, and then handed it to Marcia. "You know how to tune them, so I won't do it for you." She sat down on a small stool and smiled up at Marcia. "Good luck, dear."
Marcia dropped the bag into her pocket amidst the bottle of milk and honey she was keeping for Harry when he woke up and became fussy with again and the bricks she still carried. "I'll be back," she promised before Jumping.
Marcia landed behind some tall bushes. Thick clouds of smoke, produced by the burning house, still filled the air. She carefully peered around the wilted green leaves of the bushes in time to see an old man, with long white hair and beard and wearing bright purple robes, disappear with a pop of sound. Many other robed people milled around the burnt remains of Harry's home. The fire that had decimated the house in so little a time had banked, but red-hot coals could be seen glowing in a few areas while heavy black smoke still billowed upward from other areas.
People roamed the area, intent upon finding clues as to what happened. Three studied the house from afar, speaking to each other in quiet tones and making notes on their paper pads with pens that looked like just the quills Ria used to use before Marcia brought her an entire office supply box of ballpoint pens. James's body still lay where it had fallen, but it was covered with a white sheet as two people quietly argued over it. Several more people wandered over the ground on their hands and knees, examining the ground for any telltale sign.
Marcia glanced down at Harry, who was still asleep, and then back at the people. She tugged Harry's cap firmly down over his face and tucked him closely to her collarbone. The last thing she did was check to make sure her glasses were firmly in place.
She crept out of the bushes. She paused a moment to look for someone to speak to her, rather than down to her. She spotted a tall, gawky-looking man with thinning blond hair. He looked patient and feather-brained enough to answer questions.
Marcia sauntered over to him, trying to look very much as if she belonged at this crime scene. The man was examining the brick wall Marcia had kicked earlier. " 'Scuse me," she began when she reached his side. He ignored her as he picked up a broken brick piece and tried to match it with another broken brick piece. "Excuse me?" She prodded him in the lower back with one finger.
"Hmm?" He looked up. "Yes?" He stood up and looked down at her. "You really shouldn't be here at a murder scene. Where're your parents, little girl?"
Marcia wondered if she should kick him in the shin, and then decided that would only cement the man's impression. "Just wanted to ask a few questions." Marcia protruded her lower lip out in a pity-inspiring pout. "I won't be much of a problem, I promise. Told I had to find a man named Dumblebore."
"Dumbledore," the man corrected absently as he compared the bricks he held in his two hands.
"Yeah, him. I was told that I needed to speak to him." Marcia paused when she noticed the man's attention was focused on the bricks he was now turning over and over, squinting thoughtfully. She added a hint of desperation to her voice and plastered a look of helpless desperation on her face. "But I've never seen him before, and I don't know where to find him. It's a very, very important matter too!"
The man's interest finally shifted from the bricks to Marcia. His eyes lingered on Harry. Marcia tensed, but tried to appear as if she were only waiting for him to answer. "Ah, well, he was around here somewhere." The man scratched his head as he looked around. "He's got a very long white beard and white hair, wears a pair of half-moon glasses. Can't miss him really." He shrugged. "I guess he Disapparated back to Hogwarts. Why don't you have your parents contact him for you, eh?" He smiled condescendingly at her.
"Ah." Marcia decided not to ask what Disapparation was. She squinted over at the spot she had seen the old man with bright purple robes and long white hair and beard disappear. There was a slight tracing of his bright aura and something else. She supposed she could follow that to where he went. "Where's Hogwarts?" she asked.
The man went back to his bricks. "It's in Scotland."
"Oh." She quickly reviewed her grade school knowledge of Old Earth's geography. From the accents the local populace had, she supposed she was somewhere in a British-founded colony. Well, that wasn't too terribly long of a distance to follow after. At least it was all the same planet. "All right then. Thank you very much." She began to walk away, but stopped. "That reminds me." She stuck her free hand into her pocket and turned it inside out. Bricks dropped and hit the ground with solid thumps. She swiftly transferred Harry to the other arm so she could empty her other pocket. "Here you go!" she said cheerfully.
The man stared dumbly down at the bricks Marcia had liberated from her pockets, and then gaped as she blinked out of existence without the aid of magic.
Marcia had been adopted when she was seventeen years old, which was still quite young for a demonling. Between her third and thirteenth years, she had grown up on a planet whose entire civilization was made up of orphans and abandoned children. The facilities molded a stark, strict atmosphere meant to desensitize and dehumanize its residents. Shakti was a world that created heartless mercenaries - the best in the Universe. The leaders and instructors had tried their best, under Nandin Sydney's orders, to train Marcia in the same manner as other children were; they had tried to make her as ruthless and emotionless as Nandin Sydney himself.
It didn't quite work. In fact, it failed spectacularly.
At that early age, Marcia learned to avoid authority. With authority often came responsibility, so she learned to avoid that as well, because authority and responsibility meant fighting. Marcia was good at fighting, if only because demons and demonlings in general just naturally have that skill. It did not mean she enjoyed it, and sometimes a person has to fight to preserve their responsibility and honor, which would have been very bothersome had Marcia any responsibility or honor to claim.
Marcia was ambivalent about Shakti. It had been her home, a stable environment, and taught her many useful skills. But privacy was a thing unheard and she was always expected to prove herself better than the others because she was so unusual. Let someone else figure out if she could wash more dishes than an average human! Usually, she was able to hide in various nooks and crannies because there was no one small enough to go after her, but every once in a while she was caught and forced to do something along the lines of what that mercenary planet taught, such as leading suicidal missions or survival tact forces in the great Mud Swamps. Her first mission had ended in mutiny, where she was hung from a tree limb by her ankles and left to ponder where she had gone wrong.
She had no idea why she was different (nor really cared, as long as they fed her like everyone else) until, with the accidental aide of a mini-nuclear explosion and a sposomolecular transporter device that split molecules and transported them at speeds over twenty-three trillion kilometers per second, she was sent rocketing through space and time. She went from 670021 AE (after Earth) in the Realm of Reality to 900 AD in Greer of the Realm of Chaos. She met Turk there, who not only taught her about demons and demonlings, but also became her foster father. (The Lord of Chaos said Marcia was a "gift" to Turk, because he liked Turk. Yeah.) With her system short-circuiting from the overload of power and computer programming from the transporter device, Marcia ricocheted back and forth between the two very different dimensions and times at the most inopportune moments. This, of course, greatly advanced her reputation as a dishonorable scoundrel, but did squat for covert operations.
It took a few demons to quite literally beat the idea of refocusing her demonic abilities into actually gaining control and utilizing the scientific mishap to her own advantage. This meant an even better way to avoid responsibility, which somehow — the details remained surprisingly fuzzy in her mind — led to an intergalactic war, overthrew the Empire's rulers who she was supposed to protect, killed millions of people, allowed a superior alien species to take over half of the Empire and thereby nearly wiped out mankind's known existence, and caused the stock market to crash; it was all sort of something that she didn't really want to remember. If it weren't for the fact that she literally rewrote history and obliterated her own existence at the same time, Marcia would have gone down in the books as being the greatest embarrassment Shakti ever produced.
The walls around Greer were deliberately set up to protect the rest of the Universe from demons. However, a few somehow slipped through. Those with human blood, such as Marcia, had the free right to enter any world where humans existed. Demons of the first class, rare and frightfully strong enough to cross over the barrier, often integrated themselves with humans. This allowed the demon gene to spread across the Universe.
Moving around in separate dimensions was an ability that needed special sight and speed. Due to the mutation of her DNA to configure the computer programming burned into her cerebral cortex, Marcia was able to transport herself at her own will. Her demonic abilities beyond even the logic of science were utilized to control the transport. In short, Marcia could go wherever she wanted to, even into someone's imagination.
But someone's imagination was rarely where Marcia wanted to be, since those creative enough not to have bland daydreams tended to be rather perverted. (Although she did admit, but only to herself and that was only when no one was around and when she was moody about her physique, it was nice that someone would fantasize big breasts on her. It was the only time in her life that she had anything that remotely qualified as cleavage without the aid of strategically stuffed socks here and there.) Marcia preferred moving from one dimension to the next, because dimensions were infinite, and infinitely different, which is a lot more than what could be said for human imagination, no matter what other people said, like that weird guy with the really funny white hair that stood up in all sorts of directions. Something with relativity, that man…
Between separate dimensions was a space containing absolutely no matter. Moving through the dimension in the same manner as passing around them was more difficult. With just space between dimensions, movement between was fluid and unhindered. However, with nothing but matter to move through, movement was slow, hindered, and difficult.
The trail of magic Dumbledore's Apparition left led Marcia through tight little pockets of space between matter. The mass of her body rippled and tried to rearrange itself to fit and match the space she slipped through, but she asserted her own nature over it and forced the mass to stay in shape. The one time Marcia had tried to rearrange her mass led to an embarrassing arrangement of body limbs that did not belong where they were relocated, as well as several extra limbs in places she never suspected of having.
She noticed how Harry's mass was protected by an inner glow of essence very similar to Dumbledore's. Lucky duck, she thought enviously to herself. When Marcia emerged from her Jump, her legs shook slightly as she waited for her balance to reassert itself. Harry was awake, his eyes wide and his mouth open as if he had fallen down and hurt himself and was unsure now whether he should scream bloody murder or not. He gasped and clutched Marcia's jumper.
"It's okay." Marcia patted his head and then decided it may not be a good idea to treat him like a puppy. She shifted him in her arms and then rubbed his back. "That wasn't too bad, now was it?" Harry looked uncertain. His eyes brimmed with tears as his lower lip trembled. Marcia snatched the bottle of milk and honey from her pocket. "Here," she said desperately as she pushed the nipple between Harry's lips.
Harry crossed his eyes to look at the bottle. He glanced at Marcia, but did not seem so inclined to burst into tears now. He grabbed the bottle with one hand and entwined the other hand in her hair.
With a grateful sigh, Marcia looked at her surroundings. She stood at the edge of a dark lake, its surface as smooth as glass. At the far end of it was a misshapen-shaped castle. It looked as if a chronically drunk contractor had built it with the help of half-blind workers. Of course, it could have been a style. Marcia was not an expert on fashion or architecture. The brighter and shinier it was, the more she liked it. This castle looked crooked and misconstrued to her, but it felt different. Odd. It felt immensely old, and yet timeless, and not quite of the Realm of Reality. Here was a part of the world that stood beyond the stream of time, unaffected by history or the whims of Fate, and was Fantasy.
Marcia waved one arm before herself. Her flesh tingled from the touch of an ancient power, dormant and sentient. There was no way to pinpoint if this was merely a feeling that lingered, or if it came from a single source somewhere near. It seemed fused to the land. It felt... protective. It was an ancient power so immense that it warped time and space around itself, remaining as steady and as strong as when it had first been anchored to this single area. Marcia had not realized there existed anything so magically powerful in the Realm of Reality.
Marcia made a mental note to always remain on her best behavior; this was not a power she wanted to upset.
She squinted and looked at the trail of essence Dumbledore left behind. It trailed over the lake, as if he had taken a boat across it, except it hung in the air. Marcia did not have a boat. It looked as if she were going to have to walk around the lake. "It's going to be a long walk," she said out loud. She shifted Harry to her other arm before the current one went numb, and started forward.
The castle loomed overheard.
Marcia found she liked that word. Loomed. It was pretty and sounded immense enough to fit the castle. It had the sort of meaning that one could wrap their mind about and get lost in. Loomed; such a lovely mix of sound. She stopped walking and glanced far up at the turrets and towers overheard. Up close, she had to admit the castle was much less disjointed and much more impressive.
Many of the windows were filled with light. Some shadows blotted out the light as moving figures passed over the windows. Marcia looked over the castle walls. She glanced to the side at the large doors. She had no intention of entering a strange atmosphere through the front doors with Harry in her care.
"Hold on, sweetie," Marcia said cheerfully as she bent her knees. Harry gasped as she leapt up into the air onto the wall. She slid down the front of it before jamming the fingers of her free hand in a crack, and jerked to a rough halt. "Not so bad, don't cry," Marcia told Harry. He looked frightened as he clung to her and the bottle. "We're almost up to the top of this wall." Her feet slid and scraped against the wall as she sought a toehold. She found one and used it to push and propel her weight further up and over onto the top of the wall. It was as wide as the length of her forearm. She looked over at the darkened courtyard on the other side. The trail of essence she followed now mixed into other essences.
"Odd." She lifted her glasses up and squinted at the flow of essences. It permeated from the very wall she stood on. It looked similar to Ria's presence, which was fused into Winter's Ambit. However, Ria's presence was singular. These essences were made up of thousands of different presences, some as old as Marcia felt the castle to be. They lingered on, wrapping themselves in the ancient presence Marcia had felt earlier.
Standing out amidst the other essences was Dumbledore's. It was the brightest of all, and seemed to be the focal point of the other essences. They eagerly clung to his own just as the ancient power folded itself around all.
Marcia dropped her glasses back onto her nose, bent her knees to leap from the wall as she tightened her grip around Harry, and glanced around. She froze as a single person passed through a window in the tallest of the castle's towers. There was no mistaking that figure. That was Dumbledore's; she easily matched it with the shape of the figure from James' burnt home. If she could climb to the window, she wouldn't have to wander the halls of the castle.
Marcia sprinted down the length of the wall to the wall to the tower it encircled around. She skidded to a halt, and slid down the wall's length a little before coming to a stop. Harry giggled and waved his bottle around.
She studied the tower closely. There were various poles that stuck out of the stone walls, like circling steps around the tower's round girth. The pole directly beneath the window she had seen Dumbledore's figure had a red flag with a gold lion emblazoned over it. It was at half-mast. Marcia looked around for other flags. Most of the poles were bare, but those that flew flags had the gold lion across the red background; all flew at half-mast.
Marcia sat down on the wall. She set Harry on the stone. He looked puzzled at not being held anymore, and gave her an accusing look. "It's a long way up there," she told him. "I want to keep you safe." She took the top half of her jumper off where she wore an undershirt beneath. She knotted the collar closed so she could the jumper as a sling, and then dropped Harry inside. She lifted Harry to her back, and securely knotted the jumper's arms around her waist.
Harry gasped as she stood up. He dropped his bottle and gripped her undershirt tightly. Marcia picked the bottle up and tucked into her pocket, hefted Harry further up her torso, and then looked the wall over. She mentally measured the distance between the wall and the tower, and then the distance between the wall and the nearest flagpole. Harry whimpered as the makeshift sling he was in slipped down low over her hips. She tugged it up. It slid down again.
"This isn't going to work," she told Harry. She wiggled about and tugged the sling around. She finally slung the knotted sleeves over her head and around her neck where the knot dug uncomfortably into her shoulder. Harry whimpered again as he grasped the front of her undershirt. "It's okay," she said, trying to sound as motherly and comforting as she could. She patted him on the head to help further the image. Harry sniffed and gave her a dirty look. Well; the patting-on-the-head always worked for Ria whenever she did it (except, now what Marcia thought of it, Ria also usually slipped the child a chip of rock candy).
"Hold on." She pressed her hand against Harry to pin him firmly against her torso, and leapt upward through the air. She landed lightly on the pole, her knees bending to absorb impact, and grabbed the pole with her free hand before she slipped backwards. "There, that's not so bad," she told Harry as he curiously peered over her shoulder at the ground below. Marcia up righted herself on the pole, and edged over to the wall. She pressed her hands flat against the stones and ran them across the surface.
There were spaces between the stones where the mortar had worn away. Marcia used them as finger and toeholds and nimbly scaled the wall upward to the single pole from which the red and gold flag flew. From there, she leapt from pole to pole, each bending beneath her weight and snapping upright with a barely-audible twang.
She paused momentarily on one of the flagless poles to readjust Harry in his sling, and found herself freely swinging her feet from where she sat to stare out over the landscape; it was a grand view of her surroundings. It was always good to know where a person was; you never knew if you needed a hiding spot, and it's easier to spot hiding places when one is above the ground. There was a flat field that stretched out before her, surrounded by bleachers. At each end of the field, tall poles jutted from the ground with wide hoops on the top of the poles.
Beyond the flat field was a forest. It brimmed with an unknown source of power, dark and dangerous, and it felt infinitely older than the ancient presence that protected the castle. It harbored its own protection, a mysterious and twisted aura that hinted of an endless darkness. Something sinister seemed to rise upward out of the forest, towering far overhead with the peak of it fading into the skies overheard. She squinted at the building, and it wavered before her demon-vision before fading away. She stared, mesmerized by the feelings the forest radiated.
It waited for something. It watched, with many closed eyes, for the something to come or occur. It was primal and ancient, but there was a black familiarity to it that caused the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. There was power that lay dormant in the forest, and with the proper amount of Chaos, it would awaken and strike like a threatened snake —
Marcia abruptly tore herself from the feeling. It was dangerous to become mesmerized by Chaos; as its creature, she could easily be influenced by it, and she hadn't time to cause trouble. She jumped to her feet and continued her climb to the top window. Another shadow, tall and thin, passed over the window as Marcia jumped from the wall to the pole with the flag. She grabbed the pole with one hand and the flag's rope with another.
"But, Albus!" a woman cried out from the window above as she started to swing her feet upward. Marcia froze as the woman continued. "How can You-Know-Who be dead?"
A different voice muttered something in reply, too low for Marcia to distinguish gender or words.
"Then what happened to Harry? If Lily's body was found in the house, and James's body outside, where is Harry? How can we besure You-Know-Who is dead?"
Marcia swung her feet up, wrapped them firmly around the pole, and twisted until she hung from it with both hands and legs locked firmly around its thin girth. Harry giggled and reached out to grab the pole. His arms were too short to reach. He pouted as Marcia climbed hand over hand toward the window.
"... residual power," said a deep, knowing voice, "was beyond anything I had ever seen before. The investigators took samples and said it would appear Voldemort blew up. His magic was splayed over the countryside, as if his being was ripped apart by some force beyond this world, and the fire was apparently caused by foreign source of magic which I couldn't recognize."
Again there was a soft voice. She froze as someone passed the window.
"The fire was undeniably produced by magic," the knowing voice said, "but its signature is inhuman. While it is certainly not dark, it is foreign and other-worldly."
Marcia swung around on the pole. She studied the window for a moment before working her fingers beneath the glass and carefully prying it open a crack.
"It is possible this fire happened when You-Know-Who was killed?" the woman asked again.
"The investigators believe so. But whether it killed Voldemort or not is still unknown, although something happened. It has been confirmed James was killed by the Curse and, although they were still unsure of her fate, they believe Lily was dead before being the fire reached her body."
Marcia swung the glass window open and peered over the sill. The odd mixtures of scents that drifted through the window floated over her head and tickled her sense of smell. There were scents of Order (sunshine and lilies), Chaos (brimstone and sulfur), confusion (rancid milk), and fear (rancid meat). She snuffed and rubbed her nose as the three people within the room froze and stared at her with a mixture of surprise (the old man with the long white beard and hair, a stern-looking woman whose face was heavily lined with distress and grief) and hostility (the tall, very dark young man who sat on a bed with his shoulders hunched forward and his lips pressed together with apprehension).
"It was Harry," Marcia said, unsure if this could be considered a rude interruption. "Er. Well, this is awkward, isn't it?" The stern-looking woman drew back a step. She looked at Dumbledore, as if seeking guidance. Marcia pulled herself over the window ledge and sat down on it. Harry kicked inside his sling and squealed with delight when he saw Dumbledore.
Dumbledore took a surprised step forward and then stopped. He looked confused and wary as he slowly withdrew a stick from one of his pockets. Marcia's grip tightened around Harry.
"He's in my care," Marcia said. The surprise was quickly turning to the same hostility the young, dark man was now glaring at her. She briefly wondered if she should have brought Nandin along for protection, or at least to draw the line of attack away.
"And how did you come across James Potter so he could give you Harry?" the stern woman demanded as she withdrew her own stick.
"Um." Marcia tensed nervously. She did not want to fight. She glanced quickly over her shoulder to how far a fall it was if she had to leap out the window. It was frightfully high up, now that she realized it. "After he died. He was waiting for Dumbledore or someone to come along and help Harry." They looked at the mentioned baby. Harry seemed content to look around at his surroundings from where he was nestled in Marcia's arms. "Harry's a demonling," Marcia said in explanation as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She planted the flat of one foot against the wall to easily and immediately propel her weight in a different direction if need be. "He's a rune demonling so he's not human."
Dumbledore petted his beard in thought. "Demonling?"
"Half-demon."
"How is that possible when both his parents were human?"
"All genetics," Marcia replied. "Ten or twenty generations back, a rune demon would have integrated into Harry's family, and the demon gene would skip entire generations before settling in a single person. An extreme situation, which is usually life-threatening, will cause the demonic blood to manifest itself. Sometimes you can pass through life without having undergoing an extreme situation, so the demon gene never manifests itself. For rune demonlings, it's not so much as you are born a demon, but that you become a demon. Since the situation demanded the demonic power, Harry manifested it, and now the power is Harry and Harry is the power, and his cells mutated to put up with it." Marcia took a deep breath. "Not sure what happened, but from what his father told me, Harry became a demonling to protect himself." She looked from person to person. "Told him that Harry was strong, and that if he doesn't learn how to control his powers while he's still young, it could get very bad." Pat it up a little, make herself look good – first impressions are always the lasting impressions, Marcia knew.
Dumbledore looked fascinated. "How is Harry different as a demon? What are his powers?"
"He's a rune demonling. Rune demons are elemental creatures. He can produce fire, control fire, and use it to destroy or create but mostly destroy." Marcia scratched her head and wondered how much she could tell before the science went over their heads. "Physically, as a demon, he's going to be stronger, faster, and more agile than humans. His metabolism would be through the roof." Harry kicked and whined. She released him from the sling and set him on the floor. He sat still and looked at the edge of the square of lush carpet that lay in the middle of the room, then grabbed one of the tassels and played with it. "His father said Harry's my son now," Marcia added.
The dark man jumped to his feet. "WHAT?!"
In a flash, Marcia yanked Harry up and dashed through the window onto the end of the pole. "He's too powerful to neglect learning how to control his powers!" she yelled defensively from where she stood balanced on one foot, the pole rocking up and down from her weight and its flag fluttering. Harry wailed in protest and fright.
Dumbledore held his arms up, stilling the stern woman and the dark man's movement. He waved to Marcia. "Come back," he said. "We shan't attack you."
Marcia reluctantly entered the room again. She gave Harry his bottle to sooth his fussiness. Harry whimpered as he fingered the bottle's nipple and looked at her.
Dumbledore folded his hands before himself. He carefully pointed the stick off to the side. "This is all very confusing," he said solemnly. "Perhaps a bit of information is needed, but we should start with introductions. I am Professor Albus Dumbledore." He smiled at her pleasantly to assure his friendliness. "This lovely lady," he nodded at the stern woman, "is Professor Minerva McGonagall. This young man is Severus Snape. Harry Potter is the son of James and Lily Potter who were students once, colleagues after, and friends always."
Marcia nodded her head at each person and silently kept her opinions to herself. McGonagall was certainly not someone she would call lovely, and from the curled sneer Snape gave at the mention of "friends always," she had a feeling that wasn't the most accurate selection of words. McGonagall glared at her sourly, and the dark young man continued to train his stick on Marcia. Those must be the wands I was told about, she thought. They were obvious very powerful weapons for these people to depend upon so much.
"For the past several years," Dumbledore continued, "we of the wizarding world have been battling an evil dark lord named Voldemort." McGonagall winced at the name. "A few hours ago, we received word here from Severus that Voldemort meant to attack and kill James and Lily. Before we could launch a counterattack, Voldemort had carried out his plan, and was seemingly done away by an unknown source of power-"
"Harry's fire," Marcia put in. Harry began to fuss again, so she set him on the floor. She watched as he discarded the bottle and crawled over to Dumbledore.
The others stared at Harry in surprise. "Harry?" McGonagall asked. "It was Harry who killed You-Know-Who?"
Marcia shrugged and wondered why this Voodemort guy was always referred to as "You-Know-Who." " 's what James told me; something about a curse bumping off Harry, who produced his fire in an explosion. It was a pretty big explosion," she said helpfully. "I felt it, so I decided to investigate since demons aren't allowed in the Realm of Reality - well, in most cases, at least, yours truly withstanding."
Dumbledore's expression was curiously cheerful. McGonagall continued to stare at Harry in surprise as he grabbed Dumbledore's robes and yanked them. "Up!" he cried. Snape continued to scowl at Marcia in a way that made her feel smaller than what she actually was, and she immediately felt a wave of intense dislike. Dumbledore bent over and picked Harry up. Harry giggled as he played with the man's fluffy white beard.
"I'm supposed to have him," Marcia said again as she watched Harry. She had a feeling she was going to lose him and was trying not to panic. " 'cause he's a demonling."
"But he has magic," McGonagall replied firmly. "There was no doubting that he has been a wizard from the moment he was born. He needs to be placed with a good family."
Marcia jumped from foot to foot. "James said I could have him!"
The woman looked down her nose at Marcia, silently scolding her behavior with her dark eyes. Marcia, chagrined, stopped bouncing. "Why should he be under your care?"
"James gave him to me!"
"And did James give you permission to treat Harry like an object to be owned by anyone, rather than as a human?"
Chastised, Marcia became still.
"We," said Snape, "only have your word for it. You are little more than a child. If Harry did kill Voldemort, then he's one of the most powerful wizards alive! He has to be trained suitably!"
"What about his demonic power?" Marcia demanded hotly. She pointed a single finger in their direction. "If his fire was strong enough to rock an entire dimension, he needs to learn how to control it before it peaks. Male demons get stronger as they age, and the strength and power peak after they enter rut. If they can't control their power or strength, they won't control their rut!" She stopped a moment to reign in her panic and anger. Her mind swiftly ran through various options before she settled on explaining why it was a bad thing for untrained demons to run amuck. Finally, she settled on her usual subject — Nandin.
"I have a younger brother. Now, as younger brothers go - and I've got six to compare - he's all right. But Nandin's got a short temper - and it's possible that Harry'll have a short temper too, because he's a fire demon and some demonic personalities are linked to their elements. When the scientists studying Nandin pushed him too far, he went into a rage. Demons tend to be animalistic. The more control over the power though, the less damage done. When you lose your temper, you descend into that animalistic mindset and the results are devastating. Nandin slaughtered the scientists and he hadn't even entered his rut. Harry blew up Voodemort, and he's only a baby.
"He may be a powerful wizard, but he's also a powerful demon. That's where he's different. If he doesn't learn how to control his power, or why he's different, then he'll do what Nandin did — kill someone. Well," she amended quickly, "again, actually. And what's more, he could be hunted down just as Nandin was. If Harry gets through his first thirty years of life without killing anyone, he's going to be unprepared for his rut."
They looked at her with blank expressions, so Marcia plowed on with her explanation.
"If he can't control what he already has, it's going to be the Voldemort thingy all over again. And not knowing that he's in rut, he's going to be susceptible to any female that's fertile." Marcia scratched her head. "Well," she said, "he's like that even when he knows that he's in rut. But have you ever seen a demon in rut?" The others gave her looks of mixed horror and disbelief. "Forget I asked that question," she muttered. "Harry'll consider any male to be competition, and competition will be ruthlessly slaughtered. If Harry tries to, um, er," Marcia tried to think of a polite way to say "have sex," since it wasn't something she often said in front of old people, "mate with a suitable female, his strength may be too great for her to handle and she'll die. What if the female isn't willing to be with him? He'd be strong enough to do what he wants, so he'd take it, and that'd be rape."
She held up three fingers and finally cemented her argument. "So there's rape, murder, and mayhem all together right there. James said that I could Harry him so I can train him against that happening." She sent Harry a longing look without realizing it. "James said he wouldn't have given me Harry if he didn't think I'd be a good mother."
McGonagall stepped back in shock as Dumbledore looked up from Harry at Marcia. Though his eyes were a piercing blue, the shrewdness reminded Marcia uncomfortably of her great-grandfather, and she found herself squirming uneasily beneath his gaze.
"We can't let her have him," said Snape as he stepped to Dumbledore's side. "We only have her word for this. We don't know her name, much less anything else." Marcia's face turned red when she realized he was correct. She opened her mouth to introduce herself, but the cold glare Snape sent her effectively shut her up. "If Harry did defeat Voldemort, then he's our savior." He looked at Harry in dawning surprise and whispered, "A tiny babe is greater than the darkest wizard of our time."
Dumbledore suddenly pushed Harry's little blue cap back and studied the lightening-shaped mark on his forehead. "But what if she's correct?" Dumbledore asked as he traced the outline. Harry turned his head so Dumbledore couldn't touch it. He wriggled about and pressed his hands against his forehead, trying to cover the scar. "Where did this come from?" Dumbledore asked as he looked up.
Marcia shrugged. "Beats me. Was glowing along with his runes, but that one didn't fade when the others did. I'm going to call it a birthmark."
"What if she's wrong?" Snape pointed a long finger at Marcia. "Look at her!" Marcia glanced down the length of her own body. "How can she defend Harry from Death Eaters? Biting them in the knee?"
"Hey!" Marcia's face turned red.
"What if this isn't Harry, but rather a poor substitute meant to fool us? How can we believe a word she has said, when nothing of anything we know even verifies in the least what she has said?"
Marcia reflected bitterly on what would happen if she bit him in the knee. Dumbledore set Harry on the floor. Harry glanced at the adults before crawling over to Marcia. Snape swooped down and grabbed him before Marcia could hurry over and pick him up. "We don't know where she's from, or what she is." He glared at her with black eyes that reflected a deep distrust. Harry began to wiggle. When Snape's grip tightened, Harry let loose a shriek that rattled the glass.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
"I am not a child!" Marcia stopped yelling when she realized that she did look like a child when she yelled. "I'm a little crow demonling," she muttered resentfully. She wrung her hands as she watched Harry wail. "I can too protect him, and 'm not a child. You're making him scared. Give him to me."
"How old are you?" McGonagall asked.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
Marcia wondered how they would react to her giving them negative numbers. She settled on shrugging instead. "I'll have to ask my mother."
"Why?"
" 'cause I was seventeen when I was adopted in my parents' second anniversary. I keep track of my birthday when Mama keeps track of her wedding anniversaries."
"Don't you even know how long your parents have been married?" Dumbledore asked curiously.
"Mama was feeling old, so she decided to celebrate every ten years. I missed the last few because of, um," she bit her lip and squirmed some more, "some stuff."
Dumbledore looked over his half-moon glasses as Marcia. " 'Some stuff.' Trouble?"
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
Marcia tried to stop squirming in guilt, not wanting to recall how that had happened. "The Beast," she muttered, refusing to meet any eyes. "Wasn't my fault. Was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and He took it out on me." It was all Patches' fault, she thought resentfully. If she hadn't been the one who left the Eternal Phoenix stranded in downtown Los Vegas... And that Elvis guy, too! All three of them!
"And who is the Beast?"
"Shhshshsh." Marcia glanced around at the dark shadows. "Not good to call Him when emotions are unstable. He's Bad. He's Evil. And He's Powerful." Harry stopped wailing, his face red and blotchy. His bright green eyes darted tearfully around before they settled upon Marcia.
"Mmmm." He reached a hand out to her. When she did not move, Harry smacked Snape with a chubby fist. "Bah!" he cried.
"What does he do?"
"He." Marcia hunched her shoulders. "He's the Source of All Chaos."
"Who?" Now Dumbledore just looked puzzled. That was how she felt when everyone discussed What's-His-Name. Marcia could not stop a chill from racing up and down her spine as she looked over her shoulder at the forest beyond. It seemed to lurk in the background, growing more aware as she spoke of the Beast. "Is he a demon?"
Marcia shook her head. She wanted to grab Harry and flee for the safety of Winter's Ambit. He dared not to come to her mother's kingdom, not while Ria ruled. Or maybe not, but He wouldn't block Marcia's ability to hop dimensions, and then drop her for the next several decades in a world of cannibalistic munchkins and peace-loving vegetarian chickens, as He did last time. It had been hell trying to survive with her legs intact. "Don't say anything." Her eyes darted nervously around in the room. Snape snorted with disdain. Harry whimpered.
"Do you want someone like her, with such an obviously sordid past, to raise Harry? This Beast does not sound like a friendly person, and the little girl is frightened of him." Harry let loose another wail and Snape grabbed Dumbledore's upper arm tightly. "Please," Snape hissed desperately, "do we need someone or something like You-Know-Who in our lives again?" McGonagall pinched her lips together in a thin line and nodded her head in agreement.
"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
Marcia bristled with resentful anger. "Promised James I'd take care of Harry." She centered her weight on the back foot still braced against the wall, the other foot flat on the floor before her. "You'll not make me a liar!"
"There's too many unknown variables—" Snaps' hand was still tightly clamped around Dumbledore's upper arm. Marcia shifted her weight to her front foot and propelled herself forward. She moved through space in the same manner as she had come to Hogwarts. Before Snape realized it, Harry was snatched from his hands and Marcia jumped through the air, twisting, turning, until she hit the ceiling feet-first. Her left arm was wrapped firmly around Harry's waist as he tearfully clung to her, too startled to wail, and the fingers of her right hand gripped the cracks in the stone ceiling. The muscles screamed in protest; an immediate sharp, burning pain shot through her arm and down her spine before settling in her hips, but she ignored it in favor of the looks of surprise Snape and McGonagall gave her.
"James said I had to let Dumbledore know, 'cause Harry might still be a wizard and he'd like him to attend school here. Told just as I was supposed to." She paused to gather her thoughts together. Harry whimpered again and pressed his face against her chest. Snape and McGonagall again trained their wands on her as Dumbledore solemnly studied her, weighing the situation in his mind and calculating her abilities. Stay on his good side—! "I didn't have to come back here. Didn't have to let Harry know anything about his past here, maybe even remaining family—wait, does Harry have other family?" That had never occurred to Marcia before, despite Ria mentioning it. She supposed that, legally, Harry's blood relatives had first dibs to Harry.
Dumbledore shook his head. "Only on his mother's side, and I find I am reluctant to leave Harry with Muggles. Not if he's a demon as you say he is." Marcia decided not to ask about Muggles. "If Harry is so powerful, and if he did kill Voldemort, then he is the savior of the wizarding world." He looked at Snape, who continued to train his eyes and wand on Marcia. "I'm afraid he would become rather spoiled if he were raised by most other wizards. We can't afford such a powerful being to be selfish or shallow."
"Mama said I couldn't spoil Harry. Said that was her right as grandmother."
Snape rolled his eyes. "She would still be suckling her mother," he muttered darkly.
"Hey!" Marcia felt the muscles in her legs cramp. "One more barb and I'll throw you out the window!" He sneered at that. Marcia gathered her bits of patience close, and addressed Dumbledore as calmly as she could; somehow, she still managed to sound petulant. "I'm trying to keep Harry's avenues open for him."
"Adoption is possible," said Dumbledore. McGonagall looked aghast.
"Albus! You can't possibly leave Harry with this child!"
"I am not a child!"
McGonagall corrected herself fluidly. "This being!"
"Human or not, she seems capable to me. I knew of very few who could hang from the ceiling like that."
Marcia could see why; her fingers and arm were already starting to become painfully numb.
Snape snorted. He looked down the length of his nose as he looked up at Marcia. That had to take a good bit of talent to carry off. The nose, Marcia noticed, was very large. No wonder Harry wailed. She would wail too if someone like him held her. "How do we not know if she wants Harry's power for herself? How do we know that Harry truly destroyed Voldemort?" He drew his lip back in a sneer. "This child seems to view Harry as little more than a pet."
Marcia released her hold from the ceiling, dropped through the air, and landed with a thump. She darted forward between Snape's legs. He lost his balance and fell forward, but as his feet came off the ground, she grabbed an ankle and viciously yanked him toward the window. He cracked his head soundly against the windowsill as she pulled him outside. Before anyone could react, Marcia suspended herself from the flagpole, both legs hooked around its girth, while she hugged Harry close and hung Snape upside down by his ankle. " 'm not a child!" she yelled. "And I don't lie!" Well, usually. At least, not about the big things like this." (Okay, so maybe there were some big things too, but she wasn't lying this time around. Just some creative paraphrasing…)
Dumbledore and McGonagall hurried to the window. Dazed from the hard knock to the head, Snape merely shook his head to clear it and did not reply.
"Young lady." Dumbledore's voice held a sharp note. Marcia glared resentfully at him.
" 'm not a child!" she snapped.
He sighed. For a moment, he looked immensely old. "There are avenues you will have to pursue were you to legally adopt Harry as your son."
"I'll do it! I'll do it!"
"Why," said Snape, his voice bitter and the tone laced with misery, from below, "do you even care?"
"James gave him to me."
"He's not a toy or an animated object for you to play with!" Snape craned his neck to look up at Marcia. There was pain in his black eyes as he snarled up at her. "He's not something for you to claim ownership!"
"And I never said he was or I was," Marcia snapped back with a shake of her arm. "James was a stranger when I came. He trusted me. He had faith in me, even though he didn't know about what I was or what I've done. My own mother thought he made a mistake. But he didn't." Her arm tightened protectively around Harry. "No one thought I'd make a suitable mother, but 'cause he, a ghost of a stranger waiting for someone to come along for his son, thought I could, then I will be."
Snape regarded her with his black eyes. The pain was still there, but emotions in them were indescribable. "Why do you think you would be a good mother for him?" he asked softly. "Why are you going to help a baby whom you would not care for if you passed him on the street? He's just a stranger."
Marcia regarded him closely. Was that sorrow she detected? She sniffed, searching for the tall-tale bitter scent of misery. What she found was blood and darkness, heavily bathed in Chaos. So he was the source. She drew her lip back at the scent. "What is the difference between my loving a child someone gives to me, than from a different family adopting an orphan from some country on the other side of the galaxy, whose own father never begged that family to care for the child? Or a mother who gives birth? Doesn't know the child, but she still loves it."
The muscles in her arm ached from Snape's weight, but at least it was no longer numb. It had been far too long since the last time she had forced her body to do heavy physical labor. The scars across her back pulled uncomfortably across the muscles the grid had been cut into; weight and power moves were hardly Marcia's forte, and the only reason why she was strong enough to hold onto a full-grown man one-handed was because of her base strength. Turk would frown and put her to work if he learned how far Marcia had allowed her training to slip.
But pain still lingered in Snape's dark eyes, and the echo of it sent a different twinge through the muscles in her back. "Hey," she said slowly, "I know what it is like to try and cope with being different, never succeeding, never gaining control. I know I'm little, and that's something I can't change — even with time. I know that people think I'm a child, but I can be a good mother. A stranger trusted me with the single most precious treasure in his life, which is more than my family ever does. And I'll admit that their distrust is not all unwarranted, but I can be a good mother if given a chance, and since a stranger saw fit to do so, I would be a disappointment — to both myself and that person — if I let my past say otherwise. He trusted me, and most people don't do that. And for that trust, and for Harry, I'll fight tooth and nail."
Snape's eyes closed and he let his head tip backwards. Marcia narrowed her eyes. "And that includes dropping you on your head."
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "A question: Should you adopt Harry and raise him, would you allow him to come to Hogwarts? This is a school for witchcraft and wizardry. His parents and generations of his father's family have all came here to learn. Would you let him know about his past? Would you let him become a wizard, and know about his own kind as a wizard?"
Joy tickled somewhere in Marcia's chest when she realized Dumbledore was giving her a chance to keep Harry. "Yes! Yes yes yes! Attending the school would be Harry's heritage, and who'm I to come between Harry and his heritage?"
Snape snorted and muttered something. Marcia thought she heard her name, as well as midget and troll. She shook him firmly. "You be quiet, you grease ball you," she told him mildly. "Happen to be the only reason why you aren't going to fall over twenty stories onto your head." As an afterthought, she added, "And if you don't stop making fun of my diminutive stature, I'll feed you to my aunt Elizabeth's mutated cabbages, and I do mean that."
She looked over at Dumbledore, who looked as if he were having a difficult time trying to decide whether he should be amused or upset. "My family calls me Sydney Geneve. I'm supposed to be Marcia Runes." She glared down at Snape. "And you can call me Ma'am."
"Would you mind bringing him in?" Dumbledore asked as amusement won. "You are giving Harry a bad example for obeying authority and respecting adults."
Marcia made another mental note to tell her family to lie through its teeth when people asked them of her nature. "Course I'll raise Harry to respect adults." Snape snickered. She glared at him again. "You sure I can't drop Snape here on his head? A bump on his head might do him a bit of good."
It took some clever maneuvering on Marcia's part to bring herself, Harry, and Snape back into the room again from where she hung from the pole. Marcia personally thought it would have been easier all around if she just dropped Snape, especially when he began to make snarky comments on how she was looking up his trousers. "Frankly, you don't got nothing I'm interested in," Marcia finally snapped.
One eyebrow went up at that. "Is there something you should warn us about?"
Marcia didn't know what he was talking about, so she ignored that. However, McGonagall was looking at her strangely when they finally reached the windowsill.
"Now," Dumbledore moved to sit down on the chair next to the bed. "Would you mind telling me everything about your meeting with James?"
Marcia sat Harry on the floor, making sure he was well beyond the reach of McGonagall and Snape. Harry, for his part, yawned sleepily and curled up on the soft rug to take a nap. Marcia sat down beside him and told the others everything from the moment the blast of power rocked her, to James' fading away. When Dumbledore asked her about her mother, Marcia explained that she went to her for help because Harry was fussing. She tried to avoid the matter of Ria being Queen of Winter as best as she possibly could, since that would cause questions she didn't have the energy to answer.
When she finished, Dumbledore was silent as he gazed at Harry. McGonagall looked uncertain. Snape had magicked up some ice he currently pressed to the back of his head as he sat on the edge of the bed, bent half-way over. "Do you think it wise?" McGonagall asked softly.
Dumbledore stirred. "I think it wiser for Harry to go with someone who is willing to keep ties with the wizarding world and train him to control such a power."
Marcia nodded her head, hoping that doing so could help placate McGonagall.
"I want to see where Harry is going to be raised," McGonagall said finally. "I want to know who the people who are going to get involved are." She gave Dumbledore a hard look. "You wouldn't allow him to be raised in an atmosphere of dysfunctional relatives with warped family values, would you?"
Marcia tried not to squirm and looked guilty as she recalled her various relatives. "We don't have warped family values," she said. Except for the one on how there was no problem too small that killing a few key people or blowing up a few key buildings couldn't solve. They ignored her, which was just as well.
"Social workers would have to inspect where she lives and research her past in order to approve adoption," said Snape. He looked at Marcia. "You may very well make a good mother for young Harry here, but you aren't from this world. How do we get to your world? How do we know you won't lock yourself in that world and never let Harry come back? We know this child, and knew his parents." His expression twisted and he glared sourly at Harry. Dumbledore looked at Snape carefully, as if waiting for him to continue, but Snape just shook his head and pressed the ice once more to it. "I find myself agreeing with Professor McGonagall. I want to see where Harry is going to be raised and who are the people going to be involved."
Dumbledore leaned forward. There was a shrewd light in his eyes. "Miss Runes." Marcia turned to him attentively. "No matter how much you want to keep Harry, the Ministry may not agree. You would have a better chance of keeping him if we supported you and were involved in Harry's adoption. Your chances would further increase if we continued to be involved with his being raised."
"When you say," said Marcia warily, "my chances would increase if some of you were involved, you mean yourself personally, right?"
Dumbledore nodded. "It would be best."
"Ah." Well, it did take a village to raise a child. She wondered if it were too late to run now that the three wizards knew so much. "My mother said all of that too. She gave me some Dores." She dug around in her pockets for one of them. "I guess you can talk to her about Winter's Ambit. She knows a lot more about adoption than I do." She tossed it against the flat surface of the bedroom wall.
The Dore hit it with a wet splotching noise and broke apart into many droplets that clung to the wall and leaked a blue color. The colors ran together and flowed upward, until a rounded door was created.
"You just step through this," Marcia said. "Follow me." She picked Harry up off the floor. He mewed in protest about being disturbed before he buried his face in the crook of her neck and went back to sleep. Marcia stepped through the blue door into the white hallways of the Great Northern Kingdom. She scuttled to the side so no one stepped on her when they came through.
Dumbledore was the first to arrive. He looked around himself in wonder at the walls and floors of ice. McGonagall followed soon after. Her surprised was marred by the pinched glare of suspicion at her surroundings. Snape was the only one who did not seem surprised. His shoulders hunched forward as he concentrated his gaze mostly upon Marcia. She tried to ignore him as she wordlessly led them to the Queen's Quarters. She was fairly sure Ria had gone back to her taxes when Marcia had left.
Marcia led them through various twisting halls and rooms, until she reached Ria's Stateroom. She opened the door a crack and peered through it to see a splash of red against the dark brown of Ria's work desk. Marcia pushed the door open fully and stepped through it. She waited for the wizards and witch to near her before she walked over to the desk. Ria looked up from her writing, set her pen to the side and crossed her hands over the desk top, waiting.
Marcia stopped beside the desk. Harry stirred, and then went back to sleep again. Marcia looked from her mother to Dumbledore in confusion, trying to recall cortex protocol for introduction. She was told it once before, a very long time ago, but she never before cared for ranking, so the protocol slipped her mind more often than not.
Ria's expression was as flat as her voice when she spoke. "You've forgotten." She buried her face in her hands. "Must I send you back to charm school?"
Marcia shuddered as she recalled the miles and miles of lace she had been forced to sew. She hadn't seen the point since she thought most lace patterns were particularly ugly, and so opted out of wearing any. She thought she did well enough without being charming. If being annoying didn't get her what she wanted, a quick poke with a sharp blade readily worked (provided, of course, she knew she wasn't going to get poked back).
Now, Marcia couldn't remember the protocol for which hand to use while indicating the person who was introduced first, based upon the location and the current context of the environment, the time of day, and the custom of the involved people in the introduction. She decided to play it first and introduce by age. Dumbledore looked old, but he was human and so couldn't be older than ninety.
She turned to her visitors. "Everyone, this is my mother." She held her hand out to Ria. "Ria Runesking." She switched hands to indicate her visitors as she turned to her mother. "Mama, this is Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall and, um, Mister Snape." Ria stood up from behind her desk and nodded to each of the visitors in return. "Mama," began Marcia, "they're here to talk about adopting Harry through their laws."
"Ah." Ria gestured to the seats that leaned against the wall. "Please, do sit down. May I offer refreshments, such as wine or perhaps some buns? The kitchen has prepared a batch of lovely hot-cross buns very recently. They should still be warm from the stoves."
Dumbledore nodded cheerfully as he grabbed a chair and pulled it across the floor to Ria's desk. He sat down in it. "Do these hot-cross buns come with a glass of warm milk?" There was a curious light in his eye as he rubbed his hands together for warmth.
"I cannot guarantee the milk would be warm." Ria looked expectedly at McGonagall and Snape.
McGonagall moved to stand at Dumbledore's side. She pinched her lips together and shivered. "Wine may do well to chase the cold away," she said as she rubbed her two hands. Snape looked bored as he moved and grabbed one of the other chairs. He pulled it to the other side of Dumbledore.
"I have down comforters for visitors unused to the cold." Ria's voice held a hint of amusement. She turned to Marcia and held her hands out. Marcia, after only a moment of hesitation, silently handed Harry to Ria. Harry instinctively turned his face to Ria's breasts. One tiny hand came up to press against her sternum. "Sydney, find a servant to bring us a platter of hot-cross buns, a jug of milk, and wine. We need glasses and napkins as well. When you finish, fetch some down comforters for our visitors." Without seeing if Marcia would carry out the orders, Ria walked back to her chair behind the desk.
Marcia sighed heavily, knowing a dismissal when she was given one. She departed to carry out her mother's orders. Outside the office, she looked around for someone to fetch the things Ria had wanted. A single frost gremlin was at the very end of the hall. It peered at her, and then scampered away as fast as its stubby legs could carry it. "Figures," she muttered to herself as she ran after the frost gremlin. "Just when I need people to do something for me, they have to run away. Come back!" she yelled.
Around the corner, there was no sight of the frost gremlin. "Bah!" She paused a moment to sniff at the air. She could only catch the scent of frost gremlins and ice elves, the latter having passed by more than an hour ago. She sighed and scampered off to inform the kitchens to send along what Ria had requested.
The kitchens, unlike the rest of the Great Northern Kingdom, were made out of stone. Originally the fireplaces were the only sections of the castle made from stone, but after Patches accidentally melted the kitchens (how she did it was still unknown to everyone but herself, and she certainly wasn't telling anyone), they were replaced with solid stone. Marcia's footsteps echoed down the length of the back stairs as she scampered down them to the large rooms at the end. The kitchens were low and long, with fireplaces lining the wall and pots and pans hanging in between. Only a few of the ice elves, creatures with silvery hair and eyes and crystalline wings, glanced at her as she entered the room. Many of the others bustled about, laden with armfuls of dishes, platters, various fruits and vegetables, and cooking utensils. Round tables filled the room, many topped with various cooking needs. The tables were surrounded with kitchen workers.
Ria often referred to the kitchens as the "kingdom's melting pot." Beings from all over Vernon flocked to Winter's Ambit, many for work. Humans, elves, dwarves, trolls, and gremlins readily found employment in the kitchens. With such a casual atmosphere in the kingdom, high-ranking individuals such as the Queen were often overlooked when they entered the kitchens. As far as the workers were concerned, the one in charge was a chunky ice elf named Lady Tess, who was severe and no-nonsense and always carried a rolling pin, which she used to smack slackers.
Marcia found Nandin in the kitchen, seated alone next to one of the fireplaces. She only noticed him because everyone else made a point to avoid him, including the rolling pin-wielding Lady Tess. Marcia made a beeline for Nandin. His chair was tilted back on its two hind legs and his feet, crossed at the ankles, were propped against the flat surface of the table.
Marcia had to wonder why he hadn't been whacked yet. Every time she tried to put her feet on the table, Lady Tess descended upon her like the Four Horsemen upon a doomed nation to thump some sense into Marcia with her gigantic rolling pin.
Nandin observed Marcia coolly, but said nothing when she sat down in the chair next to him. "Nandin?"
"Sydney."
"I need you to do something for me."
He blinked lazily at her, but said nothing. Marcia recognized that as a sign he was listening — or most likely too satiated to move away from her. She glanced at the empty pitcher where a few drops of milk still clung to the rim.
"Mama and I have some visitors. I'm supposed to get some snacks and some blankets." She sighed and slumped over. "Can you get her the snacks while I find the comforters?"
Nandin stretched languidly. There were a few titters from some of the younger ice elf maidens, and even some from the humans. Nandin glanced over Marcia's shoulder and then nodded once. "What does Mom need?"
Marcia giggled and hugged herself. "Oh wonderful!" She jumped to her feet. "Mama wants a platter of hot-cross buns fresh from the ovens, a jug of milk, a container of wine, napkins, and five glasses! Thank you!" She scampered off before Nandin could change his mind. She scrambled out of the kitchens without bumping into anyone, and up the servants' steps to the Queen's Quarters.
The Queen's Quarters were not anymore impressive than the rest of Winter's Ambit. It was just a set of suites Ria dwelled in, large enough to accommodate herself, her husband when he visited, and all twelve of her children. Marcia, having grown up in Winter's Ambit (relatively speaking, of course), was well-familiar with the quarters. In a large trunk tucked away in the corner of Ria's sitting room were comforters. Some of them were stuffed with goose's down, others with sheared wool, or cotton. Marcia did not particularly care what anyone got for a comforter, so she threw her arms wide to gather up three off the top. Her small arms could not carry the comforters without various folds falling out of her hold and tripping her up.
"Oh." Marcia plopped down on her bottom and stared at the rumpled pile of comforters on her lap. She sighed. She spread them out, one on top of the other, gathered up the corners in two tight fists, and then pulled them over her head like a many-layered hood. She pulled them along behind her as she made her way back, tripping more than once when her feet got tangled up. Marcia made it to the door that opened into the Stateroom at the same time Nandin arrived with the platter of food, drink, and utensils he had agreed to fetch for Marcia.
"Oh, lovely!" Marcia declared happily. "Just in time to open the door for me!"
Nandin looked pointedly at his hands, both of which gripped the heavy tray he carried. "Why don't you put down your blankets and open the door?" he asked.
" 'Cause I might get them dirty." This fully ignored the fact that Marcia had drug them on the floor in the first place. "Why don't you put down the tray and open the door?"
"I don't believe I'd be able to pick it back up once I set it down."
Marcia and Nandin glared at one another.
The door swung open to reveal Ria. "You could have called for my help rather than argue loud enough for everyone to hear you," she said darkly. Nandin shrugged, unaffected by his mother's displeasure. Marcia felt a slight bit of shame, and then ruthlessly squashed it. Ria stepped to the side to make room for Nandin and Marcia. Nandin swept wordlessly past her, his tray balance precariously in his two hands. Marcia tightened her grip on the comforters and dragged over to Dumbledore, whom she reasoned deserved the first, considering his age.
She help spread the one on top over his lap and smooth out the wrinkles as Nandin set the tray down on Ria's desk with a clatter. Ria's luscious cloak was folded on top of her desk and Harry nestled in it, drooling softly as he slept. His little fists were pressed against his chubby cheeks, and a single corner of the cloak was tucked carefully around his lower half.
Ria dropped in to her seat behind her chair and looked at Marcia with a little smile on her lip. "I was just telling the professors some of your more embarrassing childhood stories."
Marcia paused in the act of unfolding the comforter to spread across McGonagall's lap. She stared at her mother as she tried to translate embarrassing into something she understood.
"Embarrassing for who?" Nandin asked dryly.
"Yeah," said Marcia. "For who?"
"Sydney wouldn't know the meaning of embarrassment if it mugged her in bright sunlight."
"Yeah — what? Nandin!" Marcia glared at him.
"Nandin." Ria's soft voice held a warning. "Thankyou for the tray." Nandin said nothing as he walked past her and left the room. Ria rolled her eyes as she sat in her chair, which she had pulled around her desk so it faced the visitors. "Marcia, the refreshments." She gestured at the tray.
Snape stirred from where he sat stiffly. "Do all your children behave like juvenile delinquents?" he asked. He waved a compliant hand. "I ask only out of curiosity, of course, as we do intend to see what sort of family we might," he gave Dumbledore a dark look, "be giving Harry to." He clearly wanted to say more, but he restrained himself against it. Marcia ignored him as she tossed him the remaining comforter.
"A justifiable inquiry," Ria said. "As an answer: no, not all my children are like this, and yet they are all like this. In my family, words mean very little. It is the actions that often accompany the words that matter. The children tease one another, and that's to be expected among siblings. However, there is no enmity between any of them. If someone is in trouble, everyone is eager to grant their aid."
If only for the chance to beat up something, Marcia thought. She was glad Ria was the one explaining the family. Were it left to her, Marcia would babble about how Patches was a crazy psycho who was most unfortunately the strongest of all the children, Rufus and Seraph were traveling bums who probably hadn't taken a bath since Ambrose was born, Hestia had six split personalities, Knives and Victor were two maniacs who went into the demolition business because it suited their need to blow up stuff, Everett was a multi-world class fighter who dressed in as little as possible, Claudia was a obsessive-compulsive kleptomaniac, Molly was a stalker of rich and/or famous (but always beautiful) people, and Ambrose was the only relatively normal person, being the head of the Eight Councils of Magic in the realm of Summer, except he was browbeaten by his six older sisters and had sworn he would sooner sleep with men before he took a wife. Marcia found Ambrose's being with a man highly unlikely too, being browbeaten by five older brothers.
Marcia folded the napkins in cute little triangles, placed a hot-cross bun on each of them, and then poured a glass of milk for Dumbledore, and two glasses of wine, one for McGonagall and one for Ria. She distributed the buns and glasses, and then was caught in a moral dilemma. She looked at Snape, who coldly glared back at her. She looked at her mother, who gestured impatiently. Marcia sighed. "Would you like anything?" she reluctantly asked Snape.
The look he gave her was clear enough of what he would like. Marcia looked helplessly at Ria, who appeared to be ignoring Snape's behavior. That was a good thing, because then Ria would ask Marcia what she had done to Snape. Even though Marcia hadn't initially done anything at all, Ria might be unhappy to learn how Marcia had dangled Snape out a window. "Since Sydney is now present, I wish to discuss the business of adopting Harry. What are the rules and traditions of your kind? I'm afraid there is little I know of this 'wizarding world.' If you would, do acquaint me with your customs."
Dumbledore took a quick sip of milk. "Your daughter was most insistent upon caring for Harry," he said. "Harry's father, James Potter, gifted Harry to her because she claims that he deemed it wisest, as she could train Harry in his demonic powers. She said that not knowing how to control his abilities could be disastrous and gave a brief explanation. I would just like another point of view on this. Harry is the one I am mainly concerned about, but it is absolutely necessary Harry learns how to control his demonic power from a demon?"
Ria sighed as she looked over at Harry, who was still sleeping on her cloak. "You must understand," she said, "a demon's nature is that of a predator's, with very few exceptions of course."
Dumbledore looked curious, even if his eyes were sharp and penetrating as he shot a quick glance at Marcia. "Such as?"
"Such as some of the animal demons. I'll use Sydney as an example. She's a crow demon. By themselves as an animal, crows are mischievous creatures with little to no aggression. As a demon, crows are mischievous creatures with little to no aggression. For animal demons, their nature closely matches their animal's form. Being a demon further compounds the nature, for demons are very dangerous, very Chaotic creatures. It is the same for all, whether runic or animalistic, even when being of a mild nature. Humans are tamer, and therefore their blood eases the aggression. But with demonic blood combined with the human blood, well," Ria shrugged helplessly, "demonlings and demons are too alike in their strengths and powers for demonlings to be considered inferior or tainted.
"Harry's not knowing how to control his abilities is, of course, disastrous. The power of rune demons is much more random, more unpredictable than animal demons. They do not take animal forms or personalities, but control elements. So rather than having an animal demon lose control and then slaughter every living being in reach, you get a much larger scale of damage. A rune demon whose element of water could either flood an entire area, or turn it bone-dry as a desert in the middle of summer beneath a hot sun. Their element is their source of strength, but also their source of protection. Loss of control is quite easy for anyone who has little idea of what they're to do. The power wielded is great, so the damage from loss of control takes place on a massive scale."
Ria pressed her lips together and paused to give the others a chance to ask questions. She looked expectedly at the visitors, but when they said nothing she continued in her explanation. "You ask me why is it absolutely necessary Harry must learn how to control his power from a demon, and I say this: Only a demon can explain to you how they draws their element to them. Only a demon can show control and manipulation of such a massive amount of power. Can you, a human, understand how an animal demon is two in one but only one in two? Can you, a human, explain something of which you have no understanding?"
"But Miss Runes," McGonagall said as a frown creased her brow, "is an animal demon. How can she train a rune demon?"
Ria leaned back and looked thoughtful. "A demon is as a demon does. Or rather, regardless of class, level, or type, demons recognize one another and each other's abilities." She glanced at Marcia for confirmation, and Marcia vigorously nodded her head in agreement. "The learning of control can be applied in many different areas. Applying it all means the same to a demon. Granted, animal demons are weaker than rune demons, but animal demons have a greater control. It's almost as if animal demons have dual personalities that overlap into the one you currently see. To disallow a dangerous crossover of characteristics of one into the other takes the same sort of control as a rune demon who manifests their element. Sydney knows how to control her speed and strength. She uses that same control over the little crow." Ria glanced sideways at her daughter. "We think," she added wryly.
Marcia decided not to dignify that with a response.
Ria looked at the others. "Any other questions?"
Dumbledore stirred. He dipped his hot-cross bun in his milk and smiled at Ria. "Yes. Family. Tell us more of your family." He nibbled daintily on the hot-cross bun.
Marcia could feel Ria tense at the suggestion. She could not help but grin, knowing full well, since no matter how many kind adjectives Ria could think up, there was no escaping the fact that the family was violently dysfunctional.
"Well," began Ria carefully, "they are all rune-demons, with a hint of animalistic blood in them." They gave her an odd look and she shrugged. "It's difficult to explain. My grandmother is a, ah, bird demon, and her blood was dominant in my mother. After that generation, it became weaker and is co-dominant with Chaos and human nature for myself. My husband is a rune demon, and his demonic blood is not as removed as mine, so my children are primarily rune demons with hints of my demonic blood. It makes for an, ah, interesting combination."
Marcia's grin widened. All too well did she know. She turned to the wine and poured two glassfuls, one for her mother and the other for McGonagall. She passed the glasses out, still grinning.
Ria gave Marcia a warning look as McGonagall spoke. "Miss Runes said you had several children."
"Twelve; two of whom are adopted — Sydney and Nandin. I should point out here they are the eldest, having been adopted shortly after I married."
"How old is Marcia?" McGonagall asked as she looked at the person in question.
Ria shrugged. "I'm not sure." She turned to Marcia. "How old are you?"
Marcia shrugged. "Add seventeen to your current number of wedding anniversaries."
"Ah." Ria rubbed her chin. "The last one to be celebrated." An odd look crossed her face. "At any rate, all my children are old enough to know better." She took a sip of her wine. "If it helps, demonic age is not the same as human age. Demons grow at the same rate as humans, but they do not mature or age as fast. Sexual maturation is about three times slower for demons to reach than it is for humans, although demonlings reach theirs at a much earlier rate than do demons."
Dumbledore smiled brightly. "What do your children do? For livelihoods or hobbies. I'm interested in knowing how they spend their time."
Ria hesitated for a moment. "Well, a few are adventurers. They care to explore and the only time I ever hear from them is when they have gotten into trouble with the law and need someone to vouch for their character... or when they are in desperate need of money," she added darkly before taking a sip of wine, no doubt recalling the most recent mob of bill collectors dumped unceremoniously on the doorstep of Winter's Ambit, courtesy of Hestia and Personality #4.
"They showed up for your birthday party," Marcia said cheerfully. The look Ria gave her was frigid.
"They did, indeed, didn't they?" Marcia cringed at Ria's cold words. Was she still upset about that cake matter? That was eighteen years ago! Admittedly, Marcia supposed Ria wasn't too happy about how all twelve children had crammed themselves into a cake to pop out of, and the mess had taken several weeks to clean up, especially when no one was willing to foot the bill... (She had tried, in all honesty, but there's only so much cake one can eat before becoming quite tired of it.)
Ria sighed and shook her head with a small laugh. "They are their father's children," she said tenderly. "The adventurers would be two daughters — Patches and Everett — and two sons — Rufus and Seraph. Patches is a ghost hunter, and Everett is a professional, world-class fighter. Rufus and Seraph just wander and explore. I have one son who is head of a school." Ria glowed with pride. "Ambrose is the 'baby' of the family, the youngest of all twelve. Claudia makes a living of collecting things."
When she isn't in jail for "collecting" without asking, Marcia thought viciously.
"Hestia is currently visiting my brother, Gabrielle, in Tempest. That's an island kingdom that is beyond the country here. Hestia still resides with me, and she's an artist."
At least two of her personalities are. Marcia snuck a quick swig from the bottle of wine.
"My twins, Knives and Victor, own their own demolition business. They build tunnels and roads."
By blowing up the things in their way. Marcia wiped the back of her mouth and took another sip of wine. She ignored the glare her mother gave her for drinking directly from the bottle.
"And Molly..." Again, Ria hesitated. "Molly tends to do her own sort of thing. Usually she explores as well, but mostly she, ah, studies people."
Marcia snickered. That was a kind way of downplaying Molly's stalking people; she had underestimated her mother's diplomacy skills. She supposed it was just as well. If the wizards knew the complete level of dysfunction in her family, they would probably grab Harry and make a wild run for the nearest exit.
"And, of course, there is my eldest two, Sydney, here, and Nandin, whom you saw earlier. Nandin and Sydney were mercenaries before I adopted them. Nandin is a currently guard in my army, a freelancer who does errands for me when protection or discretion demands such. Sydney does what she wills when she wants, but she teams up with Nandin to help him when he needs a partner."
Ria only did asked Marcia to do that when she thought there was a risk of Nandin killing someone. Marcia went along to make sure no one got hurt, or at least not terribly so, and the only way she ever managed it was by distracting Nandin's vengeance from his original target to her. At least she knew how to hide from him.
"What of your adoption methods?" Dumbledore asked. "How did you adopt your daughter? Was there any legal process you had to go through?"
Ria gave Marcia a cool look. "I am the Queen of Winter," she said. Marcia shrugged guiltlessly. Ria turned back to the wizards and witch. "My word is the law," she said as she straightened her posture. "In this Kingdom, and in all realms of Winter, and during Winter's season, I am the ruling power. If I say Sydney is my daughter, she is. If I say Harry is Sydney's son, he is. It's very hassle-free," she added with a smile meant to appease the apprehension McGonagall and Snape made no effort to hide.
Dumbledore brushed the crumbs from his beard. "I see." He smiled as he stood up. "Would you mind giving us a tour of the castle?" he asked curiously. "I have never seen one made of ice. It would be a fascinating environment for a fire demon to grow up in."
"Harry is not at all affected by the cold," Ria said as she stood up. "It suits his element quite well, indeed." Marcia bounced over to Ria's desk where Harry lay still asleep and gently picked him up. Harry stirred and blinked at Marcia as she draped him against her shoulder and patted his back soothingly; he murmured something before closing his eyes and going back to sleep. Ria grabbed her thick cloak and slung it over her shoulders on before leading the others out.
"What history does the castle have?" Snape asked quietly after Dumbledore and McGonagall. Marcia followed at his heels, jealously wondering how he managed to make his black cloak billow outward. Every time she tried to make her cloak billow impressively, she usually tripped over the hem and fell on her nose.
"The castle is relatively new," Ria replied over her shoulder. "I saw it built in the beginning of my reign. Shall we start from the bottom and make our way up? I cannot completely show you the entire castle, as that would take many days. The kitchens, a dining hall, the ballroom, the great hall, a few guestrooms, perhaps the library if there is time, and one of the towers. The view from them is worth the twenty-thousand steps."
"Are there truly twenty-thousand steps?" Dumbledore asked curiously.
"From the kitchens to the nearest tower, yes."
"I should know," Marcia piped up from the back. "I counted them myself."
"Little things," said Snape softly enough for only Marcia to hear, "to entertain little minds."
Marcia tried to reach a foot out and trip him, but she was too small and he was too long-legged. The first time the Lord of Chaos had met Marciabit in Winter's Am, he decided to see how far her suicidal foolishness was going to last, so he made her count the steps, forcing her to begin again whenever he thought she missed a number, and then doing it twice more when she finally succeeded just to see if it was an accurate number. There were actually 20,341 steps, but the number was always rounded down.
But since the Lord of Chaos had shadowed her the entire time, what did that say about his mind?
"The castle is huge," McGonagall muttered. "Tell me, why are there signs giving directions everywhere on the walls?"
"So people do not get too lost, myself especially." Ria nodded her head in greeting to a passing ice elf. He grinned cheekily at Ria as he bound down the hallway, his wings shimmering in the translucent light.
"What is that?" McGonagall asked.
"That is Nimm. He's an ice elf, and there are many in Winter's Kingdom. I suspect them of illicit breeding," Ria added dryly.
McGonagall stopped and looked after the ice elf as the others continued on. Marcia stopped at McGonagall's side. "There's all sorts of elves here," Marcia said helpfully. "Plains elves, wood elves, ice elves." She stopped. "I think that's about it, but then you have tall elves, short elves, elves of all different colors. Come on, they're outdistancing us." Marcia tugged on McGonagall's robes for attention. McGonagall gave way to it. "Mama's talking about the kitchens!"
The tour of the castle, once Ria learned that the wizards and witch had left Hogwarts in the evening, was relatively quick. She only showed them the kitchens, the great hall, and a few bedrooms. All the while, she spoke of Winter's domain and of the other seasonal domains. In some ways, the showing of Winter's Ambit did more to convince the others that Marcia would be a good mother than words could. There was wealth and prestige tied not only in the castle, but also stability and care. This was a good atmosphere to raise a child.
Most certainly the odd magical creatures, from the ice elves to the frost gremlins, would teach Harry how to accept differences. He would have a good start on knowing about the different creatures. There was money, but Harry had inherited that from his parents. The stability was what Dumbledore liked the most. It was a good, steady atmosphere that dissolved stress ("Except," Ria said, "during tax season."), and there was also a brightness that encouraged good moods. The kingdom was a peaceful, serene place where aggression and violence was discouraged.
Marcia was eager to raise Harry, and that was very apparent to the others from the possessive and tender way she held Harry. It spoke of the willingness to sacrifice for another, and the happiness that comes with caring for those younger, more vulnerable, and ultimately cuter that oneself. Even as Ria radiated motherhood to its fullest sense, Marcia tried radiate such as well, as if soaking in Ria's motherhood like a sponge would water. Harry slept well in her arms for a small part of the journey, but awoke fussy. Marcia left the group for the kitchens to feed him. While she was gone, Snape asked several questions of Marcia's personality.
"Is she responsible?"
"I cannot say," Ria replied honestly. "She was never given anything to be responsible for - although she's good at taking care of herself, if that is of any use."
"How does she get along with other people?"
"It rather depends on the person." Ria spread her hands and shrugged. "Sydney gets along best with Nandin, which surprises most of us because Nandin barely put up with her--well, he barely puts up with anyone, but Sydney is very undemanding and Nandin doesn't feel threatened by her. There are, of course, those who find Sydney's personality and behavior exasperating . . ." Snape snorted in disdain. Ria looked at him expectedly, but he said nothing. She shrugged then, well-used to people's pointed and disdainful looks and wordless sounds. "I would be honest that Sydney is certainly the last person I would have expected to have children. Nevertheless, I do not suspect she would make a poor or terrible mother."
"What gives you reason," said McGonagall carefully, "to think she would be a good mother? She appears to me to be rather flighty and doesn't quite seem to understand the implications involved with raising a child."
"Oh, believe me," Ria said with a lopsided twist of her mouth, "she knows exactly what the implications of raising a child is." She pressed her non-crippled fingers against her lips in thought, and then dropped them. "Which is why she was rarely around when the ten I gave birth to were still quite young. However, she is willing to learn."
"Would you be willing to adopt?" Dumbledore asked.
Ria snorted and stepped to the side, as if trying to physically avoid the subject. "My demonic blood is not enough to be of a duel nature. I am far more human than either my husband or any of my children, so I would hardly be considered a good teacher for Harry." Her posture indicated that the subject was no longer open for discussion, and they wordlessly continued with the tour.
It was determined that, until a permanent gateway between Winter's Ambit and the wizarding world was established, Marcia would stay at Hogwarts with Harry. A permanent gateway would be nice, for the wizarding world could explore new realities and Harry would have permanent connections with both Marcia's family and the wizarding world. Staying at Hogwarts would make it easier for social workers to interview her and construct an adoption case for Harry. In the meanwhile, Ria would talk Ambrose into creating a semi-permanent Dore to connect with Hogwarts.
Ria and Marcia packed a few dozen baby outfits, several bottles, baby wipes, and a week's worth of diapers into a trunk, which they placed inside a little red wagon. Dumbledore watched them in amused silence; he carried Harry, who patted and tugged with fascination Dumbledore's long white beard. Snape drooped tiredly and his patience (already noticeably lacking) was thin. McGonagall kept yawning behind a raised hand.
When the trunk was at last packed and set firmly on the wagon, Ria handed Marcia two Dores. Marcia tucked one in her pocket and tossed the other one against the wall. The Dore splattered against the wall and spread itself upward and outward until a solid blue doorway had been created. Marcia was the first to step through, pulling the little red wagon along behind her. She stretched her arms wide to plant her hands on either side of the Dore and frowned in concentration. The color flared momentarily and sealed itself. The others filed in behind with Dumbledore still carrying Harry.
Ria stuck the upper half of her body through the doorway and glanced quickly around. "Before the way closes," she said to Marcia, "do you want me to send Nandin along to relay messages between the two of us?"
Marcia suddenly had a vision of Nandin stringing Snape from a flagpole. "Nuh-uh. Think I'm fine."
Dumbledore nodded his head assuring as he bowed to Ria. "I will personally see to it that your daughter remains in good hands. She may stay in one of the many fine suites Hogwarts has."
Ria nodded. "Very well. Then I shall bid you a farewell for now." She bobbed a quick curtsy, and then pulled herself out of the Dore. It faded away until only the stonewall it imposed itself upon remained.
Dumbledore turned to Marcia. "Come," he said, "follow me." She pulled the cart behind her as she followed after him to a flight of stairs. Dumbledore turned to Marcia. "Do you need help getting the wagon down the steps?"
Marcia looked at the material sitting inside the wagon. "Well, if I tie the stuff down so it doesn't fall out, I can pull it after me," she said.
"Allow me." Dumbledore pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the wagon.
Marcia saw a thin film of light surround the wagon and lift it off the ground. "Or we can do that," she said. She pulled the handle. The wagon floated close to her side, and down the steps without tilting and spilling the material out. "This is nifty!" she said excitedly. She followed Dumbledore down the stairs to a hallway, down the length of it, through some twists and turns, up another flight of stairs, and finally reached a bedroom door that Dumbledore unlocked with a large, skeleton-shaped key. Inside the room was a large four-poster bed in the far corner, a fireplace, three over-stuffed chairs in the middle of the room around a small coffee table, a large set of drawers in the corner, and a closet with only three hangers.
Marcia looked around as Dumbledore sat Harry down on the bed. She was inspecting the closet as Dumbledore walked to the door. "If you need anything," he said as he turned a piece of fluff into a bell, "ring this and a house elf will appear. You may ask it for various things such as food, water, and simple supplies."
Marcia nodded. "Uh huh."
"You may also explore Hogwarts at your convenience."
"Okay." Marcia glanced over at the bed. Harry was curled up on the blanket. "I'll do that later in the morning. Harry needs his rest."
"Very good. I bid you good evening then, Miss Runes."
"Yah. Good night, Professor Dumbledore." She waved as Dumbledore left the room. Marcia sank down on the bed next to Harry and patted his dark hair.
Author's notes: Yes, I know that dore is spelled completely different from door. Ria trademarked it that way, for crying out loud. Sheesh.
