June 5, 2009 - Teatime
Draco had not planned on spending his twenty-ninth birthday having tea with his most formidable great-aunt - Great-Aunt Walburga not excluded. Yet here he was, at Longbottom House with his Great-Aunt Augusta and ancient third cousin Algie, on an intelligence-gathering mission. At least he could look forward to Blaise and Theo taking him out later in Muggle London for a proper celebration, with more than enough alcohol to rinse the taste of oolong tea from his mouth.
For weeks now, he, Hermione, and even Potter (that rotter) had been searching doggedly for Luna's son. Hermione had put her impressive research skills to the test, checking directories and databases in the wizarding and Muggle worlds; Potter had abused his authority as an Auror by questioning shopkeepers and accessing classified MLE files; and Draco had snuck into St. Mungo's, Polyjuiced as a Healer on the Janus Thickey ward, in order to review the patient records of Frank and Alice Longbottom.
Hermione had the most success. She discovered a Muggle marriage record for Neville and Luna, showing that they were married in a London registry office within a month of the final battle, and birth certificates for three Longbottom children: Xenophilius, born in September 1998, and two younger siblings, Augustus and Alice. However, the birth certificates did not show an address or birthplace, other than the county of Devon. Beyond that, they found very little, and what little they found led back to Augusta Longbottom. Luna and Neville had pulled off a disappearing act that Merlin himself might envy.
"Missy Granger is here," a squeaky-voiced house-elf announced, to Draco's immense relief.
She gave him a covert wink before kissing the Longbottom matriarch's wizened cheek. "Augusta, it's so lovely to see you!"
"How are you, my dear?" the old witch graciously inquired.
"Quite well," Hermione smiled brightly. "I apologize for being a few minutes late to tea, but I was at Hogwarts this afternoon for a meeting with Professor McGonagall. There are going to be a record number of Muggleborn students this year, several from the same village, and she wished to speak with me about lessening their culture shock."
Something niggled at the edge of Draco's mind, something to do with Muggles and apples, and the distinctly strange phenomenon of so many Muggleborns, of the same age, living in such close geographic proximity to one another. Then it flitted away.
"How is dear Minerva?" Augusta asked as a matter of form, even though Draco knew - courtesy of his mum - that the two old bats cordially loathed each other.
Hermione's smile gleamed brighter, if possible. Clearly, she had gotten some information from the Scottish tabby who ran Hogwarts these days. "She is quite well, and very much looking forward to your grandson Xenophilius being Sorted into Gryffindor."
"Yes, well, we can only hope," Augusta said, looking uncomfortable. "His mother was a Ravenclaw. Not that there's anything wrong with that," she added, with the air of one determined to be broad-minded.
"He could be in Slytherin," Draco offered, stirring the cauldron. "With his bloodlines, I shouldn't be surprised."
His great-aunt blanched, her skin suddenly as pale as his own. "I don't know what you mean, Draco."
"Just that he's a pureblood, and that's increasingly rare these days," he said.
Augusta recovered quickly, replacing her teacup in its saucer with a defiant-sounding clink. "Xenophilius is no snake," she said stoutly. "I'll eat my hat with the vulture on top if the Sorting Hat puts him in your House. He's a good boy, and Neville and Luna have raised him well."
"I'm sure he is, and I'm sure they have," Hermione said soothingly, earning herself a sharp glance from the old harridan. Augusta hated to be patronized. "Do you have Luna's address? We've lost touch, but I should like to drop her a line and perhaps send Xenophilius one or two of my favorite books before he goes off to school."
Draco suppressed the urge to face-palm at this poor excuse for subtlety, though he supposed Granger, as a Muggleborn and a Gryffindor, had no models to learn from.
"How thoughtful," Augusta stated, seeing right through her. "Luna and Neville enjoy their privacy and have requested that I keep their address to myself, but I would be happy to forward anything along."
Draco wondered if there was a Fidelius Charm in place, or merely his great-aunt's rigid sense of duty. Either was a formidable defense, insurmountable as a practical matter in the limited time they had left before the Dark Lord returned on Potter's birthday at the end of July.
He sighed. There was nothing for it but to tell the truth. "Aunt, may Hermione and I speak with you in private? I am afraid we have not been entirely forthcoming with you about our reasons for seeking out Xenophilius."
"When are you ever forthcoming, Draco?" Great-Aunt Augusta shook her head in disappointment. "I would have hoped you would have outgrown your childish habit of telling fibs by now. I blame your father's deplorable influence."
"Now go ahead and spit it out," she ordered. "You needn't worry about Cousin Algie. He's deaf as a post."
Hermione and Draco exchanged glances.
Ever the brave Gryffindor, Hermione opted to act as their spokesperson. "We have reason to believe that the Dark Lord plans to possess Xenophilius," she said bluntly. "When Luna was a prisoner at Malfoy Manor, Voldemort performed a Dark ritual on her, one that allows him to possess her son."
"Voldemort's dead and gone," Augusta refuted. "I was there when Harry Potter defeated him. There was nothing left but dust."
"He took steps, through, er, another Dark ritual, that allowed him to cheat death," Hermione said vaguely. Horcruxes were supposed to be secret, after all.
"Do you mean a Horcrux?" the old witch asked shrewdly. "I thought Albus got you and the Potter boy to destroy them all."
"Dumbledore missed one, Aunt Augusta," Draco explained.
She snorted. "He always was a careless old fool."
"So will you give us Luna and Neville's address, so we can warn them?" Hermione asked, brown eyes hopeful. Draco thought the puppyish look was rather cute on her.
"I shan't break my promise to them, but if you would care to explain the situation in a letter, I'll send it along tonight."
"Of course," Hermione said, gracefully accepting defeat. Augusta Longbottom was not a witch to be dislodged from a position of principle. "It is rather urgent. The Dark Lord is planning to come back on Harry's birthday at the end of July."
"Yes, yes," Augusta said. "I'll make sure Neville and Luna don't shilly-shally in getting back to you."
She picked up a biscuit and pinned Hermione and Draco with a beady-eyed glare. "Speaking of Hogwarts, when will the two of you be producing little witches and wizards of your own to send off to school? You're not getting any younger, you know."
Hermione flushed scarlet. Draco choked on a mouthful of lukewarm tea. A look of triumph lit up Augusta's eyes. "Aha! So that's how it is!" she crowed. "So, tell me . . . "
Draco shrank back in his chair in anticipation of a highly personal and mortifying interrogation. He now recalled, with perfect clarity, why tea with his great-aunt was a horrible ordeal, to be dreaded only slightly less than an audience with the Dark Lord.
