The Golden Age
Disclaimer: Obviously, I own nothing but my own thoughts. Harry Potter and his world are the property of J.K.Rowling.
10. Adulthood: Harry Potter and the Posh Dinner Party, Part One
Croughthwichicombe Hall was not a thousand-year-old edifice on the scale of Hogwarts, but then, what was? It was a rambling fifteenth century manor house, with a charming rose garden, mullioned windows, and a wealth of odd rooms. Hermione and Harry spent a day exploring it—an uncomfortable day, at times.
They had been greeted by a trio of house elves, all female. Their pitiful joy at the arrival of a proper Mistress surprised Hermione too much to permit her to immediately make plans for their liberation. Instead, she told them, in the most positive tones she could muster, about her wonderful plans for a school, and how the house would be filled with little witches and wizards, and were they sure they would like their peaceful life disturbed, because—
Of course they would. Harry saw that at once, and also pointed out that the kids would need lunch, and who better to provide it than house elves? Lunch needn't be a feast like dinner at Hogwarts, but it would be a nice feature, and something "magical" for the muggleborn. In fact, he was a bit peckish, and wouldn't mind some lunch himself. They ate it in the big dining room that had once been a buttery in another age of the house, admiring the carved oak wainscoting.
"This is quite a place," Harry remarked. "I like it."
They wandered through the ground floor first. Hermione was much taken with the library, but of course most of the books would have to be either removed or locked away when the students came. She grew quite animated, thinking about how to stock a library for children from five to ten.
"With Muggle and Wizarding literature. No muggleborn will leave this school without reading Beedle the Bard!"
There was a grand piano in the drawing room. Hermione thought that music should be in the curriculum. Maybe they should even offer music lessons. The room could be used for that.
"I had to quit piano lessons when I went to Hogwarts," Hermione told him. "It made me sad. Professor McGonagall is talking about developing art and music classes at Hogwarts. I think that would be a wonderful thing for the students. I don't see why the school couldn't have an orchestra, or at least have a teacher come in to give lessons—"
"You might want to set aside these family things somewhere else, Hermione," Harry suggested, looking over a selection of Crouch portraits and awards proudly displayed throughout the downstairs "Maybe you put it all in a room about the family—"
"Maybe," she shrugged. "I don't know. Let's look upstairs."
Hermione could not quite think of this as a family home, much less her own family home. Some things she found, like the room that had obviously been Barty Junior's, distressed her. Mrs. Crouch's room, perfectly preserved, was simply depressing. A few graying hairs remained in the silver-backed brush on the dressing table. Hermione shuddered, thinking of Polyjuice Potion.
There were many other doors, though. There were ten bedrooms on the first floor. Seven of them were quite large. There were three bathrooms, which would not be sufficient toilet facilities for a school. Those would need expansion.
On the second floor were more rooms, smaller ones. The nursery was there, full of forgotten toys and phantom laughter. Next to it was a little schoolroom. Evidently it had been the Crouch tradition to educate their children at home before they went to Hogwarts. It was horrible to contemplate Barty and his poor mother, and all her efforts to raise her only child ending in a lonely death in Azkaban.
There was a narrow staircase at the end of the second floor hall, which led up to the attics. Dilly, the head house elf, told them there had once been a ghost there, a ghost of a little girl who had suffocated in a trunk in the attic, but she had been exorcised when Bartemius Senior inherited the house.
"Master didn't like untidy things, or things that made trouble."
"So it would seem," Hermione said, a little tartly. " Thank you." To Harry, she remarked, "Professor McGonagall thinks we'll only need six regular classrooms to begin with. She estimates, based on the what the Quill has written, that we would have an average of twenty children for each age level. Of course, not all of them will accept the invitation."
"So few?"
"Well, a number of muggle families were attacked—the ones that had muggleborn children at Hogwarts. Any younger children were—lost."
"Oh." Harry thought a little, and said, "Are you sure you want to give this away, Hermione? It's pretty great. It's not much like Malfoy Manor, but it's just as big. Someday you may wish you hadn't—"
"No, I won't," Hermione growled. "It may be mine legally, but it will never feel like home to me. Nobody ever wanted me here. I suppose I should be grateful that he didn't get rid of me like that ghost!"
"Well, even Malfoy didn't get rid of his Halfblood daughter. Some did, I guess."
"More than you know. You'd be surprised at some of the names in those files."
-----
Before long, the school was progressing very well—far faster than anyone had imagined it could. With Hermione's generous gift of Croughthwichicombe Hall, the magic of Harry's name, and the Malfoy's' financial backing, things were beginning to fall into place. They would not have done so, however, without the energetic assistance of Minerva McGonagall, the Headmistress of Hogwarts. She had gone public with her support of the project, laying out the numerous reason why this was an idea whose time had come.
The planning committee began meeting at the school site, in the library, every Saturday. It was a motley gathering of strange bedfellows indeed. McGonagall was there, of course, with Hermione, and Harry dutifully attending. Now that they were had earned their N.E.W.T.s, she had told them they must call her "Minerva." Hermione could manage the name fairly well, but Harry found the syllables sticking in his throat. Even worse, Professor McGonagall was calling him "Harry." It was just wrong.
The house was metamorphosing into a school. Toilet facilities were expanded. Books were purchased. The dining room became the Head's Office. Dumbledore's Hogwarts portrait was laboriously copied and charmed, and would be a feature of the new school. A big room off the kitchen was converted into a lunchroom and decorated with colorful murals. Hermione insisted on calling it the Refectory, and had insisted so loudly that in the end she got her way.
That was largely because Hermione, on McGonagall's advice, had taken the precaution of making the gift of the school building contingent on her becoming a school governor in perpetuo. McGonagall was a member of that body as well, in her capacity as Headmistress of Hogwarts. Lucius knew it was unwise to put himself forward, but Narcissa, on the strength of the Malfoy donations, was installed as a school governor, and very pleased about it.
The Malfoys always arrived together, sitting side by side for mutual support. Griselda Marchbanks was a governor, as was old Professor Tofty, who had been injured by Death Eaters, but was nearly himself. His friend, Tiberius Ogden, lent his support. The two elderly wizards seemed very excited about the proposed school.
So excited was the worthy Tiberius Ogden, that he was moved to quip, upon seeing Minerva McGonagall, Narcissa Malfoy, and Hermione Crouch-Granger seated at the same table, that they embodied perfectly the principle of The Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone. Only Narcissa was unoffended.
"After all," she purred, "I am a mother. How can anyone object to being called what they are?"
Hermione was about to make her views known on the whole wrong-headed issue of thaumaturgic iconography, but Harry hastily interrupted, uttering in his desperation a question so inane that it derailed even Hermione's chugging train of thought.
"Why don't we have a dinner party?" Everyone stopped and stared at him. "I mean—" he said, "—everyone's got to have dinner anyway, so why don't we have a big meeting and invite the Minister, and—"
"An excellent notion," McGonagall approved. "Properly mentioned in the Prophet, It will keep the project before the public eye. A very good project for you to organize, Harry."
Narcissa had been rather annoyed, thinking this duty should naturally fall to her, but the touching sight of her husband's eyes shining in unholy glee at Harry Potter's dismay caused her sit back and smile herself. Besides, she needed her rest. Everyone else liked the idea, and Harry found himself the chosen victim to organize a party that he would never have dreamed of attending in any other circumstances. Immediately following the meeting Hermione sat down with him and forced him to start planning. It was worse than any revision from their school days. If they were to be responsible for this event, everything must be right.
Where to have the dinner was the first question.
" I won't have the Malfoys in my house, Harry!" Hermione declared. "The idea is just too awful."
Harry agreed that it really was pretty awful. He liked Hermione's house a lot. It would spoil things if the Malfoys were to look down on Hermione because her parents' house, though very nice, was an upper middle-class suburban house of the muggle persuasion.
"How about Grimmauld Place? Kreacher and his chums are at work on the dining room. It'll be super when they're done. And it's certainly a wizardly sort of place. Mrs. Malfoy can't sneer at an old family home, especially if the family was hers, after all."
"I don't know Harry. All things considered—"
Harry thought again, and then agreed that he did not want the Malfoys, reformed or not, in Sirius' house. Once again, he wondered how he had found himself planning a dinner party for the wizarding elite. Years of frying up bacon and eggs for the Dursleys did not seem like the right sort of preparation.
They went round and round on the subject of the location. Hermione did not like the idea of having at either of their houses. Malfoy Manor was out of the question.
"Why not have it at the school?"
"Oh, Harry! I don't want to have it at Hogwarts! It's an independent project, and I think--"
"No, I mean have here—you know-- at 'Crush'em' Hall."
Hermione paused, and sat down, thinking hard. "We've already remodeled the dining room as the Head's Office."
"Have it in the Great Hall, then! You've still got the kitchen, for the kids' lunches. I suppose we could have it in the lunchroom—"
"The Refectory, Harry," Hermione corrected him. "Honestly, we should use consistent terminology. The Refectory might be a little too---cute, I think."
"I dunno—I like the unicorn and dragon murals, but—I guess I see what you mean."
"Exactly. Narcissa Malfoy might have said that the Refectory is "charming" for little witches and wizards, but she might not think it was the place for a proper dinner party. I like the idea of the Great Hall. Of course, it's not like Hogwarts—"
"You know---the house elves probably would know what to do."
"Harry?"
"Crouch had to have given dinner parties. The house elves will know what to do! Let's go talk to them!"
The house elves indeed knew what to do, and were utterly enraptured by the idea that Young Mistress wished to give a party. However, there were things that were the purview of the hosts, not of their house elves. The guest list must be drawn up, invitations must be issued, a menu had to be approved, a seating plan arranged, and decorations chosen. It was etiquette hell.
Harry desperately wanted to invite Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, but how to place them at the same table with the Malfoys? They wanted to invite some of the Hogwarts faculty, but how to invite some without inviting them all? Hermione settled the matter by having the tables set up to their full capacity in the Great Hall, and then counting the number of places. They discovered that it was possible to seat no more than fifty with any degree of comfort. That settled the issue, until Harry and Hermione looked at each other, and screamed "Fifty?" in unison.
After a break for restorative drinks, Harry said, "No way, Hermione. No way are we giving a party for fifty people."
"We don't have to, Harry," Hermione reasoned. "We just can't give a party for more than fifty. Let's work on the guest list, and as long as it's under fifty, we're fine."
"Couldn't we put this off until the school's ready to open?"
"Actually, the school could open today, if it were only a matter of classrooms," Hermione told him. "But it's more than that. Minerva and I have only now sorted out the issue of how the students are to be transported. It's far more complicated than Hogwarts, since this will be a day school. The Assistant Head will be in charge of the network of floos and licensed apparition aides. We also will offer a bus—"
"--The Al-Bus—" Harry grinned. "I heard you talking about that—"
"—for those who required something more conventional. And then there is the matter of finding a Head and a faculty and a staff, though that is moving along nicely. Maybe we should wait until the Head is chosen. It would be an opportunity to introduce him or her."
"You should be the Head, Hermione," Harry told her.
"No, thank you!" Hermione shook her head vigorously. "Deal with little children just learning how to read? It calls for someone with real experience. We're interviewing some candidates though—there's one muggleborn who's been teaching in muggle schools for years. She pretty much left the wizarding world after she graduated Hogwarts and couldn't find a job."
-----After the initial interviews, Hermione was not sure if she liked Jane Rochester or not. She was very well qualified, and had presented the board with enthusiastic letters of recommendation. Her grasp of educational theory seemed comprehensive, and she was very interested the project. Though she was muggleborn, her grades while a Ravenclaw at Hogwarts had been outstanding, and she had earned ten N.E.W.T.s: in Transfiguration, Charms, Runes, History, Arithmancy, Herbology, Potions, and Muggle Studies—more than Hermione had herself. She was in her middle thirties, and seemed to be entirely nondescript—medium height, medium weight, straight brown hair cut short, direct brown eyes. Not ugly, but not a beautiful woman either.
Ms. Rochester had a no-nonsense manner, and answered the questions the governor's board put to her without arrogance, but also without false modesty. She seemed confident of her abilities, and quite clear about how challenging this new undertaking would be. Hermione felt somehow that she was just not—well, impressed enough by Harry—or by any of them. Yes, she felt, Ms. Rochester should show more gratitude in being interviewed for the position, considering that she had missed the war entirely.
There had been many aspirants for the post, but she was the only one with any kind of professional credentials from an institution of high learning in the actual teaching of young children. Harry liked better a pretty witch named Rowan Praetorius, who was a cousin of the Longbottoms. She had tutored some relatives—rather successfully--for they had done well their first year at Hogwarts. Hermione was in favor of an Australian wizard by the unlikely name of Max Rockatansky. He was fairly young, but he was a strong wizard, and had the charisma and twinkling blue eyes that spelled "Headmaster" to her.
McGonagall, however, liked Jane Rochester, and was adamant in her support of her. She took Hermione aside one night after a particularly acrimonious governor's meeting.
"Jane was a splendid student. It was a shame she had so few opportunities when she left Hogwarts. If she had been a prettier girl, perhaps—" she pressed her lips together, and then said, "Yes—that would nave counted for quite a bit, but there she was, a muggleborn with no influential wizarding friends, and not charming enough to make people overlook her birth. There weren't many openings in the Ministry that year, and what there were went to relations, just as they generally do."
"Why didn't she get an apprenticeship, then?" Hermione asked, feeling annoyed, and a little nervous, as she sometimes did when she realized how very special her own position was, and the dangers—and advantages—that had accrued to her because of it.
"For the same reason, Hermione!" McGonagall answered, becoming testy. "Who's going to take on a muggleborn with no connections when so many children of friends and relatives may be clamoring for the chance? There was nothing, and after awhile Jane gave up. She wrote to Hogwarts, asking for the certificate we issue to satisfy the muggle authorities, and went on to muggle University. I never heard from her until a few weeks ago, when she saw the notice in the Daily Prophet. Evidently, she never stopped subscribing."
"Malfoy's daughter got an apprenticeship," Hermione objected, feeling rebellious.
McGonagall gave her a quelling look. "Perdita Robinson is a beautiful girl, and had to go as far as America to get her apprenticeship, and at that, it's with an elderly wizard with a known taste for young witches. I don't think you need envy Perdita Robinson, or wish her fate---all seven years' worth!-- on Jane Rochester."
The Malfoys also rather liked Rowan Praetorius, to whom they were both distantly related, but even Narcissa had to admit that she was perhaps just a little young to be made the Head of a school. Lucius definitely did not like "that Australian," and the interview had had some tense moments, with two very masterful men glaring blue fire at one another. As little as they liked the idea of a Mudblood heading the new school, it appeared inevitable that Jane Rochester would be made Head, and Rowan Praetorius offered the position of Assistant Head.
But before the offer was made, Harry asked to speak to Ms. Rochester. He had discovered that she had been at Hogwarts around the same time as his parents, and wanted to hear about those days. Hermione was not sure that was a good idea, but an appointment was made, and Ms. Rochester arrived at the school and was shown into the library.
As always, she did not stammer or blush when meeting Harry Potter, but shook his hand just as she would anyone else's—just as she had Lucius Malfoy's.
Hermione was direct. "We wanted to know more about your experiences in the wizarding world. Harry is interested in your school days, and how they would influence your approach to teaching wizards."
Ms. Rochester raised her eyebrows, clearly wondering why Harry was not speaking for himself. He was not officially a school governor, and she could not see why she should be coming at his beck and call, but Ms. Crouch-Granger, despite her age, was a governor, and she had little choice but to do the polite and satisfy the girl's curiosity.
Harry himself felt that he ought to make clear what it is he wanted to know. "I'd like you to tell me about going to school with my parents."
Next: Home truths fly like angry wasps in
Harry Potter and the Posh Dinner Party, Part Two