Chapter 12 – Miss Granger Goes To London
It was a warm, Sunday afternoon, and deep beneath the streets of London there was only one populated office within the Ministry of Magic; five Aurors were on duty, and using the time to fill out paperwork.
'This just came for you,' said Savage, dropping an envelope down on Harry's desk. As punishment for the killing curse incident during Legion's attack, Proudfoot had reassigned Savage to office administration.
'Thanks,' Harry replied, without looking up from his notes.
'So, Ron,' said Savage. 'How're you feeling about tomorrow?'
'How do you mean?' he replied.
'Y'know,' said Neville, looking up from his desk. 'Working with the missus.'
After nearly six weeks of trying to choose between offers, Hermione had finally picked the job she wanted. The day after graduation, thirty different owls had arrived at Grimmauld Place, each carrying a different job offer. Professor McGonagall had offered her a position in the Transfiguration department; Flourish & Blotts had invited her to become shop manager for their new Hogsmeade branch; The Department of Mysteries had invited her to become an Unspeakable (something she'd quickly ruled out after they'd refused to tell her anything about the post); St Mungo's had proposed she study to become a Healer, and Kingsley had offered her a position as his liaison with the muggle Prime Minister.
However, in the end, she had turned them all down, in favour of the job she really wanted.
'The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures?' Ron had said, bewildered. 'I don't get it; of all the things you were offered?'
'It's not like I'm the coffee girl,' Hermione had replied. 'I'll be deputy-head of department. It's a really senior position, especially for someone just out of Hogwarts.'
'You sound like Percy,' Ginny had muttered; Harry had sniggered into his teacup.
'Then why not take the liaison job for Kingsley?' Ron had asked.
'I did think about it,' said Hermione, 'but really, the only time we tell the Prime Minister anything is when something bad's happened, and I want to do more than that. Something important, and this way, I'll be able to continue my work with S.P.E.W.'
'Fair enough,' Ron had sighed, rolling his eyes.
Ron put his quill down on his desk. 'First of all,' he said, 'Hermione's not my missus; she's my girlfriend. Secondly, we're not exactly working together, are we? We're on Level Two, and she'll be on Level Four. We'll probably only see each other at lunch.'
'Don't be so sure,' said Fiona Wetlock, 'my husband works all the way down on Level Seven, but I still bump into him three or four times a day.'
Ron looked taken aback. 'Three or four times?'
'Yep – and that's on a slow day.'
'Hey,' said Savage, 'at least you're not living together yet; you'll still have some time apart.'
'Actually,' said Harry, 'Hermione and Ginny moved in with us three weeks ago.'
'Oh,' said Savage, looking down at his shoes. 'Well, good luck mate.' He gave Ron an encouraging pat on the shoulder.
'Ignore them, Ron,' said Neville. 'It's not like Hermione's – well – Lavender.'
Ron snorted a laugh, but before he could reply, Harry had jumped up excitedly.
'It's from her!' he exclaimed, holding up the letter.
'What is?' asked Ron.
'This.'
'That?'
'Yes, this; it's from her.'
'Who's her?'
'Madame Maxime.'
'Oh,' said Ron, jumping up too. 'Her. What's it say?'
Harry passed him the letter so he could read it for himself.
Harry,
My apologies; I did not realise your owls would be unable to reach me while I was away, but it seems your phoenix has.
I am to stay at the Leaky Cauldron on Friday evening on my way back to the Academy. I would be happy to meet with you there.
Regards,
Olympe Maxime
'Did you read that with a French accent in your head?' asked Ron.
'Yep,' said Harry. 'You?'
'Yep.'
They finished work at six o'clock when the nightshift arrived, said goodbye to the others, and took the floo network back to Grimmauld Place.
'We're home,' Harry called out.
'About time too,' said Ginny, entering the kitchen while trying to put her earrings in. 'Hurry up and change; we're ready to go.'
Harry and Ron did as they were told, and trundled off up the stairs to put on their smart muggle clothes. The girls had decided that to celebrate Hermione's new job they should all go for a meal, and Hermione had chosen a muggle restaurant in the West End.
'This is so weird,' said Ron, looking at himself in the mirror. 'Why's it all one colour?'
'It's a suit, Ron,' said Harry. 'It's supposed to be one colour.'
'I think you look very handsome,' said Hermione. Ron's ears went pink.
A few minutes later, after Ron had gone through a severe disagreement with his tie (ultimately deciding that it was impossible to get the knot right, and subsequently set it alight with his wand), they were ready to leave, the girls in cocktail dresses, and the boys in their suits.
'Right, come on,' said Hermione, leading them towards the front door.
'Aren't we taking the floo?' said Ron.
'It's a muggle restaurant, Ron,' said Ginny. 'Even if it was connected to the network, how do you think the muggles would react to four people bursting out of the fireplace?'
'I was only asking,' Ron muttered.
They stepped out into the street, and Hermione held her right hand up in the air. There was a distant sound of an exhaust backfiring, and Ron winced. With a loud bang, the violently purple, triple-decker, Knight Bus screeched to a halt in-front of them. A familiar man – thin, slightly pimpled, and jug-earred – leapt down on to the pavement.
'Welcome to the...' he began, but he was cut off by Ron.
'Do we have to?' he asked Hermione. 'You know I can't bear this thing.'
Stan Shunpike, though slightly surprised to have been so rudely interrupted, eyed his new patrons, eventually settling on Harry.
'Billowin' bowtruckles,' he said, 'if it ain't 'Arry Potter.'
'Hello Stan,' said Harry, 'How're you?'
'Keepin' well, fanks, keepin' well,' Stan replied. 'Four of you, is it? That'll be two galleons, ten sickles.'
Harry paid for everyone, and they got on the bus. The bottom deck had the familiar beds in place; at the front, a wizard was sat up in one, sipping hot chocolate and wearing striped pyjama. Two beds from him was a sleeping witch, whose hat seemed to have fallen over her face while the bus was in transit. Harry and Ron glanced at each other, eyebrows raised.
'Oh yeah, sorry,' said Stan, 'shudda said; there's still armchairs out upstairs. Where are you all off to?'
'Covent Garden, please,' said Hermione.
'Hey, we've got a muggle stop, Ern. Can't remember the last time we 'ad one o'them. I was wonderin' why you were wearin' them funny clothes.'
They made their way to the top deck, and Harry, Hermione, and Ginny took their seats, but Ron remained standing; eying his with suspicion.
'What's wrong?' asked Hermione.
'Last time I was on this thing my chair fell over,' he said.
'Oh, I can fix that,' she replied, withdrawing her wand, and pointing it at the chair legs. 'Agglutino.' She repeated this spell on each of their seats.
'What was that?' asked Harry.
'Temporary sticking charm,' she replied. 'Just remind me to remove them before we get off.'
'All ready up there?' Stan shouted up the stairs.
'Yes,' Harry shouted back.
BANG!
They were off, Harry was thrown back into his seat as the bus lurched forward. He glanced out of his window, and saw that they were dashing through the Lake District.
'Looks like we're taking the scenic route,' he said to Ginny. She half smiled at him, but he could see she had a tight grip on her chair's arms, and looked as though it was taking all her efforts not to throw up.
After making stops in Aberdeen, Taunton, Lincoln, and Aberglaslyn, the bus screeched to a halt in Covent Garden. The four of them staggered down the stairs to get off, each looking like they'd been struck with a jelly-legs jinx. Once they'd regained their balance, Hermione led them over the road, and into the restaurant.
They were seated by the waitress, and each handed a copy of the menu. A few minutes later, when the waitress came back to take their orders, Ron, having not recognised anything on the menu, just pointed to something at random and asked for that. When their food eventually came, he waited until the waitress was out of ear shot, before asking, 'What's this I've ordered?'
'That's a pizza, Ron,' Hermione sighed. 'Honestly Harry, I can't believe the two of you have been living together for a year, and you still haven't had a pizza.'
'I've got no muggle money, have I?' Harry whispered. 'Gringotts still won't let me in. Besides, Kreacher's been preparing most of our meals.' Hermione frowned slightly, when Harry mentioned the house elf, but she didn't pass comment.
'Have you got some muggle money?' asked Ron, glancing at her, and trying to keep his voice down.
'Yes,' she replied, 'believe it or not, Ginny and I plan ahead.'
Ginny had picked up her fork, and cut into the nearest corner of her dish.
'Yours is a lasagne, by the way,' Harry told her. She smiled at him, bemused.
'I've had lasagne before,' she said.
'Have you?'
'Yeah, on holiday last year, remember?'
'Oh yeah,' said Harry, nostalgically, 'at that place by the beach; I'd forgotten about that.'
'Wow,' said Ron, a little too loudly. He had just taken a bite of his pizza, and the people at the next table stared over at him.
'Not so loud,' Harry muttered.
'Sorry,' Ron whispered, 'it's just – this is incredible.'
'I'm glad you like it,' said Hermione. 'Now, Gin, how's training going?'
They talked for a few hours, about Ginny's Quidditch training (being careful not to mention words like "flying" or "broomsticks" too loudly), laughing about old stories from school, or talking about work. Hermione was especially pleased to hear that Harry was to meet up with Madame Maxime at the end of the week ('that's excellent news; now we might actually learn something about Legion.'). Eventually, the waitress came back over.
'Can I get you anything else?' she asked.
'Yes,' said Harry. 'Four glasses of champagne, please.'
The waitress nodded, disappeared into the kitchen, and came back a few minutes later with four glasses.
'What's this for?' asked Ron.
'And how come I'm the one paying for it?' asked Hermione, with a grin.
Harry laughed. 'It's for making a toast,' he said, 'and I'll pay you back.'
'Oh, lovely,' said Ginny, picking up her glass. 'What're we drinking to?'
'To old friends and new beginnings,' said Harry, raising his own. The others smiled.
'Old friends and new beginnings,' they repeated, clinking their glasses together.
'Thanks Harry,' said Hermione, smiling at him. 'I'll just go and pay, and then we can go.'
'Fine,' said Ron, lowering his voice, 'but can we please Disapparate home? I don't think my stomach can take another bus trip.'
x x x
The following morning, Harry woke up, and reached his hand across the bed to cuddle Ginny. To his surprise however, he found that her side of the bed was empty. He got up, put on his dressing gown, and went down to the kitchen.
'Oh,' he said, as he entered. 'I take it I'm the last one up then.'
Both Ron and Hermione were already dressed for work, and sat eating eggs and bacon; Ginny was sitting at the end of the table, in her dressing gown, sipping tea from a mug.
'Morning,' she yawned.
'How come you're up so early?' he replied. 'I thought you weren't training 'til half ten today?'
'I'm not, but I've got to pop into Madam Malkin's and have my Quidditch robes re-hemmed.'
'Oh yeah, you told me the other day.'
'Tea, Harry?' asked Hermione.
'Please.'
At five minutes to nine, Harry, Ron and Hermione said goodbye to Ginny, and stepped into the fireplace one by one, disappearing in a burst of green flame. They re-emerged from the fireplaces in the Atrium corridor, and walked past the fountain together.
'Can you remember the last time we were here together,' asked Ron.
'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Hopefully we won't get chased out of the building this time.'
They reached the golden-gated lifts, and Harry gave Hermione a hug. 'Have a good day,' he said, 'and remember: you don't have to change the whole world before lunch.'
She smiled, and thanked him, before receiving another hug from Ron. He didn't say anything, but smiled and took a deep-breath through his nose; his eyes wide and brows raised. She smiled back, and gave him a kiss.
'I'll see you later,' she said to them both. She stepped into a vacant lift compartment, pressed the button for her floor, and turned back to face them. 'Work hard.'
The lift lurched backwards, whisking her away to level four. Harry and Ron stepped into their own compartment, and pressed the button marked "2".
They didn't see Hermione for the rest of the morning, and she sent a note just before lunch to say she was busy and wouldn't be able to meet them. However, word of her impact swept through the Ministry.
At eleven o'clock, Neville came into the office to tell them that Hermione had ordered a departmental study on the treatment of British house-elves. At half-past one, she had sent Mr Weasley a memo proposing he close a legal loop-hole she'd found that allowed the trading of imported dragon eggs in Scotland. By quarter-to four, she had drafted a new law safeguarding Hippogriffs against execution (specifically in cases where they had lashed out after being verbally or physically provoked).
'What on earth is she going to do tomorrow?' asked Ron.
'I don't know,' said Harry. 'Turn water into wine?'
'We can all do that,' Ron tutted. 'That's third year transfiguration, that is.'
'No, you're missing the point...'
At five o'clock, Harry and Ron packed up their things, left the office, and took a lift back to the Atrium, where they'd agreed to meet Hermione. However, when they got there, Hermione wasn't alone. Instead, she was joined by Kingsley Shacklebolt, and two elderly wizards that Harry didn't recognise.
'Really Minister, I must insist,' said the first man.
'This sort of thing is most unheard of,' said the second.
'Now now gentlemen,' said Kingsley, 'I'm sure Miss Granger's proposals are good-willed.'
'It's an outrage!' the second man exclaimed.
'Quite right,' said the first man. 'What business is it of yours, or mine for that matter, how someone wishes to make use of their own house-elf?'
'This isn't about "making use" of them,' said Hermione, hotly, 'it's about cruelty to living creatures.'
'Nonsense,' snapped the first man. 'It's about a muggle-born witch not liking the way things have been done for centuries.'
Hermione twitched, as though about to grab her wand to hex the old man, but Kingsley held his arm out in front of her.
'Silvester, I won't have you speaking to my employees likes that,' he said. His voice was calm, but strict, and Silvester and his associate seemed quite surprised that the conversation had suddenly turned against them. 'If you have an objection to a Ministry proposal, I will ask you to take it through the proper channels, rather than accosting individual Ministry members.'
'Oh we have,' said the second man. 'We have a hearing booked for Wednesday afternoon.'
'Then we shall see you there, Edgar,' said Kingsley. 'In the meantime, I'll ask you to leave the Ministry.'
'Very well,' snapped Edgar. 'Good day Minister. Come along Sylvester.'
The two gentlemen left, and Harry and Ron hurried over to Hermione and Kingsley.
'What was all that about?' asked Ron.
'The Traditional Wizarding Values Alliance,' Hermione spat.
'The what?' asked Harry.
'They're a group of elderly witches and wizards,' said Ron. 'They – er – don't like change. Especially when it depowers the old pure-blood families.'
'They sound like the Death Eaters,' said Harry, shocked.
'They're not quite that bad,' said Hermione, 'but they're not far off.'
'Come now, Hermione,' said Kingsley, 'they're just stuck in their ways. Our job is to show them that not everything's so perfect as it is. As for those two – well – Silvester Horton's always been difficult; his grandfather Horatio used to be Minister for Magic, so Silvester believes he's entitled to walk around the Ministry like he owns the place.'
'Sounds like Malfoy,' said Harry.
'As for Edgar Pepperidge,' said Kingsley, 'he's the personification of old fashioned. After the invention of the Wolfsbane potion, Pepperidge was a staunch opponent to the ban on Werewolf Hunting – claimed it would lead to a "werewolf in every home".'
'Idiot,' Ron muttered. He turned to Hermione. 'So what's their problem with you?'
'They don't like my elfish welfare proposals,' said Hermione. 'If it passes, people would have to take better care of their elves, and Horton and Pepperidge think it would be "an unreasonable increase to living costs".'
'Idiots,' Ron repeated. 'We look after Kreacher; make sure he's got food and a bed. Doesn't cost us that much, does it?'
'While I'm sure that's true,' said Kingsley, 'you have to bear in mind that a lot of families who own house-elves wouldn't even think to feed theirs. They'd think any gold spent on an elf would be a waste.'
'Well, we'll come to the hearing,' said Harry, decisively.
'Yeah,' Ron agreed, 'help make you're case.'
Hermione smiled, and flung her arms around him. 'Thank-you-thank-you-thank-you,' she garbled, hugging Harry as well. 'Right, I've got to go and get some books from my office, to help build my argument. Go on without me; I'll see you at home.'
x x x
On Wednesday afternoon, a woman with greying brown hair and beedy eyes picked up a gavel, and banged it on her desk. 'I now call this hearing to order,' she said. 'For those of you that don't know me, I'm Rosalyn Scamander; head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures – I'll be chairing this hearing today. We're here to discuss whether or not the Ministry ought to proceed with plans for elfish welfare reforms, as proposed by my department.'
They were in the smallest courtroom, but it was still quite full. Aside from Madam Scamander, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Mr Horton & Mr Pepperidge, there were also eleven members of the Wizengamot present who were to decide the fate of Hermione's proposals.
'Miss Granger,' said Madam Scamander, 'you drew up these proposals; we have them here. Your plans would make it mandatory to offer payment to house-elves, should they want it; would provide mandatory annual health checks at St Mungo's for all house-elves; and would officially outlaw all forms of physical and verbal abuse towards elf-kind by wand carriers. Is this correct?'
'Yes, Madam Chairwoman,' Hermione replied.
'Do you have anything you wish to add by way of an opening statement?'
'Yes, thank you.' Hermione got to her feet. She, Ron and Harry were sat behind a small desk, looking up at Madam Scamander and the members of the Wizengamot. Messrs Horton and Pepperidge were seated at an adjacent table, looking irritable. 'Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you, is it right for us to take without giving anything in return? Is it right for us to enslave an entire race, just because they're willing to serve? Is it right for us to care less about their welfare than we would the family owl? I say that it's not. We should care about these creatures; if they enjoy the work, then that's all very well, but that doesn't mean they shouldn't be protected from harm, by law. That is what my proposals are for.'
She sat back down, and Ron patted her arm, encouragingly.
'Thank you, Miss Granger,' said Madam Scamander. 'Mr Pepperidge, do you have a statement on behalf of the T.W.V.A?'
'I do indeed,' said Mr Pepperidge. He got to his feet and walked round to the front of the desk. As he spoke, he paced up and down before the jurors. 'House-elves are, and always have been, our willing servants. They're content with their living conditions; insulted by the mere suggestions of clothes, and certainly not asking for payment. The Ministry should not waste its limited resources on these proposals, especially when no-one is asking for them – least of all the house-elves.'
'Is that so?' said Madam Scamander. The tone of her voice suggested she was humouring him, and Mr Pepperidge could tell.
'In case there were any doubts about this,' he continued, 'we have brought a house-elf here today to provide a testimony. May we proceed?'
'By all means,' Madam Scamander replied.
Mr Pepperidge turned to the guard standing at the hearing room door. 'Bring in the house-elf, please.'
The door opened, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione gasped. Walking in, wearing a skirt, blouse, and matching blue hat was Winky. Her tennis ball-sized eyes were bloodshot, and she seemed to be struggling to walk in a straight line. Despite this, she did seem to be in a slightly better condition than she had once been. Mr Pepperidge placed a small, three-legged stool in the middle of the floor, and indicated for Winky to sit down.
'What is your name, please, Miss Elf?' asked Madam Scamander.
'Winky,' she replied.
'I see you're wearing clothes, Winky. May I ask who your old masters were?'
'Winky worked for the Crouches,' she squeaked, with a hiccough, 'like her mother before her, and her mother before that.'
'She was freed around five years ago, Madam Chairwoman,' said Mr Horton.
'And now?'
'Winky was taken in at Hogwarts,' she said. 'Winky's friend Dobby asked Professor Dumbledore to give Winky a job.'
'Winky,' said Hermione, kindly, 'can you tell us why you were freed?'
Winky's bottom lip trembled, and tears started to well up in her eyes. She jumped up from her stool, ran across the room, and started banging her head against the wall. Harry and Ron both leapt to their feet, and pulled her away.
'It's ok, Winky,' Harry said, 'you don't need to do that.'
'Thank you, Harry Potter, sir,' said Winky, timidly.
'Would it be ok if we explain why you were freed?' asked Ron. 'Then you'd just have to confirm what we say.'
Winky thought for a moment, and then nodded slowly. Harry, Ron and Hermione started to explain Winky's story; how she'd been made to guard Barty Crouch Junior; how Crouch Senior had panicked after she'd been found under the Dark Mark, and how he'd freed her as punishment for not keeping his son under control; how she had been so traumatised by the experience that she had taken to drowning her sorrows in butterbeer.
'Is that correct, Winky?' asked Madam Scamander. Winky nodded again, and tried to make another run at the wall. This time though, Harry was ready, and pulled her away before she got there. 'Well, that sounds like Mr Crouch treated you very unfairly.'
'Madam Chairwoman?' said Mr Horton. 'May I ask the elf some questions?'
'If you must.'
Mr Horton got to his feet as well, and crouched down beside the elf, so that he could look her in the eye. 'Winky, why is it that you feel the need to drink so much?'
'Winky feels – ashamed, sir.'
'Ashamed, you say? Why would that be? Surely you shouldn't feel ashamed if you were treated badly by your former master.'
Winky hiccoughed again. 'Winky failed Mr Crouch. Winky failed to look after Master Barty.'
'No!' Hermione exclaimed.
Mr Horton returned himself to his full height. 'This house-elf admits she drinks, not because she was treated poorly, but because she failed her master. It's guilt, not torment.'
'Hey! That's not fair,' said Ron. 'You're twisting her words.'
'I'm just repeating what I heard, wouldn't you agree, Madam Chairwoman?'
Madam Scamander sighed. 'I'm afraid I would, Mr Horton.'
'But Winky shouldn't have been responsible for Barty Crouch Junior; he was supposed to be in Azkaban. Mr Crouch Senior gave her a job she couldn't possibly carry out.'
'Do you own a house-elf, Miss Granger?' asked Mr Pepperidge.
'Well, no, but...'
'Then how can your opinion be taken into account? You could be biased against families that do.'
'I own one,' said Harry, firmly.
'You do?' Mr Pepperidge replied, clearly unsettled by this news.
'Yes, I inherited him from my Godfather.'
'And would you pay him, if this law passed?' asked Horton.
'If he asked me to, certainly.'
'If he asked you to!' scoffed Mr Pepperidge. 'It's easy to say when you don't have to, isn't it?'
'I've already given him a locket,' said Harry. 'It was a Black family heirloom; it belonged to his old master, and I let him have it as a memento.'
Mr Horton and Mr Pepperidge looked stunned; Hermione was beaming at Harry.
'Tell me Mr Potter,' said Madam Scamander. 'Do you look after your elf? Is it healthy?'
'Yes, he is.'
'Has he ever suffered any physical or verbal abuse?'
'Not from me,' said Harry. 'He did from former masters.'
'And you'd really be willing to pay him, if he asked to be?'
'Yes, but in the meantime, we've given him an elf-sized bed; we make sure he has food, and we don't ask him to do anything other than cook and clean.'
'Well, I think we've heard enough,' said Madam Scamander. 'Members of the Wizengamot, I think this is the time for you to make your decision.'
x x x
'I can't believe we lost,' said Hermione, sounding thoroughly deflated. She was sitting in the Ministry canteen, drinking tea with Harry, Ron, and Madam Scamander.
'Yeah, I thought we'd made a really strong case,' said Ron.
'Don't worry about it too much, Hermione,' said Madam Scamander. 'We can't change the world over night. Many of those jurors were from old wizarding families, and probably have house-elves of their own. What's important is that you stood up for what you believe in. And we can try again in a month or so; you've definitely convinced me it's worth pursuing. We'll get 'em next time.'
'Thank you, Rosalyn,' said Hermione.
'Besides, you've still had a brilliant first couple of days in my book. Passing two proposals in half a week is excellent.'
Hermione smiled, and sipped her tea.
Mr Pepperidge and Mr Horton entered the canteen, and helped themselves to tea. Mr Pepperidge looked over to the table where Harry and the others were sitting, and caught Hermione's eye.
'Better luck next time,' he sneered. The edges of Mr Horton's lips curled, and the two men picked up their tea cups and left. Hermione glared after them.
Later that evening, when they got home, Harry offered Kreacher the night off (which he refused, and instead started making them a chicken pie), and went into the drawing room. Ariana cooed on her stand.
'Hello,' said Harry, stroking the phoenix's stomach. 'How was your day?'
The phoenix flapped her way from her stand to the coffee table, and pecked at an envelope with Harry's name on it.
'Did you bring me this?' Harry asked. Ariana cooed again. Harry opened the envelope, and pulled out the letter inside.
Harry,
I have arrived in London early, and will be staying at the Leaky Cauldron tonight.
I apologise for changing my plans, but would be happy to meet with you this evening at seven o'clock.
Regards,
Olympe Maxime
Harry checked his watch, and realised that it was ten minutes to seven. He dashed out into the hallway, and grabbed his cloak.
'I'm going out,' he shouted.
Ginny appeared at the kitchen door. 'You've only just got back,' she said.
'I know, but Madame Maxime is in London tonight, and wants to meet me in ten minutes.'
'Oh, ok; we'll save your dinner.'
'Thanks.'
Harry dashed out the door, realised he'd forgotten his wand, and dashed back in.
'Where did I put my...?'
'Here,' said Ginny, holding it up.
'Thanks,' he said, planting a quick kiss on her nose. 'See you in a bit.'
Once outside, he Disapparated, reappearing outside the Leaky Cauldron.
'Ah, Mr Potter,' said Tom, from behind the bar. 'You must be here to see Madame Maxime.'
'That's right,' said Harry.
'Follow me, follow me.'
Tom led Harry out behind the bar to the private parlour he had once shared with Cornelius Fudge. Tom opened the door, and Harry's eye was immediately drawn to the very tall woman sitting beside the empty fireplace.
'Ah! 'Arry!' said Madame Maxime, 'I 'ave been waiting. I must offer my apologeez for changing my plans.'
'That's ok,' said Harry. 'Thank you, Tom.'
'Would you like a drink, Mr Potter?'
'Butterbeer would be fine, thank you.'
As Tom bowed his way out of the room, Harry sat down in the empty chair across from Madame Maxime.
'So, I believe I know why you are 'ere,' she said.
'I want to know what you can tell me about The Legion of the Lost Ones,' said Harry. 'What do you know about her?'
'I do not know much, but what leetle I know, I will tell you.'
The parlour door reopened, and Tom came in with a large glass of butterbeer, placed it on the table beside Harry, and bowed his way back out again.
'Start at the beginning,' said Harry. 'Who is she?'
'Ah,' said Madame Maxime. She looked saddened by the question. 'I fear zat eez a terrible thing to answer. Her name was once Pascalle Chevalier; she was once a student at ze academy – many, many years ago.'
'Wait – Chevalier – I've heard that name before.'
'You 'ave probably 'eard of 'er niece, Colette.'
'You mean the girl who died last summer? She was Legion's niece?'
'I fear eet eez worse zan zat,' Madame Maxime continued. 'We believe eet was Legion who killed 'er.'
Harry's mouth fell open in shock; his stomach had just turned. He put his butterbeer back down on the table without taking a sip.
'Why would she do that?'
'My teachers and I 'ave come up with a theory, though we cannot be sure; we believe ze spell zat allows 'er to consume others can only be activated by ze murder of a blood descendant.'
'Is that some kind of ancient, dark magic?' Harry asked. He was trying not to think about it too much, as the very idea was disturbing.
'Actually, we think zat Legion may 'ave invented ze spell 'erself.'
'Yeah,' said Harry, thinking carefully. 'That's what she told me. She said she'd done what the Dark Lord hadn't; created renewable immortality – that's why no-one's seen this kind of magic before.' Harry was starting to get excited now; finally they were starting to solve the mystery, but then a thought occurred to him which burst his bubble. 'How do you defend against a brand new spell?'
'Zat, 'Arry, eez exactly ze problem.'
