thanks Guest, hope you continue to enjoy day by day with the chapter updates!
Chapter 14
Narcissa smiled austerely at the children as she joined them on their run next morning.
"I have secured Fabian Prewett as my partner for the ball," she said, with satisfaction.
"Shall Tuney do your hair?" asked Lily. "She's ever so good at it."
"I was thinking of being a hairdresser before I had the chance to be a witch," said Petunia.
"It's a menial position, though I'd be delighted to accept," said Narcissa, hoping the child knew what she was doing. "You can do much better for yourself, you know."
"Yes, but in the muggle world we were in a rotten primary school and hadn't got a cat's chance in hell of getting into the grammar school*, and without getting into a grammar school you can kiss goodbye to the chances of a place in university," said Petunia. "And we're not badly off, but where you live determines which school you go to, and it's the sort of school where the teachers have nervous breakdowns and bullies don't get in trouble because their dads would beat up the headmaster."
"That's horrible! I didn't know muggles lived in such conditions," said Narcissa.
"Oh, it's not about being a muggle, it's about being stuck in a rotten neighbourhood," said Petunia.
"It's a rough place, Narcissa," said Severus. "Muggles have a range of wealth and privilege the same as wizarding folk, and the Evans family is way better off than my father. Now that's partly because he's a drunken bum who loses jobs more frequently than he gets them, but he's not alone. There aren't many jobs any more, factories are closing, and machines are replacing people. Muggles have almost outsmarted themselves in making clever machines, because clever machines replace stupid or ill-educated people, and that causes all kinds of social problems. And it shows in poor neighbourhoods. And don't ask me why my mother married my father because I don't know, and I expect she must have had a good reason at the time, but I'll tell you something else. There are families as poor as mine was, but the kids are happier than you are, because what they lack in things, they have love in abundance."
"Like Andi and her Ted," said Narcissa longingly.
Severus shrugged.
"So long as they don't find themselves quarrelling because their backgrounds are so different," he said. "I hope they can get on, but my mum and dad must have loved each other once."
"At least Ted is a wizard, just muggleborn," said Narcissa.
"Yes, that should help," said Severus. "He's not going to beat her for 'funny business' like dad did to mum."
"And you?" Narcissa asked shrewdly.
Severus shrugged.
"And me," he said. "But that's over. My grandfather is strict but he's not harsh. He'll only beat me if he thinks I need it, and not hard or many strokes. I don't have to worry if I'm going to drown in vomit while I'm unconscious or anything like that."
Narcissa gasped, less at the revelation that this was something the little boy had once had to worry about than at the matter of fact way in which he said it, showing it to be something that had happened more than once. She smiled to see Lily's hand slipping into that of the self-contained little boy. And now she knew that their parents were not brutal or ignorant, because of the discussions about muggles at the weekends; and she knew that Mr. Evans wanted to better himself and was doing qualifications by mail, in order to be able to take a better job, one for which his brains were suited. And there was nothing stupid about Petunia or Lily, so their parents must be as clever.
"I wonder," said Narcissa, "whether there are wizarding folk who don't have the money to send their children to Hogwarts, whose children grow up lacking the education they ought to have, and wasting good brains?"
"My mother worked all the hours she could to scrimp and save so I could go to Hogwarts, and she put it into a wizarding account so Dad couldn't touch it," said Severus. "Otherwise I'd have been one of them, if I hadn't managed to be sponsored by my grandfather. I think Mum also managed to hold onto some monies she was left and didn't ever touch that. It's not tremendously expensive to go to Hogwarts, not like some of the really prestigious muggle schools, but it's more than someone like … like the driver of the Knight Bus could afford."
"Arnold Shunpike isn't much hand at magic though, and he's not what you might call clever," said Narcissa. "But I suppose there are factory workers in the wizarding world, people who make brooms and potioneering kit and things. I … I suppose some of them are goblins, but maybe I'm wrong there."
"Maybe we should poke around more, and find out," said James.
"Our parents won't let us," said Sirius.
"It's people like me as well," said Peter. "I have a trust fund which pays for me to come here, but without that, my dad being dead, and my ma being sick, I'd be having to work for a living, running errands for shops, or gathering potion ingredients, if I knew enough, or working in a factory because a child's fingers like a goblin's are more nimble. We were a good family once, and I deserve a good education, and I'm glad the fund is there."
"And my family works in the muggle world to hide me," said Remus. "And in the muggle world they have no qualifications, or the knowledge of how to get them. And so they have low paid jobs, and they've sacrificed a lot to send me here, and the headmaster has bent over backwards to allow me to come here, so I mean to do as well as I can."
"Well, I shall talk to Fabian about it, and see what he knows," said Narcissa.
Term was winding up and the Marauders were looking forward to the holidays, especially Remus. The month of December 1971 was a blue moon month, with two full moons, and he would be at home for the second, and he wanted to show his parents what his friend had done for him. Sirius was not sure if he was looking forward to the holidays or not, but at least his letters from his father had been quite cordial since he had been following Severus' advice. James loved his parents in an uncomplicated way and was looking forward to being the most important member of his household again, instead of being just one of the Marauders. Peter was both looking forward to seeing his much loved mother, and dreading having to be cheerful while his heart was breaking over her illness. Lily and Petunia were excitedly anticipating telling their parents all about it, Charity was hoping that her parents would find all she had learned about muggles as exciting as she did, and Narcissa was hoping to be able to talk very fast about Fabian. Fabian had no steady girlfriend and was willing to consider a marriage based on friendship, if they managed to maintain that.
And Severus was looking forward to his grandfather's library, and the continuing education in the sort of things Hogwarts did not teach, and was hoping that his mother had settled in and would not be likely to do or say anything embarrassing.
He wondered why his grandfather's carriage had turned up on the day of the ball.
"I'm afraid you got the day wrong, Mr. Prince," said Albus Dumbledore. "The end of term is tomorrow. I assume you've come to collect Severus?"
"To assume makes an ass of u and me," quoted Tiberius Prince. "I came to see one Argus Filch, as it happens; my son has made friends with him and asked me to see what I could do to awaken the magic depressed by him being born as a squib."
"Is that possible?"
"Evidently, or I wouldn't be here," snapped Prince. "Albus, you were an arrogant little sod at school and time hasn't improved you. You don't know everything, and it doesn't help that however well-meaning you are, you make decisions without knowing all the facts. I'll be seeing Remus Lupin as well, since I've been able to help Severus to minimise the ill effects of his condition; I want to see if it's possible to undertake a ritual to remove it altogether."
"And what do you mean by his 'condition'?" asked Albus.
"Albus, the boy is a werewolf, as all his friends know. You surely had noticed that the … Marauders, I think they call themselves … have been covering for him, and that lately he has not been as ill as one might expect?"
"I … I had not realised he had confided his condition to them. I forbade him to do so."
"He didn't; one of the boys knew the revellaspell when they were undoing him from a bully's curses, as I understand."
"Ah, I see. He was very lucky to fall in with a group who did not vilify him then," Dumbledore said.
"Yes, and a bunch of kids too ambitious not to think about cures," said Tiberius. "Did you hope to isolate him and be his only friend, Albus? So he'd be ripe to spy for you in Voldemort's organisation? If you want a spy you should ask for an adult."
"And who would be likely to spy for me? Most of those who stand against him are not good at dissembling. It crossed my mind, I confess, that he would have learned to be secretive and hide the greater part of himself. The same way muggles tended to recruit homosexuals as spies when it was illegal in their society, because they knew how to be secretive."
"I'd spy on the little creep to give my grandson the chance to grow up free," said Tiberius. "I know he's a blood liar; Severus wrote to me that he's a half-blood called Tom Riddle."
"How did he find that out?" Dumbledore was startled.
Tiberius grinned.
"He's a clever boy is my grandson, or he wouldn't have figured out how to nullify many of the effects of being a werewolf. I suggested a couple of extra runes to use."
"Ah, yes, he is talented in rune use; I would not have thought anyone could get as much out of runes as he has managed, even if some of the effects were decidedly … scatological."
"No, Albus, you always preferred to throw your power at a problem, it being considerable, and your transfigurational skills being spectacular. I prefer the quiet, subtle path, and though I resent the rumours you spread about me using demonology, I forgive that if you truly have an organisation capable of opposing Riddle. I have reason to suppose he might well have dabbled in demonology as well as necromancy and in that case, I might be your last best hope. Though if you do want me to spy, I may have to raise small demons for him, simply because you arranged for that to be my reputation. Your teenage malice came back to bite you." He gave a wolfish grin.
"I don't like that, but you are right, and I apologise for the teenage rivalry that led me to spread rumours," said Albus, stiffly. "But I suppose you would limit what you did."
"Oh, I could raise something weak and jam it into a spectacular looking pseudobody because I have the imagination to build something like that and keep it moving with the spirit inside it, which is what the trick is of demonology. Those of the fae who have little in the way of substance will do a lot to get a body, even a temporary and imaginary one. They hope always that the demonologist who raises them will lose control and then they can have his body instead. This is one reason I never have felt an urge to dabble in demonology; you have to be a nutter to want to try to make pacts with powerful and inimical beings. I'm not nice, but I've never been a nutter."
"No, I … can say that you are not insane, Tiberius. Well! I will take you to meet Argus Filch. May I observe your attempts to awaken magic in him?"
"Certainly, Albus. It won't mean a lot to you, but you are welcome to watch. If you'd paid more attention in Ancient Runes you'd be able to follow what I do, but then, you dropped it when you had enough to read ancient texts, which is all you use it for, and I left NEWTs a long way behind before I even completed my course. As I suspect Severus will."
"His understanding of hieroglyphs was certainly impressive. Summoning butterflies indeed!" Dumbledore could not refrain from smiling at the thought. "He's a genius at potion making too, according to Horace."
"Good, my family has always favoured the subtle path," grunted Tiberius. Which is why, he reflected, Eileen was such a hop out o' kin and her rebellion so unexpected and blatant, throwing her father into uncharacteristic bluntness back in disowning her. Eileen would learn to be a Prince again. And Severus already knew.
888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888
* Most grammar schools disappeared in the 1970s but were certainly going strong in 1971 where one had to pass the 'eleven plus' exam.