Granger, we need to talk
Chapter 26
If for some silly reason, you think my writing skills
are making me money, you are sadly mistaken.
All recognizable characters and places are the intellectual
property of JK Rowling and all those other large corps.
For all those who caught the ginormous SoG foul-up in the original posting of Chapter 25, Thank You. I did a hasty patch and cover-up that is awkward but works.
It took a while to see I had fouled up as my dumb phone has problems signing in to read reviews.
The chapter was reposted when I was in a WiFi area for a day. The repost was made in haste with virtually no editing. Was within 2% of running out of power.
Can there be a rabbit hole be under the sea?
"Our large secret is that my family has been the Britannia supplier of potion base infusion for eight hundred years. We . . "
"Oh," Luna exclaimed, bouncing in her seat and clapping her hands together. "So you are the people who know how to catch and milk the Razorfin Plimpie's! Oh, this is wonderful!"
All colour drained from Lord Bulstrode's face.
Harry desperately wanted to face palm. He just had a Hermione gaff when she interjected herself into the Lord Bulstrode narrative and now Luna had blown up another protocol cauldron.
Instead, he watched Lord Bulstrode as the realization hit him that his long kept, death before dishonour secret was something known to a waif-like seventeen year old girl. He was not alone in staring in shock at the wide-eyed innocent looking blonde.
Luna, noticing everyone was staring at her piped up again. "I'm sorry, but Razorfin Plimpies are considered a myth or legend by many magizoologists. Therefor, they are ignored, especially because no one knows why they would be useful. But during our travels around the world, father and I heard occasional whispers about some fish that resembled the fabled Razorfin Plimpie," here she looked directly at Lord Bustrode, "and very large hints of what they might be used for."
Lord Bulstrode looked Bombarda shocked. His son and Millicent both looked stricken. The whole family was looking as though they could not get their breath.
Everyone waited politely while the Bulstrodes regained part of their composure.
That silence lasted until Luna, whom Harry desperately hoped was trying to be helpful, piped up again with, "Did you know the Shamans of the Mongolian Warlords claim their Razorfin Plimpie fluid supply is caught in some extremely treacherous waters off some eastern islands north of Nippon? They wrested control away from the Nippon Empire after the Second Great War."
"But they also claim the harvests are poor because the Empire caught every Razorfin they could when they realized that when Japan would lose their War, the Empire would lose control of the fishing area."
Luna paused in her story for a moment. "There are stories of the Asian potion brewers having trouble keeping their product quality high. I would have thought your family should be better off financially if you are the major supplier of, well you know what, to the world," she finished off her story on a quizzical note.
The Bulstrode family members were all looking decidedly pole axed from information overload Harry figured. While the Bulstrodes were not paying attention, he tried to catch everyone's eye and have them keep silent.
It took almost five minutes for the Bulstrodes to mentally return to the Potter Manor sitting room.
"Lord Potter-Black, we must return home. This new information . . ."
Placing his cup and saucer down, Harry stood and spoke. "Lord Bulstrode, perhaps a walk through the Manor gardens would help. I understand the need to pace off the nervous energy that shocking revelations can create. I must remind you that according to you, your decision making time is short." He idly waved a hand around the room at the attendees. "You cannot keep disappearing from home and we cannot keep leaving the school without people, probably those with ill intention for one or both of us, starting questioning what we are doing."
Harry kept his eyes on Picinicus. He was working hard on a neutral look. At once commanding, without looking arrogant.
The visiting Lord slumped a little. "Your offer has merit, Lord Potter-Black. Perhaps the fresh air will help."
With a gesture, his children rose and accompanied him to the French styled doors that led to the garden. Harry also gestured, but his stopped anyone from following.
Once outside, warming charms were applied as Harry led the Bulstrodes a short distance into the garden.
Harry slipped out his wand and began silently casting with it. "Milord, I have erected a privacy bubble from that statue to that bench and about thirty feet wide along this path. You may discuss anything you want within this space and none except you will hear it."
With a sharp head nod, Harry turned and walked back to the manor. Lord Bulstrode started pacing along the garden path with his children striding hard to keep up with him.
As Harry re-entered the sitting room. He first noticed that even though Luna was now dressed in Luna clothes, she was still quietly bouncing on her chair next to Neville. Hermione was sneaking looks at her with her occasionally seen `Luna is not supposed to be logical' look. Everyone else was looking at him.
Harry sighed. "It is simple. He needs to think again and every sea captain in every book I've read paces on his bridge or his deck when he needs to think."
"Sea captain?" said Ron. "How do you know he is a captain?"
"There are several clues, Ron. When he walks, he has a slight splay-footed roll from balancing on a fishing boat at sea. His arms and shoulders are heavily muscled and his hands are rough and callused from years of hauling in nets and ropes. And last was the pain in his eyes when he spoke of the fishing boat and crew that would never return to port. Outside that door is a man who is terrified his people and a way of life he loves are about to be destroyed."
That little speech had brought everyone's eyes back to Harry, most of their faces showing shock at his words.
Meanwhile out in the garden.
Picinicus and his son had been arguing around in circles for five minutes now. Each becoming more paranoid and bullheaded about their predicament with each sentence.
"Father, may I speak?" forcefully interjected Millicent.
After a nod from his head she continued. "I do not claim to know the Potter-Black's after only three months. But, Lord Potter-Black has vouched for his people to treat our secret as one of his own. And I do know that none of them would ever betray that trust."
On she went. "Lord Potter-Black, Lord Longbottom and OoMD Ron Weasley are probably the three most powerful wands in the school. Granger and Lovegood are two who survived dueling against Bellatrix Lestrange during the Battle." That statement brought looks of amazement and disbelief. "And Greengrass will be trained by the Black Sisters to join them in all things politically influential."
She stopped and took a deep no-looking-back-now breath.
"You could not ask for a more powerful group of people for allies in our world."
The two males looked between each other and Millicent.
Millicent stood tall. "Father, I know letting our secret out is hard. But we really have no choice. Also it sounds as if Lovegood knows what the Razorfins are used for, but not how to use them."
The two men spent a few moments pondering Millicent's words.
"I agree with Millicent, father," said Grenadier. "The storm coming is too powerful for our small, insular world."
Picinicus took a moment to look at him and then embraced his daughter.
"When did you get so wise, Mils?" he asked.
"When you are in a fight to the death and Dark Curses are missing you by inches father, you start praying to any of the gods who will listen that someone will save you from the madness. Harry Potter and his friends did."
With a last embrace, Picinicus turned and said, "Let us go find if the Potter-Blacks will be our allies."
"Lastly father. Now that you have met him, try to drop the Lord-this and Lord-that. Harry Potter has not got an ounce of PureBlood ponce in his body."
They walked back into the manor's sitting room and entered through the doors. Mostly everybody was seated and looking as calm as any other group might look during tea. The exceptions were the bushy haired Granger girl and the Lovegood heiress. Seeing the strained, narrow eyed expressions on their faces, Millicent was willing to bet galleons that Granger had tried to get Lovegood to talk about the `secret' and Lovegood had refused.
Harry stood as the Bulstrodes re-entered the room.
"Lord Potter-Black, I thank you for your courtesies, and wish to continue with our discussion." Lord Bulstrode extended his hand. "My name is Picinicus. My friends call me Pik. My hope is that is how you will address me from now on."
Harry looked at the hand for a moment before reaching out and giving it a greeting shake. "I like to make new friends. My friends call me Harry."
As everyone resumed their seats, Picinicus leaned forward and started. "It is claimed that any story must start at the beginning. In our family's records, that is when a wizard named Burdock Bulstrode was given title to the lands around the Bay of Kitesley in the year 989 for services rendered to a minor, childless Laird. The land has been decent for farming in the uplands and sheep raising on the rougher hill slopes. Fishing was good amongst the reefs and skerries inshore of the larger out islands. Except for the usual sheep and women stealing raids among the clans, life was fairly peaceful and predictable in the coastal hamlet of Groghabste. Slowly, Burdock, his son and grandson managed to build a stone keep with a mot and bailey for protection. And protection was needed for as you know, a small group of wizards may be formidable fighters, but enough arrows and men armed with pointy spears can kill you as fast as a cutting curse."
Bulstrode paused to reach for himself a drink of tea. He decided instead upon the small glass of dark amber brandy that had appeared on his table.
He continued, "My great-greats diaries and journals tell that it took almost a hundred years to discover a mystery in the area."
He leaned forward seeming to hope that his intensity could make understanding easier. "No seaman really wants to go fishing in the storm sick waters of the west Scotland coast in the depth of winter. Yet, sometimes when the harvests were poor and hunger and famine stalked our small village, men had to try the storm raging fury of the Great Northern Ocean. A quiet spot in the violence had been found in the lee of a good sized island about forty miles away with no nearby overfalls or underwater reefs or skerries so a small boat might survive a storm with a chance of making a decent catch."
Again another drink of brandy. "As I said, it took almost a hundred years before my ancestors, who remember, did not want to be fishing at that time of year, realized that the rare occasions when their nets were shredded to string, it was not some unknown sharp rocks tearing the nets. One of the captains realized the net destruction only occurred when fishing under a full moon, and more particularly, the second full moon after the winter solstice."
"Think about it. Dead of winter fishing in boats easily crushed by the frequent winter storms of western Scotland. Fishing at night which is done only by desperate men who want to fill their hold and go home before the sea kills them. And lastly, fishing by the light of the second full moon of the winter solstice. In hindsight, it is not surprising it took so long to realize it was not odd rocks or the place had a curse that was tearing their nets."
"So, what my ancestors had was a mystery. But not an urgent mystery. From then on they just avoided fishing during the second full moon after the Winter Solstice."
Lord Bulstrode leaned back and took another sip of brandy. He looked up. "This is excellent brandy, Harry."
Harry nodded back.
He leaned forward again. "Shortly thereafter, enough gold had been saved to send a likely young lad to learn his magic at the Hogwarts school of Magic. Only rarely did this happen as gold was considered too valuable to waste on `learning magic'. This lad, Arnager Bulstrode, who was the Heir Secondary, returned after seven years and of course became the prime teacher for the rest of the family."
"It were (1) about a dozen years later that by chance a fishing boat that was desperately hoping to ride out a storm the day of the full moon behind the island dropped its anchor to keep itself off the rocks. Shortly, a broken-backed fish floated up and was washed onboard by a wave that almost swamped the boat. As the fish thrashed about, it was cutting everything it touched as though by the sharpest knife. The men particularly noticed this was happening when the lashings holding the fish hold hatch cover were cut and another boarding wave almost sank the boat. One brave man who grabbed the fish to throw it overboard suffered the removal of all the fingers of that hand."
By now his rapt audience was following every word.
"By desperate feats of seamanship, the boat was saved, and the injured, yet dangerous, fish was captured in a stew pot. When the boat managed to stagger back to Grobhaste, young Arnager, considered the most learned man in the village, was summoned to figure out what sort of creature had almost sank an invaluable fishing boat."
"That young man drew a sketch of the fish. It was almost two feet long and while most of the fish looked like a Norwegian cod, the lateral fins stuck out from the sides like bird wings. And those fins were part of the Plimpie's secret. They were as sharp as a cutting curse. They had even deeply scored the inside of the iron stew pot used to capture it. The other discovery he made was that the large pink dome on the top of their heads radiated strong magic. And when he touched it, it squirted some pink fluid out of a hole in the front that he promptly saved in some glass vials."
"Our young man had just detected these things when the fish died and suddenly the fins became like a normal fish fins and the pink dome stopped radiating magic."
Bulstrode stopped to take a swig of brandy as talking like this was thirsty work. He was also wanting the alcohol to dull the gibbering in his head that he was exposing secrets that should have been passed on to heirs and unspoken to anyone else. Only Harry seemed to notice that the brandy level of the glass sank very little before refilling.
Tilitsy seemed to be trying to help Harry and family get the story.
After another sip, Picinicus resumed his tale. "And now Arnager set his mind firmly on the path of discovering just what was this fish that had been brought to him. Anything that could bring gold to his family and their poor village should be pursued. For three years he tried to capture a Razorfin Plimpie, as he called them, alive. After all, when the one he was studying died, the magic disappeared."
"Except for the small samples of the fluid. For some reason they still radiated magic."
"According to his private journals, he first tried analyzing the sample with every bit of magic he knew. And he learned very little except the fluid was very powerful. Powerful enough to keep him from experimenting with it wildly. Then after three years, he noticed the magic power was diminishing. Now becoming desperate, he took his sample and in summer journeyed once again to Hogwarts."
Picinicus stopped and once again Harry's brandy supply took a beating.
"There, he found the Potions teacher of the time, a great-great grand-son of Helga Hufflepuff, who was intrigued by Arnager's tale and became willing to help him. It took the two of them most of a year to understand the secrets of that pink fluid. Returning the following summer, he told the current Laird what he needed to have done to bring wealth to the Bulstrode Family."
"From then on at great risk, and with some loss of life, boats sailed before the second full moon after the winter solstice with orders to somehow capture a Razorfin Plimpie. It took a dozen years, and a lot of gold, before a net, and its lines made of steel chainmail finally captured three of the Plimpies. Using a chainmail glove to hold the Plimpies, the pink fluid was milked into a large vial. As per agreement with Hufflepuff's great-great grand-son, one part in three was sent to Hogwarts for his use. Another part in three was kept for Arnegar's use. The last part was very carefully, very secretively sent to potioneers of repute in the local kingdoms and some even as far away as Aquataine."
"Right or wrong, the Lairds of the next several decades slowly grew the distribution of the `potion base fluid' across the land and into what is now Europe. We now had use of all the fluid collected, due to the death of the Hogwarts potion teacher. They used many middlemen and cut-outs to keep the source of the fluid from becoming public knowledge. The danger of our new wealth was shown in that several attacks were made on our small castle due to the belief that if we could afford to pay for castle building, there must be gold in our dungeons."
"And so, we became even more secretive, more suspicious of outsiders. We tried to send as many lads to Hogwarts as we could afford so they would learn strong magic. This would stand us in good stead when the Scottish kings wanted gold for their wars. Or later when the English would invade and want to plunder everything in sight. A shabby looking castle with a tumble-down village with good Confundus and Notice-Me-Not Charms would usually keep the greedy away and pig ignorant social climbers from being interested in staying. For tax collectors and wardens appointed to milk gold from us, well, my ancestors had other methods."
Lord Bulstrode leaned back in his chair and scrubbed his face with his hand. "As our ability to catch and `milk' the Plimpies grew, so grew the use of the fluid, so more gold came into our hands."
He paused again and visibly gathered his fortitude. He turned to Andromeda and Narcissa Black who were sitting in the pair of chairs out of the circle to his right, and spoke to them. "Mesdames Black, the pair of you took potions at Hogwarts before that absolute disgrace of a wizard, Snape, became the potions professor. And if I recollect properly, you Madam Black," he said indicating Andromeda. " Achieved ninety-eight percent Outstanding on your NEWT tests, and almost achieved a Potions Mastery. Would you tell these young people the advantage of using `potion base' instead of water when brewing?"
After a glance at her sister, Andromeda started in a teaching-lecturing mode. "By using potion base instead of distilled water, a brewer can lessen the ingredients to a ratio of two versus three parts. Also, the ingredients used may be of lesser quality yet will achieve the desired results. In fact, using the finest ingredients with potion base at standard amounts will result in a potion of such potency that it probably will harm a patient."
Bulstrode nodded. "Thank You," he said. He turned back to Harry. "Did that greasy disgrace to the art of brewing ever explain those concepts to you?"
The general shaking of heads, with a "No, Pik. The greasy bastard never did," from Harry, told the story.
"My lovely daughter Millicent tells me he never mentioned it during the extra lessons he gave to Slytherin House either," Picinicus replied. "Or even mentioned distilled water could be used as a potion base.
Harry looked around at his friends and family. The older Black sisters were stone faced. Luna was looking intrigued and Neville looked at her in stunned revelation. Ron just looked really confused. Daphne was stone faced but the tension in her muscles along the chair arms had her forearms corded. Hermione was about to explode.
"She must be literally biting her tongue not to have interrupted by now," he thought. "She is learning."
Bulstrode started talking again. "Hogwarts uses only potion base for brewing in its potion classes. It does not use water in class, so Snape never bothered himself to teach the difference. However, since the Bulstrode Family is the only supplier of the additive that turns water into potion base, no one notices that it has to be imported everywhere else. After all it takes remarkably little `pink fluid' to create a barrel of potion base. However, consider how many potions are brewed in Britannia and the continent in a day. Thousands upon thousands I would venture."
Bulstrode took another sip of brandy and sat back in his chair while looking around at his audience.
"And someone with great evil in his heart has decided he wants to control over half the supply of the magical world. And he is willing to kill for it."
A/N:
One: Deliberate 'were'. Not 'was'.
Yep, it's a short chapter, but this is the logical break point.
Now we get to find out if I can write adventure and conspiracy.
(Hopefully without further writer stupidity killing off our hero by accident.
Let the fact that I let a random, ill thought out plot bunny almost ruin the story be heeded.
AndrewWolfe was right. A little discipline can help a writer be better.)
UPDATE WARNING: This chapter is late due to Real Life biting me in the butt. And since I will be occupied by the World Board Gaming Championships the last two weeks of July, Chapter 27 will not be posted until about August 15, 2019.