Draco
It was late afternoon.
On Draco's first trip to Hogsmead he'd explored alone, and covered as much of the town as he possibly could, as quickly and thoroughly as he could, memorising the shape of the streets and the locations and types of the businesses, even if he didn't try to memorise the names or the specific products of each.
That way he would be almost certain not to get lost the next Hogsmead weekend when he and Padma explored together. And with two sets of eyes, and without the need to keep his eyes busy constructing and memorising a map, they'd be able see the real detail, the soul of each location.
That had been his idea anyway.
Instead they'd ended up in a small jewellery store, debating the probability of 'relative accuracy' between different European designated meanings and uses of the various gems against similar lore from India.
They were drastically hampered by the fact that neither of them had bothered to memorise the lore about more than a few of their favourite gems, and their birthstones, or anything that they had picked up in passing.
The clerk recognised them as fellow gem enthusiasts, but also as third years, and unlikely to have money, this year. He was polite and helpful when asked direct questions but he concentrated on helping other customers, some of whom were older pupils who seemed like they'd been here before, probably he had been polite and helpful for them too, once upon a time when they'd also been third years without a real interest in spending money on the more expensive jewellery. There had also been a seventh year who'd bought raw gems for an enchanting project. The clerk had gotten rather enthusiastic about … congratulating them for being a month or two ahead of the normal class schedule. The student had seemed impatient with the ribbing, but after she'd selected the stones she wanted, she'd opened up, mostly to share how miffed she was that they needed to work with gems at all, at least, for anything as simplistic as what the school project dealt with.
Being mostly ignored by both the clerk and the other customers suited Draco just fine, since he was there to entertain Padma and learn how she saw the world.
In the middle of a good nurtured debate about the relative merits of even bothering to memorise such things, since runes were much more versatile, and how often did one actually need an enchantment as powerful as what gems allow. Neville arrived somewhat precipitously.
"Hello Nev," said Padma.
"Oh," said Draco, "is he Nev now?"
"Heir Malfoy," Neville nodded a 'Lord of Ancient House to Lord of Minor House, of valued alliance, too busy to talk now,' and strode straight to the counter and paced the length of it in and back before stopping and staring at a series of fine gold chains.
"Good day," said the clerk stepping up to the far side, "I—"
"It is a very find day indeed," said Neville, "are any of these about 25 to about 27 inches."
"I'm sure there is something in that length," said the man.
"Find it for me and let us discuss the price," said Neville, unclasping his pouch.
"We have round and square, do you have a preference?" said the Clerk.
"I prefer strong," said Neville, "after that I have a very slight preference for not too sharp."
"Our square chains are well made and should not chafe or pinch."
"That will do," said Neville.
"That's not to say that the round chains aren't well made, only that they are slightly less strong, and do flow even gentler across the skin."
"The square is sufficient," said Neville, his tones becoming even more clipped, "and twenty four to twenty eight inches is acceptable, but preferably twenty six."
"If strength is important enough we have two heavier diameters," said the clerk waving toward a different section of the display.
"That is almost certainly not necessary."
The clerk finally drew out one of the chains and laid it along side a long ruler, "this one is twenty six and a half."
"That will do," said Neville picking it up and hefting it.
"A hundred galleons," said the clerk.
"The price tag says eighty eight."
"You are rude," said the clerk.
"You are slow," said Neville, "Eighty."
"You could go somewhere else," said the clerk.
"I want to carry this on it," said Neville, "A transfigured shoelace is equally as practical as a gold chain, I merely had a whim, that I was in the mood to indulge."
They stared at each other.
The clerk's staring ability was not helped by his continual glances at whatever was in Neville's hand.
"Lestrange?" said the clerk suddenly.
"Precisely," said Neville.
The clerk crossed himself with two different protective compass flourets, "Eighty five," he said.
"Certainly," said Neville, "Eighty six Galleons," and he put on the counter whatever his pouch placed in his hand. He strung the chain through whatever it was and looped it around his neck.
The clerk moved the pile of money onto a scale and after sliding several weights, he nodded and held out his hand to shake Neville's.
Neville didn't shake but bowed a strange bow that Draco couldn't calibrate from behind.
Neville turned toward the door. "Heir Malfoy, walk with me. Padma may come or not as she pleases."
"Will this take long?" said Draco.
"I have only a little to say," said Neville, "but I expect any explanation will take hours, and require privacy, not that I expect to be convinced that I owe anyone an explanation."
.
Outside in the street Neville looked around then led them into short alley and erected a fairly comprehensive set of privacy wards, as long as he wasn't concerned about lip readers or several other things.
Draco resisted the urge to fill in the gaps Neville had left.
"What's this about?"
Neville held up the ring on the chain and let him examine the ring on it. Draco had never seen it before, "What am I looking at?"
"It was your aunt's wedding ring," said Neville, "and Rudolphus is no longer your uncle. Please tell your cousin, the Lord Black, that for a token fee and a letter of commendation and or thanks, I am willing to do him the favour of passing it to him to pass to Lord Nott, instead of passing it through Theo."
"Either way I believe it belongs in the Lestrange Family Vault until next time someone exists who can wear it and wishes to do so."
"How do you figure?"
"I believe it is entailed," said Neville, "I seem to have an impossible time convincing myself that it is mine, and I can't put a finger inside it regardless of it being too large for most of my fingers."
"Ah," said Draco, "how droll. Yes, I'll tell him. Is there anything else I should tell him?"
Neville frowned, then his face darkened. "I have a lot more to say, but I … would say it differently if I knew I was speaking to a Tom Riddle or a Fred or George Weasley."
"Either of which fit his reputation," said Draco, then after a pause he said, "I understand. I think he prefers to be Fred or George, but for serious matters and especially family matters he is more careful and maybe even severe."
Neville sighed, "alright," he said, "tell him, I left her alive, for reasons I felt were sufficient, and I shall be most annoyed and perhaps even petulant if he chooses not to show her mercy as well. Given that his family connections to her are even closer than mine."
"And to clarify, the 'her' we are discussing?" said Draco.
"Bellatrix Black," said Neville, "Finally a free woman for the first time in her life, even if the bastards who have her now, are keeping her in magic suppressors and don't let her touch any weapon more violent than a pen."
Draco nodded, "I'll tell him, what shall I tell my mother?"
"Your mother is already in communication with her, though it must be somewhat intermittent, I don't know the time periods involved. Tell her… what I said about mercy and about her being freer now than she has been since she was fourteen. And perhaps something about the fact that she wasn't free at fourteen proves that she wasn't free before that, she just had not yet seen the bars of her cage."
Draco nodded, "I'll try to get that all into a semblance of coherence."
Neville nodded and sighed, "I need to sleep again and see if the day looks different in hindsight."
"Do you want me to hold off on these reports until you've slept and recomposed them?"
Neville closed his eyes and swayed, then he opened them, "Hold off on sending them, feel free to write them while they're fresh, I'll look over them before you send them, to be sure that I managed to tell you what I meant to tell you, or that you managed to hear and transcribe what I meant to say."
Draco snorted, "Go to bed, shall I find you an escort to make sure you end up in your own bed?"
Neville nodded, "That might be best. Also," he tucked the ring and its chain inside his shirt.
"Is there a reason you're not just keeping it in your pouch?"
"The pouch won't let anyone take anything out unless they put it in. The ring probably would not let summoning magic work on it except by a legitimate owner. Hence it would be stuck in there until the pouch wore out, and who knows if the space expansion charm or the space connection charm would fail first, perhaps it would be stuck there forever."
"Ah, I see," said Draco, "Good thinking."
Neville nodded and again gave the impression that he was going to fall over.
Draco turned to Padma, "What do you think? Shall we find Harriet or Parvati to send with him, or go ourselves?"
"Harriet would escort me to the hospital wing by mistake, force of habit you know," said Neville, "Parvati would follow me to Gryffindor and tattle on me if I went astray but would not necessarily force me to go there."
Padma closed her eyes, "Parvati is already back in the castle. And I haven't seen Harriet since this morning. I presume she has hied herself off to consult with that cousin of hers in private, if he's still around."
"Possibly," said Draco. Actually impossible, if the 'cousin' Padma was discussing was Harry Potter, unless she was specifically allowing for Harriet to be 'consulting' Harry Potter whenever she consulted herself.
"Let's take him as far as the castle," said Padma turning toward the part of town where the last few carriages were waiting, "Or as far as the Fat Lady there will be a friend or a prefect who will make sure he gets to bed."
Draco nodded and put an arm around Neville, somewhat surprised that his shoulder didn't reach as far up on Neville as it used to.
Lord Black
Sirius took another turn about the room, liberally spreading around the new wide area scanning spell he'd just learned. Nothing. Nothing, nothing. Ah, a small bronze box, perhaps a snuffbox. He scanned it more carefully, more specifically. Just the same as before, something definitely dangerous. More scans revealed runes to make it open explosively when touched by males who happened to be… It took him several minutes to decipher the complex phrase… Ah, those of a certain ethnicity.
If he remembered correctly, there had been a time, about eighteen years before when it was popular to believe that wizards of that ethnicity could not produce anything but squib offspring no matter whom they married. It was utter balderdash, of course, but for some reason it had been a popular notion, until it came out that the squibs in question that had been so much in the public eye to have accidentally left the rumour in their wake, had actually been adopted to fulfil a generations old oath of alliance and protection.
And so, only in the townhouse of the House of Black would such a curse be allowed to linger decades after it's original purpose expired. Sirius deactivated the rune array and cast several precise cutting hexes to sever the connecting lines between the runes, and several tiny but intense bludgeoning jinxes to obliterate the runes for explosive opening and anything else of interest. When he was satisfied, he put on a bubble head charm and opened it.
No dangerous potions ingredients or poison dusts, just an ugly brooch.
He scanned it thoroughly too. Nothing but trace bits of magic stuck in the emeralds an unknown number of years before. It was unclear at this late date whether they'd been enchanted, and parts of the enchantment had worn out, or if it had merely been caught in the side-wash of some charm or other. Or if it had merely had a bit of raw magic sent into it, to give it that extra lustre. After all, their magical affinity was just about the only thing emeralds had going for them, then again some people liked their colour. He pulled out several inches square piece of dragon egg-yolk membrane. (A hideously expensive piece of equipment) and polished the brooch until all the magic in it had been absorbed and dissipated.
Dragons were interesting creatures. It was commonly known that their hide was absurdly magical resistant, what was less well documented was why.
Very few things could reflect magic. Though the simple shield charm could do the next best thing: deflect it.
Many materials could block most of the various 'cast' or moving charms so that they could dissipate as if having travelled too far, by the mere fact of being the wrong type of item to be affected in the way the spell was intended. But that generally had more to do with safety features built into the spell in question than it did with with anything special about the material.
Dragons though were interesting creatures, their skin, like most of the rest of them, was permeable to ambient magic. (As were the skin and flesh of most magical creatures.) But dragon skin was different in that it absorbed magic so quickly and efficiently that most spells unravelled before they detected the fact that they had arrived at a possible target.
Dragon eyes were the exception, and Sirius had always assumed that it was because they needed them for legilimency to communicate with other dragons. But dragon skin only absorbed and digested magic travelling through air, potions could be used on them, as could enchanted weapons, assuming they could even be brought to bare. But what Gaea had given them for their eggs-yolks! Well, it came in handy was all, it would absorb any magic no matter the source, as long as that source was not alive, (otherwise it wouldn't be safe to have near baby dragons.)
So it was totally safe to handle and not abrasive like the pebbly leather of the shells themselves, and yet effective at the task Sirius had set himself for the day: Expanding his beachhead into the townhouse one room farther.
.
Someone downstairs squeaked in terror, then swore and stomped past a now awakened portrait of his mother. "Shut up Auntie, I've come to see the Lord of Black." That quieted the portrait down more than it should have. though …
Narcissa. It would be nice to see her, assuming the circumstances of her visit weren't dire. Not that they usually were, he wasn't sure her heart would put up with that, she seemed so old these days.
"In here 'Cissa!" called Sirius. Her footsteps returned and ascended the stairs.
"Good morning, Siri," said Narcissa, entering the room and glanced around the room, perhaps assessing his progress, perhaps conducting a visual scan of her own for immediate threats, "Permission to both stay and discuss business?"
"Permission to stay," said Sirius, "Permission to discuss half an hour's worth of business. I'm kind of on a roll here." That's right, blame his laxness on his effectiveness, he couldn't have thought of a better excuse if he'd tried it himself, oh wait…
Narcissa grinned, "read this, from Draco, acting as messenger for Neville, Heir of Longbottom."
He read it, Neville admitted to having done something (or been present and not sufficiently suppressing to have blocked whatever Bellatrix had done) with the result that her marriage had been annulled, allowing her to take off and discard her wedding ring. Bellatrix had been ecstatic and thankful. Neville had been happy to have made a distant cousin (and poor, sick woman) happy. He'd taken the ring (with her blessing) in order that it could be returned to the House of Lestrange, with a tactful message of her … emphatic lack of thanks.
Bella, Bella, Bella.
"Alright," said Sirius and looked up, "is the thanks he wishes from our House commensurable with the honour he offers us of being the most appropriate tale bearers to House Lestrange, ahem, Nott?"
"It's just a little on the high side," said Narcissa, "it's oddly unclear whether he's asking for monetary reward for defanging her, which it's not clear he's done, or for leaving her alive when she was in his power, which it's not clear he's done, or for not turning her over to the law, which it is not yet clear he's not done, or even the reverse, same logic."
"Alright," said Sirius, "If we're not taking his word for it, what do we know?"
"We can infer that he sneaked out of Hogwarts, in spite of the dementor guards that were intended to keep Bellatrix out and Neville in. We know he reappeared in Hogsmead late afternoon exhausted and probably sans lunch. Carrying something that matches the correct description, the design Draco traced is exactly right. I expect it is a tracery of the ring or of the result of a twinning charm, not a free transfiguration from memory, nor drawn from memory. Unless Neville's memory is better than mine and his transfiguration is better than most sixth years"
"So we can safely assume Neville did meet her, or her captors," said Sirius, "and needn't expect to lose money on the bet that he has the ring or a magically produced copy. Is that all?"
"We have the circumstantial evidence that his parents have woken up from their comma."
"What?" said Sirius and sank to his knees. An old reflex, always better to sit than to faint. After a moment's thought he sat on the floor.
"This suggests, Sit down Cissa, sorry that I don't trust the chairs well enough to offer you one."
"I'm fine," said Cissa, "unless you want to adjourn to the kitchen."
"That might be more comfortable," said Sirius, "but wait a bit, does their sudden recovery suggest to you that Bella is dead?"
"That is what I would believe without Neville's statement otherwise," said Narcissa, "He's obviously hiding quite a lot, but I don't think he's a killer, though perhaps facing Bella or the dark lord would be sufficient motivation to steel his courage to the task."
"Hmm," said Sirius, "And you think that if he had killed her, he would own up to the fact?"
"Normally I wouldn't hazard a guess. But in this instance, Draco confided to me that less than a week before, Harriet Matirni had told him that she and Harry Potter would use their concerted effort to persuade you to give him reward or at least exoneration, if he should find the need to kill her in self-defence. I thought it a bit of an odd promise. And Neville apparently turned her down violently at least to the extent of stating he wouldn't do House of Black's killing for so little as mere bounty money."
"Good for him," said Sirius, "But what is this then?" he waved the letter, "A hundred and forty-five galleons isn't an inconsiderable amount, though perhaps it's the worth of the gems of the ring we're discussing. It's hardly into the range of what bounty money on someone as capable as Bella ought to be."
"Ah," said Narcissa, "I expect it's just a token amount to make sure the letter carries the weight it should."
"Well it does that, nicely," said Sirius, "What I'd have done to have an extra hundred and fifty galleons pocket money, in fifth year."
"He's in third year," said Narcissa, "and he apparently carries much more than that on his person, at least when he's shopping."
"Of course he does," said Sirius, "And when going into the den of unknown kidnappers who are holding Bella, Bella hostage."
"I don't think 'hostage' is quite the tone of her captivity," said Narcissa, "Given that I have not yet received a ransom note. Have you?"
"No, Nor have the Nott's requested my opinion on perhaps sharing such a burden," said Sirius, and grimaced, "So if he didn't kill her, yet her magic has withdrawn suddenly from his parents, what does that mean?"
"It means he made friends with her enough that he was able to persuade her to withdraw her magic from whatever lingering effect she was causing. Which seems odd, I'd never have guessed that any of her magic was still tied up with that curse. Or it means that … well the cruciatus and several of her other favourites are emotionally driven. If he … altered her mood enough to dispel some emotion that she'd been pouring through a curse for twelve years … I can't guess what removing that burden would have done to her magical aptitude. Coupled to … dispelling whatever her emotional strain was, it … lends weight to his hint that her emotional age dropped from an sad and ugly eighty to a spry six or seven, even if she claimed fourteen."
"So," said Sirius, "bottom line, Bella has changed, again. But perhaps we don't know for how long."
"I don't think, Bella being her old mercurial self, is quite the explanation, I'd say we might should calculate from the assumption that the Bella who cursed Frank and Alice Longbottom into insanity is dead. And in her place is perhaps the old Bella, perhaps Andromeda's chief henchwoman of pranks, perhaps Molly (ahem) Prewett's rival of daredevil idiocy."
"Please Merlin, not that," said Sirius, "Or may they both kill themselves on their first stunt and it not involve the rest of us or our honour."
Narcissa cleared her throat but did not deign to comment.
"Anyway," said Sirius, "I should write him a note thanking him for his service and congratulating him on freeing his parents. Suppose I include thirty galleons for… Bloody—"
Narcissa raised an eyebrow. Sirius grew impatient with looking up at her and climbed to his feet and led her to the dining room, "These chairs are safe," he said and pulled one out for her, "Also permission to discuss business until lunch." He frowned and took a chair of his own.
"Cissa, check my arithmancy on this, the traditional rate for returning a lost and found bit of heirloom jewellery is twenty galleons, even if no reward has officially been offered?"
"Thirty Galleons," said Narcissa, "Down to about half that if it's small enough or not old enough to be worth much."
"Right," said Sirius, "And what's is the going rate for destroying of an annoying cursed object?"
"Not much, unless it also has self protective charms of some sort to make the task either risky or delicate."
"Right," said Sirius, "What about acting as a go between to get an unwanted marriage annulled?"
"I don't think that has a traditional price, but a hundred and twenty isn't terribly far off—" she stopped short and her face flashed through an interesting range of colours.
"That's what I thought," said Sirius, "Who do I send congratulations to? Or do I send her a stern letter with orders to clean up her act?"
Narcissa swallowed, "Neville is only thirteen and a half."
It was all Sirius could do to contain his mirth, "is that an exact date?"
"More like thirteen and a quarter," said Narcissa.
"Then he has me beat by about three weeks," said Sirius and leaned back, and according to rumour his mother beat by four months, but that wasn't his rumour to spread, "But I started with a hufflepuff prefect, not with a woman old enough to be my mother, and a Azkaban escapee, and the tormentor of my parents. And I never to my knowledge fathered a bastard, contract or otherwise. I don't know whether to congratulate, or commiserate, or to offer tutoring, or… Oh."
Sirius smirked.
"What's that look? that's Andromeda's look."
"If I pay the stud fee," explained Sirius, "the child is a contract cross breed, instead of a bastard. That is why he changed his mind about asking for money."
"Oh," said Narcissa.
Sirius chewed his lip, "I have the distinct feeling…" he said.
"What?" said Narcissa.
"I get the idea," said Sirius, "That this comment about him requesting I show her mercy is not hot air. I think he genuinely likes her."
"Or has an uncomfortably strong sense of honour," said Narcissa, "possibly targeted at the child in question."
"It's possible to have both," said Sirius, "is there any reason why we shouldn't keep as many contract cross breeds as Bella chooses to produce, I mean they'll be cadet branches twice over, but Blacks are Blacks and everyone likes to marry us."
"Other than the fact that everyone is scared of her and very few would want anything of hers in their gene pool? And the fact that most worthwhile families have already crossed with the Blacks recently."
"Hmm," said Sirius, "Heir Longbottom isn't scared of her, it seems."
Narcissa smirked.
"I shall thank him for his service and send him a hundred and twenty, and tell him to return the ring himself."
"Do you think that's wise?" said Narcissa.
"I don't want the little runt to think he's put one over on me is all," said Sirius.
Narcissa shook her head, but returned his smirk. "Alright, what do we do about the fallout of any of the rest of this?"
"Neither Augusta nor Algernon have deigned to congratulate me on receiving mere justice, even at this late date, I don't think I feel inclined to write either of them a note congratulating them on losing control of their Wizengamot seat or control of the Longbottom fortune."
"Hmm," said Narcissa, "when you put it that way…"
"I do however get the idea that you've had enough dealings with Augusta that it would be entirely appropriate to send her a missive of your sympathetic celebration of son and daughter-in-law's return from the brink of death, or however it's politic to say all that."
"Quite," said Narcissa.
"I don't think I'd put it in writing, but if there's ever an appropriate moment, in person and relative privacy, feel free to highlight the fact that House of Black never condoned Bella's actions that November morning, and we're glad her magic has withdrawn from, err expired from tormenting them."
Narcissa nodded.
"It feels like there is something else."
"Bella," said Narcissa, "If I manage to contact her again, shall I tell her anything from you?"
"Yes," said Sirius, "Tell her all is forgiven, if she is willing to reconcile with the rest of the house, but I cannot extend to the person of Bellatrix Lestrange a promise of protection from the British ministry. I can however recommend she change her name and remove herself from the isles until such time as we deem such a ruse unnecessary."
"So be it," said Narcissa with a nod that was also a salute.
"Also," said Sirius, "That the current policy of the House of Black is that humans with every level of control of their magic, are responsible to demonstrate the appropriate level of proprietary care for those not so blessed. So that we can hold up our heads as civilised beings in the presence of other races. The ethics of which are clearly laid out in The Family of Magic."
Narcissa shivered, "Is that really the policy of the House of Black?"
Sirius smirked, "when the head of a client line pushes a sensible generalisation of traditional Black policy over on the last dark lord, it is not a stretch to demand a wayward member adhere to that, if she wants reconciliation, whether she does that out of respect for said Dark Lord or out of respect for me doesn't matter all that much."
Narcissa nodded and felt her world waver before her eyes.
"On the other hand," he said, "perhaps it is not wisest to inform her of that all at once, In fact don't mention it to her at all if she's given any indication of knowing and preferring the traditional ethics of the House of Black to Walberga's simplification to be more compatible with her Line of Crabbe background."
"Umm," said Narcissa, "Line of Crabbe?"
"Irma was pureblood," said Sirius, "But she was raised by parents who still had the half-blood mentality of 'gain and maintain dominance at all costs' not the pureblood mentality of 'parcel out sacrifice in affordable measures, in order to buy and maintain honour and status,' by the end of her life she was usually acting the part of a pureblood, but she did not raise all of her children with a clear idea of what is expected of a pureblood, much less a noble house. Walberga being eldest caught an especially bad dose."
Narcissa's grimace seemed to indicate she'd understood exactly what he was saying, and not saying, and implying heavily.
And her sigh … might be resignation to his demands, or actual relief that she could work within the framework he gave without sacrificing her own sense of morals, or ethics. He'd never been sure if she had any ethics of her own.
"Hmm," said Sirius, "Here's a more sticky conundrum, on a related topic."
"What?"
Ok, that was resignation, so the earlier must have been relief.
"Ted and Andromeda," said Sirius, "Now that Andromeda is returned to our good graces, and their union is fully condoned by the house. I find I have no idea what Ted's sponsorship status is."
"It's a bit late to pay his tuition or introduce him to society."
"Other than in including him to your Yule banquet last year. Good job by the way."
Narcissa acknowledged the commendation with deep nod that contained just enough sideways motion it implied a curtsy rather than a bow.
"My question is more along the lines of: is his line already claimed by a house worth mentioning, or may I offer breeding strategy advice without ruffling any feathers."
Narcissa shivered, "What strategy advice?"
"If they wish to have their next child, in the same year as Bella's get, they have about a month to make that happen. Otherwise it will be the influence of a pupil one year ahead, even if they are only a couple months apart."
"Yes, I see," said Narcissa.
"Also, if they were putting the whole thing off because they don't have the money for tuition … I'm willing to retroactively sponsor Ted (if he needs it) and therefore his offspring for three generations."
"Yes, I see," said Narcissa, "I shall see what I can find out, so that you needn't stick your foot into your mouth… more than usual."
"Thanks 'Cissa."
{End Chapter 11}
