Chapter 48: Forward unto Summer
The former Royal Navy ship was gently cruising through the waters of the Atlantic Ocean, generally southbound and away from the one place in the world with weather rainier than England; at least, that was how it had felt to Daphne. She was at her favourite spot on the Gwyneth's foredeck, clothed in what had by now become her standard attire of a warm coat over an outfit just as warm. Wind and water may have been a sight to see, and they had somehow never really lost their appeal, but they sure as hell could make a girl uncomfortably cold. In fact, the only time she ever wore something of a different design these days was, whenever the sea decided to throw stormy weather their way; even a warm coat could not keep you that way when it was wet. That was when the oilskin came out.
In the beginning, Daphne had tried to argue against the rather unflattering combination of long jacket and high-waist trousers, both brightly coloured and, as far as she was concerned, rather ridiculous looking. However, the first storm in which she had tried out a coat enchanted with an Impervius-charm had quickly reinforced the lesson that, while that particular charm might have been great for small objects or lesser powers, it did not hold a candle against the fury of the sea.
Long story short, Daphne had been drenched from head to toe, drawing a significant amount of ridicule from both Martin, which she was okay with, considering he had been the one to tell her to take the oilskin, and Sirius, who really had no leg to stand on, given that he was almost as drenched after refusing to wear the Sou'wester. They both had had to admit there was a reason these things were designed with function over form.
She was torn out of her reverie, when Linda Wright suddenly stepped up next to her, a speculative look on her face. For a good deal of time, neither of them said anything, until Daphne finally had enough of the uncomfortable silence.
"Is there something you wanted to talk about?" she asked the woman, who visibly relaxed at obviously not having to do the first step in whatever it was she was doing.
"Actually, there is," Wright admitted. "I'm having a hard time adapting to working with people involved in a kidnapping."
Daphne just about managed not to scoff derisively. "The law might say they are," she explained, "but believe me, they did anything but that. As far as I'm concerned, they saved my life."
The woman gave her a peculiar look. "They did you a favour by taking you away from your family?" she asked, obviously aghast at what she was hearing.
"Take me away!" the young, dark-haired witch almost roared. "They didn't take me away…"
"Well… that's what it said in the Prophet," Wright replied defensively, cooling Daphne down just a little bit.
"It's okay, Daphne, she doesn't have all the information," she reminded herself. "It appears you have bought into the propaganda of Lucius Malfoy. I assume you know, from your own experience, the lengths to which certain people will go for a little money or influence?"
The talented, yet spurned healer winced a little. "I'm all too familiar," came the expected answer.
"Well, after deciding that, in a second war against Voldemort, fence-sitting would not work as well as it did the first time around, my father had a brilliant idea, how he would be able to throw his lot in with the blood-bigots, without openly doing so," she narrated, absolutely calmly, completely composed. At least, to the outside world, because inside, Daphne was still fuming. "He thought it a would be a good idea to fulfil Lucius Malfoy's greatest wish by offering him the opportunity to have his son marry into a noble line, with me as the bargaining chip. Judging from your expression, you have heard of the Malfoys."
And indeed, if it were humanly possible, Wright's face would have been green. "I hadn't seen it that way," she admitted, just a tad shamefacedly. "They did write it in the article, of course, but it was just an afterthought, really."
"Oh, they're clever that way," the younger woman commented. "They don't tend to write all-out lies, yet just twist the truth enough to match what they want to write. Rest assured, even with the help I got, no one has 'taken' me away from my family; they managed to drive me away all by themselves."
They regarded each other silently for a while, each seemingly trying to find out what the other one was about. "Look," Daphne finally said, "you seem like a nice person, and I understand why you wanted to get out of your own life, but I won't stand for badmouthing the people who I am pretty sure saved me from a lifetime of misery. I was ready to run away, whether I got any help with it or not, but I am also sure that the only reason I was successful, and am not now promised to Draco Malfoy or frozen to death somewhere, are the people you just accused of being kidnappers.
She was already on the way to her room, or maybe the aft deck where she could practice her aim, when she turned around once more. "You wanted a new start, and I respect that. Please afford me the same."
OOOOOOOO
"Daphne, could I talk to you for a moment?" the very same person she had just that morning had heated words with, was abashedly sticking her head through the teen's door. Daphne just nodded noncommitally and waved Linda in. The raised eyebrow was enough to say that, this time around, she would not be the first to say something.
"First, I would like to apologise," her visitor began. "I accused your friends, my allies, of something heinous, without having all the facts straight; sorry for that." Daphne nodded genially at that; admittedly, she might have overreacted just a tad, herself. "Secondly, I have talked to Mr. Black, and he told me that you are still pursuing your schooling, right?"
"As far as it is possible, given the situation," the younger witch replied. "Sirius is quite able to relate some lessons in transfiguration, and he is passable in DADA, as well. History will always be better as a self-study, anyway, with that dustbin as the teacher, and charms is just about manageable, too. Potions is the only real problem."
The smile she was now receiving told her that problem might not be there much longer. "That's what I've come here to talk about," Wright replied. "Making potions might not be a central part of being a healer, but with the help of a good book, I should be able to last you until fifth year; at least, I could prevent you from blowing anything up."
Daphne mulled over the proposal a while yet found no real downside to it; as much as she wanted to stay angry, she did not have it in herself to do so. "Thank you, I would like that," she answered the unsaid question.
OOOOOOOO
"You could think it was our OWL year, not the second, with how much they have us do," Susan complained, bowed as she was over her potions essay; it was true, in a way. Since the return of Harry and Hermione to Snape's class after the tutor from Greengrass Elixirs simply had not turned up after the Easter Break, the dungeon bat had been extra-vindictive. Only problem was that, with Dumbledore looking over his shoulder from time to time, Harry's appreciation of Durmstrang's 'excellent martial magic program' probably still vivid in the old man's mind, the only way to bully the son of his hated schoolyard rival, was to bully all his students. In all honesty, it was not completely unexplored territory for the grumpy potions master.
"It's just a few more fingers," Hermione encouraged, as she was already happily scratching away at what was probably the one after the next piece of homework. "Then you can do charms; you like charms, don't you?"
The redhead just grumbled an annoyed acknowledgement, took up her Black Inker again and returned to the extended properties of valerian, especially in combination with lavender.
"I actually think it's not that bad," Neville surprised them all. "Don't get me wrong, Snape is still a bad teacher, and a horrible person to boot, but we finally learn a bit more about the mechanics of potions."
Hermione not reacting with a "'Professor' Snape" spoke bounds as to her perception of authorities, these days. Instead, she looked thoughtful for a while, as if pondering the implications of what Neville had said.
"so, instead of spending endless amounts of time thinking of more and more stupid tasks, he just gives us more complicated and instructional ones?" Tracey asked. "That's both good and really, really petty."
Harry could not help but agree. "Problem is, those that try to deal with the stuff all on their own, and don't really have the attitude or skill-set to understand the advanced stuff, might get really frustrated," he observed. "Then again, frustrating students is practically Snape's brand, as long as they're not in Slytherin."
Tracey answered that with a derisive snort. "Please, you know my opinion of the bat," she reminded. "He might let everything slide a Slytherin does, at least on the outside, but neither does that help us in life, nor is he that nice in private."
For a while, they all fell silent again, and only the scratching of their Black-brand pens was audible in the silence of the Room of Requirement. Harry was just about ready to finish up the charms essay, when Hannah started talking.
"Hey, Harry," she said a bit shily, not at all the usual straightforward girl. "You remember that family emergency my family had to deal with during last Christmas."
He did remember, if only darkly; something about Hannah's grandmother, if he wasn't mistaken. However, he was not so confident in that particular detail that he would say it out loud. Therefore, he just nodded for the blond Hufflepuff to continue.
"Well, my grandmother is getting worse, and my parents are going there soon, and they left me the choice to come with them or stay with Susan. I love gran, I really do, but the last time we were there, it was just so…" Apparently missing the words to describe what exactly it had been like, the normally lively girl shuddered a bit. "I know Susan's parents let her stay at Potter Castle, and I would like to, as well. If that's okay with you, of course."
It was okay with Harry, as much was clear, but the whole thing created a bit of a logistical problem for the old building. "Sure," he replied, before he had to immediately limit Hannah's enthusiasm. "It might get a bit crowded though. Tracey's also staying at the Castle."
Harry had already been resigned to having to sleep alone, particularly with Hermione spending the first part of her break with her parents, not that any of the parties involved liked it very much.
"We'll just have to bunk together, don't we," Susan joked, to no one's surprise really. Those two just were ridiculously close, after all.
"Well, in that case, you're of course welcome to join us as soon as Susan does," he said excitedly. Maybe, with Hannah and Susan as company, along with Daphne and Sirius, mind you, the beginning of the summer break would not be a complete loss, as he had been secretly dreading.
That very same feeling of dread had led him to an eerie observation, if he as being honest with himself; these days, he did not like it very much, whenever Hermione was out of sight. It had started small, with him being skittish after not seeing her for a while the last summer, but it had become more intense over the months. Nothing in the extreme, at least not yet, but it was worrying indeed. Somehow, his paranoid mind, and there was no doubt that he was becoming paranoid, was constantly on edge, with his girlfriend one of this edge's most important focal points; her importance was only rivalled by his godfather and by Daphne.
Those dark thoughts were vanished as soon as Harry felt himself being hugged by not one, but two enthusiastic Hufflepuffs, both obviously very happy with having found a nice place to stay for part of the holidays.
"It's nice you have worked that out," Hermione butted in, looking at the three amusedly, that amusement probably enhanced by her knowledge that Daphne would be present, as well. Not at the Castle, mind you, at the cave hideout. With the right potion, she would be able to join the others, which would make the whole thing a highlight, especially for Tracey. "But we should really be getting back to our essays."
Amused as he was by this glimpse into the 'good' old days, he knew Hermione was right; while the two of them might have been able to write their essays rather quickly (even with him taking a little more time, and Hermione double- and triple-checking everything she did), their friends were not as lucky. Therefore, the group soon moved on from potions to the much more enjoyable charms portion of their homework, where they were tasked with, once again, detailing the abilities and limitations of the General Counter-Spell. Well, at least it was an important spell.
"With how often he has us rehash this thing I do hope it will feature heavily in the exams," Neville groaned after another good half an hour of scratching away on the parchment, eliciting a snort from at least some of the people sitting there with him.
OOOOOOOO
On a dark ship, now back in British waters, a young, dark-haired witch was being tutored in potions by an older, red-haired one. With a teacher actually willing to teach the subject, Daphne found herself enjoying the experience quite a bit; add to that the opportunity to spend time with another female, and she was a happy witch indeed.
That calm and tranquillity, as far as those two words could be applied when talking about the process of brewing potions with someone who was still learning to do so involved, was interrupted by Sirius after only…
"Oh, we've been doing this for two hours now!" Daphne exclaimed internally. That was also when it came to her, why they would most likely been interrupted. "The new guy is coming in?" she asked, already aware of the most probable answer.
"You know it," Sirius winked, and was gone as quickly as he had appeared.
Linda watched with a sad smile as the girl started putting on the glamours that would once again call into existence 'Marie Anderson'. For a moment she looked like she wanted to say something, but obviously the healer decided to not act upon that impulse.
"So, do I look unlike me?" Daphne asked, receiving a nod in reply.
Thusly satisfied with her disguise, she left her potions tutor behind in the bowels of the Gwyneth, where they had decided she would stay until they knew this new recruit was ready to do what was needed to keep all the information he was being told completely safe. Owing to the unusually calm sea and sunny weather, what greeted the girl as she set foot on was an almost tranquil setting. The ship, painted in a dark grey, almost stood out like a sore thumb in the brightly illuminated, restful ocean.
"Who are we expecting?" she asked Sirius as she took the spot next to him, almost matching his shoulders in height; she always had been rather tall, and as a witch of thirteen years, was just about in the middle of her growth spurt.
"Young man," Sirius answered. "The profile Maria put together suggests him as a 'field operative', whatever the hell that is supposed to mean. The two of them waited for a few minutes, with the Marauder quizzing Daphne on her progress in potions, until there was the 'pop' of a house-elf appearing on the broom deck.
The young man the elf had deposited was, for all intents and purposes, completely average; average height, average weight (though he looked to be at least lightly muscled), brown hair, brown eyes, and a face that stood out in neither a positive, nor a negative way. Taking all that into account, he was almost ridiculously, unnaturally normal.
"William Wells," he greeted, holding out his hand. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Black. And you…"
"Marie Anderson," Daphne introduced herself, for the second time, with her fake-name. What followed was the same routine they had gone through with Linda, up to and including the 'interrogation' concerning their applicant's motives.
"Well, I'd like to think I've been given a really bad deal by the powers that be," he related to them. "Mom was thrown out of her rather traditional wizarding family for being a squib, married a muggle and, surprise surprise, her son is a wizard. Given that the opportunities offered to me are in about the tier of what the standard muggleborn could expect, with the added additional stigma of my mother's unwellness, I would make a juicy target for any Death Eater uprising; being with people actually preparing to fight them, not closing their eyes to it all, like Fudge is doing, sounds like the way to go."
However, what was surprising about this one in particular, was the reaction he had to Daphne revealing her real identity. After he had signed the contract, of course.
"I had hoped you had gotten away," the man commented. Obviously seeing the surprised looks on their faces, he explained. "I do read the paper, I'll have you know. Just, other than most people, I actually read between the lines. Believe me, I have met Lucius Malfoy, and I can't imagine his son being any better; so, if you ran away from being forced to marry that one, I'm not surprised."
For a few seconds, he seemed to ponder, whether he should say more; it seemed he wanted to, by what followed. "Reading between the lines is actually what brought me here," Wells continued. "When, in relation to Voldemort still being alive, the only thing you ever read from the Ministry is 'we're looking into that' and 'it is an area of concern', that stuff can leave you worried. I'm just hedging my bets, buying into what I think can be the winning side here, which is luckily the one I actually want to win."
Shortly stumped by the bluntness their newest member had just exhibited, Daphne and Sirius were silent for a while, watching the supremely calm, young wizard opposite them. "You are aware this whole thing might get you killed in the end, right?" the suddenly deadly serious animagus asked. "Because I don't get that feeling from you. You seem way too calm for that."
The first reaction was a despondent laugh. "Oh, I'm well aware of the danger of this whole endeavour," they were assured. "The thing is, I am not willing to accept the alternative. Any government backed by the blood-purists would have me be a second-class citizen, at best; even the current one acts that way, even though they are a lot more subtle than one under Voldemort would be. Still, staying in the magical world is infinitely more preferable to going back into the muggle world, where I have been effectively absent, ever since I went to an isolated boarding school in Scotland. Magical Britain lured me in with big promises of magic, while my parents were subtly threatened with the consequences of me not learning anything that would be at all useful were I ever to choose and leave magic behind."
Surprised, Daphne looked to Sirius for confirmation of what she had just been told; surely it was not that bad? Unfortunately, Sirius did indeed nod, even though it was so miniscule as to be almost unrecognisable.
"Just because there's not an official law that discourages people from giving muggleborns good jobs, we would have to ask a law-wizard, does not mean, they are not held back by some really bigoted circumstances," Wells continued his impassioned monologue. "Believe me, I've been there. I have no idea whether this all was set up by choice, but regardless of the intent, the end result is that you can be rather screwed."
Not really knowing how to answer to that, the two of them were quiet for a while; at least Sirius had seemed to know at least a bit about all of this, but for Daphne it had never been something she consciously thought about. And yet, in retrospect, she had also once been surprised about Hermione's talents, despite her 'lowly origins'. Did that already make her a bigot? It was really head-splitting to think about, that was for sure. She did not consider herself above anyone, certainly not Hermione, whom she had a lot to thank for.
The meeting ended, with Sirius offering to show around the new recruit and tell him, where everything was in more detail. All the while Daphne, still somewhat shaken by the last few things she had heard, returned to her room to munch everything over.
Unable to shake the small bout of shame at having thought about Hermione, her friend, the way she had, even if it was in rather general terms, she decided to tackle that issue first. Firstly, she was happy to take note of the fact that, without even knowing of that particular prejudice, she had gotten rid of it. Spending time with Hermione, even after knowing she had a good deal more time behind her belt than she immediately seemed to, would quickly disavow you of the notion that she was in any way, shape or form held back by her parents having no magic; whenever needed, secondary evidence in the form of one Weasley, one Malfoy and two apes by the names of Crabbe and Goyle was readily available in the Slytherin common room that supported the other side of the coin.
Secondly, and what was more important for the girl in that particular instance, was the realisation that she was not to blame for what she thought unconsciously; sure, there might exist a level of control over the conscious mind, but the impulses that came to you when you least expected them, those were beyond your control, and therefore, not your fault. However, Daphne also decided that she would hold herself accountable by the way in which she dealt with these impulses. That 'reading between the lines business' Wells had been talking of, suddenly sounded like one hell of a good idea, even if it meant reading between the lines of your own thoughts.
But boy, if starting to question a lot of stuff you have never questioned before did not make you tired.
OOOOOOOO
Harry watched again, as the enchantment he had been trying get running, if not very hard, for months now, failed again. However, this time it failed exactly the way he had wanted it to.
In his bid to create something akin to the crystal orbs lighting some of St. Mungo's, only better, he had repeatedly stumbled upon the problem of his creations releasing all of their energy in one single, extremely bright blast. He had actually been rather lucky to be wearing eye-protection the first time he had tried, and yet the afterimage had stayed for a good few minutes, anyway. Despite these apparent shortcomings, though, he had also stumbled upon a different use for this particular piece of enchantment, and he had again found it in muggle culture.
Remembering some TV thing he had once seen, Harry had thought of flashbangs, and how particularly useful they might be to bloodlessly end a dangerous situation. Granted, a loud boom and bright light would only buy you a few seconds of confusion against a wizard with even remote knowledge of healing spells, but as MacGregor was so fond of saying, a few seconds could mean a lifetime in combat. Since then, he had temporarily stopped working on reducing the one-time lighting effect of the marble-sized crystals, and instead opted to simply add a concussive wave of sound.
Judging by what little had penetrated the ear protection, fluffy and pink, for some reason, the things were insanely loud. There would certainly be a need for that very same protection for anyone who wanted to use these.
"What in Merlin's name are you doing in here," Hermione almost screamed from the door, through which she had just entered. Surprisingly, she did not look angry at all, prompting Harry to question, why exactly she was screaming in the first place. That was also the moment he remembered the pink, fluffy earmuffs.
"What in Merlin's name are you doing in here?" his girlfriend repeated herself, still screaming.
"You don't have to scream," Harry chuckled at her, prompting a raised eyebrow.
"What did you say? Speak up a bit," she continued to almost scream; at least, that was a reduction in volume.
"You're screaming! There's no need for that," he told her, now close to the very same volume.
Hermione looked at him weirdly, before putting her hands to her ears and shaking her head annoyedly. In that moment, Harry also got, what was going on; it seemed she had caught the tail-end of his latest test. Not the brunt of it, mind you, because that would have meant her eyes would be impaired, as well, but enough to tell Harry that, at least the noise part seemed to work.
With a flick of his wand, he cast the healing charm he had learned for just such a situation, enjoying the relieved look that action prompted on her face. "Thanks," Hermione smiled at him. "Now, do you want to tell me, what you were doing here?"
"Well," Harry began, "do you remember when you told me to look at the sequences that limit the power going into the enchantments." An eager nod was the response he received; of course, she would remember that. "It did not exactly work out all that great. Workable, but not great. However," with the last part, he made a grand gesture toward the small, unassuming construction lying on the dark ground of Slytherin's chamber. "I have decided, not to get frustrated with the project, and turn my knockbacks into an advantage. Ever seen one of these scenes in a military movie, where they try and storm someone's house?"
Hermione frowned for a moment, probably trying to find the connection between the seemingly unconnected topics he had incorporated into his sentence.
"You've made a stun grenade," she suddenly piped up, looking at the small thing quite astonished. "I hadn't even thought of that."
The tone of her voice told her she was just about to start scolding herself, for not having that idea. "Well, of course you did not," Harry reminded. "You haven't been working with this damn thing for months on end. Also, I intend to pull my own weight now, intellectually, so you might as well sit back and let me take care of this one."
Watching warily as his girlfriend got an amused gleam in her eyes, Harry failed to notice her taking out a roll of parchment from her bag. "In that case," she laughed, teasingly, "would you mind 'looking over' my defence essay?"
OOOOOOOO
