We Will Work Through This

Harry wanted to write to James as soon as he learned Daphne was beyond help, that her cold, stiff statue would be her earthly remains. His own heart felt like it was crushed and bursting all at once. Harry and Daphne shared the experience of having been spectacularly unlucky in love, both early on. Harry shared his thoughts on that, one time, assuring Daphne he didn't find anything wrong or lacking in her, he simply wanted to give both of them time to consider each step. There wasn't anyone around to hear so Daphne felt no need to control her laughter.

"I like your approach, Harry," she said. "Don't change anything."

Harry had a fairly detailed scenario in his mind for confessing his feelings for Daphne. He planned to suggest a walk, perhaps on one of the lanes around Owl Cottage, slowing down to let the children run ahead, taking Daphne by the hand and telling her.

"I love you," he heard himself saying. "I want us together. One family."

If Daphne declared that she loved Harry, that she wanted the same thing he wanted, that would be ideal. If she demurred, his script called for him to assure her she could think about it.

He never got to take Daphne on that walk. Stricken with grief, Harry wasn't sorry for himself. He was sorry he had waited so long, until it was too late, to make his feelings plain. To offer Daphne the opportunity, if she wanted it, to join her family with his. They had been dancing around the issue for months and months, enjoying the other's company, watching the children interacting, and time simply ran out.

Harry was thrilled when Astoria asked him to accompany her and Iere to the meeting with Anvil at Gringotts. It made him feel like Daphne was there again, somehow, looking over his shoulder as he looked out for Iere's interests.

When Harry did sit down and write that long letter to James, Daphne had been released and placed in the living room at Owl Cottage. As much as he missed the living, breathing Daphne, Harry thought she would have loved knowing she could spend eternity keeping an eye on her hens and ducks. Harry worried he was becoming maudlin as he wrote out those thoughts and more. James' twelfth birthday had come and gone. He wouldn't have patience for excess volubility.

"James," Harry wrote.

"I know you were informed by Professors McGonagall and Bulstrode, but I wanted to give you some more detail on the loss of Daphne. It is a terrible tragedy. We all want to express our rage, believe me. I've talked at some length with Iere, Astoria and Draco. There isn't anything we can do for Daphne and the man who did this to her is dead. So, we will grieve and then we will work through this, supporting one another.

"Daphne accepted an invitation to tea at Nott Hall. She did not know Llewellyn Nott would be there. She didn't know he was even alive. He was last seen at the Battle of Hogwarts and was presumed dead, although no body was ever found. The aurors have a sketchy timeline of sightings but I don't know how reliable it is. He hid out well, I will say that for him. It appears he identified Daphne and Iere one time out in public which led to him approaching his mother to get her to send the invitation. Once they all met up at Nott Hall things got very much out of control. It appears Llewellyn Nott murdered not only Daphne but his parents as well, just before committing suicide.

"Because of the unique circumstances of Daphne's departure from this world, Iere did not want to hold a funeral. After discussing it at great length, Astoria agreed and fully supports Iere. The elder Greengrass' (Cyrus and Isolde) are keeping their opinions to themselves, at least when they are around me.

"Enough of that. If what I've told you gives you nightmares, I beg your forgiveness but I thought you were owed the story.

"Iere asked me to send her greetings and to assure you she is well and looking forward to your winter break. She lives almost independently at Owl Cottage, swapping sleepovers with Astoria. She insists she doesn't want anyone to worry about her, that the old wards are still functioning and she doesn't want to be anywhere but there.

"I'm also looking forward to your break, as are Albus and Lily. Albus was thrilled you went to Slytherin and not Gryffindor, did I tell you? He didn't want to be the one to break the Potter string so you have taken all that pressure off him. He's convinced he's a natural-born Snake.

"Lots more news, of course. Keep working and I'll fill you in at home.

Love,

Dad"

Harry's letter arrived on a Sunday, carefully planned to give James a day to digest all of the details before getting back to coursework on Monday. James sat, reading the letter over and over. The Universe was one great big garbage dump. Nothing made sense and the most wonderful people were taken early. He thought about Ginny, deserting his father for quidditch and an old boyfriend. He wondered if he'd be able to consider playing as a second year. Sometimes he could barely think about quidditch without seeing his mother's face and hearing some of her heartless comments and he wanted to puke. Then he corrected himself because Harry wanted him to expunge puke from his vocabulary in favor of vomit.

James took hold of himself and resolved to get control of his thinking. First things first, he collected parchment, quill and ink and sat down to compose the tenderest, most heartfelt condolence letter ever written for Iere. The letter went through several drafts before lunch, then two more after. James wanted to get his letter away before dinner. He had a small barn owl Harry had given him as an eleventh birthday present. James had been careful to keep his letter to one page so his owl could handle it. Iere didn't have to be magical to get owl post as long as James could give her name and location to the owl.

Iere read James' letter that evening. Astoria was spending the night at Owl Cottage and had turned in when Iere opened the parchment. She read it twice over, changed for bed and read it again before turning out her lamp. Iere was well aware she was thirteen and James had barely turned twelve, but she could not help thinking of him as her intended. She thought it might be a destiny thing. Harry and his family had come into contact with Daphne and hers. James and Iere had been close almost from the beginning. Iere was raised alone, except for her cousin Scorpius. Perhaps it was a simple psychological phenomenon but Iere felt like there was one period of her life when she didn't have James, then a second after James had arrived. James hadn't shown any signs he thought differently. This evening, she'd read the sweetest letter she had ever seen, written by James, for her. It was nice to think about a life with James. He certainly was pleasant to look at and his play on the pitch generated a lot of excitement for Iere whenever she watched him. Plus, she had learned they wouldn't have to worry about money.

Iere liked Anvil. Even if he was a goblin, Iere sat across the desk from her account manager and sensed his professional pride and how he got his own internal rewards from the knowledge that he had done well for his clients. Anvil wanted to know he had earned Iere's trust. He was a serious banker and manager. Iere was too young to have firm ideas about what she wanted to do in life but wherever she ended up and whatever she ended up doing, she wanted to do it the way Anvil did his job.

Iere had shaken her head at the question about the Nott succession. No, Daphne hadn't mentioned it to her. She noticed Astoria stiffen up at Anvil's question. Anvil had all of Astoria's attention.

"When your late mother came to see me, Miss Greengrass, she wanted to know if she was under any obligations that might have lingered from the betrothal contract your grandfather negotiated with the late Lord Barclay Nott. Have you heard of that meeting? Did your mother tell you anything about it?" asked Anvil.

"Just that she didn't have any further obligations to my father or the Notts," said Iere, looking over at Astoria.

"Iere, it's not pleasant to talk about, I'm sorry," Astoria apologized, in advance.

Anvil cleared his throat, then nodded his agreement with Astoria, indicating she could proceed.

"Nott physically abused your mother while she was at Nott Hall for a New Year celebration. Then he had sex with her. I recognize that is indelicate but those are the facts. Then he was summoned by the Dark Lord and Daphne didn't see him again until the Battle of Hogwarts. He was thought to be dead ever since but now we know he was in hiding. The physical element, striking your mother, was the cause of the cancellation of the contract."

"Well said, Madam Malfoy," said Anvil. "A most difficult and distasteful episode. Let's go on. Gringotts has consulted with the recognized authorities in these matters and their opinion is that from the moment Llewellyn Nott laid a hand on Ms. Greengrass in anger, the betrothal contract should be considered void. However, the precedents for resolving the civil conflicts deriving from such episodes are varied. Over the centuries, many relationships have continued afterwards leading to marriage and children. The parties put the past in the past and carry on. Thus, even if the cancellation of the contract in Ms. Greengrass' case could be fixed at the exact moment Nott struck her, both continued as if the betrothal was in effect. As neither one is here to ask, the experts concluded that contract or no, the sexual act was performed in the belief that the contract was valid, which ought to make you, Miss Greengrass, a legitimate daughter of the House of Nott."

Anvil looked at Harry, Astoria and Iere. Harry saw clearly where Anvil was headed.

"Mr. Theodore Nott, my school mate, renounced the family, didn't he?" Harry asked.

Anvil nodded.

"Very good, Mr. Potter," said the goblin.

"There are some other Notts," Harry noted.

"The other branches were disinherited and cast out decades ago," said Anvil. "They have each gone their own way and do not participate in Nott family affairs."

Harry looked at Iere, then Astoria.

"Did Daphne…" he began. Iere shook her head. No.

Astoria wiped a hand across her eyes, then looked up.

"One time," said Astoria. "It was just speculation. How do we find out, Anvil? This needs to be put to rest."

"I agree, Madam Malfoy," said the goblin. "If Miss Greengrass is to make a claim it is best to do so as soon as possible."

Anvil opened a desk drawer and removed a lacquer box, eight or nine inches long, which he placed as close to Iere as his goblin arm would allow. Then he brought out another box about five by seven inches. He opened the second box and removed a sheet of parchment, handing it on to Astoria.

"Would you open that box in front of you, Miss Greengrass?" Anvil asked.

Iere opened the lacquer box. Inside she saw a dagger, silver in color. Iere didn't know a lot about blade smithing but she had seen Damascus steel before. The dagger's blade was made of Damascus, the finest fighting steel ever developed. Layers and layers of steel were forge-welded together, heated and drawn out on the anvil, then the blank was folded over on itself and the process repeated. Each time the blade was infused with carbon from the coals. Impurities were burned away. The repeated doubling of the layers through the folding-over resulted in hundreds of layers of laminated steel, tempered along the blade edges, with steel's strength and slight flexibility retained in the thick section that ran down the middle. Many a wizard rued the day he went up against a goblin-made Damascus blade with his wooden wand, if he lived long enough.

"Oh," said Harry. He knew what the blade and parchment foretold. He looked at Anvil.

"It's not the only way, but it is the quickest," the goblin said. "It is the final test, if there is a counter-claim, so Miss Greengrass could be subject to it, anyway."

Harry nodded.

"I understand," he said, then turned to Iere. "You have a claim to whatever estate Barclay Nott, through your father, left to any extant heirs. As far as we know, that is you. What is your reaction to that?"

Iere shrugged and Astoria laid her hand on her forearm.

"It's okay, sweetie, he has nothing to do with you now, no power, no rights…"

"Uh-huh," said Iere. "So I have to cut myself?"

She reached for the dagger.

"Miss Greengrass, this is strictly, strictly voluntary on your part. If you do not want to press a claim, you needn't to anything and the legal machinery will dispose of the Nott estate and the line will be declared extinct," said Anvil.

Iere brought the parchment over from in front of Astoria, held up her left palm and sliced it, deeply, with the dagger. Blood began dripping from the end of the cut immediately, followed by Anvil admonishing everyone.

"A few drops, that is all, just a few drops."

Astoria grabbed Iere by the wrist and pointed her wand at the wound, which stopped bleeding immediately, although her niece had already deposited a nice, crimson puddle on the parchment. The slice hung open but Astoria fixed that up in no time.

"Iere," Astoria said, laughing all the while. "Your mother…"

Iere started laughing, along with Harry. It wasn't really funny, Harry told Iere later on, but Astoria was right. It WAS Daphne, one hundred percent.

Anvil pulled the parchment over, keeping it level so the blood would pool and leave enough space for the enchantment to work.

"You're thirteen?" Anvil asked.

"Yes, sir," said Iere. "Fourteen in a couple of months."

"I see."

Anvil made some notes on a clean piece of parchment.

"This is still tentative, you understand, until the legal requirements for the notification of rival claims are met, but, if you wish to take up your rights and perquisites, may I convey my congratulations, Lady Nott?"