My heartfelt thanks to KellhusTheKing for agreeing to be my beta. He's been very helpful. Any remaining errors are, of course, my own. Thank you very much to everyone who reviewed. Your reviews are really good at pushing me to write more.
As we will be meeting the rest of the Greengrass family in this chapter, it's as good a place as any to say that I will be working with a definition of canon that excludes Cursed Child, the constant stream of writer's diarrhoea coming out of Pottermore, as well as the rest of the franchised out bits. It's getting to the point where it's impossible to keep up with all this nonsense, and much like with the Star Wars Extended Universe, you can't have anyone fart without some nerd having a go at you. This means, inter alia, that poor Astoria is not suffering from a hereditary curse.
Shae Vizla: I agree that the explanation for him never going there in universe is really poor. You'd think that is one of the first things you'd do to help an orphan boy come to terms with his loss.
Luq707: I try to write around 1000 words on weekdays, and 2000 on weekend days. My chapters tend to be around 6-8k, depending on how the scenes pan out. Also, Harry is as rich as he is in canon, so fairly well off, but not in the same league as Malfoy.
Twinklestabber: I'm glad you appreciate that. The amount of people who expect someone at such a young age to make a commitment to a partner for life is staggering. Not saying you can't have your OTP, but let the characters experiment a bit!
vindictive Glory: I was enjoying your chapter by chapter reviews. Hope you haven't given up!
TinaMaki: I'm glad you think so. I never really understood the people who think that Slytherin is some sort of parallel, dark organization inside the school, as surely that'd never be allowed to continue as a house.
The flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow dies;
All that we wish to stay
Tempts and then flies.
What is this world's delight?
Lightning that mocks the night,
Brief even as bright.
Virtue, how frail it is!
Friendship how rare!
Love, how it sells poor bliss
For proud despair!
But we, though soon they fall,
Survive their joy, and all
Which ours we call.
Whilst skies are blue and bright,
Whilst flowers are gay,
Whilst eyes that change ere night
Make glad the day;
Whilst yet the calm hours creep,
Dream thou—and from thy sleep
Then wake to weep.
Percy Bysshe Shelley
The Dursleys were in such a good mood that they didn't even annoy Harry about doing double the amount of chores the next day. Which was just as well, as Harry still had to pack his things for the trip to the Greengrasses. That's how he spent most of the day, which at least had the virtue of allowing him to put Dobby and his strange warnings, the lingering guilt over Quirrell, and the despondency left over from his visit to his parents' grave out of his mind.
When Wednesday came, he was ready, and spent most of the day in eager anticipation. The hours seemed to drag on endlessly. It didn't help that all his books were packed away, so he didn't even have anything to entertain himself with. Once his chores were done, he had to resort to pacing around the back garden (not the front, where the neighbours could see him, of course).
Just a few minutes after 5 pm, when Harry had been checking his watch every ten seconds or so, he finally heard a telltale pop, followed by the agricultural rattling of an ancient Ford diesel engine. He almost bolted back into the house, but unfortunately wasn't quick enough to get to the door before Aunt Petunia.
"Good afternoon. Mrs. Dursley, I presume?" That was Christian Greengrass, speaking in the same exaggerated Norfolk accent he'd heard him take with Uncle Vernon. "Pleasure to meet you," he took Petunia's hand before she even realized what was happening, giving it a quick shake.
"My name's Christian Greengrass, I'm sure Harry told you he was expecting us."
Harry had to laugh at the expression in Aunt Petunia's face. She seemed conflicted between her distaste for anything to do with the wizarding world, and the respectability that Mr. Greengrass exuded, his quality tweed outfit making him look like the epitome of a British country gentleman.
"Hello Mr. Greengrass," Harry said as he stepped beside his aunt, taking pity on her for a millisecond. He didn't have time to ask him about Daphne, because as soon as Harry came into view, she stepped out from behind her father and jumped onto Harry's arms, enveloping him in a tight hug. "Harry!"
Harry returned Daphne's hug, before she jumped off of him and stood in the threshold, giving him a grin. Harry glanced at Aunt Petunia, who nodded. "Just no funny business," she whispered, not daring to use the word freakishness in front of a fully trained wizard.
"Come in, please," Harry said as he took a step back. "Would you like a cup of tea?" He wasn't used to playing host, but had heard the Dursleys do it often enough. As both Mr. Greengrass and Daphne declined, Harry took a good look at his friend, who looked quite different from when he had last seen her.
The most noticeable change was that she'd cut her hair into a short, pixie cut. This made her look even more like her father, the hair's colour notwithstanding. She was also wearing muggle clothing, which he'd never seen her in before. She looked very striking in jeans, a dark grey t-shirt that was obviously a souvenir from her holiday to Canada, as it proudly boasted a bear, a moose, and an outline of some high mountains, and an unbuttoned flannel shirt which she wore as a jacket.
Meanwhile, Mr. Greengrass had been trying to make himself agreeable to Petunia.
"Bootiful house you've got here, Mrs. Dursley. My daughter Daphne is very good friends with your nephew, as you can see."
Daphne grabbed some of Harry's baggage, turning to him. "Come on, let's get this stuff to the truck."
"Of course, we won't impose on you. We'll just move Harry's baggage and be on our way," Mr. Greengrass added. While Harry was sure that Mr Greengrass was tempted to just magic the whole lot onto the truck, he knew where he was and happily grabbed one end of Harry's large trunk.
"Give me a hand with this, Harry, will you?"
Harry grabbed the handle on the other end, and they began to carry it along. Through the magic of teamwork, they managed to move all his bagage in a matter of minutes.
"Good arm workout. Gonna need that if I make chaser this year, even if I'm still going for keeper first," Daphne said as they finished.
"Is that why you cut your hair?" Harry asked.
"Don't get me started on that, Harry," Mr. Greengrass cut in, giving Daphne an indulgent smile. "She'd been trying to cut her beautiful long hair for ages, but the Quidditch tryouts were just the perfect excuse. I know how badly she wants to get on the team…" He paused and looked at Harry for a moment. "Are you also going to be trying out, Harry?" he asked, with a spark of interest in his eyes.
"Uh, probably not, sir. I barely have enough time as it is, to do everything I want to do…"
"It's such a waste, dad. You should see him at the flying lessons. He flies circles around everyone, even on those crappy school brooms…."
Harry blushed at Daphne's praise. She'd tried every trick to get him to try out, but he was still ambivalent about the whole thing. For once, he was grateful that they were back in the house, as they knew not to mention anything about Quidditch (or anything else to do with magic) around aunt Petunia.
Dudley had joined Aunt Petunia now, probably attracted downstairs by the commotion. Harry saw his attention be drawn to Daphne as soon as she entered the room. Daphne noticed it too, and she gave Harry a wink before turning to his cousin.
"Hey, Sandwell right?" Harry thought he heard Mr. Greengrass suppressing a laugh, but his face was very correct when he looked at him, even if there was mirth in his eyes. Still, he turned to aunt Petunia and asked him about her garden, amazingly actually getting her to talk civilly to a wizard.
"Who are you?" Dudley finally asked Daphne. "My name's Dudley, not Sandwell…" He frowned, not getting the joke. Harry rolled his eyes.
"Oh, I'm Harry's friend from school. Daphne Greengrass…"
"You go to his school?" Dudley's eyes widened in fear. "That means you're… you're…"
"Yup, sure am. Don't tell me you were expecting warts and a big, hooked nose. Honestly, did you never see a picture of your aunt Lily? She was gorgeous…"
Harry felt himself blush at that, and he didn't know why. Still, that must have alerted Aunt Petunia's spidey senses, because she came bearing down on them very quickly, probably to try to get her Diddikyns away from being exposed to any freakishness.
"Alright, bye Walsall," Daphne waved, which had Harry biting his lip as he followed Daphne and Mr. Greengrass out of the house.
"Goodbye Aunt Petunia. See you next year," he said, as he strode forward with a spring in his step, happy to finally be leaving Privet Drive. "Bye Dudders."
Once they were all safely inside the pick-up and away from the muggles, Mr. Greengrass dropped the exaggerated accent, even if one could still detect hints of it if they were looking for them.
"Glad we got that out of the way," he said as he started the engine.
"Bloody hell, Harry, I'm surprised your cousin is able to go up and down the stairs. He's even fatter than your uncle," said Daphne as she stretched out on her seat.
Harry grinned. "Yeah, he's definitely Vernon's son," he replied, before changing the subject to more pleasant topics. "It's great to see you again. How was Canada?"
"Oh, it was amazing. Turns out there's more Quidditch action than I thought. Was stupid of me, really. They did win the world cup a couple of years ago."
"Final took five days, too," Mr. Greengrass added. "By the time it was finished there was almost no one left watching," he said with a laugh, as they drove onwards out of Surrey, the pick-up's progress being aided by popping in and out of existence at regular intervals, moving forward towards East Anglia.
"We did watch a Quodpot match. Really strange, but I can kinda see the appeal now that I've watched it. It's a lot more reliant on team skills than Quidditch…"
While Mr. Greengrass wasn't as outwardly enthusiastic as Daphne, Harry was quick to realize from his interspersed comments that he was a fairly big quidditch fan himself, and seemed happy for Daphne to pursue her ambitions. She had made it no secret that her dream was to play professionally, preferably for the Holyhead Harpies, an all-woman team she rabidly supported.
Harry finally managed to drag her away from the topic of quidditch and towards what else they did in Canada.
"The Wizarding Market in Vancouver was amazing. It's very well connected with China so you get all sorts of weird Oriental items that you'd never see here… And really wouldn't expect outside China or somewhere like that. I'll show you some stuff I got when we get home… And the magical creatures they have living on the mountains…"
Now that was a lot more interesting. Apparently Canada had its own magical school, deep in the woods of Northern Quebec, but a few wizards there went to school in the United States instead. He never thought of where wizards in other countries went to school.
"Are there any magical schools in Europe?" he asked.
"Oh, yes. Hogwarts is the only school in the British Isles, but there's more on the continent," Mr. Greengrass explained. "Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are the most famous, and the ones we tend to have more contact with, even if Durmstrang has a bit of a dubious reputation… It's the school Gellert Grindelwald went to, and they are known for encouraging students to practice the Dark Arts…"
Harry remembered Draco Malfoy talking about almost having gone to Durmstrang, now that he thought about it. He mentioned this to Mr. Greengrass, who snorted.
"I bet Narcissa Malfoy didn't love that idea. Sounds like the sort of thing Lucius would think up, the poncy git." Mr. Greengrass punctuated this with a gear shift, just as the truck popped out of the way of a much larger lorry.
Harry grinned at that. Daphne had obviously told her dad he was only just civil with Malfoy.
"Like father, like son, I see," said Harry, to a general laugh.
"You see Harry, working at the ministry I have to deal with all sorts of unpleasant people, while not letting on that I find them unpleasant. That's why so many people from Slytherin house do very well at these jobs. We get a lot more practice with that than the other houses," he said with a grin. Harry supposed this was how he handled the Dursleys so well.
"I have to admit I was very surprised by Daphne's letter, when she told us you'd been sorted into Slytherin with her. I suppose everyone expected you to follow your parents into Gryffindor. I've never known them, but my wife Ruth was at Hogwarts a couple of years below them."
Harry raised his eyebrow at that. He was definitely going to be asking Mrs. Greengrass about this now. "But these surprises happen. My own late father was in Ravenclaw, despite us Greengrasses traditionally going into Slytherin. He was a very scholarly man, as you can imagine. Anyway, I was even more interested when Daphne said you were becoming friends. I'm sure I don't need to tell you why. Many people had been waiting for your arrival at Hogwarts. No one really knew what had happened to you after you survived the killing curse, you see." Mr. Greengrass was frowning now. "Even now, I have not been able to find any documentation at the ministry about what happened. I find this very frustrating."
"Dad has been trying," Daphne told Harry pointedly. She obviously didn't want Harry to think she'd been remiss in asking him. Harry waved his hand in dismissal, turning to face Mr. Greengrass.
"I really appreciate that, Mr. Greengrass. Don't worry if you can't find anything. You've tried."
Mr. Greengrass shook his head.
"I don't like it. You are a child of a magical family. There should have been an official record of what happened to you. I understand that there was a need at the time to keep it secret, what with many Death Eaters still at large, but surely there is no reason to maintain that so long afterwards… My job at the Ministry is head of the Legislation division of the Archives department. So while I am not directly involved with recordings of children's placements, I know a few people who are, quite well. I have to be careful not to seem overly interested in this, mind you, because it's officially none of my business. But when I explain that you're Daphne's friend, that does get me a little bit of leeway…" He paused to shift gears again, then gave Harry a slightly apologetic grin. "But excuse my drivel. I'm sure you'd much rather be thinking of your upcoming birthday."
"Well, it will definitely be nice to have a proper magical celebration. Thanks again for agreeing to have me over, Mr. Greengrass. And for picking me up. I'd really rather not have to go on the Knight Bus with all my baggage."
"Oh, goodness, no. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. It's bad enough when you don't have to worry about getting your stuff knocked around. If it wasn't for the baggage I'd just side-along apparate you, but it's really no trouble. Really, it's an honour to have such a distinguished guest stay with us."
"Don't give him a big head, dad," Daphne interjected with a laugh.
They were in Norfolk now. Driving through the flat, fertile fens, Harry could see the buzz of agricultural activity all around them. Tractors and other kinds of farm equipment moved noisily through the fields, doing things which Harry didn't really understand, having been raised in the suburbs.
"We're almost home," Daphne told him. "Totally different from around Hogwarts, right? Makes it a pain in the arse to get on a broomstick without the muggles noticing, but at the same time it's nice to be able to see miles around."
"We have a sheltered area with trees where you can fly, though," Mr. Greengrass added.
"Has your family lived here for a long time?" Harry asked.
"The Greengrasses have always lived in Norfolk, but our current house was built when the Fens were drained in the eighteenth century," Mr. Greengrass replied. "It was just after the Statute of Secrecy had been passed, and wizards and muggles had not separated as far as we are now. So we ended up owning a fair bit of land here. It's all rented out to muggles now, except for just around our house, of course."
That certainly explained why Mr. Greengrass was able to blend in with muggles pretty well. They were now driving along a narrow country lane, towards a large L-shaped house which Harry guessed was the Greengrasses' home. They had blinked past a closed gate and were now getting closer and closer, until the pickup finally came to a stop outside a large front door.
"Don't worry about the baggage, Harry," Mr. Greengrass told him. "Ziggy, our house elf will take care of everything. Welcome to our home," he said formally as he opened the front door, letting Harry and Daphne through the threshold ahead of him.
Harry looked around the lobby, which was tastefully decorated with old and sturdy looking furniture. A painting of a Greengrass gone by was watching them from one of the walls. He heard footsteps from one of the open doors, before a clear, penetrating woman's voice was heard.
"Christian, is that you?" Mrs. Greengrass followed her voice into the room, greeting her husband with a kiss before turning to Harry and Daphne. She looked a good bit younger than Mr. Greengrass, and had Daphne's black hair, even though they didn't look much alike otherwise. She was pale and wearing well cut, lightweight pink robes, and even though he didn't often notice these things, Harry thought she was a very beautiful woman.
"Hello Harry. Welcome, I'm so glad you could come and visit us. Daphne talks a lot about you," she said, greeting him with a hug, which left Harry slightly dazed, before giving Daphne a kiss on the cheek.
"You should go show Harry his room, dear," she told her daughter. "And don't forget to introduce him to Astoria. I'm sure she'd be very cross if she didn't get to meet Harry as soon as possible," she added with a smile. Harry blushed at this, remembering Daphne's letters, but as promised, he was going to be nice to Daphne's sister. Daphne, who was giggling at this too, bid him to follow her up the stairs.
"Come on, let's go meet Astoria first. Mum's right, she's been talking about this for weeks."
Harry followed Daphne up the stairs and down a long corridor to a closed door, from where a pink sign with the name 'Astoria' written in bright green writing was hung. Daphne knocked, before adding.
"Someone is here to see you, Princess," she called with just a hint of mirth in her voice.
Harry heard the noise of something falling to the floor inside the room, before he heard the words "One second."
They waited a fair bit more than that, but eventually the door opened a crack. Harry saw a blue eye peak through the opening, before it widened and the door finally opened. Astoria had long blonde hair, the same colour as her father, and was wearing a light purple robe, almost like she'd dressed up for the occasion. She was blushing, but powered through any embarrassment with valour, her determined chin stuck out in what was obviously a family trait, evident even in someone who otherwise took more after her mother.
Astoria solemnly extended her hand, and despite growing even redder, held Harry's gaze.
"Harry, this is my little sister Astoria," Daphne introduced. "This is Harry Potter, Princess," she repeated the nickname with a grin, as Harry, silently amused by the girl's serious demeanour, took her hand and shook it firmly.
"It's very nice to meet you, Astoria. Daphne's told me a lot about you."
"Daphne! What have you been telling him?!" she stage whispered to her sister, before remembering that Harry was still there and she hadn't said anything to him yet.
"Erm, sorry, Harry. It's really nice to meet you. I was so happy when Daphne said you were friends," she began, before blushing even harder, probably realising that she'd just admitted to being a fangirl.
True to his promise, Harry tried to smooth things over. It was kind of cute how much she was trying to act normal and collected. "Well, I hope you're not disappointed now that you've met me for real. People usually think I'd be taller," he added with a grin.
Astoria giggled at his joke, biting her lip. "No, no, you're just great! I mean, uh, just like she wrote," she continued.
"How old are you?" Harry asked, trying his best to put her at ease.
"I'm ten and a half," she replied. "I won't get to go to Hogwarts for another year," she replied, almost pouting. "I wish I could be starting this year."
"We have to do a lot of work, Princess," Daphne replied. "It's not all fun and games…"
"But it isa lot of fun," Harry added. "It'll be worth the wait, I promise."
"I'm going to go show Harry his room," Daphne interjected. "We'll catch up later, Princess, alright."
Astoria looked torn between relief that she didn't have to try to carry on the conversation any longer, and disappointment that Harry was going away.
"I promise we'll get to know each other properly once I settle in," Harry told her with a smile, sensing this. "I'll be here for a month, after all."
"Oh, of course. See you later Harry," she replied, relief now becoming evident, even if she tried to retreat back to her room with dignity rather than look like she was running away.
Once the door closed, Daphne chuckled. "Isn't she cute. Thanks for not breaking her heart, Harry."
Harry blushed himself at this, not used to being the object of this kind of attention. They walked back up the corridor, and Daphne let him to her room first, past a door proclaiming in sharp, dark green writing that this was 'Daphne's Room - DO NOT ENTER Without Permission.'
Harry laughed at the warning, wishing he could have had something like that in his room back at the Dursleys.
Harry had never been in a girl's bedroom before, but he was fairly certain Daphne's wasn't very typical. The walls were covered in Holyhead Harpies paraphernalia, including a variety of magical posters, depicting many Quidditch plays. The ability to depict movement made them much more interesting than the muggle football posters Dudley had, as one could see the different plays taking place. Many of the posters featured a tough looking woman wearing the Captain's badge, and wielding a beater's club.
"Who's that?" Harry asked, noting her ubiquitous presence.
"Who's that? That's only Gwenog Jones. She is… amazing!" Daphne clearly wasn't immune to Fangirl's Disease either, because she spent quite a bit of time rhapsodizing about her hero's prowess.
Harry was only half listening as he took stock of his friend's room, noting the desk piled up with parchments suggesting she had been active in completing her homework after all, to the few non-Quidditch related items, among which posters for a band called the Weird Sisters were fairly prominent. Harry had occasionally heard mentions of them at school before, but had actually never realized they were a band until seeing Daphne's poster, where they were wielding their musical instruments.
His distraction was probably a bit too evident, because Daphne had stopped talking and was following his gaze. "More interested in the Weird Sisters than hearing me obsess about quidditch?" She asked with a laugh.
"Uh, well, I didn't even realize they were a band," Harry admitted.
Daphne sighed at that. "I keep forgetting how much you're still missing. We'll have to continue your education." She grabbed his arm and pulled him back into the corridor. "I still need to show you your room."
As Daphne had mentioned in her letter, he'd been allocated a room next to hers. His baggage had already been transferred to the room, which surprised him until he remembered Mr. Greengrass' words about their house elf. The room was bigger than Dudley's second room had been, to say nothing of his cupboard. Thinking about house elves brought Dobby's visit to Harry's mind.
"This looks great, Daphne. Thanks again," he took a seat on his bed before broaching the topic. "The strangest thing happened to me a couple of days ago."
"Oh?" Daphne asked. She sat perpendicular to Harry on the bed, and looked at him inquiringly. She cast a privacy spell, adding. "Probably best if we don't lock the door, but don't need to worry about being overheard at least. I know you like your secrets."
Harry blushed. Until Daphne mentioned it, he hadn't really processed the fact that he was sitting very close to a girl in… if not strictly his bedroom, at least the bedroom he was currently occupying. He wasn't sure whether to scoot away from her, but Daphne's laughter diffused his tension.
"Oh my God Harry, you are so adorable when you get all flustered like that. Don't worry, I'm not worried about your intentions on my virtue." Her impish grin was enough to get him to relax almost instantly.
"Sorry," he admitted, chuckling. He bit his lip and leant back against the wall, before telling Daphne the story of Dobby's visit. She listened to him attentively, asking a question or two, until he finished his tale.
"That's really strange behaviour from a house elf," she said when Harry was finished. "Normally they wouldn't think of doing anything like that against their owners' wishes, even if they hadn't actually been told not to do it… But I suppose if an elf really held a grudge against their owners it might do that…" She thought for another couple of seconds before calling out "Ziggy!"
This was immediately followed by a pop, and a house elf appearing before them. "Miss Daphne called?" The creature asked. While this one looked a bit more stable than Dobby had, Harry could still not shake a slight discomfort in the presence of these creatures. At least Ziggy was better groomed. Presently, he turned his wide-eyed attention on Harry. "Mr. Harry Potter, sir. Ziggy is honoured to serve Mr. Harry Potter."
Harry never knew what to reply to things like this even when coming from other humans, much less from house elves. Fortunately, Daphne took the reins of the situation, which he supposed was fitting, since her family owned the creature after all.
"Ziggy, do you know a house elf named Dobby?" Daphne asked, quick and to the point as usual. The elf thought for a second, before shaking his head.
"Ziggy does not know any Dobby, Miss. Does Miss Daphne want Ziggy to find out?"
Daphne looked at Harry, and he shrugged. "Don't go out of your way, but if you get the chance to ask, please do so," Harry said. How would he even get the chance? Did house elves get together in their time off, if they even had time off…
Daphne underwrote Harry's instructions. "Yes, Ziggy, do that. And remember Harry is a guest with us, so do what he tells you to."
"Of course, miss Daphne. Mr. Harry Potter, sir," the creature turned to Harry before disappearing with a pop.
Harry shuddered.
"Don't think I'm going to be calling him if I can help it. These creatures give me the creeps," he admitted. Daphne regarded him curiously, but indulged him, shrugging and returned to the issue of Dobby's visit.
"Still can't believe the cheek of that house elf, intercepting your post. I didn't even know that was possible… Do you think there really is a plan to make anything happen at Hogwarts?" she asked.
"Wouldn't surprise me judging from last year. Still, it's supposedly not Voldemort, so whatever it is, I'm sure Dumbledore can handle it…"
Daphne shuddered at the name. "Stop that," he told her, more harshly than he intended. "I'm the one he's after. If I can say it, you can too."
"I'm still processing the fact that he's still alive…" Daphne whispered. "I haven't talked about it with anyone. Just like you asked me to. But it's scary. It really is." Daphne looked deflated, her usual energy ebbing away, before she closed her eyes for a second, like she was trying to focus all her determination.
"I know what you're thinking. I'm not going anywhere. I'm your friend. But, I'm scared. I'm not a Gryffindor." She opened her eyes and looked at Harry.
"Neither am I. I understand. I was scared too. When I faced him. I still am. I guess I can't understand what it's like when you've grown up thinking this was all in the past. But I'm here for you." He smiled, and Daphne nodded, squeezing his hand before regaining a bit of her usual vitality. At that moment, the sound of a gong rang throughout the house.
"Ah, that'll be dinner," she said, jumping out of bed and cancelling the privacy charm. "Come on, you'll change your tune on house elves once you've tried Ziggy's cooking," she added, dragging him out of his room and down the stairs.
This was the kind of occasion where Harry would be locked in the cupboard under the stairs back at the Dursleys, or in the loft for good measure. As a result, he had zero experience of dinner parties. Still, he muddled through as best as he could. The Greengrasses seemed willing to overlook any minor failings in his manners, and helped draw him out by asking questions about his exploits at Hogwarts which they surely already knew about from Daphne. Even Astoria joined in, a lot more composed now that she had got used to being under the same roof as the Boy-Who-Lived.
Once dinner was over, Mr. Greengrass asked Harry and Daphne to join him in his study, a room whose walls couldn't be seen for all the bookcases covering them from floor to ceiling. Harry took his seat beside Daphne by a coffee table, while Mr. Greengrass sat by the big mahogany desk which dominated the room.
Harry was very conscious that he still did not know all the intricacies of what was expected behaviour among old wizarding families. For a second he entertained with horror the idea that they still practiced arranged marriages, and Mr. Greengrass was about to offer him Daphne or Astoria as a future wife. He didn't know which one would be more awkward. Then he realized he was being ridiculous, and that he'd never heard anyone mention arranged marriages-he was just drawing silly parallels with things he'd learned poorly in muggle history.
While he was thinking about this, Mr. Greengrass had poured himself a glass of firewhisky, and had got him and Daphne something called butterbeer.
"Have you ever had one of these, Harry?" he asked. When Harry shook his head, he went on. "This one only contains a very small amount of alcohol, but they can definitely range a fair bit higher. I'm sure you'll find all about that soon enough, especially when they start letting you out to Hogsmeade next year."
Harry took a sip, and found he quite enjoyed it. It was a lot better than that nasty goblin cider stuff he'd tried at the house cup victory party. Not that he was about to mention that.
"It's great, thank you, sir!" he exclaimed, before taking another sip. Mr. Greengrass went on.
"Anyway, I didn't ask you here to talk about drinks," he said, taking a sip of his own firewhisky. "Ahh, that's the stuff," he murmured. "Anyway, I'm very happy for you to host your birthday party here in a couple of days. I can certainly understand why you wouldn't want to host it at your relatives' house. And it's a pleasure having you over for the whole month. You really do deserve to see more of our world than just what you get at Hogwarts. It's completely unconscionable that you were kept completely in the dark about your background for so long."
Harry got the sense that Mr. Greengrass was building up to something. He was soon proven right.
"I'm going to be hosting a couple of get togethers while you're here. Just a few friends and acquaintances, colleagues from the Ministry. Some of them will be bringing their children over. I hope you'll do me the honour of attending. We won't keep you kids long past dinner, especially since their children would want to mingle with you too. It'll do you good to meet other people outside your year and house, anyway."
Harry nodded. Indeed, Mr. Greengrass wasn't as crass as to explicitly describe the quid-pro-quo, but it was there, exactly as Daphne and Ted had warned him. Well, while it was slightly awkward, it certainly seemed like a worthy tradeoff. After all, it'd only be a couple of awkward evenings in exchange for a whole month away from the Dursleys. Truth be told, he'd do a lot more than what he was being asked in exchange for that.
"Oh, that's not a problem, Mr. Greengrass. It's my pleasure. You've opened your home to me, after all, and I'm really grateful for that." Harry thought that expressed it nicely, and was relieved to see that Mr. Greengrass looked pleased. He took another sip of his firewhisky before changing the subject.
"Did you find the records I obtained for you about that Gaunt family useful? I hope you don't mind satisfying my curiosity as to why you wanted them."
Ah, yes. Harry had had a month to finish up a cover story for this request.
"Well, I had been researching my family history. I didn't know anything about them, you see. So when I finally started learning about them, I just wanted to know more. I learned that my family were descended from this famous family called the Peverells. Once I started learning more about them…" he explained, keeping it as close to the truth as he could, without divulging any details about things like the Resurrection Stone and his ability to speak to snakes.
"You found out that the Gaunts also claimed descent from them." Mr. Greengrass's eyes lit up with recognition. "That's very good detective work. I suspect your friend Nott might have lent you some help there." They all knew he was alluding to The Pureblood Directory.
Harry demurred. "I had to piece things together from a lot of sources. I suspect, as one of the Sacred Twenty Eight yourself, you'll know all these things, but I had to find them all out for myself." He shrugged. "At any rate it was a false lead, as it turned out to be a different Peverell that they were related to." He hoped that would put it to rest.
Mr. Greengrass looked impressed now. "You'll find that pretty much every one of those families is related to all the others. At least the ones who are left. There's a fair bit less than Twenty Eight now." He paused and downed the rest of his firewhisky. "But it's a noble endeavour on your part. I can certainly understand your curiosity now. It's perhaps for the best that that was a false lead, anyway. As you found out, that wasn't a family one would particularly want to be associated with."
Harry wasn't sure that Mr. Greengrass fully bought his story, but if he hadn't, he wasn't pressing the issue. After a few more pleasantries, him and Daphne were let go. It was still light outside, it being the peak of the Summer, so Daphne gave him a quick tour of the grounds before they went back inside and took care of some pending homework, trying to get it out of the way before Harry's birthday. The next day was spent in more or less the same way, Harry feeling a rising sense of anticipation for his first ever birthday party-at least that he could remember. He assumed his parents had had a party for his first birthday.
On the morning of his birthday, he was woken by a party horn.
"Happy birthday, sleepyhead." Daphne greeted him, standing at the threshold of his bedroom with her wand out; presumably it had been used to make that sound, as no actual horn was in sight. Harry quickly put his classes on and grinned sheepishly.
"Thanks," he said, slowly climbing out of bed.
"I'm saving your present for when the others get here, but I've been planning that for a while," she added with a grin. "Just knock on my door when you're ready."
While Daphne's present would wait, as she would actually be at the party, Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass had something for Harry at breakfast.
"We thought you really should get something done about those glasses, dear," Mrs. Greengrass began. "They look terribly out of fashion, and you probably should get your vision tested at some point. I would guess you've never been to a magical optician, have you, Harry?"
Harry shook his head sheepishly. Were his glasses really that bad? Mrs. Greengrass went on.
"So, Christian and I got you a voucher for an examination and a new pair of glasses." She held out to Harry a rolled and sealed parchment. "We'd've preferred to have them ready now, but it's not the kind of thing you can shop for someone in their absence."
"Owlsworth and Mole are an establishment in Diagon Alley. You can go there when you go to buy your school things, but we wanted to give you the gift today," Mr. Greengrass took over the explanation. "You'll be able to specify any number of charms you might want on your glasses, like being waterproof and only removable by you."
Harry had never thought of any of those possibilities. This was another one of those little things he'd missed out on from being raised by muggles. He suddenly felt very grateful to the Greengrasses.
"Thank you very much," he said, grasping the parchment tightly. "I'm really looking forward to getting them."
Waiting behind Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass was a slightly flustered, but determined looking Astoria. "I've got you something too, Harry," she told him, bringing forward a small wrapped box she'd been keeping behind her back. "I don't get a lot of pocket money yet, but I ordered it myself."
Harry took the box from her with care. Astoria had got progressively less starstruck after they had eaten a few meals together and she realized the Boy-Who-Lived was human after all. Harry wasn't sure whether that had made her crush worse or better, but she was clearly making an effort to talk with him without being his friend's annoying little sister. That was kind of impressive in a way. Harry was fairly confident she'd get sorted into Slytherin and have all the other first years eating off the palm of her hand.
Harry unwrapped the box very seriously, to find inside a little silver pin in the form of a snake, curled into an S-shape. "It's a Slytherin house pin," she explained. "It's charmed so it just stays on without tearing your clothes," she added, demonstrating how to activate it. Harry smiled.
"It's beautiful, Astoria, thank you," he told her, carefully following her instructions to pin it in place. "I'm going to wear it all day!" He said, giving her a smile that made her blush again. Still, she held her composure admirably.
"I'm glad you like it, Harry," she replied, seriously. Daphne gave her a grin.
"You didn't tell me you had this planned, Princess," she said. "Now I look like a weirdo for making him wait until later."
Harry was about to protest before Daphne's grin made it clear that she didn't really mean anything by it. Soon, it was mid-afternoon, time for the rest of his friends to start arriving for his party. Harry was feeling surprisingly nervous considering he was the birthday boy. He still felt very awkward when people made a fuss about him, even if in this case it was completely normal and expected. Back at the Dursleys, attention had never been good.
At first, Harry didn't understand why Daphne took him to the living room and began fiddling with the fireplace.
"Are we lighting a fire? It's the middle of the Summer?"
Daphne looked slightly confused before realization dawned on her.
"Oh, I suppose you'd never seen Floo travel before." She grabbed a bowl from the mantlepiece and showed him. It was full of a powder which looked like normal soot. "This is Floo powder. You can use it to travel between fireplaces that are connected to the Floo network. You can also use it to just talk to people. It's a bit disconcerting when you try it for the first time, but it's very handy if you can't apparate."
"Is it better than the Knight Bus?" Harry asked with a grin.
"Oh, you've done that? It's different, but neither is particularly pleasant, to be honest…" she trailed as the sound of a bell sounded through the house.
"Guess not everyone's Flooing in," she exclaimed, turning on her heels to go open the door. Harry followed her and arrived at the threshold just in time to see the Knight Bus disappear behind a frazzled looking Theodore Nott, wearing slightly faded, but good quality robes and carrying a wrapped package.
"Happy birthday, Harry," he said as Daphne stepped aside to let him in. "Hi Daphne. You cut your hair!"
"I'm going to be hearing that a lot today, aren't I?" she asked as she closed the door again. Before Harry could say anything or open the present, a rushing noise came from the fireplace, followed by the thud of someone landing. They turned to the living room to find Morag MacDougal stumbling out of the fireplace, holding a small gift.
"Can never land properly," she said as she found her footing. "Happy birthday, Harry! Thank you so much for inviting me." She then turned to Daphne and Ted. "I don't think we ever properly met, but I'm Morag MacDougal. Of course we're in some classes together, but…"
"I'm Daphne Greegrass. Welcome," she looked speculatively at Morag and Harry, before the latter introduced Ted. Tracey soon arrived via Floo as well, while Blaise actually side along apparated with his mum, who turned out to be on friendly terms with Mrs. Greengrass.
Blaise's mother was a very beautiful woman-but in a different way from Mrs. Greengrass. Harry couldn't put his finger on where exactly the difference lay, though, other than perhaps Mrs. Zabini being more vibrant and energetic.
"Hello, Harry, happy birthday," Blaise said as he stepped into the room.
"We know you kids want to be alone, don't worry. Ruth and I will just be having afternoon tea," Mrs. Zabini said, mostly to Blaise, but including everyone else in the group.
They all nodded until all parental figures were safely out of sight. "All right, Harry. Time to open your presents, then we'll go outside." Daphne said, as Harry turned to the pile of wrapped packages waiting for him.
"Is this everyone? Am I the only one who's not in Slytherin?" asked Morag. Harry was vaguely worried that this would make her uncomfortable, but she seemed to be taking it pretty well. Harry supposed that exposure to him had lessened any prejudice she might feel towards his house.
"An Eagle among the Snakes. Sounds dramatic, doesn't it?" Blaise drawled, grinning at Morag. Reassured that she wasn't going to feel unwelcome, Harry picked a present at random and pulled at the wrapping.
The pickup Mr. Greengrass is driving is supposed to have been one of the Ministry cars seen in PoA for the first time.
Sandwell and Walsall are two metropolitan boroughs in the West Midlands, located near Dudley and in the case of the former, sharing a railway station with it (Sandwell and Dudley).
Bootiful is a catchphrase associated with the late frozen turkey magnate Bernard Mathews, who was from Norfolk and spoke in a very broad local accent.
The Fens were a wetland area in the County of Norfolk. Attempts to drain it went back at least to the 17th century, but due to local resistance and the Civil War, it was only in the 18th century that this was accomplished.