Chapter Two: Wherein a single meeting changes everything.
Summary: Narcissa Black Malfoy has tea at Grimmauld Place. A field trip is taken afterwards.
Author's Note: This story is written for my husband, who also loves it as much as I do.
Harry had arranged that tea be in place with his surly elf vacated five minutes before his visitor was to arrive. He'd lost the coin toss between wearing jeans and jumpers and their school uniform. He and Hermione both had a prefect pin on their sweater. They, it turned out, would be the two eighth year prefects.
Hermione had coached him on how to answer the door, invite her in, take her coat. Similarly she had coached him on how to help her back into her coat on the way out, and he'd been practicing on Ginny for the last week, so when it actually happened it was quite smooth indeed. And now Ginny had grown fond of him always helping her to put her coat on.
Ginny poured the tea when they were all seated and it was quiet until the older woman spoke.
"Thank you for allowing me to pay a call on you. I quite appreciate your forbearance."
"We found your letters very interesting, Lady Malfoy," Harry replied mildly before drinking some tea while properly holding the saucer just so. This politeness thing wasn't so hard, and it wasn't so bad, either.
"You are too kind. But won't you all call me Narcissa, please."
"Alright," Harry said, feeling awkward.
"And please use our first names as well," Hermione chimed in.
"I go by Ginny, please. Only my mother calls me Ginerva, and then only when she's angry," his wife - his wife! - said calmly.
"I will, thank you."
Everyone took a drink of their tea and an uncomfortable silence descended.
"It is never a pleasant thing to discuss debts, and among such new acquaintances it must be doubly so. But from my invitation I gather you are interested in hearing the ideas I've had to begin a preliminary repayment?"
"That's about the size of it," Harry replied, realizing he wasn't really making this any easier on her, and honestly, not minding. He was still being polite, though.
"Well, first to you, Harry. Do I rightly assume that you understand the depth of the favor I owe?"
"Let's pretend I don't."
She smiled fleetingly. "Well, it is clear to me that I owe you my life, and the life of my son. Though no life debt was formed between us at the time, due to the circumstances of war, it is clear to me that I would be wasting away in Azkaban in a cell between my husband and my son right now, with all the trappings of my life forfeit, which unfortunately would have included this house, had you not participated in my turncoat activities that day."
"What do you mean, 'this house'?" asked Ginny.
"I am the last heir to the Black name, despite the fact that I have married outside of the family."
"But this house belonged to Sirius…" Harry trailed off, and it hurt, thinking of his godfather.
"No, he was disowned long ago, and after Regulus died, well, it came to us. The three sisters. But my sister Andromeda was also later disowned. And now of course Bellatrix is finally dead. Her husband Rabastan inherits nothing, and the old laws say that it reverts to family, before it can be claimed by victims or auctioned off."
"So it's been yours all this time?" Hermione asked.
"Yes, though I have neglected it through a mixed path of chance and luck."
"I'd say. It was the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix during the war," Ginny remarked.
Narcissa smiled, and it was more than the polite small thing she had given before. It was wry and full of humor Harry hadn't expected. "Well. I'm glad I was neglectful, then. But I digress. I would like to clean up this house and give it to you, Harry, as a beginning repayment of my debt. It by no means satisfies the requirement, but it makes a solid beginning, if that is something you would accept."
Harry glanced at Ginny, then at Hermione. But still he thought the answer was obvious.
"Yes, I think that would be an excellent start. Good luck getting Kreacher to cooperate," he added.
"Kreacher?" Narcissa called out, her tone gentle and conciliatory.
"Miss Cissy!" the elf called as soon as he popped into the room. He threw himself to the ground and rubbed his face on her shoes.
"Dear Kreacher," she said, leaning down and petting the top of his head as if he were a pet. "I haven't had the opportunity to tell you how sorry I was to hear about the death of Regulus. I know he was very special to you."
The old elf started weeping, audibly.
"I'm sorry I stayed away so long. My husband forbade me to return, but he no longer has the power of decision over me."
Harry sat, stunned, and wondered what the hell kind of marriage that was.
"Miss Cissy is the last Black!" Kreacher wailed, still face down on her shoes.
For a time all three just watched the scene with wide eyes. Narcissa Malfoy, cold elegance dissipated, simply stroked and comforted the mourning house elf at her feet.
"I will no longer avoid my responsibility as the last Black," she said quietly. "Not to this house, and not to you. Now, I have a few questions to put to you. Do you feel up to answering them, my old friend?"
Kreacher sniffed and blew his nose on his pillowcase. Still, he looked up and sat back on his heels, clearly more comfortable than he'd ever been in anyone else's presence. Including Sirius'.
"I would like to tidy up this home properly. Do you desire to help me, or would you prefer I relocate you to Malfoy Manor where you might be more comfortable?"
"No, Miss Cissy, I will stay and help."
"You know I have very high standards, Kreacher. I always did like things a bit cleaner and a bit lighter than Auntie Wallie, may she rest in peace."
"Yes, Miss. Clean and light can be very nice, too, Miss."
Narcissa smiled gently at the elf, the corners of her eyes crinkling at him. "Well, then. That's excellent. I shall be very grateful for your help. For myself, and my own elves, well, we just don't know this house like you do. I know we'll be able to do a much better job with you on our side."
Kreacher sat up taller.
The three watched an expert at work, mesmerized.
"Now this may be a difficult question, but life is what it is, and sometimes change must happen. I intend to give this house as a gift to some newlyweds. Would you prefer to stay on and serve them, or would you prefer when we are finished tidying up, to come back home with me?"
Kreacher tilted his head, though no one else could see his expression clearly. Finally he said, "Miss Cissy will give the house to her son and his lady?"
"No, Kreacher, my dear. I have debts of honor to pay. Someone saved my life, and the life of my son. It didn't create a life debt, due to other circumstances, but it is a debt all the same. And this house is within my gift, and so I have offered it, and they have accepted. It does not repay entirely, but it is a beginning. And when we are done tidying, it will be a very fine beginning, indeed."
"Is Miss giving it to him?" Kreacher asked, his voice turning nasty once again, as his head jerked back toward where Harry was sitting.
She reached out and gently took his hand. "He saved my life, Kreacher. And more important than that, he saved Draco's life," she added, her eyes going wide, her tone intense. Then the moment passed. "I know he is not your favorite, but did you not like Auntie Wallie more than Uncle Orion? And did you not love your Regulus, and loathe Cousin Sirius? I know you preferred me over Bella and Andy. Perhaps you will come to love and respect his wife, and that will make serving him a more reasonable affair."
Kreacher snorted.
"What is it, my friend?"
"She has red hair," he muttered.
Narcissa laughed, and it was like a rainbow in the room. There was no scorn in the sound, no coldness, just light and joy. "And I have white hair! And Regulus had black. And Auntie Wallie brown, though we both know she dyed it. I should say you're due for red, next."
"She is rude," he muttered, mustering a new defence. Harry put one hand over his wife's forearm, just in case her temper decided to show.
"Ah," Narcissa said, nodding slowly. "That is a difficulty." After a moment of what looked like contemplation, but just a touch too dramatic, she asked a question. "And your own behavior was beyond reproach, of course? For then you would indeed be the injured party."
"No, Miss Cissy," came the quiet reply.
"Oh. I see," she said, her tone just a shade colder. "Other considerations?"
"Terrible friends. Bad people." And here Kreacher looked all the way around and glared at Hermione.
"Do you mean, in particular, Miss Granger, Kreacher? And perhaps the fact that she is a muggle-born witch?"
"Yes!" Kreacher nearly shouted, his head whipping back around, but blissfully he said no more.
"But she is a good and kindly witch, with great powers, and quite benevolent views on house elves."
There was silence in the room. Finally Kreacher spoke. His voice was filled with loathing. "Miss Cissy likes the Granger?"
"I have been honored to make her acquaintance today, which she was kind enough to grant at my request. Further, I owe her a debt as well. And as a person, yes. I like her very well, indeed. I am grateful to now be indebted to such honorable and kindly people, Kreacher. This has not always been the case, and my life has been very hard because of it."
Kreacher slumped back down on his heels. "Life is bad, Miss Cissy. Life is very bad," he muttered.
She returned to stroking his head gently. "Happiness is not found outside of ourselves, Kreacher. It is found within. And we must make what we can of the opportunities afforded us. For there will always be opportunities, if we can but recognize them for what they truly are. Cousin Regulus taught me that."
And again Kreacher crumpled in on himself and began to quietly sob.
And over it, Hermione's soft voice floated. "Regulus Black defected before his death. He stole one of the Dark Lord's horcruxes, thinking it was the only one, and charged Kreacher with destroying it, not realizing that was out of his ability to do. So instead he kept it safe, a treasured momento of his dearest friend. He gave it up to us when we asked, and we were able to destroy it eventually. But we too, carried it for a long time, though not anywhere as long as Kreacher did. It, like all the horcruxes, twists the mind of the bearer. It was a terrible thing to bear only for a moment, to say nothing of any longer. I honestly don't know how Kreacher survived it. We almost didn't."
Narcissa nodded at Hermione then looked down again, still stroking the house elf's head. "It sounds like you have shared some of your pain with them, and they know a piece of what you feel. Such things are meant to bring us closer to one another. No one else can know the burden of what you and they have shared. It is a precious thing, Kreacher, to share someone's pain. Not many are given that gift.
"Now, why don't you dry your eyes and wash your face and go get some fresh air. Visit one of the other Black properties. You will be called when you are needed again. And the fresh air may clear away some of the cobwebs."
"Yes, Miss Cissy," he warbled, and then left with a pop of air.
After a careful and deep exhale, call-me-Narcissa,-please remarked dryly, "Well. That was long overdue."
Ginny poured out some more tea and everyone took a moment to drink it. The silence was quite different than before.
"I shall confer with you by owl, if I may while you are at school regarding colors, textures, and progress, or shall I defer such conversations to your wife?"
Harry looked at Ginny. "Uh, both of us, I think. We'll discuss and decide together."
Ginny nodded silently and laid her hand briefly on his knee, before returning to her tea.
"Unless you have any questions, I would turn my attention to my debt to Hermione."
Harry silently shook his head.
She set down her tea cup and saucer and Harry saw that Hermione silently followed suit, next to him on the couch.
"Hermione, I am so dreadfully sorry for what befell you at the hands of my sister, lo these months ago." Harry watched her eyes start to shine like she might cry, though her voice did not waver. "I have two thoughts that might begin and end the debt owed to you by the House of Black. And in my eyes, nothing short of this effort would be sufficient."
"Go on," Hermione said gently.
"First, I would like to offer you this," she said, and then reached to her small purse and pulled out a small jar of what would probably be ointment. She put it on the table between them. "It is a terrible remedy for a terribly cursed blade, but it does work. It cannot be applied topically, nor ingested. Once daily for eight days, you must coat a new blade, and clean and recoat for every inch of work. Every day the blade must be new, and afterwards should be vanished. If you reopen the wound with the coated blade in just such a manner for the proscribed length of time, and then wrap and dress it as you might an ordinary wound, it will finally heal. During the treatment, you should use no spells or potions on your person, for they will interfere. You may, of course, cast and brew as you like during that time."
"That's awful," Ginny whispered.
"It was a Black curse, and a Black remedy. They are awful on each side," Narcissa responded.
Hermione exhaled audibly. "But in eight days it will be done." She reached out and took the jar of ointment, pulling it closer to her on the table that held the tea things. "I'll take it. Thank you. Is the second thing as awful and wonderful as the first?"
Narcissa smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. "You may think so." She picked up her teacup and drank some before placing it back on the table, and folding her hands in her lap. "The particular way in which my sister wronged you, what she chose to carve into your arm, and the great deal of sentiment behind it is what I would like to address, and in the most powerful way I know how, to make the boldest statement I am capable of making, which would, coincidentally, cause my sister to turn in her grave."
"That sounds exciting on all accounts," Ginny remarked.
"Indeed," Narcissa agreed with a small smile. She turned her gaze to Hermione. "I would like to name you, Hermione, my heir, the heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, and provide you with all of the rights and responsibilities therein."
Harry looked at Hermione, and then back at Ginny, and then at Hermione again. And he thought being given a house was a big deal. Hell, cleaning up Grimmauld Place successfully would be a big deal. This was somewhat larger, however.
Hermione, when she spoke, did not stammer. She only spoke very slowly. "What about Draco?"
"He is the firstborn, and a man, and so according to the old laws, heir to his father's name, properties, and responsibilities. Had we a second child, I might have named that child heir. And I might not have. It is a woman's prerogative to name an heir when there is anything to inherit, and there is no clear rule saying how it must be done. You, Hermione, are brave, noble, cunning, ambitious, loyal, hardworking, intelligent, and wise. We do a disservice to our whole world when we only look to a person's genealogy to determine their merit. But for those who do, if you choose to accept this, it will give them a reason to listen to you, to allow you to make changes in our world, changes that are perhaps long overdue. Will you accept?"
Harry wasn't breathing.
"Yes," Hermioned breathed out softly.
"Will you accompany me to Gringotts to have the proceedings witnessed? Harry and Ginny may join us, of course."
"Yes, Narcissa, I will."
"Then let us finish our tea and make our preparations to leave."
In short order they were in the front hall and Narcissa had called to her two house elves named Pampy and Tampy. They looked identical.
"My dears, we have important business to transact at Gringotts," she said, looking down at the twin elves. "Will you accompany us?"
And then they were all there.
Elf travel was so much better than apparating, which had always left Hermione terribly nauseous. And despite the fact that she had just been here yesterday, changing bank notes into galleons, ever since the break in and subsequent break out, Hermoine was quite nervous around the goblins.
"Thank you," she said, directing her gratitude to the two elves near her, not knowing which one had done it. One of them, Hermione had no idea which it was, silently nodded at her.
Narcissa led them and since it was one of the busiest times of the year, they all waited silently in line, ignoring the stares and whispers from others also in line.
Hermione stood quietly for a while, next to Narcissa, with the two elves behind them, and Harry and Ginny behind them. Was there anything she could say in public to this woman?
"I see you are made prefect again this year. Congratulations," Narcissa said.
"Thank you," Hermione said, still feeling the odd pang for missing out on being Head Girl. Ah well. The horcruxes were far more important, and she really couldn't believe it was still bothering her. "I studied as much as I could, last year, such as it was. I had all my books, but of course there was neither instruction, nor practical application for most things."
"Did you?" asked Narcissa with a small smile on her face. They shuffled forward a few feet as the line got marginally shorter. "Well done. It is a relief to see one taking one's studies to heart. Which are your areas of particular interest?"
"Well," Hermione sighed, "I quite like arithmancy and ancient runes, potions is terribly useful, of course, as is transfiguration, but charms and defence are all I've done much with in the past year."
"So, you have a head for numbers?"
Hermione nodded.
"That will come in useful, I am sure."
And then there was silence. It didn't seem like Harry or Ginny were speaking either, though sometimes it seemed like they could share each other's thoughts. After a while, Hermione spoke.
"Will Draco be returning to Hogwarts?"
"He has decided instead to take up the responsibilities as the head of House Malfoy, and I think it is the right decision for him. We haven't many holdings in here in England, but there are several abroad that must be tended to, and business managers can only do so much without direction."
"Have the Blacks many holdings?" Hermoine asked quietly, aware of eavesdroppers.
"It is fitting that they should," she answered, and Hermoine noticed it was neither a yes nor a no, and Hermoine thought again about eavesdroppers, and too, about how many years the Black family business managers had been managing things on their own without oversight, for whatever holdings there were. Or were left, at this point.
Oh, dear. What exactly was she inheriting? Narcissa had said something earlier, inviting Kreacher to one of the other Black properties. So there was that, at least. But were there any investments? Any ventures actually owned outright? Was there anything like income, and were there any savings, or was this just another bankrupt noble house in Britain that Hermione had joined?
No, wait. She'd seen the inside of the Black Vault. And had left it rather a mess, and freed the dragon guarding it…
Well, unless it was all illusion and duplication, there was still wealth to the Black family name. Though a clean-out of all dark and cursed items would be in the offing at some point.
Well, at least the name still existed. Possibly influence as well. And if there was nothing else after the clean out, well, then so be it.
After that, they waited in line in utter silence.
In the due course of time, they were at the head of the line and finally waved over by the next ready goblin.
"Countess Black, what service may I perform for you today?" she was greeted cordially by a goblin. Now Hermione had seen everything, and it turned out that Goblins Were Snobs. And that explained a lot.
"I am prepared to name my heir."
"I shall gather the requirements, if you will follow me to a witnessing chamber?"
They did. Going under the waterfall was something Hermione hadn't been prepared for, but her clothes dried almost instantly though her hair, she was sure, looked somewhat worse for being doused in Thief's Downfall.
They sat in chairs around a table and a very large, very well-armed goblin guard with earplugs in stood in the corner. They waited, and after a while were joined again by the clerk and another goblin, somewhat older and crustier, and likely more important.
"I am Ragar, Countess Black, and I am prepared to oversee what must be done. Name your witnesses."
"In the rank of elf, I name Pampy and Tampy, daughters of Kreacher of the House of Black. In the rank of wizard, I name Mr. Harry Potter and Mrs. Ginerva Potter, nee Weasley." She said, mincing words which Hermione was certain the goblins appreciated.
"In the rank of goblin, I name clerk Grivnor, son of Grivnid, son of Griven. Name your heir, Scion of Black."
"Hermoine Granger, of muggle parents."
Ragar stared wordlessly for sometime.
"Give him your left hand, palm up," Narcissa said quietly to Hermione.
He took it and took the knife off the table, but paused and looked back at Narcissa. "She is cursed," he said, his voice full of accusation. Of course, that tone was not dissimilar to his other seemingly neutral ones.
"Not for long. I still wish to continue," Narcissa replied.
Ragar stabbed the tip of her finger and pressed it to a piece of paper, or possibly parchment, and then released it. He picked up the paper and watched it, for what, Hermione had no idea.
Narcissa leaned closer again to whisper near Hermione's ear. "The goblins keep the most honest and detailed records of wizard genealogy, though they do not often share the information. It is to ensure excellent service to their clients, of course. Ragar is now checking your genealogy to see where the most recent four squibs are in your tree. Squibs and their descendants cannot inherit under normal circumstances, of course, but it will be interesting nonetheless.
"Bennoit," Ragar muttered, and Hermione looked up at her mother's maiden name. Well, that was interesting.
"Pratchett," he said again, after a long moment. "Fielding." And then there was so much silence that Hermione wondered if three was all she was going to get.
"Pendragon," Ragar intoned.
Ginny gasped and when Hermione looked quickly to Narcissa, the older woman's eyes were blown wide. "Well, that is interesting."
"Do you wish to continue with the naming?" the head goblin asked.
"I require a moment to confer in private with Miss Granger and her advisors."
"You may have this room for one half hour, after which we will continue, or call this meeting to its end. I will return then."
All three goblins left the room. The humans sat at the tables. The elves conferred privately in a far corner. Hermione pulled her somewhat worn but still quite sparkly beaded purse out of her trusty satchel, and then reached in all the way to her elbow in order to pull out some chocolate. She quickly began offering it around.
"Oh, good."
"Thank God."
"I will, thank you."
After she ate two entire squares she delicately licked her fingers and looked over to… her patroness? Whomever she was, she was likely the only person in the room who understood exactly what was going on. Ginny might have a clue, but probably not the whole picture.
"Narcissa. What is going on," she asked, though it came out as more of a statement.
"If you were a man, you would have a difficult decision to make. As you are a woman, you have a great deal more freedom and flexibility. You may, as it were, have your cake and eat it, too. I suggest no matter what, we continue on with the naming. It will do us both good, and give reason for the discovery, and prevent ill will and perhaps another wizarding war with the Goblin Nation."
"I vote no more war," Harry piped up, though he said nothing more.
"The most important ancestor you have that we are aware of is your Pendragon ancestor."
"Quite," Hermione said, and took another square of chocolate before putting the rest on the table for anyone to help themselves.
"There is a great deal more to this than we can discuss at present, so I shall limit myself to the most pertinent parts for the moment. I will make myself available to whatever degree you wish for any further discussion. Are we agreed?"
Hermione nodded silently.
"Very well. There are two hinges on which this unfolding drama occurs. The first pivot point is that because you are a woman, you may hold any number of linages, indeed, women always bear at least two, while men only bear one. The reasons for this are interesting, perhaps, but esoteric and not worth our time at the present. The second pivot point is that while non magical descendants are not eligible heirs in any sense, magical heirs of squibs are, but only under certain very specific circumstances. The most usual is when the line descending from the squib in question still bears the family name in any form. If the family name is absent but a connection can be proven, as it was today, there are three ways for the lineage to continue. First, if the person in question is the child of magical parents. Second, if the person in question has been adopted by magical parents. Third, if the person in question has been named heir of another line. This means that if you were a man, one of your children could inherit the Pendragon lineage, and you would be regent of it until such time as they were of age."
"But… because I'm a woman, I can be the, what would it be, the Scion of Pendragon, rather than the Regent? And the heir of Black at the same time?"
"My God, Hermione," Ginny breathed. "Your pedigree is better than the Queen's."
"Yes, but let us see how it was descended," Narcissa said, having gotten herself another square of chocolate, and then dragging the parchment with Hermione's family tree over to look. Harry and Ginny got up and came around the table to look over their shoulders. "They won't let us take this out of Gringotts, but they will give us a notarized document naming the details of it we wish named," she said as she studied the paper intensely. "Oh… my… well." She pointed and drew her finger along the line. "You see this here? Always coming in from the left? This is a direct line, through the mother. That's a very good sign. I highly recommend you pass on the Pendragon legacy to one or all of your daughters, Hermione."
"I haven't got any daughters," she said in a small voice.
"Take a deep breath, my dear," Narcissa said, and Hermione was grateful for the hand on her shoulder. Right now she missed her parents so keenly it was hard to keep it all in. But they were gone, truly gone from her and she wouldn't ever get them back. And she wondered about that. The Wilkinses had never had a child and had never wanted a child. And that was, maybe, for the best.
She did as Narcissa bid her and breathed deeply.
"The two most important questions for our time here are this. Do you still want to go through with this?"
Hermione nodded and was grateful for Harry leaning down over her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her, just below her neck. "You'll still be my favorite know-it-all," he murmured to her and kissed her head above the ear.
"The second question is what will you do about your name. It must reflect your new lineages in some way."
"My parents are… gone," Hermione said quietly. "For their own safety, I put them into hiding and-" She paused before just saying it. Yes, it was a punishable offence. And yes, at this point she trusted Narcissa with the information, whether she ought to or not. "I obliviated them of all knowledge that they ever had a daughter."
Somehow it was so much worse to say it out loud, and Hermione couldn't help but cry, though she'd managed to keep it all in for so long. A year, really.
"Oh, my sweet child," Narcissa said, clutching her hand tightly. "I will help you mend that fence when we come to it, as soon as we may. Have no fear from me. We've all done drastic things to save the people we love. For now we must address your name. I suggest that in the muggle world, for whatever such official proceedings you may have there, you keep the name you have just as you have it. And for the wizarding world, you simply add on Pendragon and Black in some order. I would suggest Black, then Pendragon. In the wizarding world, anyway, it would still be acceptable to address you as Miss Granger, if you wish it to be so, or the Viscountess Black, as you would be as my heir, or if you like to lord it over people, Her Royal Majesty the Pendragon Queen Regent of Avalon."
"And she's dated Victor Krum," Ginny muttered good naturedly from her other side, rubbing her free arm and blessedly putting it in the past tense, revealing nothing of last night's conversation.
In a quiet, quavery voice, Hermione spoke. "Hermione Jean Granger Black Pendragon."
"You've got a title and a bag of holding," Harry said, his arms still around the top of her torso. "Now all you need is a quest."
Hermione only squeaked.
It was two hours before they left the bank. There was rigamarole, blood binding, a search for debts and debtors (none listed), the handing over of many, many ledgers, a signing of signature slips for credit at vendors, and a visit to the vaults. They had visited the Black vault first and found it miraculously clean. Hermione and Harry kept admirably straight faces, Ginny thought. From that vault Narcissa - oh, to be on a first name basis with the Malfoy matriarch, what a riot! - instructed Hermione to take two small jewelry boxes, three large books, and enough galleons to make Ginny somewhat breathless, before she counted to ten and fixed her head back on. They visited the Pendragon vault, which was even further down, which Ginny frankly hadn't thought possible. And she wondered, briefly, what it would be like.
To open the vault, Hermione had to shed blood again. The goblin Grivnor stabbed her finger and impatiently gestured to a blank stone wall at the end of the path that was at the foot of a steep stair that was at the end of the cart tracks. There was no indication that it was a vault. No dragon guarding it. No door with so many locks and fortified hinges. Nothing. Just rock.
After a moment of quite reasonable hesitation, Hermione pressed her fingertip to the wall. A wall which very much seemed to be there.
Ginny watched as the red from her blood faded from the rock when Hermione stepped back. The figure of a large two-legged dragon - a Welsh Drake, perhaps? Charlie would know - appeared on the rock face well above their heads and began moving, as if it were a painting of some kind. Ginny watched, mesmerized, as the drake seemed to take a deep breath, lean down, and then as if painted on the rock, just like the dragon, spouts of flame erupted, but for all it just looked like a painting, suddenly the cold underground corridor got very hot indeed. Where the flame was, a hole in the rock began, and soon grew large enough to be something of a door, though it was no graceful archway. The top of the doorway was the outline of the dragon's breath of fire.
Narcissa drew her wand and silently cast a lumos and quietly urged Hermione to do the same.
The vault was empty.
"Huh." Oldest wizarding family in Britain, the wizarding family of Britain, and the legacy was exactly squat?
"Go in," Narcissa whispered. "Make sure."
Only Hermione did. Ginny watched, her hand clutched around her wand, hardly breathing. Finally when she was out of sight of the doorway, she heard her call out.
"Harry! Gimme a lumos!"
Ginny heard Hermione mutter some charm or another once Harry got to her with a lumos maxima. They both came out together, and Hermione was pushing something into her beaded purse.
"There was a parchment, but it looked so old, I didn't like to touch it. I made a copy. We can look it over later. That was it. That was the only thing in there."
The moment they were out of the vault, the goblin clerk put his hand on the rock and it started to close again.
Ginny watched as Narcissa put her left hand on Hermione's shoulder "Keep it safe, Hermione. Very, very safe. Use every method you know to keep it secret, and better it be destroyed, then in someone else's hands. You can always return to the vault to make another copy if needed."
Ginny was listening with half an ear, but she was also watching the vault slowly, slowly close, and watching the Welsh drake make its way down until it was at eye level.
Narcissa continued talking quietly and quickly. "Now, just a quick word. One of the jewelry boxes contains the heir's ring, which you should wear and use as a seal if you wish. The other jewelry box contains a small locket which is a very special portkey. In an emergency or for desperate need, touch it and say the word home. It will take you immediately to me, wherever I am. It is keyed to the master's ring. This is important to know; The portkey will only work if you are wearing the heir's ring while you use it, do you understand? Others may come if they are touching the portkey, of course. Read the books when you have time and owl me with any questions you may have."
"Follow me," the goblin stated in that way that goblins have, always seeming to be a threat as well as a statement. This one contained the subtext or I will leave you here to starve.
They followed and Narcissa and Hermione brought up the rear with the elves up front and Harry and Ginny in the middle, slogging up those stairs.
Ginny really hoped their suite wasn't going to be in a tower. Up and down the two standard flights of stairs at Grimmauld Place was nothing compared to getting to class on time at Hogwarts.
"Is the locket cursed? Because I've had enough of that, really."
"No dear, it is not cursed," Narcissa said, and Ginny could hear a smile in her voice.
"Can it be used as a locket? Could I put my parents' pictures in there?"
"I believe so. Test it out with a different set of pictures. If you close it up and open it again and nothing untoward has happened, it should be perfectly safe."
"Okay. That's reasonable."
"Before you send me an owl, any of you, for I look forward to speaking with you, too, Ginny, there is a chapter in the book on secrets that you may wish to read and thoroughly digest. While many of our communications may be nothing more than pillow colors and the proper presentation of financial records, there may at some point be delicate things we wish to discuss and I would not have that open to any who might have the wherewithal to intercept an owl. Likewise, before you read a letter from me, make sure you get through the first three sections of that chapter."
"We will," Hermione answered.
"Will you three consent to a meeting with me, perhaps in two weeks? The second Saturday of September?"
"Of course," Harry said, answering for all.
"No, that won't be a problem." Hermione seconded.
"Perhaps we could meet at the Grimmauld townhouse and I could show you the progress I will have made by then."
"That sounds lovely," Ginny answered, wondering how quickly Narcissa might be able to make such progress. A damn sight faster than they had when they'd tried to do it a few years ago, without wands. Ugh. Terrible memories. Terrible summer.
"Now, a few more things as we climb. We will receive three notarized copies of the pertinent points of your lineage, one which will go to you. I'll keep one for my own records, and I'll deliver one to the Ministry tomorrow, and I'm certain that you will receive any number of communiques from them in the coming months. They will be ambivalent to have the return of their very own monarch, even if that monarch happens to be a decorated war heroine such as yourself. You will have a seat in the Wizengamot, and since you are already of age you should plan to attend each session, or to appoint a proxy. Are you at all familiar with that process?"
"I've known the term in other contexts. What does it mean here?"
"A proxy is someone who will cast your vote, who already has a presence on the Wizengamot. You must do it in writing, and you may appoint a proxy for a length of time, only a certain meeting, or only a certain vote. You may designate the way you wish to vote, or leave it to the wisdom of the proxy you have appointed. All of this must be in writing, which will be submitted to the Wizengamot at the beginning of each session. For instance, I will be sending you a blanket proxy which you may use perpetually, should I be unable to attend a meeting, you will vote for the Black family seat as well as Pendragon."
They were nearly at the top of the stairs.
"Possibly you have realized at this point that you will not be knighted with your compatriots."
"Well, I suppose it wouldn't exactly be an elevation," Hermione replied as they approached the cart and began all squeezing in.
"No, and at some point rather soon it would be you presiding at such ceremonies. That's one of the reasons the Monarch of the Isles designated a Monarch Regent of Avalon to begin with. But you may possibly be honored by the Queen in some other way. That remains to be seen, but certainly will be something that the Minister may approach you concerning. I would ask to be present for such a meeting, and if you consent, I will make myself available whenever necessary."
Somehow, somehow, Narcissa was able to speak normally, although slowly, during a Gringotts cart ride.
"Now. Tampy. Pampy. Which of you wishes to serve the Heir of Black?"
There was silence and both house elves, peeped over at her, holding the tips of their ears in their hands. One was sitting on the row next to Ginny, and one was sitting just behind, next to Narcissa.
"Would you prefer to both go, together?"
"Yes, Mistress! Yes, please!" they answered simultaneously.
"Uh…" Ginny heard Hermione dithering behind her. She looked over to her husband and grinned while keeping the ironic laughter in. Harry had to bite his lips to not laugh, and had to half cough to cover the heaving of his chest.
And then the cart whipped them around a corner.
"So be it. Tampy and Pampy, daughters of Kreacher of the Black Family, you will remain Black Family elves and you will serve the Black heir, her household, her family, and her designates until she assigns you to another in the House of Black. You do this of your own free will, and I promise, as the Head of Black, that you will have all you need to live a good life. Now. That's done with. The Viscountess is not used to having house elves, so if she miss-steps, you must help her. Do not let her fall. Do not let her fail. Your primary allegiance is now to her."
How did she do it? How did she speak normally with the cart whipping to and fro? Merlin! It had to be a special charm. Then Ginny thought about it for a moment. Of course it was a charm. Narcissa Malfoy always looked perfect. Clothes and poise and manners would only go so far with that. But magic got her the rest of the way, and Ginny was intensely curious.
"Now, if you haven't your own owls, you'll wish to get your own, for reasons of security. There are spells of protection and calling you can cast over your own, and you wouldn't wish to use school owls for delicate messages, particularly you, Hermione."
The cart jerked to a stop and the elves were the first to hop out and offer hands of help to all the humans in the cart. The goblin just looked impatient, Ginny thought.
They walked in quiet to the large doorway into a hallway that shifted from the rough-hewn of the vault section to the clean-cut stone work of the banking section. Then they walked through the large double doors that a gigantic goblin guard opened for them and into the back of the open foyer of Gringott's Bank. They walked around the raised podium of the head goblin clerk and back over to their clerk's desk at his behest.
"Another time, Hermione, we'll put our copies in the respective vaults, but first we will use them to good effect. Make sure you give yourself a handwritten copy of the document. Do not try to use a duplication spell. You won't like the goblin's countercharms."
Narcissa took three unsealed scrolls from the clerk and thanked him. She handed one to Hermione and put the other two in her own ultra-thin clutch, obviously charmed with a suitable expansion spell.
Damn. Ginny really needed a bag like that. Time to study expansion spells, and maybe get some pointers from Hermione. Hm. Maybe she could make one for Harry for Christmas.
Ooo, maybe she could make some for all her brothers for Christmas… 'Yes!' she thought. 'Christmas is now in the bag!'
She smiled at her own pun and almost missed Narcissa's leave-taking. No, she wouldn't join them for dinner, she had promised that to Draco. Yes, she would owl within the next several days, giving them time to read a chapter or two.
:)