Best Laid Plans
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or pride and Prejudice. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.
Part One: The Defence Association
Chapter Fourteen:
With the arrival of their Hogwarts letters, plans are finally made to visit Diagon Alley. Leo is excited, bouncing off the walls and generally making a nuisance of himself. The Weasley brood (and Hermione) are excited too - if only to get out of the stifling confines of Grimmauld Place - and they haven't left yet, but Helena already feels drained by the experience.
"It's going to be a circus," Emilyn predicts, a furrow between her eyebrows. She's not pleased by the prospect. "They haven't left us a lot of time to purchased supplies, so everyone will be there."
"Do I have to go?"
Helena doesn't care much for Diagon Alley. It's not somewhere she frequents often, and she hasn't acquired much of a taste for the narrow, winding lanes, for the cluttered, cramped stores, for the omnipresent over-abundance of people. As such, she'd sooner avoid a visit that would involve even more people than usual.
Sirius often jokes she's a snob, accustomed to the finer things in life, reluctant to slum it with the rabble.
When she's feeling particularly self-conscious, Helena wonders if he's right. There's no denying that Diagon Alley caters to the middle class - The lower gentry and the tradesmen and the like - and as such, its a place much of her family considers beneath their notice.
Helena doesn't necessarily agree with that notion, but she's certainly been raised to expect a certain quality in her purchases that is generally not found in the shops along Diagon Alley. Hence, her disinterest.
Emilyn nods. "Leo is going to be a handful, so I want you to take care of your own supplies. Can you do that for me?"
Helena exhales a sigh of resignation, but she doesn't complain. There's some gratification in the knowledge that Emilyn trusts in Helena's ability to take care of herself, but it doesn't minimise the fact she'll have to put up with the before-term crowds.
"You will accompany Lady Clayton, will you not?"Lady Augusta demands of Neville.
Helena determinedly doesn't roll her eyes, and beside her, her friend stifles a sigh of his own, long-suffering. They are very much accustomed to the Dowager Countess' old-fashioned values, and more recently familiar with her determined efforts in matchmaking. Her expectations are nothing new.
"Yes, Grandmother. I'll accompany Hallie."
Helena doesn't protest. She'd sooner avoid more time spent with Ron, Ginny, and to a lesser extent, Hermione, but Neville is her friend, and he'll not hear the end of it from the Dowager Countess if he reneges on his word. Helena can take care of herself, needs no escort or chaperone as she goes about her life, but Neville has just given his grandmother his word, and he - or the Dowager Countess - will be damned before he fails to fulfil it. A gentleman's word is his bond, and Neville Longbottom is nothing if not a gentleman.
"Now that we've got that settled," Emilyn interjects, tone droll, "Are we ready to go?"
"Finally!"Leo bounds his way towards the fireplace, only to be stymied by his amused, good-humoured father.
"Hold onto your hippogriffs, mate," Sirius instructs him, "You know the rules. I'm going through first. Give it a minute, and then you can follow me. Understood?"
Leo rolls his eyes and pulls a face, but he doesn't protest. "Fine."
It takes some time, but they all arrive at the Leaky Cauldron without incident. Emilyn whisks Leo away quickly, Carina and Phoenix left behind in Sirius' capable hands. Fred and George take off soon thereafter, heedless of their mother's exasperated reminder to return to the Cauldron by midday. The Dowager Countess hands Neville a vault key, declares she'll be at the Graces' Tearoom if anyone needs her, and disappears into the bustling crowds.
"You've got your vault key?" Sirius asks Helena. In the baby carrier strapped to his chest, Carina kicks her feet, delighted by this new adventure. Phoenix watches the denizens of the Leaky Cauldron with all of the tact of a rampaging dragon, and nearby, Mrs Weasley frets, reluctant to let her youngest children out of her sight.
Helena nods her confirmation. The key in question is linked to a vault Sirius opened when he'd obtained guardianship of her. It pays for everything - her school fees, living expenses, so on and so on - because as far as Sirius is concerned, Helena is his responsibility.
Before their incapacitation, her parents had made arrangements for her care and wellbeing in the event that they'd not be able to look after her themselves - including a rather sizeable trust fund Helena has been able to access since the receipt of her Hogwarts letter - but thus far, her godfather hasn't given her reason to use it, and neither does he intend to.
"Your wand? Cloak and portkey?"
Helena pulls a face, Sirius laughs, and gestures her onwards. She rolls her eyes but acquiesces, Neville falls into step beside her and offers her his arm, and a beat later, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny fall into step behind them. As they do, Mrs Weasley watches them go, wrings her hands, and worries.
-!- -#-
"Where should we go first?"
"Madame Malkins?" Hermione proposes, "I've got to get some new uniforms."
Ginny shrugs, indifferent. "It's as good a place to start as any."
Helena pulls a face. Madam Malkins is the only shop in London that sells Hogwarts uniforms, but if not for that fact, the Ravenclaw expects the seamstress would have gone out of business long ago. The rest of the clothing she sells is unflattering and unfashionable, overpriced and poorly tailored, and anyone with even a semblance of taste avoids her business with extreme prejudice.
Neville grimaces, similarly unenthused. "I've already got my uniforms."
"Me too," Helena contributes. She'd received them with Emilyn earlier that Summer - when they'd spent the better part of a day in July clothes shopping - and she'd resented the experience from start to finish.
Now, she's grateful for Emilyn's forethought.
"In that case," Neville determines, "While you lot are getting uniforms, Hallie and I will go get our supplies for Potions."
"Better you than me," Ron acquiesces, though Hermione frowns her disapproval, "I hate the apothecary."
"We should stay together."
Neville rolls his eyes. "Nothing's going to happen."
"You were almost attacked by dementors a few days ago," Hermione counters, not unreasonably.
"And Snape has already confirmed it wasn't Voldemort's doing."
In fact, the evidence that the Order of the Phoenix has managed to accumulate indicates it was someone within the Ministry of Magic who'd ordered the attack. As long as Cornelius Fudge remains in office as Minister of Magic, however, a formal investigation remains unlikely. Regardless, the Dowager Countess is on the warpath, and Helena expects heads will roll when all is said and done.
"That may be so," Hermione concedes, "But someone else obviously wants to see you hurt."
"They're not going to attack me in broad daylight," Neville dismisses, "And in Diagon Alley, no less."
Ginny sighs, exasperated, and tugs impatiently on Hermione's arm. "Leave him alone, Hermione. Neville can handle himself, and I'd like to finish my shopping sometime this year."
Hermione is reluctant, but nonetheless, she acquiesces. They make arrangements to meet at Florian Fortescue's ice cream parlour, exchange coins where necessary, and part ways with one last reminder from Hermione to be careful, to be vigilant, to stay out of trouble.
"Overprotective, isn't she?"
Neville rolls his eyes, but there's a fond smile on his face. "We've been through a lot together."
Helena hums her acknowledgement, but doesn't inform Neville that all of the shared trauma in the world wouldn't endear her to that kind of fussing from her friends. Each to their own, and all that.
"Slug and Jiggers?" Neville suggests. There are other options - better and worse - but Slug and Jiggers is closest, and Professor Slughorn's recommended apothecary, besides.
Helena's sure the 'Slug' in 'Slug and Jiggers' is no coincidence.
"Slug and Jiggers," she agrees.
Their walk there is spent in pleasant, lighthearted conversation - about the weather and the shops and the people passing them by - and it is entirely uneventful. Neville negotiates the crowds with ease, Helena's hand secure on his arm, and they joke about it - about the assumptions their peers might make - and its fine. Enjoyable, even.
All the same, Helena's still ready to leave.
"We'll take four fifth year kits for Hogwarts, and one for fourth year," Neville addresses the proprietor.
Mr Jigger nods, and sets about gathering their order with little fanfare. Helena waits, content to watch their fellow shoppers as they drift to and fro, and she's unsurprised to recognise a number of her fellow Hogwarts students among them. Most give Helena and Neville a wide berth, but some wave, or smile, or nod politely, and to the best of her ability, Helena returns them all.
As a newly-minted Hogwarts prefect, it is, perhaps, the least she can do for her classmates.
Even discounting whatever will happen beyond Hogwarts' walls, it's going to be a long year.
-!- -#-
Author's Note: A few hours early. Maybe I'll switch to Sunday updates. Anyway, the next chapter may be delayed. The next few weeks will be chaotic, and I'm still reeling from some personal and family dramas besides. As such, I haven't been much inspired to write, and I won't post again until Chapter 17 (and ideally, 18, as well) are completed. Hopefully, it won't take too long.
If you're curious, this chapter was supposed to include an introduction to more of the P&P cast, but the muse had other ideas. Such is life, I guess. Hope you enjoyed, anyway. Thanks for reading. Until next time, -t.
