The Letter
Part Two
By Dadgrid
Disclaimer: Joanne Kathleen Rowling is the creator, owner, and ruling divinity of Harry's world. Everything here is hers. No one else has any claim to the characters in any of these stories, least of all this author.
This is a Post-Hogwarts fic. I got started on it while wondering what I would do if one of my daughters got a Hogwarts letter. Who'd believe it, especially after being introduced to Harry's world through "fiction?" We all talk about Harry as if he and his friend and his world were all real. Well, what if they are?
Professor Snape prowled back and forth among the tables, stopping occasionally to sneer at carelessly prepared ingredients or to drip sarcasm into a potion as if it was an ingredient some particularly stupid student needed. The Slytherins were spared some of it, but by no means all; there was House pride to look after, and a Slytherin with no talent for Potions couldn't hope for happiness in this dungeon. The pain Snape lived with every moment since the War hadn't improved his temper. It hadn't taught him compassion, either. He stopped short at one table. His head extended itself even further, the lip curling upwards even more.
"What in the world is this supposed to be?" The hand, or what was left of it, crept out of the robe like a dementor's delete space here, reaching for the ladle. Amanda looked at him, apprehension all over her face. Sarah - what was she doing here? - scowled back at him, ready to do battle. "Where is the Potion you are supposed to be making? And what is this mess? Why, these are cooking spices! And dish soap!" The sneer was replaced by a snarl.
"You are not students! You do not belong here!" Spittle sprayed from the hole in the purple face. "You are nothing but insolent, brainless infants! How did your parents have the presumption to dispose of their refuse at this school? Why must I waste my effort attempting to instruct…"
"Please, Professor," Amanda choked out with all her courage. "My father…"
"Taught you nothing! NOTHING! Least of all discipline!" The man had lost all control. The whole room shrank back as Snape pulled out his wand, still raving. "I shall give you the lesson that coward would not! You will not cross me again! Crucio! Crucio!" Both girls fell off their stools to the floor, shrieking in agony as their nerves burned. Snape raised his wand again….
David sat on the edge of the bed until he could trust himself to stand up. Without his glasses he ran into the doorjamb on his way to the girls' room. He watched their chests rise and fall and looked in their faces, Sarah with her blanket and Amanda with Chitter in the crook of her arm. I haven't seen her do that in months, her father thought. He stroked their heads, even the stuffed monkey's. It had taken them a long time to go to sleep, but not as long as him. David went to the bathroom to wash his face.
How can I send my baby there by herself? She's a child! I had no idea how young eleven is. I can't help her there. What if Snape hates her? What if there's another Malfoy type to torment her? Is Snape even still there? Might as well turn her out by the side of the road! How do I get in touch with them to say she's not coming…
Wait, stupid. Remember what Lupin said? She has to go. She has to learn, or what's inside her will destroy her. You've got to let her go. And the school is full of kids just like her, and they all manage. You really are a coward, aren't you? And do you know what you're afraid of, jerk? You're afraid to be alone. You thought they'd both be here for years more, and you'd try to get them to stay home for college, and then what? Make them old maids at home with you? You're disgusting. A selfish pig.
But Amanda isn't just going away to school. She's going to another world, a new planet, and I'll never have her back the way she was. She'll be part of the wizard culture, with wizard friends and wizard teachers, and she'll shop in wizard stores. And Sarah's going to follow her three years later, and I've lost them both. They'll probably marry pureblood wizards who don't even understand a telephone, and certainly not their Muggle father-in-law. I'll be lucky to see them twice a year.
He was still sitting in the bathroom when the girls came to use it in the morning.
The call Hermione promised came Wednesday. Could Amanda come with her to Diagon Alley Saturday morning? No, she doesn't need money, and yes, Sarah is more than welcome; in fact, Hermione would like her to come.
"Why doesn't she need money, Miss Granger? Isn't it true Amanda must buy her books in private stores?"
"Oh, yes," Hermione answered. "It's very much like the books you've read. What you didn't know is that non-magical students get some wizard money to start out with. It comes from the Ministry and private donors. We still need new blood, you see."
"But I thought Muggles - it is all right to use that word, isn't it? - were resented by some of the wizard world. Is that not true?"
"Of course you can use the word, Mr. Fayer. We just don't want you to think it's a slur. The wizard world saw where 'wizard pride' could lead to. It gave us the Death Eaters. Now we've learned our lesson. Don't be afraid for your girls."
Both girls were delighted at the news, and a little anxious too. "Are we going to fly there on a broomstick?" asked Sarah. "How do we stay on? I'm afraid I'll fall off!"
"I don't think you'll use a broomstick, Sarah," David answered. "As a matter of fact, Miss Granger asked me to have a little fire in the fireplace, so I'll bet you have another surprise coming."
"Floo Powder!" Amanda burst out. "We're going by Floo Powder! But I don't want to end up in the wrong place like Harry did! Will that happen, Daddy?"
"I'm sure it won't, sweetheart. Hermione is a very careful witch, and I can tell she's going to take very good care of you."
"What should we wear?" Trust Amanda to think of that, her father thought. If it weren't for the magic, it would have been the first thing she asked.
"Whatever you'd go shopping in, honey. I asked. Hermione said most of the Muggle-borns don't change their dress that much."
The rest of the week was just waiting for Saturday, which finally came. Amanda was up an hour before either her father or her sister, washing and drying her hair. At least four complete outfits were laid out awaiting their mistresses' choice. She started shaking her father and hour and a half before his alarm was set.
"Liv me lone," came the grunt from under the edge of the blankets.
"Get up, Daddy! We have to get ready!"
"It's six-thirty! We don't have to get up 'till eight!"
"DADDY!" "GET UP!"
"Shake me one more time I will rip your arms off and beat you with them! Now gerroff!" When Sarah woke up she joined the battle. Nobody knew when there would be another one, but all that mattered now was holding Daddy's feet down for tickling.
It was after breakfast they heard a voice from the parlor. "Amanda? Mr. Fayer?" Startled, they all ran to the sitting-room and the little fire, which wasn't needed for the heat. Hermione Granger's face looked out.
"I didn't want to startle you, sorry," she said. "Stand back a little, Sarah, thanks." There was a rush of flame and Hermione stepped into the room. She was indeed dressed for shopping in slacks and a light jumper, with her robe fluttering open slightly.
"Are you ready, girls?"
"Yes, Hermione".
"Will I get to see Diagon Alley someday?" David wanted to know.
"Of course you will. It's just the girls' first day in the magic world, so we'll have a lot to pay attention to, and then Amanda and Sarah will be your guides when you go. It's ladies' day out, isn't it?" Hermione smiled at the girls. She brought out a pouch. "I'll bet you know what this is."
"It's Floo Powder!" Sarah shot out. "Give me some, I know how to use it!"
"Just a moment, dear. You don't want to end up in that nasty Knockturn Alley like Harry did, do you?" Hermione took a picture out of her pocket. It showed an old-fashioned cobbled street with old-fashioned shops. Round pots of various sizes were in display in front of one; white wrought iron chairs and tables in front of another. People were walking - walking - back and forth. "When you throw the powder in the fire and say 'Diagon Alley,' look at this picture. You won't get lost that way." She handed the picture to Amanda. "And here's one for you, Sarah. Ready now?" Amanda stepped up to the fireplace first and took a pinch of the powder from Hermione's pouch.
"Don't worry, Amanda, just keep your elbows tucked in," Hermione said. "And tell Mrs. Flitwick I'll pay her when I come through."
Mrs. Flitwick? Who? But Amanda had already said 'Diagon Alley' and, staring hard at the picture, the world swirled around her. When she opened her eyes, she found herself looking right at a scene just like the picture she held. She felt a little lightheaded...
"Step out of the fireplace, dear. That'll be one Sickle," said a kindly old voice. Amanda was standing in a little alcove set in a wall. The only furniture was a large easy chair in which sat a tiny old woman with knitting work in her lap, and a padded bench next to it. The old lady smiled. "I haven't seen you before. Are your parents coming?"
Amanda found her voice. "Ah, I mean, Hermione..."
"Are you with Hermione Granger? Oh, that's lovely. Are you a new student, then?" She was interrupted by Sarah's appearance. "Oh, dear, another one! Step out of the fireplace so the next person can come through. Are you with Hermione too?"
Sarah was bouncing up and down. "I want to do that again! That was cool! Can I go back and do it again?" Hermione appeared before Mrs. Flitwick could answer.
"Oh, my dear, it's good to see you!" Hermione kissed the old lady on the cheek.
"And how is Professor Flitwick? I haven't seen him in months." Hermione asked. She reached into her pouch and pulled out three odd coins.
"I can't take money from you, dear," said Mrs. Flitwick. "Miss Granger is a hero to us, girls," she said. "My son always said she was the best student he ever taught, and without her Harry Potter wouldn't have been able to do what he did..."
"Now Mrs. Flitwick," Hermione said a little sternly, "We've talked about this before. I don't want to be different from everybody else. It makes me feel like I'm on display. I insist.delete one period here" she held out the coins.
"But I don't need the money, dear, you know that. I run a public fireplace because I get to hear all the news and see all my old friends. You know my son wants me to sell it and live with him, but what would I do? But your friends are free today. First time's on the house." She took one coin. "You just remember Mrs. Flitwick's Fireplace when you come to Diagon Alley." She winked at the girls as they waved shyly and followed Hermione out into the glories of Diagon Alley.
Whatever the girls imagined, whatever they read, it didn't come up to the reality. The little shops were there, all right, and with the cobblestone street it made the whole scene look like it had been created by Charles Dickens. But Dickens never imagined signs where cauldrons bubbled over a roaring fire, or what looked like little pink and green hummingbirds hovering in front of one shop offering samples of wizard perfume from their beaks. 'Why Play Fair? - Spellbinder.'
And the people! Some of the shoppers looked like the girls and Hermione, dressed in clothes that wouldn't have been much out of place in Charing Cross Road; but others wore long robes without Muggle clothing underneath, while some dressed in doublets and hose or purple tailcoats and green top hats. It was a costume party gone mad. It wasn't just the costumes, either. They saw a witch in a tall pointed hat whose green skin, hatchet nose and sharp jaw would have made the Wicked Witch of the West seem angelic in comparison. Hermione confirmed that the figure in the head-to-toe black robes, mask, and dark glasses was a vampire making a rare daytime visit. The girls didn't know where to look next, so Hermione had to touch their shoulders to get them to stop.
"This is our first stop, girls," she told them "Gringott's."
The massive white building did indeed tower over the shops around it. The short gray-green figure in its scarlet and gold uniform bowed them in. It really was one of the biggest rooms the girls had ever seen, and the counter was endless, but they headed off to what seemed an acre of desks on the right. Hermione seemed to know just which one to go to. The goblin - squinty-eyed despite the green eyeshade - must have been smiling, although it looked more like an injury than an expression of pleasure.
"An honor to see you, Miss Granger." He seemed to bend in two places as he bowed. "How can Gringott's serve you? Have you new students for us?"
"I do, Mr. Gorblog, but just one today." She put her hand on Amanda's shoulder. "This is Amanda Fayer, and she is here for the Dumbledore Scholarship stipend."
"Ah, yes. A great thing. And have you read our history, girl?" The goblin looked at her hard. Amanda couldn't have lied if she wanted to.
"History? Ah, no, what do you mean?" Amanda looked up at Hermione, confused, but wasn't Hermione who spoke first.
"He means the Harry Potter books, silly!" Sarah stepped right in front of Gorblog. "We all know about your bank, mister. We need some wizard money."
"This is the place," Gorblog said. He seemed to like Sarah's direct approach. "Well, stand in front of me, girl, I haven't got all day." He gestured Amanda over to him impatiently. "I need a hair from you head..." without so much as a by-your-leave he plucked one of Amanda's long light hairs out and put it in a small envelope.
"OW!" Why did you do that?" Amanda rubbed the spot.
"Identification. We require positive identification on all new accounts," the goblin said shortly. "Please write your name on the envelope, put this on your lips, and kiss the envelope inside the circle." After putting on the sickly green lipstick, which thankfully didn't taste the way it looked, she did as instructed. The goblin examined the envelope. "Satisfactory. I will get a vault assigned and fit you for your key. You must wait."
He came back a few minutes later with a small pouch. "Here is your first payment and you key. Hold out your hand." He placed a tiny golden key in Amanda's palm and touched it with a wand that looked like a stick torn off a tree. The key glowed and smoke rose from her palm; Amanda called out in fright, but couldn't move her hand. Wait, she thought. It doesn't hurt anyway. The brand on her hand looked like it wouldn't ever go away, but in thirty seconds it was gone.
"Do not lose your key," the goblin warned. "If you lose it, we must take your hand for a day to make a new one."
"Don't worry about your key," Hermione assured Amanda, seeing the expression on her face. "I had to give up my hand for a day once when I lost my key during the War. It's just a nuisance, it doesn't hurt. I'll put a Binding Spell on the key so you'll know the second you misplace it. That way you'll know to start looking for it."
As the three walked down the steps, blinking in the sunlight after the dim light of the bank, they heard a voice calling: "Hermione! Oh Hermione!" Hermione looked around. Her face lit up.
"Miri! I'm so glad to see you!" Hermione hugged the young woman who ran up to them. Miri was a young woman with long hair, rich coffee skin, and a big smile. Her robes seemed more formal than some others the girls had seen so far, but for bands of bright colors in geometric designs where the robe closed in front.delete one period here They matched the hat she was wearing. She turned the smile on the girls.
"And who are your friends, Hermione? It's a pleasure to meet you both." Her accent is so nice, Amanda thought. She sounds like she comes from Africa.
Hermione introduced them. "And this will be one of your new teachers, girls. This is Professor Miri Bubinga, who is Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts."
"Are you both starting this year, girls?" Professor Bubinga asked.
"No, just my big sister." Sarah looked glum. "I'm too young."
"But you will, Sarah, there's no question you're magical." Hermione spoke quietly to Miri now. "Actually, I should speak to Professor Lupin. When I let her hold my wand I saw the Cherenkov Effect. I've never seen it in one so young."
Miri looked hard at Sarah. "Are you sure, Hermione?"
"No question, Miri," Hermione answered. She whispered now. "And it was purple."
"We both have to see Professor Lupin, then." Miri looked very thoughtful. "She may be a Prodigy. Is she mature enough to come this year?"
"Well, she's very bright, no question," Hermione said. "But she's an active one, she is. I'd put a Galleon or two on her going to Dumbledore House. Fred and George Weasley would have serious competition from her, no mistake."
Miri chuckled. "Angelina says that's impossible, but she hasn't met this one yet." Hermione's wand, held at her side, flicked out almost imperceptibly. The girls, who had seemed lost in thought, looked up at Miri and Hermione.
"I know it's hard to wait, Sarah, but you turn will come. You have plenty of talent, I'm sure, and I'll still be teaching when you arrive." Miri's face lit up with an idea. "It's late morning and it's warm, how about an ice cream?"
"YEAH!" It wasn't far to Fortescue's; it was the shop with white wrought iron furniture the girls had seen in the photo and when they'd materialized in the Alley. They hadn't even sat before Mr. Fortescue himself bustled out, all smiles.
"Miss Hermione! What a pleasure! And Professor Bubinga! Please, take this table, it's in the sun. You are all my guests, of course, you honor my shop..."
Hermione's shoulders sagged. She was getting more sensitive about this kind of thing. "Mr. Fortescue, please. I don't want to be an exhibit in a zoo, and I'm sorry, but I'm not a raree show either. We have to pay our own way."
"Of course, Miss, and I'd never take advantage of your custom to increase my business," said the old man. His normally jolly face was quite serious. "but you know how everybody in the wizard world feels about you and Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley. None of us would be here without you. Sit here, and I'll be sure you have your privacy." He handed them menus and bustled back in.
The girls looked at the glorious choices. Their eyes got wider and wider as they looked at chocolate castles with flags waving and little figures skiing down mountains of whipped cream; snow fields of pale green mint where pink polar bears roamed; and pale pineapple sherbets where tiny figures danced a hula. Following instructions, the girls put their noses next to the pictures and sniffed each delicious choice. How could you choose? Finally Sarah spoke up.
"I heard of this, but I thought it was a candy! Can I have a Fizzing Whizzbee sherbet?"
"It is a candy, Sarah," Miri answered, "but they have a sherbet too. I think you'll get a surprise from this one. And how about you, Amanda?"
Amanda's face was scrunched up with the effort of deciding. "OK. I would like to have the Golden Snitch Crunch."
Hermione laughed. "That's Harry's favorite, and I think you'll see why." She gave the orders. Mr. Fortescue bustled out again.
"Which one ordered the Fizzing Whizbee sherbet?" Sarah raised her hand, and Mr. Fortescue looked. "Oh, we'll have to get you another chair. Half a moment." As the dishes came out a waiter carried over a chair.
"Will you please switch chairs, Miss?" He set down the new chair. "Please be sure you buckle the lap belt. Do you have it already? Good." The man picked up what looked like a heavy weight and hung it off the bottom of the chair with a hook. "All set, then." There was no such formality with Amanda's dish. It was an oval dish, painted gold on the outside with a banner that said "Quidditch World Cup." The ice cream looked like french vanilla studded with little golden toffee coated nuts. It was delicious.
"YUM! This is good!" Sarah called. She took another bite. "Whooooaaaa, what's happening?" She grabbed the edge of the table. Her chair was already six inches off the floor.
Hermione jumped up and held the chair down. "Mr. Fortescue! We need another weight!!" After another weight was installed - two weights, actually, just to be sure - Hermione smiled. "The colder the sherbet the higher you go. I saw someone end up twenty feet up once because his weight came loose and nobody realized it. Somebody on a broomstick had to go get him. And how's yours, Amanda?"
Amanda was in heaven. "It's delicious, Hermione, I'm going to try one of the nuts..." but it was easier said than done. As soon as she scooped the first one up, it sprang out of the ice cream and zoomed around Amanda's head. The next one did the same. She was ready for the next one, but it didn't help. It dodged her. Now she had three little golden orbs zooming in circles in front of her eyes.
Hermione laughed. "I was always hopeless with this stuff. Harry never had to pay for one when he was with his friends because he's always the first to get them all. Now nobody will bet him. But if you want those toffee nuts, dear, you've got to catch them."
Amanda tried to reach out with her fingers at the speeding little objects. Finally she changed her tactics and clapped her hands around one.
"YAAAAAYY!" Where did that come from? She managed to catch another one. "YAAAAAYY!" again. It wasn't loud, but it sounded like a crowd. Amanda looked totally mystified.
"Look at your dish, Amanda," Miri prompted. When she looked, it seemed like the edge of the dish was waving and rippling. It was her dish cheering her on! She caught almost all the tiny Snitches before she finished her ice cream, but more released as she ate. As she finished the last bite, the two Snitches she hadn't caught zoomed down into the dish and landed. She heard the soft but rude raspberry.
"Oh, hush," she said, popping them into here mouth. "I have the last laugh."
Miri went off to do her shopping while Hermione and the girls did theirs. They agreed to meet at Ollivander's; Miri wanted to see what wand would choose Amanda. She and Hermione both wanted to see what Sarah would get, but because of her age they couldn't until they got permission. It seemed like a long day before they were all in the dusty little shop. Mr. Ollivander was the same as ever. It took about a dozen tries before Amanda had her wand, curly maple with a hair from a sphinx's tail.
"An unusual combination, but a good one," Mr.Ollivander said. "Quite subtle. It will be of great aid to you in unraveling what is dark to others." He turned to Miri. "Professor, I have not had the opportunity, but would you do me the honor of allowing me to examine your wand? I don't see many that I did not make."
Miri handed it over. "It was made in a Menge secret society," she said. "Mine, in fact. I cannot tell you much about the society, not even its name, but I can tell you that we played out part in the War." Her eyes were full of pride.
"And well we know it," Mr. Ollivander said warmly. "It is unfortunate the full story can't be known."
"I'd like it the way it is," Miri said, smiling. "I've seen what Hermione goes through. I can't imagine what it will be like for Harry when he returns."
Mr. Ollivander's face clouded a little. "How is Mr. Potter? The whole wizard world is worried for him. If the Muggle world knew how close it was..."
"We can't say." Hermione's voice was firm. "Harry suffered a lot. He's lucky to be alive, and he needs to be alone, or rather with a few that can help him back. We're not going to hurry him, and his friends will protect him." Her expression softened. "I'm sorry, Mr. Ollivander, I know you're only concerned for him, but his friends just don't talk about what we know. We're determined to give him his peace."
"I'm sure I beg pardon, Miss Granger." He took Miri's wand. "Hmmm. This is a really unusual wand. Ebony," he said, running his finger down the mirror-like surface, so black it seemed to absorb all light, "one of the wisest and most beautiful woods. He closed his eyes. "And chimaera hair, from the mane." "Unique. I cannot imagine a better wand for Defense Against the Dark Arts. This isn't just a dueling wand, oh no," he said absently. It was a neat question if he even remembered there were other people there. "This is the wand of a warrior for good. I've never seen its like." He handed the wand back. "Ah, for the chance to work with these materials..."
The four walked down the street until they were in front of Mrs. Flitwick's. Miri bid them good-bye: "I'm going back to Hogwarts, so I have to Apparate to Hogsmeade and walk up. Should I mention our, um, conversation to Professor Lupin?"
"Let's both see him, Miri. I can come Monday. I'm taking the girls home and then I'm going, you know, out." Miri nodded her understanding. She said good-bye to the girls, who, very taken with her, hugged her too. They stepped into Mrs. Flitwick's little parlor.
Amanda looked back at the Alley. I felt like I'd always belonged here, she thought. I really feel right here with these wizards, like they understand me, like they know who I am. Because I'm one of them, aren't I? I'm going back to my daddy, and I love him, but why do I feel like I'm going to be visiting there? She turned away and followed Hermione into the fire.
End of Part Two
Author's comment: I'm grateful for all the kind words I've gotten for the fics I've written so far, and especially to Jeralyn the Voicelady, Penny, our listmom, and especially to Ebony aka AngieJ, one of the positive forces of the Universe. You should have been teaching me when I was a fifth-grader.