Chapter Two: The Aston Martin Mobile
"So," said Harry, picking at his drumstick, "Why are you guys out here?" "Long story," Greyhawk said, swallowing. "More or less, my mom is trying to clean our house (because it's a warehouse, practically) and doesn't want me to be in the way. Ara came with me, basically, to get out and about. We've been friends for about eight years, so it made sense." "So, you did this exchange thing?," Hermione asked. She was very interested. "Yeah, my mom contacted our English relatives and they agreed to broker a deal with Headmaster Dumbledore. I believe it was Lucius who brokered the deal..." "Lucius Malfoy?," Harry said, more distastefully than he meant to. "Uh-huh. He's another uncle or something like that. I was sure you'd know him since Draco's been telling me you're his classmate." Harry felt the urge to gag, but did not. Greyhawk, who seemed to be apt at deciphering unspoken thoughts, grinned and said, "Doesn't seem the type to make arrangements with Dumbledore." Ron laughed, and then, realizing he had laughed out loud, stared nonchalantly out the window. "Ara is also a pureblood. Her family's kinda crazy, so you might not want to ever meet them. Somewhere along the lines, she's my cousin. That's really all that matters." "Well, that and your posts to the Ministry of Magic," Ara grinned. "Posts to the Ministry of Magic?," Hermione said with interest. "Oh, yeah... I've been chatting with Arthur Weasly – your dad, Ron?" Ron nodded, and Greyhawk continued. "I've never met him. He's going to help me to – er – enchant some muggle- made instruments. The kind that run on electricity... He just needs to issue me a permit first." "What are the instruments for?," Harry asked. "For my own pleasure – and, well, if I receive Dumbledores' permission, I will start a band." "Hogwarts? With a band? That will be interesting," Ron said, "If you'd be interested in old students, I bet you could get my brothers Fred and George to try out. They have a joke shop in Hogsmead." "I would like that," she said, pausing for a moment afterward, then continuing on, "Your father is the one who has the flying Ford Anglia, right?" "You heard about that?," Harry laughed. "Uh... Yeah... Why?," Ron asked. "I was hoping he may be able to help me with a project..." "If it has to do with cars, you'll have to go through my mother first," Ron said, implying the story. "Then I'll do that. You see... I love my car very much. I've never driven it, but I intend to someday, soon, when I get my drivers permit. But... There's a problem I'll be persecuted. There won't be many major changes, just small ones... And I'd like some seasoned help." "Well, if I know my dad, I know he'd love to help," Ron grinned. "How do you keep the anti-muggles from finding out you have all these non- magical things?," Harry was puzzled. He was sure that someone would've found out somehow – but from what she had said, they all got along quite well. "Well... It's hard to explain... We – er – hide them." "You hid your car?," Ron said flatly. "I camouflaged it. And the rest of our muggle things we put away when anti- muggles are around. We have clever ways of doing it." She smiled. "To keep them from finding out we're pro-muggle, we've often had to lie. It's become a role-playing game at my house." Harry chuckled at hearing this. It was odd to think of a pro-muggle having to act like an anti-muggle. "Must be hard," he said. "Hell, yes!," Greyhawk said, "Especially with Pastor 'Psycho' around!" "Who or what, is 'Pastor Psycho'?," Hermione asked with a look of extreme confusion. "Pastor Malfoy – A.K.A. 'Pastor Psycho', the most 'illustrious, well-loved and respected' father of Lucius Malfoy. Then, under that, there'd be a notation that reads 'Not a real Pastor, but an imposter of one'." "His father is still alive??," this surprised Ron for some reason. "He won't die! It's like he's some kind of deathless freak that no one seems to remember! And yet, the Malfoys uphold his name in fame, honor and dignity, whereas no one outside our family knows him! How the heck can he be famous if nobody has a clue who he is?" "How old is he now?," Harry asked. "Old. Too old. After meeting him, I've wondered if all men are mortal, or whether some are spared the ravishes of time that bring death to us all." She trailed off as she finished her chicken. There was a long, uneasy silence. "Er... Uh... Where did you go to school before this?," Hermione questioned eagerly. She hadn't really met many other schools' students. "Well," responded Aranel, "We jumped back and forth between Muggle School and Wizardry School..." "But," added Greyhawk, "we're exceptional at magic." "Our School of Wizardry is called Awennasa - " "Which is Cherokee for 'My Home'." "Founded by Charles Theriphixee, Alfred Kilarnie, Hazel Theriphixee, and Ruth Shanachie." "The very serious pro-muggle, the farmer, the ecstatically cheerful, and the hard worker." "Since they were all family, they named their houses after different, miscellaneous things." "Charles was the head of 'Epiphany', Alfred was head of 'Meadowbrook', Hazel was head of 'Dragonsong', and Ruth headed 'Limerick'." "Epiphany – the house of those who have faced great change - " "– And great sorrow." "Meadowbrook – those who are destined for simple, well –lived, fulfilling lives - " "– With a family to keep them going." "Dragonsong – those who are capable of great love for life - " "– And when times are down, they always wear a smile." "And Limerick - " "– Those who face the future with uncertainty, but with the willingness to move mountains, if it keeps them busy." They laughed, before Greyhawk continued on. "I am the first Heir of Awennasa to ever attend another school." "... Heir of Awennasa??," Harry questioned. "I am one of the heirs of our Headmaster William Bradner Theriphixee – He's my grandfather, you see – when he passes on, my mother will be Headmistress, and I will take her place as a professor, until she passes on." "So... It's like a family business!," Hermione said. "Right!," Greyhawk praised. "You don't have to be a certain age or something to inherit positions?," Ron asked. "Well... We'd make some kind of arrangement so it would work – I'm almost seventeen, so I can take over, if I have to." "Must be weird going to a school when it's run by your family," Harry remarked, smirking. "Yes... But there are good sides to it," she answered. They were all silent again as the train rolled past a massive green field.
A cold wind blew, and everyone groaned. Even the walls of the buildings seemed to shiver in the cold. Severus Snape shuddered, and drew his cloak tighter around himself as he continued to traverse Knockturn Alley. He wasn't sure himself what business had brought him here today, but he felt like wandering; and so that's what he did. The Alley was bustling, although it was bitterly cold today, and it seemed alive with Winter, although it wasn't near winter yet. Severus heard the calling of a crow overhead, and looked slowly up, and watched it perch on the roof of the building to his right. He was sure it wasn't so, but he had the nagging feeling that somehow this crow reminded hi of someone... but he couldn't tell whom. "Severus!," a voice suddenly said from behind him. He spun to see Lucius Malfoy flanking him, smiling as if he thought Severus was acting out of character. "I haven't seen you in such a long time!" "Yes," he answered sourly. "Our Greyhawk is attending Hogwarts this year, I expect you know." "Well, of course. She is my niece, too, Lucius." "Heh, I know, I know. I'm sure you'll keep a watchful eye on her?" "Of course." "We don't want her to – get into trouble... do we?" "No, we don't." "Be careful, then. You never know who could be lurking around." "Of course." "I'll see you tonight. I'm going to visit with her after the Sorting Ceremony." "Yes, good-bye, Lucius. I look forward to seeing you again." Severus rolled his eyes as he walked away. Of course I'll look after her, Lucius, he thought to himself, I'll do a better job than you did. He headed down the alleyway, and disappeared into the crowd. The crow cackled to himself and flew off. The Alley suddenly seemed foreboding in the coldness of the late Summer afternoon.
"So," said Harry, picking at his drumstick, "Why are you guys out here?" "Long story," Greyhawk said, swallowing. "More or less, my mom is trying to clean our house (because it's a warehouse, practically) and doesn't want me to be in the way. Ara came with me, basically, to get out and about. We've been friends for about eight years, so it made sense." "So, you did this exchange thing?," Hermione asked. She was very interested. "Yeah, my mom contacted our English relatives and they agreed to broker a deal with Headmaster Dumbledore. I believe it was Lucius who brokered the deal..." "Lucius Malfoy?," Harry said, more distastefully than he meant to. "Uh-huh. He's another uncle or something like that. I was sure you'd know him since Draco's been telling me you're his classmate." Harry felt the urge to gag, but did not. Greyhawk, who seemed to be apt at deciphering unspoken thoughts, grinned and said, "Doesn't seem the type to make arrangements with Dumbledore." Ron laughed, and then, realizing he had laughed out loud, stared nonchalantly out the window. "Ara is also a pureblood. Her family's kinda crazy, so you might not want to ever meet them. Somewhere along the lines, she's my cousin. That's really all that matters." "Well, that and your posts to the Ministry of Magic," Ara grinned. "Posts to the Ministry of Magic?," Hermione said with interest. "Oh, yeah... I've been chatting with Arthur Weasly – your dad, Ron?" Ron nodded, and Greyhawk continued. "I've never met him. He's going to help me to – er – enchant some muggle- made instruments. The kind that run on electricity... He just needs to issue me a permit first." "What are the instruments for?," Harry asked. "For my own pleasure – and, well, if I receive Dumbledores' permission, I will start a band." "Hogwarts? With a band? That will be interesting," Ron said, "If you'd be interested in old students, I bet you could get my brothers Fred and George to try out. They have a joke shop in Hogsmead." "I would like that," she said, pausing for a moment afterward, then continuing on, "Your father is the one who has the flying Ford Anglia, right?" "You heard about that?," Harry laughed. "Uh... Yeah... Why?," Ron asked. "I was hoping he may be able to help me with a project..." "If it has to do with cars, you'll have to go through my mother first," Ron said, implying the story. "Then I'll do that. You see... I love my car very much. I've never driven it, but I intend to someday, soon, when I get my drivers permit. But... There's a problem I'll be persecuted. There won't be many major changes, just small ones... And I'd like some seasoned help." "Well, if I know my dad, I know he'd love to help," Ron grinned. "How do you keep the anti-muggles from finding out you have all these non- magical things?," Harry was puzzled. He was sure that someone would've found out somehow – but from what she had said, they all got along quite well. "Well... It's hard to explain... We – er – hide them." "You hid your car?," Ron said flatly. "I camouflaged it. And the rest of our muggle things we put away when anti- muggles are around. We have clever ways of doing it." She smiled. "To keep them from finding out we're pro-muggle, we've often had to lie. It's become a role-playing game at my house." Harry chuckled at hearing this. It was odd to think of a pro-muggle having to act like an anti-muggle. "Must be hard," he said. "Hell, yes!," Greyhawk said, "Especially with Pastor 'Psycho' around!" "Who or what, is 'Pastor Psycho'?," Hermione asked with a look of extreme confusion. "Pastor Malfoy – A.K.A. 'Pastor Psycho', the most 'illustrious, well-loved and respected' father of Lucius Malfoy. Then, under that, there'd be a notation that reads 'Not a real Pastor, but an imposter of one'." "His father is still alive??," this surprised Ron for some reason. "He won't die! It's like he's some kind of deathless freak that no one seems to remember! And yet, the Malfoys uphold his name in fame, honor and dignity, whereas no one outside our family knows him! How the heck can he be famous if nobody has a clue who he is?" "How old is he now?," Harry asked. "Old. Too old. After meeting him, I've wondered if all men are mortal, or whether some are spared the ravishes of time that bring death to us all." She trailed off as she finished her chicken. There was a long, uneasy silence. "Er... Uh... Where did you go to school before this?," Hermione questioned eagerly. She hadn't really met many other schools' students. "Well," responded Aranel, "We jumped back and forth between Muggle School and Wizardry School..." "But," added Greyhawk, "we're exceptional at magic." "Our School of Wizardry is called Awennasa - " "Which is Cherokee for 'My Home'." "Founded by Charles Theriphixee, Alfred Kilarnie, Hazel Theriphixee, and Ruth Shanachie." "The very serious pro-muggle, the farmer, the ecstatically cheerful, and the hard worker." "Since they were all family, they named their houses after different, miscellaneous things." "Charles was the head of 'Epiphany', Alfred was head of 'Meadowbrook', Hazel was head of 'Dragonsong', and Ruth headed 'Limerick'." "Epiphany – the house of those who have faced great change - " "– And great sorrow." "Meadowbrook – those who are destined for simple, well –lived, fulfilling lives - " "– With a family to keep them going." "Dragonsong – those who are capable of great love for life - " "– And when times are down, they always wear a smile." "And Limerick - " "– Those who face the future with uncertainty, but with the willingness to move mountains, if it keeps them busy." They laughed, before Greyhawk continued on. "I am the first Heir of Awennasa to ever attend another school." "... Heir of Awennasa??," Harry questioned. "I am one of the heirs of our Headmaster William Bradner Theriphixee – He's my grandfather, you see – when he passes on, my mother will be Headmistress, and I will take her place as a professor, until she passes on." "So... It's like a family business!," Hermione said. "Right!," Greyhawk praised. "You don't have to be a certain age or something to inherit positions?," Ron asked. "Well... We'd make some kind of arrangement so it would work – I'm almost seventeen, so I can take over, if I have to." "Must be weird going to a school when it's run by your family," Harry remarked, smirking. "Yes... But there are good sides to it," she answered. They were all silent again as the train rolled past a massive green field.
A cold wind blew, and everyone groaned. Even the walls of the buildings seemed to shiver in the cold. Severus Snape shuddered, and drew his cloak tighter around himself as he continued to traverse Knockturn Alley. He wasn't sure himself what business had brought him here today, but he felt like wandering; and so that's what he did. The Alley was bustling, although it was bitterly cold today, and it seemed alive with Winter, although it wasn't near winter yet. Severus heard the calling of a crow overhead, and looked slowly up, and watched it perch on the roof of the building to his right. He was sure it wasn't so, but he had the nagging feeling that somehow this crow reminded hi of someone... but he couldn't tell whom. "Severus!," a voice suddenly said from behind him. He spun to see Lucius Malfoy flanking him, smiling as if he thought Severus was acting out of character. "I haven't seen you in such a long time!" "Yes," he answered sourly. "Our Greyhawk is attending Hogwarts this year, I expect you know." "Well, of course. She is my niece, too, Lucius." "Heh, I know, I know. I'm sure you'll keep a watchful eye on her?" "Of course." "We don't want her to – get into trouble... do we?" "No, we don't." "Be careful, then. You never know who could be lurking around." "Of course." "I'll see you tonight. I'm going to visit with her after the Sorting Ceremony." "Yes, good-bye, Lucius. I look forward to seeing you again." Severus rolled his eyes as he walked away. Of course I'll look after her, Lucius, he thought to himself, I'll do a better job than you did. He headed down the alleyway, and disappeared into the crowd. The crow cackled to himself and flew off. The Alley suddenly seemed foreboding in the coldness of the late Summer afternoon.