Chapter Thirty Nine: Return to Hogwarts
The Ministry of Magic had given specific instructions to Albus Dumbledore concerning two students. When they were to return to the school, they were to assume their original names and dress in the standard school uniform. Cornelius Fudge considered his message to be quite clear. He was very upset to find out that Charlie Potter refused to accept these instructions.
"I am an adult, in my world if not in this," he informed Professor Dumbledore angrily. The effort was ruined by the headmaster's mirthful grin. Robert began again, but the smile was too much for him.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, I have been informed of the circumstances of my being entered into this competition, and I must refuse to set aside my rank or title at this time." Robert's grin matched Dumbledore's. "Please see that all the appropriate persons are notified."
"Shall I start with the Minister himself, or with Professor Snape?"
Robert began to laugh. "You know too well my feelings, Sir. Could you tell Professor Snape while I watched?"
"Robert, you are too old for such things," Dumbledore said, and chuckled when the boy began to object.
"I apologize, Professor."
"Accepted, Lord Somerset. And does My Lord prefer private quarters, or his former bed."
"If I choose my former bed, will I still be on the Quidditch team?"
Albus gave him a sorrowful look. "Alas, dear boy, Quidditch has been cancelled because of the Tri-Wizard Tournament."
"I would prefer to choose my old bed . . ."
"Your friends would appreciate it, My Lord."
"As would I, Sir, but circumstances dictate that I choose private quarters."
Albus turned back to his desk and picked something up. "You might want this."
Robert looked at the wand and made a decision. "I will not need it, Headmaster. I am not here to attend school."
Albus affected an amused look. "Then I will keep it here, just in case."
Robert bowed politely and left for the Great Hall. It was almost noon. His plans were simple. He would rejoin his former classmates and decide what to do from there. But even simple plans go awry.
"Look, it's Prince Potty, come back to Hogwarts."
Robert looked to see Malfoy standing in the hallway before him, Crabbe and Goyle on either side. He took three quick strides and drew his sword as Malfoy reached for his wand. He stopped with his sword at Malfoy's throat.
"I am a member of the Nobility and an Officer. You will refer to me properly at all times or I will have your head. Do you understand?"
Malfoy's face went white. The look Robert gave him and the tone of his voice shown that he was serious. He eyed the sword and its owner carefully as he tried to think of what to say.
"What's the meaning of this?" a gravelly voice said from behind.
"Professor Moody," Draco said quickly. "You're a witness. He attacked me."
"So I can see," Moody said, noting that the boy with the sword never moved his eyes, or the sword, from Draco. "The question is why? My Lord, can you answer that question?"
"He insulted my rank, Sir, and by that, insulted my King. I must take offense."
"Then I'll set the punishment," Moody told him. "Put that sword away now or I'll take it away, King or no King."
Robert lowered his sword, and turned, stepping back when he saw the new Defense Professor.
"I am a sight, boy . . . and I know it. No offense taken."
"Thank you, Sir," Robert said gratefully, bowing to the man. "I will leave him in your hands." He sheathed his sword, and walked past the three Slytherins, pushing Crabbe out of his way.
"Well now," Moody said as he stared at the three boys, "What's the punishment for insulting a Lord? I don't think there is one. I'll make something up." His magical eye focused itself on Malfoy. "Considering your family, you ferret-faced lying . . ." he choked off the rest of his words and pulled out his wand, casting a spell on the boy. "And you're stupid, too," he shouted as a white ferret began to run away. "If you had learned that sorcerer's spell, you could have been laughing at me." As the ferret began to run around the far corner, Moody called out, "Accio. Let's have a little fun."
Robert walked into the Great Hall in a foul mood. After he walked away, the students who had stopped to watch his little scene began to laugh. He knew it probably wasn't true, but he felt they were laughing at him. Then twin hands stopped him.
"Robert, have you seen Ginny?" Fred asked anxiously.
"I have not forsworn my titles. I demand you address me . . ."
"Hang that," George said. "Have you seen Ginny?"
Robert became concerned. "No, but Colin asked me to give her a letter. He promised . . . What happened?"
Fred and George were both deflated. "You don't know."
Fred explained. "She stole Harry's invisibility cloak and used it to sneak into Father Maurice's office. She stole . . ."
For the first time since he had met them, Robert saw Fred and George on the verge of tears. He knew what happened. There was only one thing to steal from Father Maurice.
"I know nothing," Robert admitted. "Nothing at all."
"She's in your world," George explained. "We know that much. She returned the stone by mailing it to Harry. That's all we were told."
"We thought you would know how the search is going," Fred said. "Mum's worn out over this."
"They will find her," Robert assured them. "But we are distracted by the war. It will take time."
He was grateful when they went back to their table. Hearing about Ginny was a shock, but he knew at once that no one was looking for her. Who was there who could look? He sat down at the Hufflepuff table without even realizing it.
"Lord Somerset?" a voice asked, and Robert turned to see a familiar looking figure.
"Do I know you?"
"You know my brother, My Lord. Lord MontClaire." The boy was grinning at him.
"By God, I did not recognize you. You are Lord Edward MacMillan. How did you come to be here?"
"I'm a first year. I'm in Hufflepuff. And to hell with good breeding."
Robert laughed with Edward. "You must tell me the story when we have time. Lord MontClaire swore that your father would never let any of you return."
Edward gave a wry smile. "My father learned never to use the word 'never'."
"My Lord?"
"Edward," the first year said, "Or better yet, Eddie."
Robert nodded his amusement. "I will apologize but I must choose Lord Edward. I have not forsworn any rank, and I will not."
Eddie bowed politely. "Then I addressed you as I should, My Lord."
"What do we call you?" another first year asked.
"Address him as My Lord," Eddie MacMillan said.
The first year nodded. "What do we call you, My Lord?"
In the back of his mind, Robert could hear Davers saying, "I love the new ones."
"My Good Man, you call me My Lord. Everyone does. There will be no exceptions."
Cedric Diggory's voice was heard from behind him. "Robert, they cancelled Quidditch."
Forgetting himself, Robert turned around quickly. "Cedric, the Quidditch cup. Did we win?"
"And the House Cup."
Robert hugged Cedrice in joy. When he let go, Cedric told him, "It was because your brother had to leave. Gryffindor tried, but they didn't have a seeker."
Robert kept his grin. "Those are the fortunes of war. I will try to live with it."
"My Lord," the first year asked. "Why doesn't he have to call you My Lord?"
"He is the Quidditch Captain," Robert replied out of hand. "I am a Lieutenant. Familiarity is permitted between fellow officers."
As Robert turned back to Cedric the first year asked Eddie MacMillan, "Does Quidditch have Lieutenants?"
Harry was bored. It had been ten weeks since his escape and only two things had happened. He had learned to ride a camel, and he had learned to read and write Polish. (And it wasn't even Polish. It seems that the official court language is German as spoken in Brandenburg.) He was not a skilled speaker but he was learning quickly. He was helped by the fact that there was nothing else to do.
"There must be a faster way to travel," Harry said in disgust.
"I do not understand," the Gypsy replied in BurgDeutsche.
Harry repeated himself in Polish, and was corrected on his grammar and pronunciation.
"This is important, little one. It is not enough that you speak our language. You must speak it as though you were born to it. That is why I always correct you, and why I ignore you when you speak Anglo-French."
"Yes, My Lady."
"Good. And you are correct. There are faster and easier ways to travel than this small caravan, But you and I are being looked for. We dare not use them."
"But a ship . . ."
The Gypsy laughed. "Between the Angevins, the Turks, the Greeks and the Tunisian pirates, we would be hard pressed to reach any destination. That is why we are taking the land route. We will travel faster when we reach Palestine and cross over into the Byzantine Empire."
"I thought we were at war with them."
"You are, but we are not. Although we are discussing the matter. We may go to war, with or against them, depending on which side makes the best offer."
"Then I am a hostage?"
"No, little one. You are the honoured guest of His Slavonic Majesty. I promise you, I will see you safely to Krakow. Once there you will either be returned to your own people or remain with us as our guest until the hostilities cease. You are useful only if you are safe from your current enemies."
Harry was curious about that phrase. "As opposed to our 'former' enemies."
The Gypsy smiled. "You are learning, little one. You are learning. And now you must learn some more. We will discuss History for a while, as seen from an honest perspective and not influenced by foreign prejudices. Pay attention. You will need to know this."
Harry was tired by the end of the day, as he was by the end of every day. He understood one thing. He was not being taught Polish, he was being taught to be Polish. His 'dearest aunt' as she now insisted she call him wanted to make sure that his actions would not cause anyone to think otherwise.
The caravan paused that night at an oasis and stayed there for the entire day. It was the first of November, All Saints Day, a Holy day.
Harry paused in thought as he looked out at the desert. Somewhere to the east, perhaps two weeks away as they were traveling, lay Egypt. He would have the opportunity to see the pyramids. Then he thought of Ron. He hadn't thought of Ron in months, except when he was told about his sister. Ron was his best friend, but he had almost forgotten him. How many others had he forgotten?
"Co Martwi was, bratanek?" the gypsy asked as she came up from behind him.
"Egipt," Harry answered. He smiled. Egypt was not a standard reply when someone asked what was troubling you. They continued the conversation in BurgDeutsche.
"And why does Egypt trouble you?"
"My friend went there last year with his family." Harry hesitated. This woman was not the person to be intimate with. They had been traveling together for almost two months and she had still not told him her name. But then, she knew who he was and where he came from. "I have not thought of my friend in a long time."
"Then think on him now. You should never forget your friends. I will leave you in peace."
With no small surprise, Harry watched the Gypsy go back to her tent. For a second she sounded sincere. And for that brief moment, Harry almost liked her. But the Gypsy did not want to be liked.
Harry turned back to the desert and stared at the vast nothingness of sand and rock. He thought about his friends and of all the things he had missed. He thought about Fred and the way they talked the day they met his brother. There was a sense of regret for what might have been, but it did not trouble Harry. He had made a choice to be with his brother, and now he had two brothers, both of whom cared for him greatly. Then Harry laughed to himself. His decision had landed him somewhere in the North African desert. So much for choices.
Robert walked up the staircase to the seventh floor and approached the painting of the Fat Lady. "Balderdash," he said loudly.
"Oooh," the Fat Lady said as she opened up. "The dashing young sailor comes courting."
Robert smiled at her and walked through the entranceway into the Gryffindor common room. He smiled as he saw who he was looking for. Bowing politely, he asked. "Miss Granger, may I ask for your company today."
"No," Hermione said. "Not until you agree to help me."
"Of course I will," Robert said happily. "With what?"
"I'm organizing a group to protest the use of slave labor in this school."
Robert hid his surprise. "Yes, by all means. There is no reason to hire slaves?" His mind told him that the sentence did not come out correctly. "Hermione, there are no slaves. Slavery was abolished in your England in Eighteen Hundred and something or other."
"Not people. House Elves!"
Robert became more confused. "But house elves are not human."
"You've done it now," Ron whispered, as Hermione scowled at him.
"Robert, how can you say that?" she demanded.
"Because . . . I am a fool. I do not understand what you are talking about."
"The school uses house elves to do all of the cooking and cleaning. They're forced to do it."
"How terrible," Robert said and received another scowl for not sounding serious enough. "But what can I do about it? Formally, I am not even a student here. I am a guest."
Hermione smiled and Robert failed to catch the cue that he should begin to worry. "It's simple, Robert," Hermione said as she stood up and put her hands around his neck. "If you were to join our organization, it would mean that your world also objects to the horrible treatment of another species."
"And your organization is?"
"The Society for the Promotion of Elf Welfare."
"Should that not be Elvish Welfare?"
"Then you agree?"
"Of course I do, my love," Robert said, and chose that moment to give her a short kiss. When she responded, his heart leapt.
"I won't charge you," Hermione said with a sheepish grin. "But you will have to wear one of our badges." Hermione released him and reached behind her. She then handed him a button which said 'S.P.E.W.'.
"I can not wear this," Robert said sarcastically, then changed his tone at once. "You know, Hermione, I must wear my uniform at all times. I may not wear any unapproved adornments."
"You made that up, just now."
Robert thought to himself that if it weren't true he would have made it up in a heartbeat. He could see Professor Quirrell's face if the man spotted the badge on his jacket.
"I did not, Hermione. But I can do this. I can mention my feelings on the subject at . . . appropriate . . . moments, when I am having private conversations with, um, certain people."
"Will you?" Hermione asked hopefully.
"I promise," Robert told her.
Hermione smiled. "Give me ten minutes to get ready." She was still smiling as she ran up to her dorm.
Ron looked up at Robert. "You're going to mention your FEELINGS?"
"When it is appropriate," Robert answered, and both boys smirked.
"Excuse me," a small voice said, and Robert was forced to look down.
Ron grinned, "Robert, this is Dennis Creevey."
Robert looked to see a younger and, if possible, smaller version of Colin with the same energetic smile. But the eyes held a worried look.
"How is Colin?"
"Homesick," Robert told Dennis. "He greatly regrets his rashness now that the excitement is over. I am happy to meet you, Goodman Dennis."
"Goodman?" Dennis and Ron asked.
"I have not foresworn my titles. I am making everyone call me Lord Somerset."
"Including Malfoy," Ron laughed.
"Is Malfoy . . .?" Dennis asked.
Ron nodded. "The Amazing Bouncing Ferret. Robert, you should have stayed. It was great. Professor Moody was great. Until McGonagall stopped him."
Robert had to laugh at the way Dennis was vigorously nodding his agreement. "I should have," he admitted. "But I am forgetting something. Dennis, I have been asked to give you this."
He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a thick letter and gave it to the first year. Dennis gratefully accepted the letter and almost ran off to read it, but stopped himself. "Colin, is he coming back?"
"To visit if he has a chance," Robert assured the boy. "He is in a dangerous place at this time. It is safe enough, but it is dangerous to try and leave." Robert knelt to look the boy in the eye. "Dennis, you must know this. Your brother is one of the bravest people I know. When others, including my own brother, were frozen by surprise, Colin was already taking action. I owe him my life, and I am not the only one to make that claim. Be proud of him."
"Thanks," Dennis said, grateful for the words of reassurance. As he walked off, a couple of other first years joined him. The first year Gryffindor was already popular because of his brother.
Robert walked arm in arm with Hermione as they made their way to the lake. Robert wanted to see the Dumstrang ship at close range. He was also curious that the frigate was still there.
"Sirius Black lives there," Hermione explained. "He's grateful to be free, but he prefers his privacy. Fred and George visit him a lot."
"I had heard rumours of a joke shop?"
"According to Fred, Sirius isn't interested in working in any kind of shop, but he will consider investing in their company once they graduate."
"That is something to look forward to. Hermione, you do know that I am in my Majority. I am fourteen."
"So am I," Hermione laughed. "And I won't marry you until I graduate."
Robert smiled at her response. Before the war began, she would not consider it. Now it was an assumption. "What I ask may mean putting off the wedding for another two years. Professor Mercer is prepared to offer you enrollment in January, if you are interested."
Hermione shook her head. Suddenly she seemed, in Robert's eyes, to be much older than she was. "I can't. Not while the tournament's going on. Not while you're here. Tell him, after this year. I promise."
"Then you will come?"
Hermione lowered her head as she blushed. "I will become a lady."
"And how is my godson," Sirius asked his two guests. "And where is he?"
"Harry is, um," Robert said. "Well, we are not sure. We are fairly sure where he is not."
"But I was told that he was captured by the enemy and then he escaped."
"And as far as I know he has not been recaptured. North Africa is a difficult place to escape from. Harry's only choices are by sea, and the Sultan of Morocco controls the Atlantic, or across the desert. I do not know what has happened to him. All I know is that he is still alive."
Sirius looked at Robert. "And how can you know that?"
"Simple. He was chosen to participate in this contest. That could not have happened if he were dead. Professor Quirrell assured me of that fact."
Sirius nodded. "And what happens when you have the first task?"
Robert frowned. "I do not know."
"We'll think of something," Hermione said, rubbing his arm.
"Keep me informed," Sirius Black told them, then added sarcastically, "LORD Somerset. This commoner may be able to help."
"Goodman Black," Robert said without offense. "I am only following orders. And your help would be greatly appreciated."
Sirius noted the glint in Robert's eye, and smiled at the words 'following orders'. "You've been ordered to be rude to everyone? How are the teachers taking this?"
Robert returned Sirius's smirk. "Professor Moody and Professor Sprout were amused. I am waiting to confront Professor Snape."
On Sunday, November 22, a tired Robert de Somerset awoke at first light because of habit and not because he was well rested. He managed to get dressed and stumble on his way to the chapel. There, he gained another hour by sleeping through most of the mass. As he was the only other person in the chapel, Father Maurice noticed at once. After he finished, he put his vestments away, then approached the sleeping boy.
"My Lord," Father Maurice said loudly, to no effect. He shook his head in amusement, then whispered, "Hermione Granger is here."
"UH," Robert said as he suddenly sat up. "Oh, sorry, Father. Has mass started?"
"It ended twenty minutes ago. Why were you sleeping?"
Robert blushed at the rebuke, more because it was given in a conversational tone. "Hagrid had me meet him at midnight, to show me the dragons." He paused. "I do not think I am supposed to know about the dragons. They are for the first task"
Father Maurice's curiosity was obvious. "And why did Hagrid single you out for this honor?"
"He did not. I was sneaking behind him as he escorted Madame Maxime. I think they were on a date."
"Interesting? She will probably let the matter slip to her student. I assume you will be telling Cedric Diggory?"
"I woke him up last night," Robert said sheepishly.
"Then only the Dumstrang Champion does not know. Is that fair?"
"Um, while I was hiding, Professor Karkaroff slipped past me in the dark to get a closer look. I do not think he saw me."
Father Maurice rubbed his face with his hands. "It is nice to know that honour and dignity survive in this world. Letting everyone cheat equally."
Robert couldn't help but grin at the remark.
"My presence is not necessary, Professor. I have not taken back my wand." Robert was unwilling to admit that he did not want to be photographed or interviewed by the Daily Prophet. He had read more than enough articles about his backward world.
"I have your wand, and Harry's," Dumbledore said with humor. "You do not need to use it. Only to have it examined. It will be quite painless."
"And her?" Robert asked as he pointed to a woman with clawlike fingernails.
"She will print whatever she wants, regardless of what you say. But don't take the word of an addlebrained dingbat."
"I thought she called you an obsolete dingbat?"
"Oh?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling. "Has she written another article about me?"
Robert laughed as Dumbledore excused himself and found himself facing . . .
"Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet. And you must be Robby."
Robert took an immediate dislike to the woman. "I am Lord Somerset, Goodwoman. Address me properly or not at all."
"A nobleman?" Rita asked with a small grin. "You must be a great hero where you come from. What with the nice uniform and the pretty sword."
"I could give you a closer view of my sword if you like." Robert's voice was ice.
"You are an anxious child," Rita said in the same tone. "But you probably don't know any better." She looked up as Dumbledore approached. "Albus, how are you?"
"Busy, thank you, Rita. If you will excuse us."
Without waiting for an answer, he led the grateful boy away. Robert was thankful that the interview was as brief as it was, but he would learn later that Dumbledore was telling the truth about that abhorrent woman.
The following week, he was on the cover of the Daily Prophet. The most polite thing that was written about him was that he probably never had the chance to learn a better way of life. Draco Malfoy would read aloud how the bloodthirsty young savage had boasted of his exploits on the battlefield.
"For the love of God," Robert would mutter "I am in the Navy, not the Army."
Robert sat on his bed, worried. He knew that somehow he needed to get past the dragon today but he did not know how. That, however, was not what he was worried about. He had heard nothing about Harry. Then there was a knock at the door, and Father Maurice entered.
"You were not at breakfast, My Lord. I made it a point to bring you some food. You need your energy today."
Father Maurice sat a plate on the table by Robert's bed and handed him a fork. Robert reluctantly began to eat while Father Maurice reached under his robes. "My Lord, you may not be aware of this, but I am no longer trusted with a control stone. Not after it was stolen from me. Did you find Ginny Weasley to be an interesting person?"
Robert looked up with his mouth full. He swallowed quickly. "I do not think I understand the question."
Father Maurice waved the question away as he reached under his robes. "That is only my curiosity asking. It seems that Ginny Weasley left this behind." Robert found himself staring at Harry's invisibility cloak.
