Chapter 18: Muggles and Their Afternoons

It was the worst afternoon Tom Lutch could remember.

He had cancelled all the classes for the day and sent the students to watch television (he was utterly relieved that some of the televisions still worked). Five fights broke out, four among the students and one among the professors. He had to break that one up personally.

He had told the professors what he knew – that they were under attack by a bunch of nuts who seemed to have some kind of supernatural powers, that the gates were locked and all the phones and computers were fried. Someone had suggested calling out on a cell phone, but there was some kind of interference going and no one could get a signal.

And the Dursley family wasn't being much help. The woman's hair had returned after about ten minutes, but she appeared to have been traumatized by the happening and wasn't responding to anyone. The son was watching TV with the students and stuffing his face with the snacks Lutch had had sent up from the kitchen. He had been a little worried at first – after all, these kids were a rough crowd – but after a few shoves and yells, the boy had fit right in.

The man of the family, meanwhile, was sitting beside his wife in the dormitory where she was curled up on a bed shivering, saying things like "I knew he'd be back, I just knew it." He had explained the situation to the Headmaster as best he could, and the story was, frankly, unbelievable. Wizards and magic did not fit into the orderly world of Tom Lutch.

But there was no other explanation.

Privately, Lutch decided that if these Potter people could provide any kind of evidence that the girl was theirs, he was going to let her go. He couldn't handle this much trouble. Not even for the tuition Dursley had indicated he'd be willing to pay.

It felt as if the afternoon would never end.

-----

It was the best afternoon Marie Elliot could remember.

Helen's grandfather told them the most amazing stories. Some were about his twin sons, Helen's uncles, the ones who had made all the fun sweets Helen had in her bag, and the stuff they had done at school. Marie laughed for five minutes over the swamp in the hallway. Others were about Helen's dad and the adventures he had gone on with his two best friends, Helen's aunt and uncle. She thought it would be fun to ride a hippogriff, though she felt rather nervous when its talons and beak were described.

Marie called him Granddad, the way Helen did, and was rather sorry to see him go when a grandmotherly woman popped out of nowhere to tell him he was needed upstairs. She was apparently his wife, since they kissed before he left, and Helen introduced her as "Grandmum."

"Why Grandmum?" Marie wondered aloud. She had never heard a grandmother called that.

"Oh, yes." Mrs. Weasley smiled reminiscently. "When my oldest grandson, Craig, Fred and Angelina's boy, was just a baby – he's fifteen now, he'll be starting his fifth year at Hogwarts in the fall – Arthur, that's Helen's granddad, bought him this... oh, Helen, do help me, what is it called?"

"A video, Grandmum." Helen was grinning – of course she would know this one.

"Yes, a video, that's right. So he bought Craig this video, which had a story on it, and in the story, the little children called their grandmother Grandmum. It was an American production, and the children were American, but the grandmother was supposed to be English. Rather odd, actually... you could never see her face... but it was a funny story. All done in pictures, about flying penguins and talking vacuum cleaners."

"Animated," Helen whispered to Marie.

"But at any rate, Craig loved it, and he wanted to watch it over and over, and he got the idea from this that I was his Grandmum, so that's all he would call me. And then when the other children started coming, I was so used to being Grandmum that that's what I was, and that's what I remain. And that's what you will call me, too, dear, if you know what's good for you." She rapped Marie's knuckles with her wand, pretending to be severe, and the girls giggled.

The stories Grandmum told them were similar to Granddad's, except that they had more editorial commentary on the "Well-wasn't-that-silly-of-them" lines. Marie tried to imagine walking through a solid barrier at a train station, or riding on a huge purple bus, or dodging a tree that tried to hit her. She was fascinated by the new world being built out of words in front of her.

Later, when Aunt Angelina and Aunt Alicia began to tell her about Quidditch, she was more than fascinated – she was utterly enthralled.

"Witches really ride brooms then?"

"Oh, yes. And wizards too, of course." That was Aunt Angelina.

"And they really fly?"

"All over the place," Aunt Alicia said. "It can be hard not to be noticed, though, so if we're going somewhere, we tend to use the Floo Network."

Of course, that necessitated another round of explanations, and Marie felt as dizzy as if she'd just done what they described by the time they finished.

"But isn't this all secret?"

"Very secret, usually."

"Then why do I get to know all about it? I'm not so special. I mean, I'm just a normal kid. I'll never fly on a broomstick or play Quidditch or travel through a fireplace. Why me?"

The aunts looked at each other. Marie could almost hear them thinking. Why are we telling her this stuff? What good could she possibly be? She's a Muggle, after all...

Muggle was another word they had taught her. It meant someone like her, someone without magic. Someone who's not special.

She waited, her heart sinking, for them to tell her kindly that they had made a mistake, or to laugh in her face and disappear with Helen and leave her there.

"I suppose," said Aunt Alicia slowly, "that we're getting you ready."

"Ready for what?"

"For your new life, girl," said Aunt Angelina impatiently. "Unless you like it here," she added, waving her hand at the cheerless room.

"No! No, I hate it here..." Marie stopped as she realized what the woman was saying.

"Told you so," Helen said apparently to herself, smiling cheekily at the ceiling.

"You mean... you're really going to... take me too?"

"Let's see," Aunt Alicia said, ticking points off on her fingers. "You hate it here. You're good with children. And you're Helen's friend – Weasleys and Potters never leave their friends behind."

"No, they marry them," Aunt Angelina said, chuckling.

"Or adopt them," Helen said.

Aunt Alicia smacked them both and continued. "So consider yourself adopted, Marie. Muggle or magical, you're part of the family now. Welcome."

Marie surprised everyone, including herself, by bursting into tears.

She wished the afternoon would never end.

-----

It was the oddest afternoon Rebecca Laburnum could remember.

She was in her living room, enjoying the latest offering from the Book-of-the-Month club, when the doorbell rang. She answered it.

Three people stood on her doorstep, two women and a man. They said they wanted to discuss her ward, Marie Elliot, and could they please come in. Naturally, she let them in and offered them tea. They accepted politely and introduced themselves. She thought Weasley something of an odd name, but of course she said nothing of the sort.

"Let us come to the point, Ms. Laburnum," said Percy Weasley, sitting carefully in one of her best armchairs, teacup in hand. "Your ward is currently attending Goldenrod Academy, is that correct?"

"Yes, that's right."

"If she were to change schools," said Penelope, gently stirring her tea, the spoon tinking against the cup. "If she were to, perhaps, enter vocational training somewhere..." Tink. "...at no cost to you, of course..." Tink. "...would you have an objection?" Tink.

"At no cost to me?" This had to be some kind of scam. Or perhaps they were investigators. Yes, that would be it. Rebecca felt her stomach tightening. I have done nothing legally wrong, she reminded herself. I had every right to send the girl away.

"I assure you, Ms. Laburnum, we have no ulterior motives." That was the other woman, Hermione or whatever her name was. "But we may be misinformed. Would you mind telling us why, exactly, you felt it necessary to send Marie away?"

"She was violent. She threatened a boy at school with a knife."

"In self-defense," Penelope put in, still apparently focused on her teacup.

"Do you still draw income from Marie's trust fund, Ms. Laburnum?"

There it was. They must be investigating her. Be calm, she ordered herself. "Yes, I draw the income. To pay the girl's tuition."

"And buy a few things for yourself?" Percy's wave took in the neatly furnished house, the cutting-edge entertainment center, the paintings on the walls.

"There's nothing wrong with that. I use only the interest."

"Quite a lot of money involved, then, isn't there?" asked Hermione.

"The girl's parents were well-off. Mostly inherited, I believe. I was only her father's second cousin, I never knew the family very well. But I was the only relative they could find. The only one on the books." God, she was babbling. She had to stop.

"The only one on the books?" Percy inquired, taking a sip of his tea. "Are you saying the girl has other relatives?"

"I... I honestly don't know. I think her parents must have been part of some kind of cult, because... the story was that the girl just appeared in the police station, she was just a baby, with a note attached to her clothes, giving her name and saying her parents were dead and she had to be taken care of. And when they found me, they gave me this sealed letter that had been with her, it had instructions all about how to deal with anything unusual that she did and some special school and a letter that would come, but nothing ever happened, and I didn't know what to do!"

All three of them were staring at her. Rebecca realized she'd been on her feet, shouting. She sank back into her chair. "Please, forgive me. I... am not good with children. Marie was very difficult for me to deal with..."

Penelope held up a hand. "Ms. Laburnum, it's quite all right. We understand perfectly."

"A Squib," Hermione breathed. Or at least Rebecca thought she did. She had no idea what it meant, though. "She must be a Squib."

"Yes, I remember the Elliots now," Percy said reflectively. "They broke up that gang of renegade wizards in South London, and the survivors ambushed them in their home. They must have had enough warning to get the girl away. We always just assumed she'd been killed with her parents."

"They were living undercover as Muggles," Penelope said. "They had their Gringotts accounts transferred, I assume. That must be the source of the trust fund."

Rebecca had stopped trying to understand. She was too busy attempting not to panic.

"Ms. Laburnum."

She looked up at the Hermione woman.

"Ms. Laburnum, we belong to the same cult, as you call it, that Marie's parents did. As such, we have the power to end Marie's trust fund. We can split the principal in half, giving half to you for your trouble and keeping half for Marie to live on until she comes of age. Marie becomes our problem. You never have to worry about her again. Is this an acceptable arrangement?"

Rebecca nodded dumbly.

"In that case, we just need your signature on these," said Percy, taking a stack of papers out of his briefcase. "They transfer legal guardianship to us, or rather to my brother, who is the one actually interested in Marie..."

A few minutes later, Rebecca Laburnum had signed guardianship of Marie Elliot over to someone named George Weasley. Her unusual visitors took their leave, Penelope pausing on the threshold to wave a stick around the room. A moment later, the teacups were clean.

"This never happened," she said mildly to Rebecca, and vanished.

Rebecca almost fell into a chair. It's over. It's really over.

Her conscience niggled at her. How do you know they're trustworthy? How do you know they're telling the truth?

I don't, she told it, squashing it firmly down into place. And, as crass and horrid as it makes me, I don't care. Marie is finally off my hands, and I have enough left to live on, and I'm not entirely ruined. Let them take care of the wretched girl. I wish them much joy of her.

Lord, I thought this afternoon was never going to end.

-----

(A/N: Satisfied, everyone who asked about Marie?

Joshua, this one's for you!

Gyre: Minerva wants to answer this one herself. Why, thank you, kind sir. It was rather devious of me, wasn't it? Oh yes, and a very happy birthday to me on this October 4. ::purr::

Kraeg001: See Molly's story in this chapter for details.

Lady Cinnibar: All my experience is colored by being several years the oldest (the next one down is 12). Yes, I do think Harry and Ginny as professors will be enjoyable. And think of the little ones running around Hogwarts. Small child in the Slytherin common room wreaking havoc, what?

athenakitty: Recheck your character names, I think you may be mixed up – and aren't there always?

Caprice-Ann HedicanKocur: From experience ("The Letters from No One"), I would say Hogwarts doesn't take no for an answer gracefully. But that wasn't really a refusal, it was just a failure to answer, and about Harry Potter, no less. So, good try, see above...

violingirl7: Insults, m'dear, not threats, insults. As I said, ask very nicely (and review my other fic) and I shall provide a translation.

acatm: Thanks! Not meaning any disrespect to JKR, but I had a very similar experience to hers... Helen walked into my head one night while I was doing something else and said "Hello, I'm Dudley Dursley's daughter and I'm a witch, what are you going to do about it?"

Dumbledore: No kidding! Thanks – I'm doing my best!

Melboriel: You're very astute; I'm American and guessing. I hope the explanation in this chapter is all right. Thank you for the compliments. I'm afraid I couldn't resist the chance to have a big Weasley family reunion. It seems very in character – if they heard that someone they cared about was in trouble, I think they'd all want to help.

JeanMarie, Harm Marie, harryp123: Thank you!

If the afternoon is over, you know what that means... night is coming...

The fun starts soon, I promise!

Thanks everyone for all your great reviews! I'm into 3 digits now! Yay!)