Ottery St. Mary was nestled on a series of gently rolling hills. It was as if the land that the town was built upon sought to imitate the gentle swells and dips of the nearby Atlantic Ocean. Row after row of weathered stucco and brick buildings lined slanting cobblestone streets. Petunia and gardenia cascaded like gentle waterfalls in riotous shades of purple and red above storefront windows. A young family lingered next to a brightly colored display of pottery, and Hermione searched the face of the littlest girl as her father drove slowly past.
"What is the address that we're looking for again, love?"
"We're looking for The London Inn. It's on 4 Gold Street, near the intersection of Silver," Hermione consulted her map. "Turn left at the next light, that should be Gold, and then find a car park, we can walk from there."
Hermione adjusted the papers on her lap one final time, reassuring herself that all of the important documents were present. Jasmine's birth certificate, the hospital record with its inky black footprints, medical records from the pediatrician, dental records supplied by her parents, the I.D. kit that she had put together on a whim while they were shopping for groceries at Somerfield, and several glossy photos taken recently at a playmate's birthday party. Jasmine smiling with her toothy grin, her chubby hands covered in chocolate frosting. Hermione didn't have anything more recent. She had planned on having Jasmine's portrait taken, but had never been able to scrape enough together to have it done. There was always some bill to pay or milk and bread to buy, it would have been so easy to ask her parents to pay for it. They had even offered on several occasions but pride kept her from accepting.
"Ready kitten?" her father asked, killing the ignition.
She nodded and checked her face in the mirror on the visor. She was pale, and her skin was blotchy from crying too much. She closed the manila file, and tucked it into a canvas messenger bag.
It had been a very long drive from London, and Hermione longed to stretch her legs. The day was late, fast approaching evening, but the air was cool, and would feel refreshing after the stuffy recycled air of the car. But before Hermione could open the door, her father stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.
"Hermione, I know he comes highly recommended-- but why would a reputable solicitor be conducting his business from a pub?"
"He isn't Daddy. It's another gateway, like the Leaky Cauldron in London. Tom said that I was to show Mr. Crowley's business card to the landlord and he would see us through."
The London Inn was a white brick two story. It was situated on a large public square where a group of young boys were skateboarding. A long white wooden banner edged in black ran the length of the building, advertising to passerby that there was food here among other things. It was supper time, and the pub was crowded with diners. The inside was bright yet bland with tasteful wooden furniture of a colonial design and a series of small banquet rooms lined in chevron printed pastel wallpaper. Small potted palms and arrangements of silk flowers filled empty corners in an attempt to add atmosphere, yet failing in an inexplicable way. The place was thoroughly Muggle, and try as she might, Hermione could not sense anything Magical about the place. Maybe Tom had the directions wrong.
"Excuse me," she said to the hostess, after making her way through the queue, "I'm looking for The London Inn, is there another in Ottery St. Mary?"
"No Ma'am. This is it. How many people are in your party?" she asked glancing up from her registry. The reception area was fairly busy with people coming and going, and she seemed to be harried.
"We're not here to dine," she replied pulling out the creamy vellum card that Tom had given to her to present to the landlord. "Is the owner here? Kelly Marsh-- He should be expecting us. Would you give this to him?"
"Her," the woman replied, her eyes narrowing. "I am Kelly Marsh, proprietor of The London Inn," she said ignoring the card.
"Oh, I thought--" Hermione stammered. "I'm not selling anything, if that's what you thought."
The woman looked pained and cut her off with an exasperated wave of her hand, "Don't worry about it, happens all of the time. Kelly's just one of those names."
"Tom of The Leaky Cauldron asked me to give you this card. He said that you would be able to put me in touch with Mr. Crowley," Hermione leaned in closely and whispered to her, careful to not be overheard. She dropped the card on top of the registry on the podium. Kelly did look at it now, almost fearfully as if it were something poisonous that could bite her. Her eyes had widened perceptibly at the mention of Mr. Crowley, and her face lost a bit of its color. A slender wand, light colored, possibly birch, appeared in her hand, possibly it had been concealed in the sleeve of her twill suit jacket. She tapped the card lightly, and the wand was hidden away again in one fluid, barely perceptible motion. The tiny vellum card grew into a standard size envelope, about the size of a greeting card. The small black glossy printing ran together like water and re formed into a wax seal in the stylized shape of a tiny black cauldron with a chunk missing from the bottom edge. Kelly tucked the envelope in her pocket and took two menus from the stack next to the podium.
"I believe your table is ready, Ma'am," she gave Hermione a hard stare and turned quickly before Hermione could question, and led the way to the dining area. Hermione and her dad had no choice but to follow.
"Marna," Kelly took an ebony skinned waitress by her elbow, "be a dear and take over for me up front." She stopped next to a table for two, a heavily scarred mahogany table that had been lacquered to a deep-- almost bloody-- sheen, and indicated that they should sit.
Hermione sat down, waiting for something to happen, she looked expectantly at Kelly, and then back at their table for two.
"Does Mr. Crowley plan on joining us for supper?" her father inquired.
Kelly tittered nervously, and Hermione felt the sharp tang of alarm seep through her body.
"He is expecting us?" Hermione was beginning to feel cranky. It felt as if Kelly were merely stringing them along, as if she was skirting something and Hermione did not feel like playing other people's games. "I feel like there is something that you are not telling me, and I don't appreciate it. If there is a problem, just say so and we can be on our way."
"No, if Tom sent you, of course Crowley is expecting you," She said sharply. "Whatever possessed him to take on new clients, especially a Mud-- ehm- Muggle." She grimaced. "Look-- have a leisurely meal. Order whatever you like, it's on the house." She wandered away muttering to herself.
"That's it. I've seen enough. Hermione, put your coat back on, we're leaving." Her father was so furious that his brows knit together into a single angry slash. His eyes blazed with a fire that seemed to flare out of him and scorch the retreating form of Kelly Marsh.
"And then what Daddy?" Hermione pleaded. "Mr. Crowley is the only solicitor in the Wizarding world that will even agree to an interview."
"I'll hire you the best solicitor money can buy. One of our kind. I'm tired of this mumbo jumbo. You're not one of them any more, darling. You'll just have to get used to it. I knew I was making a mistake when I sent you to that school. I never should have allowed it. Look at what it's done to you. You have no education beyond crystal gazing and reading tea leaves. I could have sent you off to live with a family of Pikers and you would have at least had an education in the real world."
Hermione sat in stunned silence. Was that what her father really thought? What he truly believed?
"Get your coat."
She gathered her things, and they left the pub unchallenged. Kelly was no where in sight. Just before leaving her father bellowed:
"Oi! That was the lousiest meal that I've ever had. Rat droppings in the water and a roach in my steak and kidney pie!"
The din in the restaurant died immediately, and there was the sound of cutlery dropping on china, and as they were walking out the door, the sound of retching.
They walked back to the car in silence, but once they were enclosed within, Hermione exploded, "How dare you!" she hit the dash with her open palm. "My daughter is kidnapped to the one place on earth where no one can reach her. Not only that, but she is in the care of the foulest creatures alive. You could hire the Queen Mother's own solicitors and they wouldn't be able to save her. When all it could take would be one word from that man." She jabbed her finger at The London Inn.
Her father ignored her and drove on, taking them out of the town and toward the highway that would take them home to London. His face was stony, and it was like talking to a wall. Night had fallen, and Hermione turned on the map light in the glove compartment.
"Daddy, don't take me home just yet. We're not that far from Ottery St. Catchpole."
There was a long moment of silence and then her father spoke, "What is in Ottery St. Catchpole?"
"The Burrow, and the Weasley family-- I hope."