Disoriented
by
Bfd1235813
A Harry Potter Short Story
Author's Note—This is a work of fanfiction, written and posted solely for the enjoyment of readers. It derives from the Harry Potter series of books by JK Rowling. The author makes no claims and receives no remuneration.
Disoriented follows two other short stories, Fragments and In-Law Problems.
As the date approached for the commencement of the fall term at Hogwarts, Harry Potter nearly worked himself into the status of an object of sport. Potter's godson, Teddy Lupin, and his son, James Potter, were questioned, repeatedly and at length, as to the completeness of their preparations for the coming school year. The books, supplies and wardrobes were checked and double-checked to ensure no discrepancies had manifested since the last inspection.
Finally, Teddy led the delegation of two in seeking a meeting with his grandmother, Andromeda Tonks. James and Teddy tracked Andromeda down in the second drawing room of Potter's townhouse at #12 Grimmauld Place, London.
"Gran," Teddy declared as he entered the room.
"Lads," answered Andromeda, looking up from the next-to-last issue of Witch Weekly. The magazine, only slightly out of date, escaped from the discards due to an article Andromeda had not had time to read.
"It's Harry," said Teddy. "He's obsessing."
Andromeda looked at James, standing just to the right of Teddy. James nodded, once. Andromeda tried to remember if she had heard Teddy, who would soon begin his sixth year at Hogwarts, using any form of 'obsess' before. She didn't think so.
She glanced at the enchanted tapestry, a pictograph that used lifelike embroidered faces arranged in a Black family tree. The tapestry nearly covered one entire wall of the room. What was it about those strange, ancestral faces that implied her every action was subject to spectral judgement? How was it possible for the faces, representing both the living and the dead members of the Black family, to make Andromeda feel she would face judgment if she did not handle each such issue in accordance with their standards?
"Do you want me to have a word?" asked Andromeda.
"Could you just mention it?" asked James. "You don't have to tell him we were complaining, or anything. Although—it does seem to be worse this year."
Teddy Lupin nodded his concurrence.
"Let me handle that," said Andromeda, confident in her ability to nudge Harry Potter away from becoming one more stereotypical, over-involved parent.
Potter meant well. He was, stating things simply, determined to smooth all that needed smoothing for his son and godson, particularly those things concerning their boarding school careers at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His own school experience had been anything but smooth. Potter had not even heard of wizardry until his eleventh birthday. In short order he learned magic was real, that he was a wizard and that there was a boarding school in Scotland that trained magical children in all sorts of fun, challenging magical disciplines. Flying on broomsticks, to name but one.
Of course, the usual adolescent rivalries could produce exotic results in an environment dedicated to teaching magic to the young. An environment exactly like Hogwarts. A single mistaken ingredient, a cat hair substituted for one from a human, caused Potter's friend Hermione Granger to transform into a striking cat/human hybrid. That had a benign outcome, requiring only a brief visit to the school hospital ward. Potter and Granger shared several adventures of that sort while at school, often accompanied by Ronald Weasley. Potter knew the kinds of unique problems his threesome faced had little chance of recurring. On the other hand, teenagers wielding wands and brewing powerful potions were an inherently unpredictable mix. Thus he spent considerable time reviewing preparations and engaging in conversations about safe flying and careless experimentation.
"You're certain you each have your necessities? Enough of everything for the first two or three weeks? Soap, shampoo, toothpaste? Quills? Parchment?" asked Andromeda.
"Yes, Gran," the others answered, in unison.
"Good. I'll bring it up," said Andromeda.
She turned back to her magazine, flipping it open to the page she'd marked with her finger.
"Unless there was something else?" she asked.
"Oh, no, I guess not," said Teddy, turning to go.
James Potter was giving Teddy looks as they left the room. Andromeda could see it. She read the two as easily, and accurately, as she did her Witch Weekly. She wondered what had been left unsaid.
Harry Potter had a meeting with his banker that afternoon. The meeting went satisfactorily, so Potter arrived home in a positive frame of mind. When Andromeda heard Potter come in, she stepped to the drawing room doorway.
"How did it go, then?" she asked.
"We won't starve, at least not for quite some time," said Potter. "No workhouse for us. This year."
Andromeda Tonks did not pry, but she listened and was very observant, so she knew that Harry Potter might have begun his career in magic a poor, orphan boy, but through study, thrift and mostly abstemious habits, he'd taken his modestly-respectable inheritance and grown it into actual wealth. He worked with his banker while rejecting siren song promises.
"You'd better come in for some tea, then," said Andromeda. "Clear the mind. Recharge. Kreacher!"
Potter's retainer, the house elf Kreacher, whom he'd inherited along with his title and what remained of the Black estate, popped into the hallway.
"Madam? Milord?" said the elf.
"A pot of tea, here in the drawing room, if you would, Kreacher," said Andromeda. "A plate of those biscuits, as well. I think I saw a package in the pantry."
Potter hadn't noticed he was in the mood for some tea and biscuits until he sat down in his favorite wing chair, put his feet on the hassock and took his first sip.
"Ahhhhh…Just what I needed. How did you know?" he asked.
"You just came from Gringotts, seemed logical," Andromeda said. "Bankers. Dry."
She joined Potter in taking a taste of her own tea.
"So all's well?"
"I'd say so," Potter replied. "Anvil convinced me to hold on to some bonds, very conservative stuff. All issued by stable governments and solid companies that pay their debts. Don't make a lot in good times but they also don't lose twenty percent overnight."
"Sounds like we're going to ride this one out, then," said Andromeda.
"I can say with confidence…," Potter replied. "What are the wizards up to? Anything constructive?"
"Two solid citizens, there, Harry," said Andromeda. "They'd been going over their packing for going back to school. Came to tell me about it, as a matter of fact."
"Did they? That's great. I really like this time of year. Getting them ready for school. You know, shopping for school was the only time I got anything new. The Dursleys—well, enough of that. The best thing about having a little cushion is I can give my kids some extras."
Potter went silent, looked down, removed his eyeglasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Andromeda leaned over and laid her hand on his forearm. The subject matter and obscuring his eyes meant Potter was having a moment, the bubbling-up of old, hard-to-expunge memories of his childhood and adolescent years. He had enough control to feel those when they were coming on, get out ahead, subdue them and send them back to their cave. Even so, the exercise took a few seconds.
"All good," said Potter. "So they were going over their lists? Guess they've got that down."
"They do," Andromeda agreed. "Well, after doing the drill a few times, now…"
Potter turned toward the tapestry, his practiced eyes going to his son and his godson, whom he considered the true stars in the Black firmament.
"So they're convinced they're set?" he asked.
"Looks like it," said Andromeda.
"Would they, by any chance, have asked you to mention that for them? To me?" asked Potter.
"Aha. Was it that obvious?" asked Andromeda.
"Oh, the last time we talked, there might have been a little hint of frustration," he conceded. "Since then, I've been much more disciplined."
"Sounds like none of us have anything left to worry about, if you ask me," said Andromeda.
"Maybe I have been looking for a reason to take them back down to Diagon Alley for some overlooked, last-minute item," said Potter. "I like taking them out, there or Wandwood, either one. Get them a new tie or two. Buy them lunch someplace. They act like they appreciate it and are having a good time and my friends come over and tell them how well they're coming along. Which I don't mind hearing, I confess."
Andromeda started to laugh. Potter joined in.
"It might be time for me to look for gainful employment," said Potter. "It sounds like I'm working my way into obsession or one-dimensionality or some kind of social malfunction. Well, honestly, getting responsibility for two young wizards, the way you and I got them…"
"I know, Harry, but they were the salvation of me," said Andromeda. "Losing Ted, Dora and Remus would have been too much. Then, Teddy was all that was left and he was a few weeks old! He didn't have anyone BUT me. I made a kind of vow, to both of us. I suspect you have experienced something similar."
"Yeah. It's a cliché, I know, but the first time you look into the little guy's face, and they look back, and there is that instant when you know your whole world has changed. I felt it as a physical sensation. The Universe shifted, right around James and me," said Potter. "Then Rox—gave him back!"
"For her constable, yes," said Andromeda.
"Her choice," said Potter as he raised his hands. "I don't begrudge her anything, I swear. James and Teddy are brothers, except for the names on their birth certificates. Couldn't be closer, nor more supportive. I've never gotten the sense they dwell on the absences in their lives, I don't know about you. They're both so positive. Maybe I'm trying to keep everything going that direction, toward the sunny uplands. Trying too hard, if they're having a reaction."
"You aren't causing a reaction," Andromeda said. "They appreciate the attention and your concern is obvious. You've simply gone over the lists enough times. If you want to do something with them, take them out to eat."
Potter nodded.
"THAT'S something that can never be overdone."
Potter's assessment was correct. He invited Teddy and James out for a meal, leaving the choice of venue to them. Not surprisingly, the winner, by unanimous vote was a pub in the magical district of Wandwood.
"You'd think this place was a real bucket of blood, if you just went by the name," said Potter.
His two young wizards rewarded him with a laugh. The Dragon's Breath definitely did not live up to its name. The strongest beverage served was a slightly alcoholic cider. The pub was a favorite spot for magical families celebrating birthdays, due to the juicy, double-patty hamburgers served on fresh, toasted buns. The Dragon's Breath even accommodated magical vegetarian children with a special sandwich. The same buns used for the hamburger patties served as vehicles for other ingredients. One favorite was a 'patty' of lettuce, a thick tomato slice, layer of hash brown potatoes and an optional slice of white onion.
"What's a bucket of blood?" asked James.
"The kind of place you really don't want to go into," said Potter.
"So, you know…"
"Don't ask your father those kinds of questions, at least not until you're ten years older than you are right now," Potter said, in a pre-emptive interjection. "I might have to lie to you and lose your trust, to avoid giving you virtual permission to explore unsuitable pastimes."
That proved too much for Teddy Lupin. Luckily, he'd stopped moving in for another bite of the Dragon's Breath special, or he might have shared it with his tablemates.
"Good one, Harry," Teddy said from behind his napkin.
"So, listen, guys, Gran pointed out something to me. If I've developed a blind spot in regard to your supply lists, I apologize," said Potter. "It wasn't my intent to become tedious."
"We don't think you're tedious," said Teddy.
"Perhaps over-enthusiastic about supply lists," added James.
"Yeah, I know," Potter said. "They've got a huge significance for me. It's the symbolism. Shopping for school was the first thing I ever did that got me out from under my aunt and uncle's thumbs."
"That would do it," said Teddy.
"Yeah," James agreed.
"Uh—Dad? Are the twins going to come to Hogwarts?"
James was referring to his two half-sisters, Cassandra and Cordelia, daughters of James' mother and the constable Peter Smith.
"You know as much as I do," said Potter. "I haven't heard anything new since we were all at the beach. If they have real magical abilities, they need to get formal instruction somewhere. There are always a few people who try to teach magic at home, but I'm not sure they get very consistent results. The subjects are so varied. How many families could do a professional job teaching charms, defense, herbology and arithmancy? Maybe, if you had two parents with complementary areas of expertise."
"Well," said James, "Peter isn't going to be much help."
Teddy laughed some more and gave James a thumbs-up.
"All the more reason for us to use care when we talk to any of them," said Potter. "If the girls show up in the book, that means the quill wrote their names and the book accepted. We talked about those, if you remember. Then they get a letter inviting them to attend Hogwarts. Doesn't mean they have to."
Teddy and James each kept his own counsel as the three finished their meal.
Potter and his sons continued their outing with a stroll through Wandwood. They window-shopped, greeted people they knew and finished up at a natural juice bar.
"How're the drinks?" Potter asked.
"Good," said James.
"Really good," Teddy added.
"Mine, too," said Potter. "Anything else you wanted to do today?"
"Not me," said Teddy.
"Nor me," James agreed.
"Dad?" he asked.
"Uh-huh?"
"What do you think? About, uh, you know?"
Teddy looked over, surprised. He'd assumed they were under communications restrictions.
"Your sisters?" asked Potter.
James nodded.
"This is strictly a guess, understand? The divination gene is not strong in me, and I certainly do not have inside information. You know everything I know. Going on that, I'd say they're going to get letters. Now, further speculation is suspended. It will all come out, one way or the other."
Potter looked between the two. Each nodded his assent.
Later on that evening, the boys convened in Teddy's room at #12 Grimmauld Place, London. They sat in front of the small fireplace that had been the source of heat before the installation of a boiler and hot water system. The weather didn't actually require the room be made comfortable with a fire. The value added was in the magical atmospherics that induced a certain shared mood that often led to further insights into whatever problem caught the young wizards' attention.
"What do you think you're going to do?" asked Teddy.
"Do? Why will I have to do anything?"
"They're your sisters," Teddy replied.
"Half," James demurred. "So they got a little magical ability through Mum. I think it all came from Gramps Achilles and Gran Maude."
"Your mum's magical though," said Teddy. "At least the way I understand it. Two magical parents, three magical children, only one with a wizard."
James scowled.
"Hey, sorry if that came out wrong," said Teddy. "Didn't intend to hit sore spots."
"I know," James replied. "You're right. She can see this house and come and go in Diagon Alley. She's on the magical side of the line. She didn't get any help from Peter, either, passing on magic to the twins."
Both boys began to laugh at James' cheeky observation. Peter Smith, they acknowledged, was good at his job. As far as they knew, he had never been involved in internal discipline procedures. Unfortunately, Smith wasn't much of an exam-taker. Thus, in a period of slow personnel turnover, it was looking like he would be Constable Peter Smith until retirement.
In addition, they were wizards and quite pleased to be such. Both Potter and Andromeda Tonks had spoken with them at length, how it was acceptable to be a wizard and proud of it, as long as one maintained some perspective. A wizard was a human being, they said. Even if an individual could tap into magic and use it for any acceptable purpose, that person was not more of a human being than all the others in Creation. A wizard had been granted a rare and special privilege. What's more, the wizard hadn't had anything to do with handing out magical ability. How that happened was a true mystery. James' own mother couldn't use magic, and she was the daughter of a witch and a wizard.
James' manners caught up to his sense of humor.
"Probably shouldn't laugh," he muttered.
"Yeah, you're right," Teddy agreed. "So, what are you going to do? If they get letters and accept, they'll be at school when you are."
"Seventh year. I guess we'll just see each other," said James.
He paused, to think over the deeper meaning of being at boarding school with his two half-sisters. Teddy was a year ahead of James but they were, to all intents and purposes, brothers. Rox Selwyn Smith (nee Potter) had asked Potter to take over raising James a couple of years before Teddy went off to school. Neither could truly remember a time when the other wasn't there.
Plus, they had some social advantages. Teddy's parents died fighting at the final Battle of Hogwarts, on the 'right' side, of course. Harry Potter, the current Lord Black, had designated Teddy the Black Heir. James Potter, presently Potter's only descendant, was the presumptive Potter Heir. They were just becoming used to the idea that some of their witch friends, as well as their witch friends' parents and grand-parents, already considered them fine candidates for alliances-by-marriage.
"What if Peter doesn't want anything to do with magic? Maybe he won't let them go. Mum couldn't go to Hogwarts. What do parents do when someone has ability but doesn't go?" asked James.
"I don't know a lot about that," said Teddy. "I've heard of 'Mitigation Classes.' Do you know what those are?"
"Just people making fun of them, like calling someone stupid by saying they were going to send them to Mitigation Class," said James.
"They help them not have magical stuff going on around them all the time," Teddy said. "So they can control themselves and not be causing accidents with their magic."
"That'd be embarrassing," said James. "Dad used to work with us on that, remember? Before we went to school."
"Oh, for sure, it's one of the more important things school does for us," said Teddy. "According to Gran, the professors build those things into our lessons. When we're first getting started we don't realize that is what they're doing. It's all just new stuff for us. 'Course, Harry was great about keeping us thinking about how to feel magic coming on. By the time I went to Hogwarts it was just some natural thing I did."
"You're right," said James. "I never thought of it that way. There were a lot of basic control drills, up until around Yule of second year. So I wonder what Mum has in mind for Cass and Cordelia? I was five when I came to live here with you. That was because I summoned a spoon I'd dropped. If they picked up summoning naturally, without anyone showing them how, they may have figured out levitation, banishment and who knows what?"
Teddy looked across at James, nodding in agreement.
"True. Who knows what?" he asked.
Both grasped a larger meaning in their exchange. Teddy Lupin and James Potter understood there were gradations of magical power and ability. They weren't over-enthralled with their own prowess, while neither had been thwarted in their magical studies by weakness. Each of them had learned, or taught himself, new skills without formal instruction. Perhaps Cass and Cordelia Smith were equally industrious, with or without their parents' knowledge or approval.
Both wizards were sitting silent, pondering, in the rosy light from the grate, when their reverie was interrupted by a summons from downstairs. The wizards exited and looked down to where Andromeda Tonks stood.
"Come on down, Harry has something for you," she said.
Teddy and James joined Andromeda downstairs and were shepherded into the second drawing room, much less stuffy than the sitting room at the front as well as the home of the Black family's enchanted family tree tapestry. Potter was waiting inside, looking, it appeared to James, quite pleased with himself.
"Come in, come in," he said. "I've taken a liberty. As you know, my birth name is Harry Potter. I'm also, purely by accident, formally the head of two magical houses, the Potters and the Blacks. I exercised a prerogative and determined that the titles will not be amalgamated after my death, freeing me to designate two heirs. That means we had a need for heir rings."
Teddy got a big grin, while James looked puzzled about what that all meant. Potter opened up the top of a small velvet bag and looked inside.
"Heir Black," he said, handing a small velvet-covered box to Teddy.
"And Heir Potter."
A small gold ring was in each box, a miniature of the family signet held by the Chief. The presentation marked the beginning of a noisy four-way conversation.
"Which finger?"
"Usually, the little finger of your left hand," answered Andromeda.
"How did you know what size?"
"They're enchanted," said Potter. "They adjust, within reason."
And so on.
The consensus held that a round of butterbeer would be appropriate for marking the occasion. Potter summoned his house elf, Kreacher, and instructed him to bring butterbeer, glasses, and Andromeda's elf, Zephyr, to the second drawing room.
"A little family ceremony," Potter announced.
He looked around to make sure everyone had their butterbeer.
"Congratulations to our young Heirs Presumptive and a toast to perpetual amity between our noble Houses," intoned Potter, raising his glass, then turning to the Blacks' tapestry and raising his glass to the dignitaries, living and dead, recorded in the family tree.
"Hear-hear," Andromeda answered, affirming Potter's sentiments as she, too, raised a glass to their family tree.
The family lines of descent glowed against the black backdrop of the tapestry. The small embroidered portraits of the two young wizards appeared to be a bit brighter than the others, presumably because it was their ceremony.
"Do we wear them at school?" asked Teddy.
"Do you see them around?" Potter asked in return. "A few people wore them when I was there. I don't have any idea what is done these days."
"There are a few," Teddy confirmed.
"There are only so many houses," Andromeda observed. "Then there'd be a smaller number of heirs, and a smaller number of those who were attending school at any given time."
James looked at Teddy. Both thought over the mathematical nature of their answer. Teddy nodded.
"So they're kind of rare, to begin with," he said.
"Thus the significance," Andromeda agreed.
The elves excused themselves, as it seemed they had work to do elsewhere.
"Master Teddy. Master James," said Kreacher, nodding at both in turn. "Congratulations."
With that, the elf took his leave, followed by Zephyr.
"Madam will be so proud…" Zephyr confided, mainly to herself.
The conversation in the drawing room was still concerned with ring protocol, etiquette, history and lore when the sound of an incoming floo call sounded from the front parlor. Andromeda left to deal with the caller and Potter continued to try and solve thought problems with his sons. She returned a short time later with a question.
"Maude Selwyn wanted to know if she can bring Cassandra and Cordelia over," Andromeda said.
"Sure," answered Potter, "When?"
"Now, more or less," said Andromeda. "She said 'In a few minutes,' so I read that as now. To all intents and purposes."
Potter looked at Teddy and James, a reflex rooted in the raising of two young wizards, a year apart in age, from childhood into the middle teen years. They were remarkably clean, he thought, his expectations still conditioned by experiences with mud-casting spells and the clubhouse established after his lads discovered a vaulted underground culvert, closed off and abandoned after it was made obsolete by an upgrade to the neighborhood storm drains. Potter exerted himself and made that memory go away, his shudder the only indication that he'd had to expend the effort.
"Okay, I guess," said Potter. "Anything to do to make the place ready?"
Neither Teddy nor James had immediate recollections of serious housekeeping discrepancies. Andromeda left for the floo.
Minutes later, Andromeda was back, this time bringing Maude Selwyn and the Smith twins. James looked to Teddy, seeking a little guidance. Teddy gave his head a shake. He didn't know, either. Teddy looked over at Potter, who didn't look back.
The thought was widespread—How?
Everyone knew Cass and Cordelia came from a muggle household. Neither parent used magic so they would not have been traveling by floo ever since they were infants. The solution came to Potter in a flash.
"Mum and Dad have an engagement?" he asked.
"Yeah, some meeting somewhere," said a twin.
Potter thought she had slightly darker hair, wondering if that was his imagination. Perhaps that was how to tell one from the other.
"Gran," he said, nodding at Maude.
"Gran," said James as he submitted to his grandmother's hug. "How are you today?"
"Lady Maude," said Teddy, putting his heels together and inclining his head.
"Oh, our young Honorables," Maude gushed like a schoolgirl. "Very well, thank-you! So delighted to be received this evening."
Teddy sensed Maude and Potter had business and stepped into the breach.
"Cass, Cordelia—refreshment? Let's see what we can find," Teddy said as he turned toward the kitchen stairs.
Maude watched as Teddy and James led the twins out of the room, leaving her standing there with Harry Potter and Andromeda Tonks staring, expectant of an answer to their obvious, if unasked, question.
"Ministry meeting," she said.
"Ah," said Potter.
"Anything bring it on?" asked Andromeda.
"A game of catch, apparently," Maude replied. "Indoors, with a tennis ball, no hands allowed."
Maude Selwyn paused, letting it all percolate. Potter snorted, from trying to stifle a laugh. Andromeda knew better than to look at him, so she turned her head. Potter's eyes each leaked a single tear.
"Sorry, sorry," he pleaded, in between outbreaks of chuckles followed by the holding of breath. "I know this is all serious. Then what?"
"Rox called Ax," Maude began. "We keep a phone, otherwise she wouldn't be able to get in touch, in an emergency."
The irony was so thick, Potter confined his response to one nod.
"I answered and she asked for him," Maude went on. "I could hear Peter in the background, mostly 'WHAT?' and 'HOW?' to the girls, I suppose. Ax got there and I handed the phone over to him. Next thing you know we're apparating to the Smith neighborhood, Ax is working his Wizengamot directory and I'm leaving with Cass and Cordelia. I apologize if it was the wrong thing to do, but you were the first people I thought of who could save the girls, and me, from sitting in the Selwyns' parlor, staring at one another."
Maude looked like she was going to start crying any second, so Andromeda, the habitual nurturer, stepped in with her most soothing tones.
"Oh, Maude, don't look that way," she said. "It had to come to this, someday, in some way or other. Everyone knew it, except Peter, of course, and that was just a matter of time. Is Ax calling in the briefer?"
"In theory," said Maude. "If they can get Peter to sit still for it."
"And you think he still doesn't know? Not even a suspicion?" asked Potter.
"It doesn't appear he does," said Maude. "Sounds impossible to me but Rox wouldn't hear differently. Now that it has all come undone…If Peter can't cope…"
Maude Selwyn stopped, unable to continue. The three parties knew they were looking into an actual abyss. There was always the chance of genuine dysfunction when muggles were presented with the fact of magic and the existence of a parallel magical society and culture. Discovering those within one's own family compounded the problem. Potter heard the squeaky tread at the top of the kitchen steps and looked over to see James.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Kreacher made some donuts. He wants to know if he can give some to Cass and Cordelia?" answered James.
"James?" asked Maude. "Are you wearing a ring?"
"Uh—yes, Gran," James replied.
"Tell your grandmother why you're wearing that ring, why don't you James?" asked Potter.
"It's my heir ring," muttered James, appearing to be slightly embarrassed by all the attention.
"Well bring it over here, James Potter," demanded Maude.
He crossed the short distance and held out his hand, which his grandmother took in both of hers.
"The House of…?" asked Maude.
"Potter," said James. "Teddy is Black."
"You'll be a fine clan chief one of these days, James. May I?"
Maude opened up her arms and wrapped them around her grandson and held on. When she let him go, she managed to hold onto his deltoids for an arm's length inspection.
"Excellent young wizard, Harry," she said. "Does Kreacher make good donuts?"
"The best in London," James assured her.
"Go back and tell the witches they can have donuts, in moderation," said Maude.
The evening turned to night, time passed in conversation, games of gobstones and exploding snap. Maude didn't know when to expect word from Achilles as she understood Ministry briefings were open-ended. The results of muggle encounters with magic being unpredictable, the witch and wizard counselors had to be flexible.
Potter pulled Teddy and James aside when the twins were occupied with Maude and Andromeda.
"We won't know next steps until we find out how today went," he began. "Let's try to avoid talking about specifics. Exactly what subjects you're studying, for example. They don't need to be learning about charms, or hedgehog-pincushion-hedgehog transformations. Did they tell you what brought this on?"
James looked to Teddy, who said, "Playing catch, inside. They were using a tennis ball, because they didn't want to do damage if one of them missed. To make it more interesting, they decided not to use their hands. Pretty tame stuff, until Constable Smith walked in. Cass said he just stood there, watching. Guess he figured it out."
"Guess so," James agreed. "I think it might be good that Mum sent me back here. Some of the things I did were kind of extreme."
"You didn't burn down the house," said Teddy. "Neither did I."
Teddy considered before he offered a follow-up thought.
"That's a pretty low bar, I admit."
"But you're both so much more responsible now, aren't you?" asked Potter. "I haven't worried about that since last Yule, when you two bought those self-lighting candles from Weasley's."
"Yeah—those," James began as he tried to hide his smirk behind a hand. "Well, speaking for myself, I won't make THAT mistake again."
"That's a valuable lesson, then. If we can't learn from our mistakes, we'll have a hard time learning," Potter observed.
Teddy and James acknowledged the wisdom in that by not contradicting or finding fault with Potter's logic.
"Looks like the briefing could go on for a while," Potter noted. "I'm going to talk to the others and suggest we all have a late snack and invite Maude and the twins to stay with us. No telling when Peter and Rox will be back."
No one had a better idea so the occupants of #12 Grimmauld Place, London, sat down in the kitchen for tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. The twins tried very hard to finish their soup but Kreacher's donuts were jealously guarding their digestive systems from outside invasion.
"Everyone can stay here, if you like," Potter announced. "We've got spare rooms. Ax and Rox both know the way. Rox has the number. Or, you can go back to Selwyn Manor until they're done with the bureaucracy."
"Thank-you, Harry, but…" Maude began, only to be drowned out by Cass and Cordelia.
"Stay! Stay! Stay!" they voted.
Potter and Andromeda looked at Maude, who shrugged her shoulders.
"If you've got room…" she began.
"The big room, third floor," said Potter. "Kreacher!?"
"Lord Harry?" answered the ancient Black elf.
"The large room on the third floor, please make it ready for guests. There will be three staying over, so three beds, fresh linens, three pitchers, three water tumblers, clean towels and face cloths and check the bath. The usual-soap, bubble bath, toothbrushes, toothpaste…"
Kreacher sent a look his way before disapparating to the third floor.
"Putz," said the un-vocalized elf look.
Kreacher was a crank but he did like magical youth, finding them interesting in their untamed, natural magic and indiscipline. They later became cold and distant from one another, largely due to Walburga Black's dislike of her son and Kreacher's blind loyalty to his mistress, but Kreacher had some pleasant memories of the young Sirius. In the few hours since the Smith twins' arrival, Kreacher had formed the opinion that the two had real magical potential. He laid on a few extras as he prepared the third floor.
The beds were standard doubles, each with a Bukhara carpet so the guests had a warm surface to step onto in the morning. The bubble bath had a faint scent of patchouli, Kreacher's personal favorite. The candles and lamps were smokeless. Maude, Cass and Cordelia wouldn't suffer irritated eyes on Kreacher's watch.
After getting his household settled for the night, Potter sat up in the front parlor. Most of the floo traffic came and went through the parlor, also the location of the sole telephone at #12 Grimmauld Place. Potter had a wing chair and hassock that fit him perfectly. The angle of the back was just right for reading and his feet, when stretched out and propped up before him, were neither too high nor too low. He started out reading, unconcerned about cramps or stiff joints, should he drift off to sleep.
The book Potter had chosen, Practical Defensive Magic, including a welcome surprise—a chapter on surviving difficult encounters with muggles.
"Like you read my mind," Potter said to the book.
The writer described the kinds of psychological conditions that could unbalance muggles when they were improperly prepared for encounters with magical phenomena. That described Peter Smith perfectly, Potter thought. Standard muggle upbringing and education, conventional public service job in law enforcement, no magical friends or relatives, as far as anyone knew. Rox turned her back on magic when she married Smith. All was well until Cass and Cordelia's inherent magic began to emerge. Potter had stopped reading while he thought over the situation. So many different ways things could turn out. The book must have thought it was being helpful, suggesting variations of difficulties for which the wizard must be prepared.
The time was near midnight when the WHOOSH came out of the hearth.
"Maude?"
Potter recognized Achilles Selwyn's voice.
"They're all asleep, Ax, this is Harry," Potter answered.
"Oh, you're putting them up? Great! Don't wake them. I've got some news. The meeting with the counselors went well. It took some time, but…Anyway, I'd like to get some sleep, so why don't I call you in the morning? Thanks for everything!" said Selwyn.
Potter didn't say so, but Selwyn sounded like he was ready to drop in his tracks.
"That'll be fine, thanks for helping Rox with today, couldn't have been easy," said Potter. "Call anytime in the morning and we will all be here."
Following the 'Good-nights,' Potter cast a 'Nox' spell to extinguish the lights, then went on up to bed.
Come morning, Potter awoke from a good night's sleep fresh and eager. He looked at his watch, then at his face in the mirror. The face did not look well-rested at all. The cold water tap dispensed the cure, gushing across cupped hands that slapped the face into submission.
"Better," Potter decided.
The time was six a.m. There hadn't been any sound clues to the level of household activity. He suspected the young people went to bed well-exercised. Perhaps Maude and Andy had gotten the young people in bed, then sat up for a bit, talking about Rox and Peter.
Potter made the latest in his string of unbreakable resolutions to avoid entanglement in his former wife's personal life. He hadn't wanted to split up, that was all Rox. Just when he felt he had mastered the art of being a good, part-time father, Rox needed to make him a full-time father once again.
Potter looked at his reflection in the mirror. It was shaking its head at him!
'Piss off,' he thought.
Shortly after six, Potter walked down the short flight of steps to the kitchen.
"How is it this fine morning, Kreacher?" he called out.
Kreacher popped into materiality from wherever he had been hanging out, biding his time.
"Lord Harry—Breakfast? Eggs, pancakes, porridge? Toast? Marmalade?" Kreacher suggested.
"Coffee to start, Kreacher. I need to think," Potter replied. "Any disturbances overnight? Messages? Wandering houseguests?"
Kreacher had a mug of coffee in front of Potter in the time it took to snap his fingers.
"All is quiet, Lord Harry," said the elf. "Miss Cassandra and Miss Cordelia talked at length before they went to sleep. Kreacher did not understand very much but did hear a few things. They sound very pleased to be guests at #12 Grimmauld Place. Their magic felt very strong."
Kreacher was one of only two support staff, the other being Zephyr, Andromeda's lady's maid elf. Nothing made Kreacher feel happier or more fulfilled than visitors finding the Black townhouse agreeable.
"That's good to know, Kreacher," said Potter. "We should be returning them to their father and mother today. I'm expecting to hear something soon."
Potter checked his watch again, then went back upstairs. He was careful to tread lightly, lest a squeaky floorboard rouse the household before that was absolutely necessary. The sound of the floo call, coming in through the front parlor fireplace, reminded Potter that '…the best-laid plans of mice and men…' and so on.
"WHOOSH!" went the grate.
"Mutter-mutter-mutter…" said the hallways of the second and third floors.
By the time Potter answered the floo and turned back to the rest of his household, the household plus visitors was wandering downstairs for breakfast.
"Come to face the day?" Potter called out.
"Yeah," Teddy Lupin spoke through a yawn.
"Aaghh…" James Potter added.
"Breakfast, not all sugar this morning," Maude Selwyn told Cass and Cordelia.
"Oh, no, not all, Grandmother," the Smith twins assured her.
"Okay, I just took a call from your Grandfather Selwyn," said Potter. "It sounds like we'll be seeing your parents here in about thirty minutes, maybe less. So, Kreacher, if you could get us some porridge, scrambled eggs, fried potatoes and fresh fruit?"
The Smith twins, who had established without adult assistance that they were witches and could play catch, indoors, with a tennis ball, without using their hands, looked on in awe as Kreacher snapped his fingers, arranging plates, silverware, glassware, linens and serving dishes with the components of a hearty breakfast.
"Everyone? Please," said Potter, indicating with a wave of his hand that family and guests were welcome to find places and begin eating.
Potter sat at one end of the long kitchen table, James and Teddy on the bench to his right, Cassandra and Cordelia to his left. Maude and Andromeda sat across from one another at the far end. Kreacher's breakfast presentations seemed to fit everyone's needs, although the twins were looking around at Kreacher, the kitchen, Teddy and James as much as they were eating. Potter's thoughts meandered back to his own introduction to magic, just after his eleventh birthday.
Ax Selwyn was well-briefed on the wards that protected #12 Grimmauld Place, so he placed a floo call in advance of travel. Potter heard the whooshing sound coming out of the front parlor fireplace and went upstairs to shepherd in the additional guests.
"Where's Mr. Potter going?" Cordelia asked James.
"I think your parents may be coming, with Grandfather Selwyn," James answered. "He'll want to be there, to make sure…someone greets them, properly."
The girls traded glances. Teddy put his doubled fist over his mouth, an unsuccessful attempt to hide the smile James' comment caused. It mattered little because the squeaky floorboard announced the arrival of Potter, Ax Selwyn, Rox and Peter Smith.
Andromeda Tonks stood and stepped to the bottom of the short flight of stairs.
"Welcome, everyone," she said. "Will you join us for some breakfast?"
Potter thought everyone around the table, with the exception of the twins, looked eager to get the inevitable update from Rox and Peter Smith on all the previous day's activities. None of them had ever needed the Ministry's briefing on the existence of magic, therefore, whatever the Smiths chose to convey had to be new and interesting.
Potter stood aside, waving the new arrivals on, encouraging them to go down and join the table. Achilles Selwyn, of course, was right at home in a magical kitchen, complete with house elf. Rox had lived in the townhouse when she and Potter were married, so she was returning to familiar ground.
"Mistress Roxelana," said Kreacher, adding a courtesy bow.
Only Peter Smith appeared a bit overwhelmed by what he was seeing.
"Come," muttered Rox as she took a little pinch of Peter's sleeve. "Nothing in here bites."
Potter knew Ax Selwyn and Rox liked their coffee in the morning so he took a chance that Smith did as well.
"Coffees, Kreacher," he said.
Potter kept an eye on Smith because he couldn't predict the constable's reaction to the sight of a house elf snapping his fingers to bring three mugs of fresh coffee to the table. He was gratified to see that Smith didn't collapse in front of everyone, although his eyes did widen.
Rox chose a place next to James, putting her across from the twins.
"Have a good time?"
Rox sounded genuinely interested.
"Can we come back?" answered Cordelia.
"Or stay?" added Cassandra.
"What would you like for breakfast, Peter?" asked Potter. "Kreacher can get you porridge, eggs, toast, pancakes…anything you want to add, Kreacher?"
"There are the beans, Lord Harry," muttered Kreacher, who was always puzzled by humans' affinity for cans of pork and beans.
"Pork and beans…a true breakfast staple!" said Potter.
"I want some!" said the twins.
"Hmm-hmm?" James asked, just as a reminder.
"Please?" the twins amended.
"Such gracious young Honorables," the elf affirmed, snapping his fingers.
"Busy day, yesterday?" asked Andromeda.
Teddy and James traded guarded looks before focusing on Rox.
"Interesting, I'd say," Rox said, glancing at her husband.
Peter nodded, silent.
"Informative?" asked Maude Selwyn.
Peter Smith, silent until then, swept his hand in an arc, his eyes on Potter's elf.
"What I still can't understand is how this is all kept secret," he said.
A little fear showed on Smith's face as he glanced toward his daughters, then on to James.
"If they hadn't accidentally done those things, then a parent could just go on, oblivious?"
"Good choice of words."
Teddy spoke behind his hand, just for James, earning him a cautioning glance from Andromeda.
"Pretty much," Potter agreed. "My mother had to hide her magic until she got her letter. My aunt was aware. She didn't like it. That was when their parents found out. The letter, then the information session, along the lines of yours."
"And this house and your, your…"
Smith's words ran out, followed by the gesture toward Kreacher, doing dishes at the sink with finger snaps.
"Elf," said Andromeda.
"And the house?" Smith asked.
"Andy's grandparents bought it," said Potter, "Right?"
"Great-grandfather and great-grandmother Black, but yes," answered Andromeda.
"It was an ordinary rowhouse, typical of its period," said Potter. "Then people like us, living here, it just naturally—oh, came together. What you see around us."
Smith broke off from the conversation, assessing the elf, the nineteenth century fittings, the candelabra hanging from the ceiling.
"Have some breakfast," Potter suggested. "Let's simplify. Kreacher—a platter of eggs and toast, marmalade, some pork and beans."
Smith was silent while the dishes materialized and were passed around. Potter watched, thinking he was being inconspicuous, until he looked toward Andromeda Tonks and noticed she had been watching him. Brows wiggled, heads tilted, ever so slightly.
'We'll just wait and see,' said the gestures.
Potter monitored the table talk. The Smith twins said little, ate their food and watched Teddy and James. Potter theorized they were expecting the arrival at any moment of some magical surprise from the young wizards. Rox mostly listened while Maude carried the majority of their conversation. Ax Selwyn munched toast and sipped his coffee while he, too, tried to keep an inconspicuous eye on Peter. Ax and Potter traded quick glances now and then.
Potter forced himself to be patient while waiting for some sign that his guests were ready to take one last sip of coffee or tea and get on with their days. Presumably, that entailed departing for either the Smith or Selwyn house. Thus his surprise when Peter Smith looked up from his plate, cleared his throat and addressed Potter.
"Can you show me around, Harry?" he asked. "I've never seen the house…"
"Of course," Potter said, standing up, then waiting at the steps. "Let's go this way."
Beginning at the front door, Potter gestured toward the front parlor.
"Where you came in," he said.
Potter noticed Ax Selwyn had joined his little party.
"How long has it been, Ax?" he asked.
"Merlin. Too long," said Selwyn. "One of James' birthdays. When he was just a tyke."
"Hmm…He hasn't been a tyke for quite a while," said Potter. "Anyway, front parlor. Now and then we have to sit up straight, not lounge around, use proper English and listen to polite conversation. This is where that happens."
"Dining room," Potter continued. "Not a lot to say."
"The coats of arms?" asked Smith.
He indicated the colorful shields that hung high on the walls of the dining room.
Potter looked at Selwyn, who shrugged his shoulders.
"Why not?" he said. "Peter's had his briefing."
"Ahh…Right, um, I hold some titles."
Smith stared.
"I inherited this house, some other real estate, and a title from my godfather. He died before he could marry and have children, so I was his heir. I'm Lord Black. Also Lord Potter via my birth family. Some ancestor did something for a king or queen. A long time ago, so the complete story is one of those that we can't pin down, at least not all the details. Anyway, that's been handed down. The Ministry accepts me. Another old family ran out of sons and their title was amalgamated to the Potters when the last daughter married in…that's the Peverells, there. Then, a few years ago, I put an end to an insurrection and took the leader's worldly estate, so, officially, I am Lord Slytherin by right of conquest."
"But that is all medieval and doesn't really affect daily life today, would you say, Ax?"
"No, not really, Harry," said Selwyn. "The only inconvenience, I'd say, is the Herald can compel us to attend Session."
Potter and Selwyn made snorting noises, thinking of the tedium inherent in most sessions of the Wizengamot, Magical Britain's ruling body.
"This is actually a lot more interesting, at least to me," said Potter as he led the way out of the dining room to the rear of the house, and the second drawing room.
"The fashion, at one time, was to keep the front for business and the rear for family," said Potter. "The tradition continues but most houses today don't have the necessary spaces. If Ax came to call and brought an offer to go in on a venture of some kind, I'd receive him in the parlor. We'd share a pot of tea and talk about children and cousins and how much I enjoyed being his guest in the country last month."
"Then I'd go away and let him think about it," Selwyn continued. "If Harry followed up, decided he'd like to be in, I'd be invited back. He'd bring me in here."
Selwyn waved his hand around the room.
"We might have a glass of wine. Any details would get ironed out in the presence of Harry's family. They're concerned, too, of course. Some of these deals have long lasting effects," Selwyn gestured toward a large tapestry that took up most of one wall.
"They are entitled to their opinions," Selwyn said with a wave toward the tapestry.
Peter Smith became aware, for the first time, of the faces embroidered on the black background cloth. All of the eyes on all of the faces were trained on Smith. Selwyn and Potter heard Smith catch his breath.
"What…How…" Smith sputtered.
"Take your time," Potter advised. "It's just the Blacks. I admit they can startle, if one isn't ready for them."
"You had your briefings, Peter?" asked Selwyn.
"And they did cover enchantments, surely?" Potter added.
"There was a lot…" Smith replied, then stopped.
"Don't ask me how, but some of our essence survives us. If we don't ask them to do too much, an enchanted portrait or photo or likeness, as you can see from this tapestry, can preserve some wisdom, mainly for consultation purposes. They like to keep up with family news, too. Look—my godfather, Sirius Black. I'm not his son, but I was his sole heir and the leadership passed to me."
Potter's finger traced the lines as he spoke.
"My godson, Teddy, Sirius' cousin, who will succeed me as chief of the Blacks," he went on.
"My son, James, the next Potter," he said as he pointed. "James' mother, Rox. Ax and Maude get these little cameos in acknowledgement."
"And there you are, Peter," said Ax, "Because the Black's tapestry has to account for the twin witches from the Selwyn and Smith lines who will be associated with the future Lords Black and Potter. I see your…Great-Grandmother Dorea was a Black, Harry."
Peter Smith felt the momentum switch. Suddenly, he was no longer sure he was studying the Blacks' tapestry. Rather, he was overwhelmed by the suspicion that the enchanted thing was studying—no, inspecting-HIM. Measuring Constable Peter Smith according to a standard kept secret from himself. Smith felt a sensation akin to vertigo. His center of gravity taking its leave, Smith watched as the planes of the walls rotated, one becoming the ceiling. He hit the floor with a definite 'THUNK!'
"Oh, my," said Ax.
"Well, he landed on carpet," Potter observed. "Let's see. Kreacher!"
The elf materialized on the threshold.
"Smelling salts," said Potter. "For…"
"Kreacher is aware, Lord Harry," muttered the elf, disappearing and reappearing almost immediately.
Potter took a little vial from Kreacher, removed its cork stopper and held it to Peter Smith's nostrils.
"SWEET…What is that stuff?" Smith coughed and demanded, using up his remaining air.
"A little restorative," Potter explained. "Let's get you upright."
A wizard under each arm had Smith back on his feet and headed outside to the garden in no time. Smith took a deep breath, then another.
"Something for the nerves? Coffee, tea, lemonade? We usually have some kind of bitters around. Andromeda swears by them. The boys discovered they're about thirty percent jungle juice, if you know what I mean. They were catching a suspiciously-high number of colds every winter," Potter said. "I had to ban bitters, as a cold remedy."
Smith declined the bitters but accepted another coffee. The three paused their conversation, standing in the morning sunlight, enjoying coffee and the company.
"What's that?" asked Smith, gesturing toward a wood-frame building that sat in a back corner of the lot.
"My garden shed," said Potter. "It's a period piece. There was a time when the fashionable thing was to keep a horse and a small carriage. Just as horses were fading out as urban transportation. These little barns are mostly gone now…"
"Come on," Potter said. "Ax, you've been in here, haven't you?"
"Long time ago," said Selwyn.
Potter unlatched the door and swung it open, before stepping aside so his visitors could enter. A wave of his wand lit several lanterns, brightening up the interior. Smith and Selwyn looked around at the workbench, an anvil, grindstone and the remains of two young wizards' works-in-progress.
"James and Teddy. They're always—" said Potter, letting a wave of his hand finish the sentence. "How are you feeling? Strength back?"
"I'm good," said Smith. "So the guys come here and make stuff?"
"A mess, mostly," Potter said. "Did you hear about this, Ax?"
He drew his wand and waved it over the floor. The bits and pieces clattered, rolling and bouncing toward the perimeter of the room. Potter waved the wand a second time and a heavy, cast manhole cover appeared.
Selwyn stared at the manhole.
"Don't think I did," he said. "What's it doing inside your barn?"
"Can't say," Potter answered. "The guys claim they just found it. Stand back."
When Smith and Selwyn were well away from the manhole, Potter gave his wand another flick and the manhole cover popped up out of its supporting ring, moved aside and settled back down on the cement floor.
"I'll send something up," said Potter as he hopped out over the void and disappeared into the blackness. "Okay, watch out."
A metal staircase came spiraling up out of the hole. It stopped moving and Potter spoke again.
"Stay to the outside, there's no footing in the center. You'll fall for sure," he said.
"Peter?" said Selwyn, yielding to his son-in-law.
The constable looked unsure, although Potter hadn't taken the spiral stairs. On the contrary, he had jumped down, without hesitation, into a lightless void. Smith was sure he was already so far behind that he had no chance of catching up to Potter. The only way to save a bit of pride was to walk down those stairs.
"Merlin's beard, Harry! What is this?" asked Selwyn when the three were back together in the mystery chamber beneath the barn.
"I take it you mean, besides Teddy and James' private club. From its previous condition and the stonework, it has to be a relic from an old drain system," said Potter. "Why it was closed up and left in place is the real question. Re-routing, replacement by an updated system, war damage—any of those could have played a part. Why it wasn't filled up and the cover retired is what I can't figure out."
"And the lads?" Selwyn asked.
"Claim they happened upon the cover and took a look down," Potter said as he pointed up toward the light coming in the open manhole.
"And you believe them?" Smith asked.
"Certainly," said Potter. "No reason not to. Do I think I've heard the whole story? Well, 'whole' in this context could be an elastic term, couldn't it? Got to give the youth enough slack to explore a bit. Can't have their imaginations ossify. Sorry if you've heard more than your fill of such nonsense for one day."
"No, no," Smith said. "I've learned so much. You and Ax and Maude are, uh, it is a bit overwhelming, that's all. The girls, I don't know how to be a father to a pair of twins, to begin with, and now, witches, besides. How does someone like me do that?"
Potter got the feeling he was a tire experiencing a severe puncture followed by rapid deflation. He fumbled about looking for words. He knew what Smith was feeling. In his memory, the first hour after James' birth was torture. His son smiled up a him, helpless, completely dependent on Harry Potter for support and Harry Potter did not know the first thing about being a father to a young wizard. He was going to fail, he knew it. The shame! Then he sat by Rox while she nursed James. When James signaled he was done, Rox handed Harry his son. Harry held him against his chest, a hand rubbing James' back.
"I can do this," he thought.
Thin gruel, but a start. At least he was a wizard, unlike Smith.
"Someone like you does it the same way every parent does it," Potter said. "Any child has a chance at getting some attribute a parent doesn't have. Height, muscle mass, unusual speed, perfect pitch."
"Mathematical ability. Color sense," added Selwyn.
"Anything like that distributed unevenly in your family?" asked Potter.
"Uhh…Dad's afraid of heights. Freezes up. Loves to tell everyone how he found out on his first day as an apprentice roofer," Smith muttered.
"Uh-huh, so, should being a father to a couple of twins present such an overwhelming challenge?" Potter asked.
Peter Smith felt two pairs of wizards' eyes evaluating him, the same as the figures on the drawing room tapestry.
"Uhh…"
"Think about it, Peter," said Selwyn.
His father-in-law's advice had layers. Several of them occurred to Peter Smith all at once, but the big one was the most obvious. He stood at the bottom of an oubliette with two wizards, one of whom casually noted he had put down a magical insurrection and thereby added a fourth coat of arms to his collection. Smith recalled the Ministry briefing on the absolute necessity of respecting the secrecy statutes, for the protection of the entire hidden magical world. Potter's earlier words came back—why hadn't the civil engineers filled in the vault and paved it over? Would anyone come looking for Peter Smith if Potter and Selwyn determined he lacked sufficient enthusiasm for raising a pair of magical twin girls? Probably not, Smith concluded.
"Ohh…I can do it," said Smith. "I'll just have to adjust, again."
"Good man," Potter said. "We're all here to help."
"If you get stuck, Peter," said Selwyn. "It happens. Don't be shy about asking."
Their procession reversed and climbed the spiral stairs, Selwyn leading, then Smith, then Potter, who paused at the top to send the stairs back down, replace the cover and rearrange the shop detritus. Smith gulped as he looked at Potter's restoration work. No, no one would think to look beneath the shed floor at #12 Grimmauld Place.
Thanks for reading!
Bfd