Chapter 12 - Norman
Penelope rubbed her dishcloth against the gleaming red wood of the bar, polishing away the very last of the water marks. It was well after midnight and she and Zelda were alone in the Owl's Nest, left to the end duties of closing up. Outside, a hard rain pounded the roof and windows, signaling a fitful beginning to spring.
Zelda pointed her wand at a nearby table, magically flipping the chairs as her broom danced underneath. "Merlin, my feet hurt. I'm ready for a soak in a hot bath."
"Me too," Penelope chuckled. "You know when I first bought this little black dress for work, I thought it was so cute. Now I'd like nothing more than to see it torched on stake for all eternity. No matter how many times I wash it, it still comes out smelling like rancid cauldron cake batter."
Zelda laughed and looked at Penelope shrewdly. "This is grimy work, isn't it love? I'll reason a guess you won't work here much longer."
Penelope blushed, scrubbing harder at the already clean bar. "Things are changing for me." She stopped and folded the cloth carefully. "I've learned a lot here, Zelda. I'm really grateful for that."
Zelda smiled and zoomed the dustpan toward the rubbish can. "Like what? That the Daily Prophet reporters don't tip? That you have to hide the cocktail nuts from Oscar or he'll be reliving them the next day? That men never flush the toilet?"
Penelope grinned. "Some men flush."
"Oh they do, do they? Dearie, if you've found a flusher you better marry him."
"Believe me, I working on it," Penelope laughed. "So what about you? What about taking those O.W.L.'s?"
"It's in six weeks. The Ministry offers special tests for adults who missed or failed as students." She sighed and shrugged. "I guess we'll see how it goes."
There was a knock on the front door. "We're closed!" Zelda said loudly. But the knock came again.
"Who would be coming by here so late?" Penelope asked.
Zelda peeked through the curtains and chuckled. "The fastidious flusher, that's who."
"You're kidding." Penelope's eyes widened. She made a pretense of putting the lid on the box of tiny wands she used to decorate drinks and ducked down to glance at herself in the mirror behind the bar. Zelda shook her head as she unlocked the door.
Percy stood stiffly in the rain, water running in little streams from the points of his umbrella. "Excuse me, Zelda, but I wondered if I might momentarily speak with Penelope."
"Get inside, Percy. Yes, you might momentarily speak with her."
Penelope had moved around to the front of the bar. "Is everything okay?" she asked quickly.
"Yes, everything's fine. I just needed to…um…talk for a minute." They both looked awkwardly at Zelda who cleared her throat and stuck her wand in the back of her brown ponytail.
"Boy, I've still got to clean that loo. Sorry, it might take me a few minutes, dearies. Perhaps we should hire Percy to give lessons." She giggled and winked as she backed into the men's room.
Percy lifted his chin and peered down his nose at Penelope. "Hire me to give lessons in what?"
"Never you mind," she said, pulling apart the folds of his robe and fitting herself against his chest. She only had to tip her face a little to find his lips.
"Hi," she whispered.
"Hi," he whispered back.
"I've missed you" she said lowering her head on his shoulder.
He breathed in deeply, holding still for several seconds, then he pulled back to look at her curiously. "Pen, what's that…that…" He made a sour face and started sniffing at her shoulder. "I think it's you! What is that smell? You smell like…"
Penelope pushed him away and folded her arms across her chest. "It's cauldron cakes. And it's not me. It's the dress."
"Cauldron cakes? Are you sure because that really doesn't…"
"Percy, love, are you here for a purpose or did you just stop by in the rain to smell my dress."
He looked the dress over suspiciously then grabbed her hand and dragged her to a nearby booth. "I've got some things to tell you," he said eagerly. "Pen, I've been looking through all the Ministry records and I can't find Norman Brown anywhere. He has no records with the Aurors and what's more I've checked with Professor McGonagall at Hogwarts. He's not even in the Book of Magical Living. Penelope, the man is not a wizard."
"I know," Penelope said softly. She looked toward the bathrooms and then leaned forward. "I've been doing some checking of my own, Percy. And you'll never guess…I've found him! Take a look at this." She opened out a white napkin onto the table and pointed her wand at it. Slowly the napkin filled with a cursive writing that looked aged and brown. When the writing stopped she turned the napkin toward Percy. He pulled it close and studied it cautiously.
"You found his records at St. Mungo's?" Percy looked up. "Are you sure it's the same Norman Brown? These are old records, Pen…almost twenty years."
"It's him alright. I checked his birthday against the employee files at Clearwater. It's a perfect match."
Percy shook his head appreciatively. "Merlin, my girl's clever."
"Read the file, Percy." Penelope said. "Read it carefully."
Percy read the napkin for a moment and then leaned back in the booth. "Well, that explains it, doesn't it? We should have guessed."
"Yep," Penelope thumped her finger on the napkin and leaned in angrily. "Our friend Norman Brown is a squib! And a big fat liar."
Percy was silent and stared thoughtfully off into space. "Well, you've been lying to him too, Pen. Everybody's lying about something."
"Are you defending him? Don't you see? He's out to control my family's company! I think he's a Death Eater spy."
Percy looked serious. "He may well be, but you have no evidence. You have to be careful about jumping to conclusions."
"Well, what's he doing depositing Muggle money into Gringotts?" Penelope said defensively.
Percy hesitated, "I'm not sure, but I think you need to be less emotional and more analytical about this. If he's a squib perhaps he keeps his own account in Gringotts and he goes there weekly to deposit his salary. I don't suppose Clearwater Industries is making automatic drafts into Gringotts, are they?"
Penelope stopped, her bottom lip protruded slightly and a little wrinkle formed across her nose. "His salary? Oh no, I'm not that clever. I hadn't even thought of that."
"Pen, I asked Bill about that goblin you saw in Hogsmeade and he's a bad sort. Bill says he's been suspended from Gringotts three times and that he's sure he's one of the group lobbying Ragnok for the Death Eaters."
Penelope bit her lip. "He did seem really nasty. But Percy, do you think Norman knows about me? And…you? Has he known I'm a witch all along?"
Percy ran his hand over his mouth as he thought, and nodded slowly. "I think he has. When your grandmother introduced us he looked odd when he saw me. I think he knew who I was."
"You're right. And when I told him you were from Ottery St. Catchpole he laughed at me. And that night after Grandmother's funeral, he commented on my dress robes. Said he thought they'd look good in the clubs. I think Norman Brown has definitely known about us all along."
Percy nodded, "And so the question is…why has he kept it a secret?"
Penelope carefully erased the napkin and folded it neatly on the table. "Because he's up to something," she said. "And I'll bet you fifty Galleons on that, Mr. Weasley."
Penelope crossed her legs and struggled not to fidget. This was her first meeting of the Board of Directors since her grandmother's death and she had already determined it was going to be interesting. She sat at one end of a long sleekly modern table on the seventh floor of the Clearwater Building. To her left, a wall of windows looked out on a rather dreary view of central Glasgow and to her right, was a row of gold framed portraits, her relatives. Grandmother's portrait had been unveiled this morning. She sat in her rose garden, looking serene and very wise, her silver hair gleaming in its always elegant bun. Penelope wished the portrait could speak to her, perhaps wink or give a little nod. But it stayed frozen, held forever in its peaceful pose.
Every head in the room was turned away from her. At the opposite end of the table Norman Brown was reporting on first quarter earnings. He had passed out a bound report that the Board members occasionally flipped through. Penelope thought it was all nonsense. How could they make judgments on earnings when they had no idea what two-thirds of the company was doing?
Brown introduced a petite young woman from the technology department to give a report on the company's latest project - singular flight experiments. With a remote control she caused blinds to lower over the windows, the lights to dim and a screen to drop down for a video presentation. Penelope smiled to herself remembering Percy's excited diatribe about remote controls and how they'd talked a long time about the wand as an extension of the self.
As the lights came back on, the young woman concluded her presentation. "The day will come when our roads will be overgrown antiques," she said. "The Warlock Series promises flight innovation that will be as common as your bicycle. Future consumers will utilize their Warlock for trips to shops or the cinema, and obviously, the Warlock has great recreational potential for those with a keen sense of adventure. Our plans are to continue in-house testing for the remainder of the year and then to begin testing on western European military bases. Are there any questions"
"I'd like to see them…"
Every head in the room turned to look at her.
"Excuse me, Miss Clearwater, did you say something?" Norman Brown was looking shocked.
"Yes. I'd like to see the test runs on the Warlock Series. Perhaps I could ride one?"
"Oh…well...I don't know about riding, Miss Clearwater but…"
"Don't count me out, Mr. Brown. You might be surprised to know that I'm quite a good flyer. I'm not particularly fond of airplanes, but I certainly know a quality broom."
There was a stunned silence and then Penelope broke into a smile and the room erupted in laughter. All except for Norman Brown, who was watching Penelope steadily.
"I can see that Lady Penelope has her grandmother's very unusual sense of humor." He turned to his secretary, a prim and pretty woman with silver wire frame glasses. "Helen, make a note to set up an appointment for Miss Clearwater with the new technologies department regarding the Warlock Series."
"Yes sir, Mr. Brown."
"Now, I think we were finishing up. If there's nothing else, let's stand adjourned."
"No - there is something else, Norman," said a firm voice. It was Morris Campbell, the banker who had monopolized Percy on New Year's Eve.
"Yes." Norman Brown shuffled papers and didn't look up.
"A group of the Board have presented Miss Clearwater with an excellent proposal for her company shares. She has now had that proposal for several weeks and we've yet to hear a response."
"Morris, there is no need for Miss Clearwater to respond to your ridiculous proposal."
Penelope glanced up at the portrait of her grandmother. It was time for the showdown. "No. Mr. Brown, thank you, but I do need to respond."
Her voice seemed to shake Norman Brown. He looked at her down the length of the table and she was sure she spotted fear.
"I greatly appreciate the kind offer and the concern that you have all shown for me during this time. I have made a decision in regards to my company shares." Penelope folded her hands and paused for dramatic effect. "I will gladly relinquish my shares for current market value provided Norman Brown step down as Managing Director of Clearwater Holdings."
An excited uproar broke out around the table. "Well, Norman," Mr. Campbell said, "you've heard Miss Clearwater. I think she's made herself perfectly clear."
"Stop this, Penelope," Norman hissed across the table. "You have no idea what you are doing."
"I don't? Well, it doesn't matter does it? Norman, there are no Clearwaters left except me, and you know very well that I don't need all this."
Norman Brown was very white and breathing quickly. "You do need this company, Penelope. Your world needs this company. " He pointed up at the portraits along the wall. "Look up there. Your father was my friend. Your grandmother my confidante. Do you not think that they would provide for you? Don't you trust them?"
Penelope stood up. "I trust them! It's you I don't trust, Norman Brown! You who have been lying to me."
Norman jumped to his feet. "I have never lied to you! I've told you all along, your Trust is set up for company information to be revealed to you at twenty-one. That's eighteen months, Penelope. You are going to mess up what your family has been working on for years over eighteen lousy months?"
"Eighteen months for you to manipulate this company for You-Know-Who!" Penelope snarled.
"How DARE you!" Norman shot back.
"WHO IS YOU-KNOW-WHO?" Morris Campbell shouted and thumped the table. "I DEMAND TO KNOW WHAT OTHER COMPANY YOU ARE WORKING FOR, NORMAN!"
Norman Brown looked at Campbell with shock then shut his eyes and groaned. "Oh dear God. Alright stop them all, Penelope."
"Seriously?" she looked smugly amused.
"Yes, yes, yes! You win. It's against my better judgment but go ahead…just do it." He waved his hand and sank defeated into his chair.
"Alright then." Penelope pulled her wand from her jacket and waved it quickly around the room. "Somnabella" she said and with a thud half the heads fell forward onto the table. Campbell had slumped to his right with his head on Erskine Forsyth's shoulder and was snoring loudly.
"Well, that's impressive," Norman Brown said with a sigh. "I never doubted you'd be powerful."
"You're a squib, Norman. Why have you lied to me? Why did you lie to my grandmother?"
Norman shook his head ruefully. "I never lied to your grandmother. She knew about me all along, just as your father did. That's why they trusted me. They knew I was familiar with the world you would grow into. They wanted to help the company be useful to you."
"Then why didn't they tell me?"
"Well, that's been part of your Trust. Your grandmother wanted you to finish your education. Worry about your career first. And frankly, Penelope, the less you've known, the safer you've been."
"I'm nineteen, Norman and this company is mine. You're going to have to do better than that," Penelope said.
"Alright then," Norman took a deep breath and stood up, "let's take a walk." He opened the conference room door for Penelope. "How long will they sleep?" he asked, looking back nervously.
"Until I wake them up," Penelope answered. "Don't worry, they're perfectly happy." Albert Dunbar muttered gibberish and giggled.
"So it seems," Norman said dryly. "Follow me."
He strode briskly down the hall to his office, a normal-looking executive suite with leather chairs and a picture of men on horses chasing a white fox. Norman looked up at Penelope and nodded at the picture. "That's me," he said.
"What's you?"
Norman placed his finger on the painting. "I'm the white fox." With his words a wall behind his desk disappeared and Penelope saw a tiny room with buttons. It was lift. "After you, Lady Penelope." Norman gestured and she stepped inside. Norman followed her and the door closed behind them. He pressed a button and they began to descend.
"Where are we going? What's this all about?" Penelope asked.
"I told you, Penelope, this is against my better judgment. Things could stay just as they are. You could focus on your Healer training, worry about seeing the Weasley boy, and leave this to me."
"And let you fox me out of my family's money? I don't think so," she sniffed.
"There's such a thing as being too clever for your own good, Penelope." The lift stopped with a slight bump. Norman took a breath and tightened the knot on his tie. "It's time for a tour of Clearwater Enterprises."
The door slid open to reveal a huge space filled with cubicles and people working.
It was the strangest mix of worlds Penelope had ever seen. There were three large fireplaces to Floo employees to various locations and yet each cubicle was set up with what appeared to be working telephones and computers. On the wall were two signs, one obviously electric, the other magically charmed. They both said 'Exchange Rate' in large letters and flashed numbers.
Norman walked to the center of the room and cleared his throat. All of the workers turned toward him. "Excuse me, can I have everyone's attention! I'd like to introduce you all to her Ladyship, Penelope Clearwater. Miss Clearwater is touring the facility as she is now taking the position of Chair of our Board of Directors. I'm sure you will all answer any questions she might have and make her feel welcome." He turned to Penelope. "Lady Penelope these are your employees."
Penelope felt a stab of panic. She guessed at least twenty people were looking at her curiously. And more faces seemed to be emerging down the long hall. Some were smiling slightly, others were frowning. She nodded and gave a rather silly wave.
Norman steered her over to the first cubicle. "Miss Clearwater, this is Gladys Florez, one of our accountants."
"It's a pleasure Miss Clearwater," the woman said as she extended her hand. "I was so sorry to hear about your grandmother. She was a lovely person. She frequently brought roses down here to the basement. Said it was too dark."
"That sounds like her," Penelope said quietly.
"I'm a squib like Mr. Brown," Gladys Florez continued. "I handle Brazil and Peru accounts and South American transfers. I'm a one person shop because transfers between Gringotts and South America aren't huge. But we are growing, right Mr. Brown?"
"That's right," Norman nodded approvingly. "Gladys has been very valuable in assisting Peru with negotiations between the Incas and the goblins."
"Really?" Penelope said slowly, her eyes wide. "That's great. The Incas…um…Wow."
Norman quickly thanked Gladys and steered Penelope further down the hall. "We have squibs, some Muggles with witches or wizards in their families. Frank, your sister went to Hogwarts, right?"
A plump man nodded and smiled. "That's right, Mr. Brown. She's a sales rep for Quality Quidditch Supplies now."
"I think Howard and Clark over there went to Hogwarts themselves." Two men in wizarding robes nodded slightly and Penelope nodded back.
"Obviously, the majority of our staff deals with British transactions. Pounds to Galleons. Galleons to Pounds. But we have a fairly large department for the Euro too. This is Finistra Kremer, she handles Luxemburg." Penelope looked up at a woman who must have been seven feet tall and who was carrying a stack of gold coins the size of hubcaps.
"Pleasure," Finistra said gruffly.
"Finistra's just come from the vaults," Norman said. "Follow me this way and I'll show you…"
"Wait, Norman, you're going to have to slow down." Penelope was almost running to keep up with his long strides. "Are you telling me we are operating a bank?"
"No. We handle transfers of money only."
"Transfers?"
"Transfers of money between the Muggle world and the wizarding world."
Penelope groaned. "Oh no…Norman I'm horrible with money and math. Percy has to balance my…oh never mind. Explain it to me again."
Norman Brown stopped, a small grin on his face. "Imagine your grandmother gave you some money and you wanted to exchange it at Gringotts and buy a new broom. What would you do?"
"Well I'd go up to a goblin and give him my pounds and he'd exchange it for Galleons, Sickles or Knuts." Penelope said calmly.
"And then what happened to your pound?"
"Well, I guess I thought it just stayed in a vault until the goblins came and got it."
"Years ago, you would have been right," Norman smiled. "But that's not really very effective for an economy is it? Rather problematic to just keep money locked in a cave somewhere. That's where your grandfather came in. He was in the British Parliament and was one of about three people including the Prime Minister who knew of the magical world. Your grandmother always thought whatever magical gifts you have were passed down through him. He wasn't a wizard, but he was definitely a gifted man, perhaps he was a bit of a Seer or perhaps he was just lucky. But at any rate, he was able to convince the goblins to trust him and Clearwater started the very first economic exchange program between magical money and Muggle money. Your father followed in your grandfather's footsteps and when you were born and your parents realized you were…well…different, your father really stepped up the effort. Your parents were thrilled. They thought that now the company would be a real value to you and their grandchildren. When I first met your father I was a young solicitor, trying to do work between two worlds. Your father hired me to try to expand the staff. Then, of course, the accident happened. And I guess you know the rest."
Penelope's lip began to tremble. "I'm sorry. It's just…I think I need to sit down."
Norman steered her into an empty office and kindly helped her into a chair.
"I'm sorry. I'm just a bit overwhelmed. You are telling me my parents did this for me? Built this magical business? It's so huge and so important and I had no idea."
Norman reached into his pocket and handed her a handkerchief. "I know it's a lot to take in but do you see now why you must keep your company shares?"
"How does the rest of the Board not know? How have you gotten away with the secrecy for all these years?"
Norman chuckled darkly, "You'd be surprised how people - even smart people - won't ask questions. A little assurance from British Secret Intelligence Service and letter or two from the Prime Minister and they're at ease. After all, these are busy people thinking mostly about running their own businesses. Also the nature of the Muggle work of the company has made it easier to invoke secrecy because of the development of new technologies. I've been quite excited about the Warlock Series myself. I always wanted to be able to fly on a broom."
Penelope wiped her nose and took a deep breath. "Norman, I think you and I need to start over."
Norman smiled and looked down at the floor. "It's not easy to be a squib, Penelope. There aren't many people who can really understand you. Your father offered me a way to bridge my two worlds. Your grandmother became one of my only friends. I assure you, I've worked hard for your family for the past twelve years. However, if you don't trust me and want me removed, I will step down. I would only ask that you carefully consider my replacement."
"I'd like to trust you, Norman. But you have to respect me and be honest with me. I may be only nineteen but I'm not a silly rich girl. I'm a very serious person."
Norman Brown nodded and pocketed the handkerchief she handed back to him. "I can see that you are. Penelope, there is one last thing that you should know. We've never really known why your parent's plane went down that night. But we do know that Dark wizards would love to stop any economic exchange with the Muggle world. For your own safety, what we do here must be a great secret."
Penelope nodded. "I understand, but I have to tell Percy."
"I don't think so," Norman frowned. "That's too dangerous."
"No," Penelope said firmly. "This is too important. He has to know."
Norman shrugged slightly. "You realize that if you ever break up with him, you'll have to Obliviate the information?"
"That's not going to happen."
Norman looked at her shrewdly, stood and offered her his hand. "From what I know of your family and his, I wouldn't be surprised if you were right. Let's go wake up your Board of Directors."
"Oh my," Penelope giggled as she stood, "I'm afraid Morris Campbell is in for a rather rude awakening when I tell him I'm not selling the company."
Norman laughed, "Perhaps he will think it was all his own sweet dream."
Percy slammed the door of Dumbledore's office behind him and leaned back to catch his breath. Merlin, what a bloody mess. He clutched the huge roll of parchment closer to his body as he started down the steps. What would the Order do now? Dumbledore was gone for sure and Umbridge was going to control Hogwarts.
Damn it! If they hadn't gone and put their names on a damn list! And then just left it laying around...Ron, Ginny, Fred, George - all of them. The stupidity made him furious. Had Ron not gotten anything out of his letter?
As the door slid open behind the gargoyle he could hear the voices rising inside Dumbledore's office. He'd only taken a few steps when he heard the sounds of a struggle and then an explosion overhead. He sped up but something grabbed him by the arm and jerked him into a darkened classroom.
"Well if it isn't the Prodigal son." Professor Snape held him flat against the cold stone wall, his hooked nose so close that Percy had to turn his head. "Weasley, do you think you might expound, in your usual annoying manner, on the current circumstances?"
Snape released him and Percy bristled and smoothed his robes. "Dumbledore has confessed to a plot to overtake the Ministry, Professor. The Aurors are attempting to take him to Azkaban."
Snape laughed derisively. "Right. Cornelius Fudge couldn't hold on to Albus Dumbledore anymore than he could wrestle the giant squid." There was a pounding of feet. "Shh…don't move. They're coming."
They sank deep into the shadows of the classroom and heard fumbling and shouting. "You take the dungeons, I'll take the towers!" Kingsley's voice roared. "He can't Apparate you know. He's here somewhere!" They stayed frozen until they were sure the Aurors had passed.
"How did this happen Weasley?" Snape hissed. "And why didn't you give us any warning?"
Percy surveyed Snape with condescension. "I didn't have time! We were here in minutes. Victoria Edgecomb's daughter went to Umbridge a short time ago and divulged information about a secret Defense Against the Dark Arts group. Umbridge notified Fudge and we came straight away. Fudge wanted Auror protection and I was able to get Kingsley. And Dumbledore knew we were coming at least he was somewhat prepared. But in the end it didn't matter because I didn't know about the list. I didn't know what they had called themselves."
Snape looked at him suspiciously. "What are you talking about?"
"'Dumbledore's Army.' They put their names on a list and called themselves 'Dumbledore's Army.' It's Fudge's paranoid fantasy. Dumbledore had him until that came out. But they played right into Fudge's hands"
Snape closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. "And let me guess who was in charge of this little army. The one…the only …"
"Harry Potter, sir."
"Did they expel him?" Snape sounded almost eager.
"Oh no. Dumbledore took the fall. Claimed he'd organized the group in an attempt to take over the Ministry. That's why they want him for Azkaban."
Snape ran long fingers over his forehead and into his hair as he growled angrily. "Potter...Potter...idiot...idiot."
Percy said nothing, but for the moment, he privately agreed. "I have to get back to the Ministry, sir. At least appear like I'm sending this to the Daily Prophet, though it certainly won't make the paper now."
Snape nodded and pointed to the back of the classroom. "There's a Floo over there."
Percy made his way to the fireplace, reached in his pocket for a handful of Floo powder then turned back to Professor Snape. "Where do you think he'll go, sir?"
"Not anywhere he'd tell you, Weasley," Snape grinned derisively. "Oh and Weasley," Snape took a step forward and pointed his finger into Percy's face. "Your nose is very brown, right there. Ink…I do believe."
He turned his back and melted into the dark hall.