-Chapter Thirteen-
Duly Noted
It was nearly a mile between King's Cross and Diagon Alley, along very busy Muggle roads. With a combination of the journey being beneath those who felt they were part of high society, difficult for those of advanced years and a security risk due to the loose-lipped majority of the wizarding world, it was no surprise that a public fireplace was set up at the station, hidden in the same way as the Leaky Cauldron in what used to be a waiting room. At times of high traffic, such as the beginning and end of the Hogwarts terms, a member of staff from the makers of Floo powder, Floo-Pow, would be stationed beside the fireplace, selling pinches of the green substance for a Sickle apiece. They would also send luggage behind you for another Sickle per item.
It was a lucrative deal as Floo powder was usually sold for two Sickles a scoop, and somehow the journey always seemed to be smoother when travelling from a public fireplace attended by Floo-Pow. Just like most other magical families, none of which lived at all close to King's Cross, Harry and Neville had travelled back to the Longbottom residence via this service. For others, the Knight Bus made regular stops around the back of the station.
Augusta Longbottom had allowed Harry and Neville the remains of the first day of the holiday to themselves before reintroducing some of the routines they had experienced in the summer. She had even given them the following morning, asking Harry to remain at the end of lunch to request his presence over tea that afternoon. He readily agreed and was informed that Bolly would remind him closer to the time, before he took his leave and left to catch up with his friend.
#
"I see you were sorted into Slytherin and didn't follow your parents into Gryffindor," Augusta began, returning to her role of starting with an observation. Harry fought back a smirk as an idea flashed into his head.
"I see Neville was sorted into Hufflepuff and didn't follow his parents into Gryffindor," he replied. Augusta raised an eyebrow, but Harry could tell she was hiding her own small smile behind her teacup. "We are not our parents, ma'am. As far as I understand, and forgive me if I don't as I'm only eleven, bravery isn't inherited from our parents, and nor are a hardworking attitude and cunning. I've heard arguments for and against intelligence coming from your parents."
"And why do you think most people follow their parents into their Houses?" Harry thought for a while and Augusta stayed silent, her eyes watching as he puzzled this out, followed the line of thought. Slowly, he began to form the words to express his thoughts.
"I can think of two reasons," he said carefully, "depending on how the Sorting Hat works. If the Hat allows first years to choose, they might choose to be sorted into one of their parents' Houses. There are plenty of reasons for that. The second reason would be - I'm not sure of the word - how they grow up and that people kind of rub off on you."
"Well reasoned," Augusta said, positively beaming, "and I think the word you're looking for is 'upbringing' or 'nurture'. Neville will tell you that the conditions in which you raise a seedling can drastically change the plant. Just so, we are shaped by our environments and the people around us, even as we get older. In fact, when you are older, it is more often referred to as influence." Harry nodded and took a sip of his tea - somehow it was always the perfect temperature, no matter how long since it had appeared on the table. "Slytherin has been good for you," Augusta observed. On the face of it, it sounded like a non sequitur, an unrelated remark, but Harry recognised his cue.
"I'm glad you think so," he replied, "and Hufflepuff has been good for Neville." Augusta nodded, mirroring Harry's earlier action perfectly. "We've both benefited from the influence of our classmates and the culture of our Houses." At this, Augusta's eyes began twinkling. "However, I know it's important to be aware of who influences you in case they take advantage of you, and you also need to make sure not to waste the influence you have… which… means… it's best if people influence each other in a… balanced way so that everyone benefits."
"Very good. The word you're looking for this time is 'mutual'. Everything where two parties agree is mutual to some extent, each benefiting the other. The question is always how that is balanced. In a shop, the shopkeeper will gain some of your money, but in exchange you will gain the items you want or some sort of service. That's a good balance. Sometimes there's a horrible balance - you might give a horrible person something just to get them to go away. When the balance is acceptable for both parties, they develop a relationship and sometimes a good reputation, where other people think well of them. Do you have an owl?"
#
Under Augusta's guidance, Harry and Neville began to write letters. They wrote to each other and had Bolly deliver them. Augusta sat down with them individually and they had some sessions together. Sometimes they were free to write about whatever they liked. Sometimes they had the day to achieve a particular goal. This target was never shared with the other, but their pre-Christmas efforts were often quite transparent and they were encouraged to report to Augusta if they worked out the other's ultimate aim.
Harry was concerned as he was called up to see the Longbottom matriarch, separate to Neville. They had been working together in the library to finish off the remainder of their homework. It had been going very smoothly with the pair of them and they worked well together, each filling in some of the gaps of the other. Neville's insights into Herbology were, as Harry had expected from their work in his greenhouses in August, utterly invaluable, with experience providing useful context around the dry words of the textbook. Similarly, Neville was fascinated by the wealth of extra detail Harry had received in his Defence Against the Dark Arts classes and his observations into the workings of practical magic made Neville itch to get back to Hogwarts and practice some of his spellwork.
Grinning at Neville and wagging his finger, Harry got up and headed for the parlour. He knocked and, at Augusta's gesture, approached the seat opposite her, bowed his head in respectful greeting and sat. She smiled back, pleased to see that her lessons on manners and protocol were also sinking in.
"So what gave me away?" Harry asked, still smiling. Augusta raised her finger.
"A fair assumption, given what we've recently been talking about, but one which we can learn from." Harry knew from experience that we definitely meant him. Already, he was trying to figure out what mistake he had made. "What is the universal currency?" He knew the answer to this - it was one of her most frequent sayings.
"Information," he replied. This had gone well with what Quirrell had said in their very first lesson about secrets being the best form of defence. "I gave you information?"
"Your first mistake was assuming. Sometimes you can draw conclusions from the information you have, but every fact for which you have no proof can be a problem. With an assumption, your overview of the information you hold is inaccurate and can work against you. You believe you know something, but it might not be true.
"Secondly, as you point out, you gave me the information that you'd been doing something secretly, something where you could be given away. If I didn't already know what you'd been doing with Neville, I would be suspicious of what you could possibly be getting up to. If there were other people in the room or I wasn't who you thought I was, you would be giving away the same information to them, and they may be working against you. How do I tend to combat this?" Harry sipped his tea as usual to cover up his thinking time.
"You make an observation," he concluded. "Something that I already know. Then you get me to respond to that or you ask a question."
"Precisely," Augusta said. "If I'm trying to determine whether somebody knows something, I'll try to skirt around the subject and give them plenty of opportunity to bring it up themselves. When dealing with sensitive situations or making sure not to reveal secrets to those not in the know, conversations end up as a sort of dance, with each person rarely coming out and saying what they truly mean. It's even useful when trying to confirm the identity of the person you're talking to as there are many forms of magic which can disguise a person.
"It's something for you to work on and something for you to eventually master. That notwithstanding, it's not the reason for our conversation today. You are aware that Neville and I are to be attending a gathering tomorrow evening?" Harry nodded, diverting his eyes to the still-steaming tea in his cup. "Don't be down. The guest list was decided many months ago and these events are more to do with political relationships than true friendships." Augusta looked carefully at him. "Considering that these meetings are not fun occasions or parties, and are quite often hard work, are they events that you would wish to attend?" He nodded and she asked him to explain his reasoning.
"Some part of it is that I get the feeling that I should be doing more than what I am at the moment. As much as I hate it, people aren't going to stop thinking of me as the Boy Who Lived and I've learned that this comes with influence. People who recognised me in Diagon Alley kept trying to give me things or shake my hand, particularly the shopkeepers who kept trying to stop me from paying for my things. My friends say that I need to use this influence and not waste it."
"And what do you want from this?" Augusta asked. "Money?"
"No, ma'am. As far as I understand, I have no particular need for more money." Augusta raised her eyebrow questioningly. "I remember the challenge of my family that you told me about, where every generation should end with more money in my family's vault, but using my influence as the Boy Who Lived feels like it defeats the point a bit. I'm not really sure how to explain it, but it feels wrong. I don't enjoy how the shopkeepers try to save me money, both because I don't feel like I did anything to deserve it and because I don't want to take money away from people who work hard for it."
"That seems like sound reasoning to me, Harry. You've certainly come a long way in your conversational ability; I imagine that your time in Slytherin has kept you engaged in these sorts of conversations and has allowed you to overhear some things from the older students." Harry nodded at this. She had deduced it spot on. "So do you have a reason why you want to get into this, other than your friends suggesting it?"
"Not yet, but I believe much of that is due to my age and my relative, ah, newness in the magical world. I don't yet know where I would be able to use my influence and what for, but I think it's best to be prepared for any eventuality."
#
The glistening of the ink disappeared as Bolly waved her hand over the thick slip of parchment, drying Harry's seasonal good wishes. He was glad that Augusta had taught him about the tradition of exchanging yuletide gift baskets between those with a more formal relationship in the magical world. The contents were somewhat standardised, more so for longstanding and clearly-defined relationships such as business partnerships and political alliances.
Thankfully, a selection of sweets was appropriate for a first gift, with the basket itself signifying the respect and openness to exploring a more formal relationship, and the contents reflected the friendship of youth. Harry had completely forgotten about the concept of Christmas presents before his conversation with Augusta and he had worried about what his friends would think if they had decided to get him any presents and got nothing in return. Equally, he didn't want his friends in the opposite position. Oh, it was a social minefield.
Bolly had bought gifts and baskets for both Harry and Neville. Neville's gifts were occasionally more personalised than Harry's, having known his recipients for longer, and he'd made specific requests of Bolly as he'd had no time to buy gifts as he usually would, due to the exercises he and Harry had been undertaking. He'd been careful to be specific where possible. Shopkeepers were willing to serve House Elves when there was a lull in customers, usually at the very beginning or end of the day, but they were generally expected to select their goods and pay very quickly, rather than browse with the usual clientele.
Stretching, Harry began to rise and make his way to his bedroom. Christmas was now only a few hours away and he was glad that he had finished in time for Bolly to deliver his presents at the stroke of midnight. He had learned that those with House Elves tended not to leave present delivery to owls; the Elves somehow arranged the flow of gifts between themselves for Christmas. As he entered his room and looked at his desk, he realised that he had left his writing equipment on one of the tables in the library, but quickly decided not to go back for it as he would return there for much of the day tomorrow. Augusta and Neville would be away for most of the day, returning to celebrate the day itself in the evening, and Harry would be spending most of his time back amongst the bookshelves.
Neville wrapped him in a tight hug at breakfast and Harry understood all the meaning and feelings behind it. He knew that Neville felt awful for having to leave him, today of all days, but they had all agreed that it was for the best. Of course, the boys had agreed this in their letters to each other - it wouldn't do to suddenly back out from an invitation, especially one as politically important as this. Neville had promised Harry to learn what he could at the gathering and to determine how best to involve him in future events while Harry had graciously convinced him that he wasn't bothered at all.
Thus it was that Harry returned to his position from the previous night, this time accompanied by a number of books he wanted to read and a large amount of parchment. Some of this parchment was blank, hungry for inky wisdom, but the majority held his class notes, the sheets holding his own questions sifted out from the rest. A good portion of his questions had other references next to them, noting where they had been answered in other lessons or where he had done some research. Each of these gave Harry a little thrill as he could clearly see how much he was actively learning, rather than what he would passively absorb through the minimum amount of work as some people were keen to do.
Researching and studying in the Longbottom library was enjoyable. It was true that it didn't hold the sheer range and quantity of books of the Hogwarts library. However, what they did have was good quality. There were collections of regularly published journals and a section of books where the concepts inside were new and made up for the occasional lack of substance, but the vast majority of the collection hinted at a vetting process where each new addition was carefully considered.
It was also arranged differently to the Hogwarts library. Magic was such a broad discipline that it didn't fit neatly into boxes, with a spider web of links and associations and a mess of overlapping subjects and categories. Hogwarts' library seemed to perfectly reflect this with the strange choices made in how to arrange the collected knowledge across the two-dimensional floor plan. Some adjacent subjects were so different that the connection between them required a real logical leap, and sometimes it was a leap of faith. The Longbottom library, however, made a good attempt at a spectrum of magic around the circumference of its main floor, with more esoteric and disparate subjects occupying the balconies; there the concepts were as lofty as their positions.
Harry looked around, starting at the ever-growing Herbology section opposite the main doors, through Potions, Creatures, Defensive Magic, leaping over the entrance to Transfiguration, past a blend of Charms and Magical Theory and into a smaller section on Astronomy before returning to the Herbology behemoth. The only balcony-bound section immediately helpful for their Hogwarts classes was the History section, which also had a subsection on Wizarding laws and Wizengamot precedents, a staple of any Pureblood library.
Magical Creatures ended up being Harry's first port of call. He headed closer to the Defensive Magic section, where the more dangerous or mysterious creatures were, rather than the Potions end, where the link was creatures with parts which were useful in magical concoctions. His fingers ran lightly over the spines of the books, eye taking in the titles in a search for a general reference text on magical creatures as a starting point. His target was the mysterious Thestral.
Mysterious didn't even begin to describe the beast, judging by the information he found. There was very little in the way of hard facts, most of which was warning of danger or a rehash of how they were supposed to be an omen of death, both of which were accompanied by tellings of grisly encounters between wizard and Thestral. There were sparse descriptions of a black beast, either winged or fanged or skeletal. None of this matched up with Harry's experience of an invisible force calmly and placidly pulling the carriages from the castle to the station. Bemoaning the possibilities of books not being the supreme source of truth, he resolved to ask Hagrid about them when they met for tea.
#
Another drop of ink splashed onto the parchment as Harry looked down at it in horror. He had been so focused on what he was writing that he had violently jumped when suddenly hearing the crack of Bolly appearing next to him. His quill had snapped and there was an ugly line now marring his neatly arranged research notes. The feeling of horror was fleeting, however, as the attentive House Elf noticed the mess and cleared it up with a snap of her fingers, revealing the previously-obscured text to Harry's relief. Having seen similar incidents in class and the teachers only able to completely clear the ruined area of parchment, Harry marvelled at the wondrous and effortless abilities of House Elves.
"Apologies, Mr Potter sir. Bolly just wanted to inform Mr Potter that Mistress and young Master Longbottom have returned. Presents will be opened over tea."
"Thank you, Bolly," Harry said, still looking at the parchment and newly-mended quill. "I'll be there in a minute." This time he was prepared for the sound as she disappeared, and he arranged his parchment neatly before heading out of the library.
Stifling a chuckle, Harry walked into the parlour to see Neville slumped on the sofa opposite his grandmother, displaying none of the usual decorum she insisted upon during their talks. Augusta was sitting in her usual spot, still wearing her best hat, the one topped with a stuffed bird which Harry hadn't yet been able to identify. Easily identifiable, however, was the tastefully-decorated pointy tree in the corner of the room whose lower branches were sheltering a number of similarly-shaped packages.
"Merry Christmas, Harry," Augusta said, raising her cup in his direction with a smile.
"Merry Christmas, ma'am," he replied. "Merry Christmas, Neville. How was the gathering?"
"Tiring," Nevile grunted, not yet moving.
"Indeed," Augusta agreed. "Wearing a mask takes extended concentration. Often the illusion is simply one of not being worn down by it at all. It's both tiring and, might I say, tiresome." She smiled, pleased at her humour. Harry grinned and expelled an amused huff of air from his nose. "Sit up, Neville. Let Harry sit down." Neville complied, retracting his legs from where they were blocking the passage past the low table.
Harry shuffled past Neville, brushing against his legs as he made sure not to knock the table and cause tea to slop out of the cups on its surface. He looked towards the glittering splash of colour in the otherwise unaltered room and sat in the free seat next to his friend. The sparkle and shine, however, reminded Harry of something and he froze there, eyes widening as he began to worry. Crud.
"What's the problem, dear?" Augusta asked. Harry flushed.
"I, er… I never got you two presents. With all the baskets and notes and things I completely forgot. I'm so sorry!" He buried his head in his hands. He was such an ungrateful guest.
"Uh, I forgot too…" Neville said sheepishly. "I was really focused on the Greengrass gathering. It would have been awful if I'd missed any of them out; that sort of thing causes fights, you know." Both boys studiously avoided looking at each other, highly embarrassed, but turned to look at Madam Longbottom as she began to tut.
"You two, as daft as they come," she said, trying but just about failing to put on a stern face. "I suppose with all this work we've been doing over the past week and a half we've been too focused on other things. You'll soon learn to be more organised and prepare for upcoming events - we'll have no repeat of this next year. How about we put this behind us and we do something for the new year instead. I'll give you both the task of finding something to promise the other on the first and that way you'll both get something useful but we won't need to go and get something when the shops are crowded with people trying to get a post-Christmas bargain. You can pretend like you planned it when your friends ask you what you got each other when you go back on the fifth."
Agreeing with Augusta's plan, the boys' attention very quickly turned to the presents beneath the tree. Harry was looking forward to receiving his first ever presents, not that he would ever reveal the magnitude of the occasion. This was one of those things that you learned to keep quiet about as a Slytherin - a weakness that somebody could use to their advantage, whether they meant to or not. He trusted the Longbottoms, but he was trying to be prudent.
Augusta nodded to Bolly, who was standing in the doorway. With a snap, the presents under the tree arranged themselves into three lines and floated to their recipients one at a time. The presents from the Longbottom matriarch were distinctly more stylish in appearance and elegantly understated, but other than that the vast majority for all three were gift baskets similar to those Harry had sent out. Augusta's baskets differed from those received by Neville and Harry, not only in quality, but also in the maturity of the contents. There were no chocolate frogs or Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans for her, rather the occasional bottle of brandy or other tipple, more upmarket and dainty chocolates, and even cheese or savoury snacks.
Each accompanying note was read with respect and the identity of the sender noted. Harry carefully replaced the note in each basket after trying to decipher any hidden meaning within the messages, just for the practice. He didn't mind that Neville and Augusta received a number of more personal presents, nor that Augusta had said that they would receive presents from her after they had responded with thanks to those who had sent them gifts. From Neville's reaction, this was standard, and Harry was happy to receive any presents at all.
However, he did receive one gift which wasn't in a basket. It came at the end of the queue and was wrapped simply in brown paper and string in stark contrast to the rest of the haul. Harry tugged on the rough string and, with a bit of effort, it unraveled to release the package. He felt the eyes of both Longbottoms as he crinkled the paper open, revealing a mass of some strange material topped by a short handwritten note. The note had no name and he gave it to Augusta while he extracted the fabric to examine it, querying the oddity. She quickly responded with a question of her own.
"What does Albus think he's playing at?"
