Chapter Fifty-Eight: Roger Granger Thinks
Roger Granger ponders over the future.
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Roger rested in the opulent chamber he'd been given and thought about all that had happened. He was still in shock for the most part, but confused and delighted, too. Hermione had looked so pleased to see him, and his love for her, and hers for him was so clear now that he couldn't understand how he'd allowed Ruth to sway his feelings and make him reject his little girl. Although, she wasn't a little girl any longer. She was a married woman with a husband who would give his very life and soul for her.
He knew he should ask to be returned to Australia as soon as it was feasible. The longer he delayed in this magical castle, the very same place where Hermione had been educated, the harder it was going to be to explain things to Ruth. He was even tempted to say that Lucius, the Dark Wizard who had come to them in Australia had used a spell on him, too, so that they were both knocked out and thus, hide the truth.
But, and it was a big but, he'd seen the power of magic. He'd felt his whole being surrender to love. And although he hadn't been able to see the colours or feel the things Hermione had described, he'd still felt the power of the magic being cast. He'd felt the deep truth, the deep purity of their casting. He'd been touched by the Light that had poured out from the witches and wizards and other magical beings. To then go back to thinking of them as evil and spawns of the devil didn't sit right. He couldn't forget the first words Lucius had uttered. That they had no concept of what was God and the Devil.
The words resonated with him. This was more than belief, this was proof of something more than he'd known or understood. He wanted to learn more. He knew he could never perform magic, but now that he'd truly understood its power, he couldn't step away from it. There must be plenty that he could do, articles that he could write to help other parents like himself and Ruth of magical offspring negotiate the tricky space of Magical and Muggle. They'd not known or understood enough to help, support and nurture their daughter. Perhaps he could make it his mission to ensure the next generation getting their Hogwarts' letter had a proper support network in place.
He suspected that most children from Muggle backgrounds were left floundering, unable to truly explain to their parents what the Magical World was really like. Perhaps this was why the Magical World was so keen to insist on the statute of secrecy. Not because they were afraid as he'd supposed, but because if Muggles like him truly understood what magic could do, they'd never want to live outside it's bounds. People would surely be willing to give up a lot of things for the power magic had to give. Perhaps children would be kept prisoner by families in an attempt to control the magic or make use of it. Roger could easily connect the dots to grasp that the power would not always lie in the hands of the magic user.
He as a Muggle knew where he stood in the pecking order, and that place was at the very bottom, but that was because he was dealing with trained witches and wizards. But take an untrained practitioner, one who'd never been to Hogwarts and who could not have an outside support system and the abuse by the Muggle family or institution could be horrendous. He remembered Hermione's earliest attempts of wandless magic. He'd thought he was going mad when she'd somehow have the books and toys he'd deliberately put away all around her when he returned from work, their au pair clueless as to how they were in Hermione's possession. He could easily see the unscrupulous, once they understood what was going on, using that skill, that talent to rob other unsuspecting Muggles.
Roger shuddered, all the amazement of magic aside, he could well imagine someone like Hitler trying to control Magic and use it as another weapon in his mad schemes. Hadn't Hermione long ago said that Hitler and Grindelwald or someone were about at the same time with similar ideals, wanting to create a new world order ruled by wise witches and wizards? The worst of it was, there were plenty of Muggles who'd happily succumb to life under the power of witches and wizards. Perhaps therein lay the evil of the witches and wizards. They could control, sway, alter and induce so very much in Muggles. Perhaps this was why the statute of secrecy had been enforced. It protected both sides from harm.
Roger turned over on the bed to lie on his back. He loved Ruth. Even now. They'd fallen in love at university, what now seemed like two or even a dozen lifetimes ago. He loved her passion, her intellect. He'd never thought that her ambition, her desire for professional success would mean that she would have no time for a family. And once they were married, when she'd shrugged her shoulders and given in because he'd so longed for a child, he'd been convinced that she'd fall in love as he had, and would therefore learn to be a mother.
He couldn't blame her. She'd never pretended to be the maternal type and he'd married her knowing that for her, there were other, more important roles to fulfil. But now, given the way religion had intervened, despite knowing that their work in Australia was so important and needed, he still, in the deepest of his hearts, longed for family. He wanted to live in the depths of rural England, not too far from a nice friendly village and have a village dentistry practice. He'd work for the NHS, and then in the evenings he'd come home to his wife and family. Ruth had always laughed at his pedestrian dreams, she'd loved working in their modern practice which had been one of the most cutting edge in the South of England for reconstructive dentistry. She'd love rushing off to London as a consultant for the hospital for emergencies. And now, she adored the work she did, the God she served and the lives she saved.
Roger thumped the pillow and turned to lie on his side. He had to go back. But he couldn't go back to that life. He knew that he had made a decision by coming to England with Lucius. He'd known, and he still knew he couldn't go back to living with Ruth. She had her life, she'd made her choice. She'd continue to flourish and she'd probably be remarried within the year to the flying doctor they often worked with. Roger had seen the admiring glances Ben often cast on Ruth as she competently worked on their patients.
Roger sighed. He was a fool. But it was a choice between his wife and his child. Between home and a place that didn't speak to him as it did to Ruth. Yes, he'd been happy in Australia, and the country was beautiful, but he'd been happy there because he hadn't known what he had back in England. Since their memories had been returned, he'd longed for Hermione, he'd missed cold misty days and grey shrouded fields that sparkled when the clouds parted and the sun shone through. He'd missed the summer walks he'd gone on, Ruth relaxing in a country-house spa while he trampled along hedgerows and fields, knowing that there was a fine ale to look forward in the evening when he returned.
Roger turned to lie on his back again. He hadn't anything to come back to. Or did he?
Hermione said she'd sold their house and the dentistry practice. He had money in the bank, plenty of money in fact because Hermione had been not sent all of their funds with them when they've been sent to Australia, afraid in case the Death Eaters had used their bank cards to monitor their movements.
But could he at this age start again. Did he want to?
Roger kicked off the blankets and gave up trying to sleep. It was not going to happen. Recalling that he was to call Winky if he needed anything, he called the elf with a hesitant shout. He was surprised when the elf popped in almost instantaneously.
"Master wanted Winky?" the elf said, looking alarmed.
"I'm sorry," said Roger, "it wasn't urgent."
"Master called out," said Winky in clear reprimand. "Winky is listening out for Master. Any call will be heard."
Roger nodded. "I'm sorry then to have alarmed you."
Winky blushed if that were possible. She seemed to have realised she'd told him off.
"May I have some tea," asked Roger.
The elf nodded and popped out again.
Roger stared at the vacant place in wonder. Enchanted servants were a dream. His Ruth, but then he stopped his train of thought. His Ruth would think they were the imps of heaven with their short stature, and distinct way of speaking. Like him, to her elves were images drawn from the writing of Tolkien. Elves were fantastical, fictional; they were tall shining creatures, not these house-elves who looked after people and brought them tea.
Roger dressed, amazed that they'd somehow managed to find him clothes that fit. He'd come dressed in a pair of jeans and a shirt. That has been cleaned and pressed. But they, he supposed it must be the elves, had given him clean socks, a jumper, even a fairly smart, if slightly old-fashioned tweed blazer to help keep the chill of the castle at bay. He wondered who it had belonged to. He shrugged into it and went to stand in front of an old, cheval glass.
He looked at himself in the mirror. Who was he? What did he want? It was frightening to know that he could completely change his life if he wanted to. He had to make a choice, and it had to be now, this day.
When Winky popped in with the tea tray, sandwiches, tiny iced cakes and shortbread arranged alongside, Roger smiled his thanks. "Can you stay, please?" he asked the elf tentatively.
He felt that he was somehow more akin to the house-elves than the wizards. He couldn't quite imagine going to Lucius for advice. But perhaps Winky?
The elf's eyes bulged in surprise, but she nodded and twisted the tea-cloth she held in her hands.
"If Master wishes." The elf seemed more ill at ease than before.
Roger realised he's put the elf on the spot. Deciding to treat her as he would one of his junior trainee nurses, he sat down and poured out his tea. "I have some questions to ask, and think you might have the right knowledge to help me."
The elf blinked. "I is happy to help."
"Good," said Roger and forced himself to break off a small piece of shortbread and nibble on it to give him time to think. He wasn't really sure what to even ask.
"Do Muggles see the castle?" he asked at last.
"Oh, no, Master," said Winky, at once. "Most Muggle parents never comes to the castle. You is here only because Lord Lucius brings you."
The elf twisted the towel, then went on, "Lord Malfoy is very powerful Sir. He can brings you. Many other Sirs could not."
"You mean it drains them?" asked Roger. He'd not realised he was costing Lucius by being here. It made the Dark Wizard's sacrifice in bringing him for Hermione even more acute.
Winky shrugged, clearly unable to explain more. But it made Roger realise that the wizards and witches might not deliberately be keeping the Muggle parents out of their completely magical establishments. "What would Muggles see?" he asked instead.
Winky smiled. Clearly pleased not to be asked anything difficult. "They sees a ruined castle Sir, from the distance. But it never looks safe and most don't approach. They just sees it from the hills, and it looks pretty and misty. They walk sometimes and touch the walls on the outsides and then go away, but that's only if they are special. They don't find this coming to the ruins easily. But sometimes, if they had a witch or a wizard in the distant past in thems blood, then they might get close to the ruins. Sometimes, if the mother is pregnant with a witch or a wizard, then she can pass through the enchantments and come touch the ruins."
The elf stopped as if she had said a lot, and Roger suspected that she had. "Thank you, Winky," he said, and sipped his tea.
"And I heard something about a village close by?"
"Hogsmeade, Sir," said Winky, helpfully. "It's a completely magical village, but if yous were brought, you could visits and visits again. It's just hard to find the first time, but once you haves been recognised by the magics at the boundary, you can keeps passing. But yous can't bring any other Muggles."
Roger nodded and started to see the complexity of the magics in play. He could see how the statute of secrecy was maintained. Probably most of these enchantments had been cast long in the distant past.
Winky seemed to relax the more he ignored her and drank his tea. In fact, as he stared into the distance, allowing his thoughts to roam on what kind of life he could build, perhaps in Hogsmeade or near to it at least, where they might conceivably need a reliable and in-the-know modern dentist, he heard Winky cough politely.
"Yes, Winky," Roger said, putting down his now empty tea cup.
"Is Sir thinking of coming to live near Hogwarts because of Mistress Hermione?" the elf asked curiously. "I am Headmaster Snape's elf. But they have many elves who wants to serve them. I am surplus and Master only tell me things so that I don't feel lefts out. I was pleased to be tolds to care for you. If you comes to live here, I could belong to yous. I've not had a proper house to care for, for a long time. Headmaster Snape wouldn't let Winky do much during the war because he is worried I mights be hurt. And now, the Lestrange elves, and the Hogwarts elves and the Malfoy elves all wants to serve too."
Roger was lost for words. "But I'm a Muggle." He knew he was betraying his own bigotry, his own sense of unworthiness.
Winky nodded. "But you is Mistress Hermione's Father. I could takes care of you forever."
Humbled beyond words, Roger nodded. "Thank you, Winky. I'll think about what you have said. I'm glad I asked you to stop and talk."
The elf blushed with delight. "You woulds be a good Master," she said shyly. "Hermione Miss was always kinds to the house-elves, even when she's be leaving hats and trying to frees us. She is wanting to help."
Roger wondered what that was about. He realised there was so much he didn't know about his own child. Things she'd been unable to tell him for so many reasons.
As Winky took the tea-tray and departed, Roger stared into the fire. So much had happened. So many things had finally come to light. He could feel the yoke of bigotry beginning to be lifted. He and Ruth had been so sure they were right. But he supposed their sense of righteousness was only another sign of their own bigotry and sense of entitlement. They felt they knew, they had felt they could sit in judgement even though he'd known intellectually that Christ's Love didn't need to be preached and shoved down people's throat. God's love was best shown through action, through deeds, and who was he to decide what was Godly and what was not. Perhaps what truly mattered was that he tried to live a life of love, forgiveness, acceptance and let everything else be.
Resolved, he stood up and then sat down again. He didn't know how to find anyone. The thought of wondering alone in a magical castle was frightening. But he wasn't going to be disheartened. If he got into trouble, he'd call for Winky.
Feeling more in control, he brushed off the crumbs and straightened himself up in front of the mirror. Then, he walked out of the room he'd been assigned. He wanted to talk to Arthur Weasley, possibly, even Lord Lucius Malfoy.
A/N: Love it or hate it, please let me know what you think.