A/N: I've never really had to do this for anything I've written, but I don't want to catch anyone off-guard here. This is a WARNING for some things mentioned in this chapter - in this case, physical abuse/assault/violence. There are some descriptions of injuries, but not in great detail, and that's about it. I'm not sure how to best display these warnings, so let me know if you have some ideas (or if they're even needed, but I figured better safe than sorry).
Also, funny story - I ALMOST posted this without realizing my word-processor had auto-corrected every single 'Poppy' to Poopy. That was close!
As always, thanks for reading and reviewing!
~Naralanis
Narcissa had barely slept a wink the night before the first day of the new semester. Something, an odd feeling, had gnawed at her very core for most of the night, taking her mind into twists and turns she would much rather no go through.
She had to be imagining the way Hermione looked at her. It had to be – there was no other possible explanation. She was a Black, and a Malfoy at one point – she would have never survived without an impeccable skill for seeing through the gaze. Druella's lessons were quite hard to forget; there was practically no need to read one's mind when most displayed their intentions so clearly in their gaze.
She had always used it to her advantage. Narcissa knew others found her beautiful and desirable; she used that desire, so evident in their eyes, to her advantage many a time. It was just like any good Slytherin would, particularly one relentlessly trained by Druella Black.
Given all her experience, not noticing Hermione's gaze would be a grievous error, a fatal miscalculation in judgement. She had seen through the gazes of many, and the brunette should not be any different.
Therefore, she thought it safe to assume it had been a fluke, a trick played by a tired, cruel mind. There was no earthly reason for the brunette to direct that kind of gaze toward her – Hermione had no reason to even be friendly with someone like Narcissa. Anything more was categorically out of the question, she thought as the memory of Hermione's screams echoing through the darkened halls of Malfoy Manor resounded in her mind.
Like any good Slytherin would, Narcissa had to bide her time. Like any good Slytherin, she would wait and analyse before acting. It was probably nothing; nothing more than admiration from someone who was naturally curious – and Narcissa was very much aware she was quite an enigma to Hermione. She was a puzzle, and if sating Hermione's natural curiosity was all it took for that admiration to fade into normalcy, then she would gladly do it.
Because the alternative, truly, was too preposterous to consider; even if merely considering it kept her awake at night.
The castle was once again bustling with the energy of students. They returned from the holiday in excited throngs, eager to recount their time away from the castle to friends, and not so eager to return to their rigid study schedule. The four Heads of Houses stood at the great entrance of the castle, directing the flow of students to the Great Hall, giving the eye to whoever seemed to be thinking about playing hooky this early into the new semester.
It was chaotic, but Hermione loved it. No matter whether it was for the start of term or in return from a holiday, it always filled her with joy to see the castle begin to fill again with the excited chatter of students. It was something she would never get tired of.
The two spotted William White, walking alongside his friend Spencer with a heavy cast that went from shoulder to wrist on his left arm and a big smile on his face. He waved to the professors as he walked in.
"Bit of a holiday accident, Mr. White?" Narcissa inquired; Hermione could tell she was incredibly curious about the white cast that William rested on a sling. Wizarding medicine had never had much need for fully immobilizing casts – there were all kinds of spells for that sort of thing.
"Yeah" he said, cheeks reddening. "Had a little fall. It should come off in three weeks; I suppose I'll have to ask Madam Pomfrey to remove it for me. I'll just have to get used to writing with my right hand in the meantime."
Hermione almost laughed at Narcissa's look of surprise. While magically-induced breaks could be tricky to heal, the Pure-Blooded witch obviously had never waited that long to mend a naturally occurring fracture.
"Three weeks? No, that won't do at all. Go to the Infirmary after dinner; Madam Pomfrey shall fix it much quicker." She had declared, and William smiled widely.
Dinner went smoothly. Narcissa seemed to be more talkative than normal, but that was something Hermione greatly appreciated. It seemed whatever layer of awkwardness they usually waded through in their conversations had melted away; in fact, the blonde seemed almost chipper.
"I am certainly not looking forward to all the tests I'll have to administer" she had said at one point with an exasperated look.
"Oh? How so?" Hermione asked, after properly chewing her chicken pot pie so as to not make an unintentional impression of Ron Weasley. Narcissa had often aired her grievances over some students she believed should not have been accepted into NEWT-Level Potions; apparently there were many such students, doubtlessly recruited by Horace due to their prestigious names.
"I've received several letters from concerned parents. They were mostly poorly disguised attempts to bribe me – financially – for passing grades. I suppose I'm derailing the career plans of several of my students, but passing them as they are is simply unacceptable."
Hermione had to say she appreciated the blonde's unwavering position on the matter. She also wanted to laugh a bit at anyone trying to bribe Narcissa Black. The woman probably had more money than she knew what to do with.
"Maybe take it up with Minerva? Bribery is heavily frowned upon generally, but the School Council of Governors would certainly like to hear of it. Parents must be discouraged from pursuing that course of action" she said. Having parents trying to influence their children's grades by bribing school officials was never a good sign – though she chose to refrain to comment on how Lucius did it quite often for Draco. Not that he had needed it – once they began to work together, Hermione came to realize Draco had been quite a talented student.
Narcissa had waved her off gently. "It's no matter. I can handle some spoiled students and their equally spoiled parents," she said with a beaming grin. "It is, after all, my area of expertise!"
"But enough about my exasperating students. Have you got anything interesting planned for the semester?"
Hermione merely shrugged. "Oh, not quite. We'll have a lot more practical lessons, especially with my first years – they spend quite a lot of time learning the theories behind Transfiguration. It's time to raise the stakes a bit" she joked. "Otherwise... Oh, Professor Krum and I will finally begin planning the return of the duelling club!" She said. They had put the idea on the backburner for a while, but Victor wanted to have it up and running by the next year. He thought of holding try-outs before the year was out, perhaps creating a few workshops during the summer.
"Oh, that is a wonderful idea!" Narcissa commented. "I hear you were quite the duellist yourself – Draco told me all about your multiple awards."
Hermione couldn't help but preen a little at the praise. "Well... I'm not half bad." She said modestly. Narcissa laughed.
"I can think of a few international titles that would say you're much more than 'not half bad'. I was never too good at duelling myself." She commented.
"Oh?" Hermione could not help but question it. Weren't Pure-Bloods proud of the entire... etiquette and ritual of duelling?
"Oh, not at all. Neither was Andy. Bellatrix, however, won the Hogwarts Duelling Championship four years in a row – a school record."
Hermione suppressed a shiver – not the good kind – but her curiosity was simply too strong. "Four years? But that means she was in the club at least since her third?" She said, doing the math in her head. The mere idea of a thirteen-year-old Bellatrix besting much older, more experienced students made her stomach turn rather unpleasantly. What could the Order have done with such talent?
Narcissa nodded. "She joined in her second year, despite our mother's protestations. Druella found duelling to be unladylike, but Bellatrix simply responded she'd never be a lady."
Hermione could spare a chuckle to that. No lady indeed. More like a murderous machine, though she tactfully chose not to say that.
"Bella and Lucius did try to teach me the basics, but I'm afraid I never had much talent for it."
"Was Lucius in the duelling club as well?"
Narcissa nodded. "Only for a while. He eventually was made Quidditch Captain and decided to focus on that."
Hermione's brows raised. She knew Draco had been a Quidditch fanatic, but she had never known Lucius was on the team. Perhaps she ought to take a closer look at the Trophy Room – she had to say Harry and Ron were a lot more familiar with it than she was, due to so many detentions served polishing trophies sans magic. Plus, she had never been one for Quidditch.
"How about you? Were you a Quidditch fan?"
Narcissa let out a rather inelegant snort of laughter, which made her mortified. "Heavens, no!" She said, composing herself. "I enjoy flying, but the game is far too violent for me. However..." She continued, looking embarrassed, almost like a child admitting to some wrongdoing "I studied the game quite comprehensively... I wanted to impress Lucius."
Hermione smiled. "We'll, you're dedicated, at least! I never made that effort when Ron and I dated. I just find it so... boring." She admitted.
Narcissa nodded her agreement. "It can be. But you don't fly at all, then?"
Hermione shook her head a little more emphatically than she intended, her curls whipping wildly in the air around her. "No! I'd much rather ride a Thestral – brooms terrify me. I've even ridden a Hippogriff, and that was preferable to a broom."
Narcissa looked exactly like Hermione expected – completely baffled by her preference of Thestrals and Hippogriffs over brooms, but it was something the brunette would forever and always stand by. She waited for Narcissa to school her features again.
"Merlin." She turned a curious look toward Hermione. "How in Merlin's name did you find an opportunity to ride a Hippogriff?"
Hermione had to laugh. "Funny story," she said, her eyes glimmering with mirth. "Part of it actually involves Draco being a prat."
It had been a busy return to the school schedule – the Welcome feast had progressed normally, but the student buzz over the holidays would take some time to die down. Narcissa had already twice intervened when overly-eager students decided to release Dung Bombs in one of the corridors – unfortunately she had already seen the need to dole out detentions. Additionally, Slytherin and Hufflepuff were beginning the semester with points taken off.
She had been preparing her lectures for the following day, elbows-deep in piles of parchment, when she was interrupted by a decisive set of knocks to her door. She glanced at the clock she kept in her office – it was much too late for a student to come seeking assistance.
"Come in" she beckoned, willing the door to open with a simple motion of her wrist. She was surprised to see Madam Pomfrey standing before her, still dressed for work.
"Madam Pomfrey? How may I help you?" She said, confused as to why the Matron needed to speak to her personally this late.
"Oh, please call me Poppy, Narcissa. I feel much too old when you call me 'Madam,' it's like you're still a student." Poppy said, waving away the pleasantries; Narcissa blushed.
"My apologies, Poppy. Please, take a seat." Narcissa said, wandlessly beckoning one of her chairs.
"Thank you." The nurse said kindly, seating herself with a tired grunt. She didn't speak for several moments, seemingly distracted while looking at Narcissa's private office.
"How may I be of assistance?" Narcissa prompted after waiting in vain for Poppy to speak.
"You've come very far, Narcissa." The matron said suddenly, startling the blonde. She was sure Poppy hadn't come to her to talk about her accomplishments. "We're all very proud of you."
Narcissa's cheeks reddened a bit, though she did not want to ask precisely who 'we' were. She took it as the compliment she knew Poppy had meant it as.
"Thank you, Poppy." she said kindly. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
"Not exactly" Poppy finally said, wringing her hands uncomfortably. "This is a sensitive matter, I think. I thought it best to bring it up with you since you're Slytherin's Head of House, but I will go to Minerva after this, just in case."
Pomfrey's hesitant tone worried Narcissa at once. "Has something happened?" She asked, discarding the quill she had been writing it, her eyes wide in alert. Poppy looked at her with strong uneasiness in her eyes.
"Yes. Well, maybe – I don't quite know" she whispered in deep uncertainty. "I only know what I saw." She sighed. "It regards William White."
Narcissa was on high alert at once. "What about him?"
Poppy's shoulders stiffened. "You sent him to me to remove that... that Muggle contraption on his arm, right?"
"Yes; he told him he'd have to keep it on for three weeks. I just thought the thing to be too cumbersome, so I sent him to you so he could get it fixed a little sooner." Narcissa recounted. "Is something the matter with his arm?"
The matron nodded rapidly. "Yes. But not just his arm... Narcissa, I... I don't even quite know how to say it." Poppy took several deep breaths. "I suppose I'll start from the beginning. He came to me, and I used a mild slicing charm to cut that blasted thing off – it was hard as rock. I don't know how Muggles manage" she said, going off on a tangent before catching herself. "In any case... He had to remove his shirt for me to get it all – the blasted thing went all the way up to his shoulder."
Another breath, and then Pomfrey directed her gaze to meet Narcissa's head on. "Narcissa, the boy is covered in bruises."
Narcissa's hands stiffened over her table-top; the colour drained from her face. She hoped, she very dearly hoped Poppy was wrong in her assumption.
"He told me he had a fall." She said weakly before shaking her head. "I don't suppose he'd openly advertise the alternative."
"Narcissa, that's not all." Poppy interrupted. "He had bruised ribs. And when I ran a simple diagnostic charm, it showed bruising of the bone on his shins. And" Poppy swallowed. "His arm? It was like it had been pulled from its socket."
Narcissa drew a sharp breath. The weight of the reality of William's situation came crashing down upon her shoulders – what could she do? She was no stranger to heavy-handed parents. While Cygnus had never raised a hand to any of his daughters, Druella hadn't been as kind, particularly to her. Additionally, she remembered the marks upon her cousin's body, courtesy of her Uncle Orion, clear as crystal.
As a child, she had assumed all families operated similarly. After all, physical punishment was doled out in the name of discipline. What were a few slaps from her mother, if they made her a well-adjusted young witch with flawless manners?
And then, when she got to Hogwarts, she realized that wasn't truly the case. Lucius had been baffled when she recounted her family's disciplinary measures – his parents had always adored him and had never dare raise a hand towards him. With that in mind, she chose to adopt the same approach in their upbringing of Draco. She remembered looking at that lovely child she and Lucius had brought into the world, and could not even bear the thought of bringing him any harm – not even in the name of discipline.
"Narcissa?" Poppy said shyly, interrupting Narcissa's thoughts. The blonde brought herself back to the present, where the ominous truth of William White's situation hung heavy in the air. Something had to be done.
"Go to Minerva. I will speak to her myself; but first, I must speak to William." She said, standing up in a moment of decisiveness.
"Do you think that's wise?" Poppy asked, sceptical and uncertain.
"I don't know." Narcissa said, walking out the door and leaving Poppy to dwell in her uncertainty.
She had resolutely stalked to the dungeons, making her way to the Slytherin Common Room in a bout of decisiveness.
Narcissa's breath was heavy as she reached the bare stretch of stone wall in the Dungeons, the entrance to her childhood Common Room. The password – "evergreen" – was on the tip of her tongue, but the rush of a memory stopped her from uttering it at the last possible second.
"How bad is it?"
"None of your business. Get out."
She frowned deeply. "Idiot, I just want to know so I can help you. Merlin knows you've got no one at Grimmauld."
"I don't need your sodding help, Narcissa. Get away from me!" Sirius hissed, his eyes teary and his jaw rigid. He had balled his hands into fists at his sides, but Narcissa had cornered him in an empty classroom.
Her gaze softened. "At least go to Madam Pomfrey." She didn't very much like her cousin – the feeling was entirely mutual on his part – but she had recognized his stiff steps and constricted movements the moment they had descended the train. Orion's beatings were legendary, and Sirius, his father's eternal disappointment, took the heavy brunt of his wrath.
"No." He said angrily. "This is family business, I'm not bringing a stranger into it." He scoffed adamantly.
"I'm family. Let. Me. Help. You." She bit back, exasperated as he continuously tested her patience.
Sirius sat upon a desk, his look defeated and suspicious at the same time.
"Why?" He asked after long moments of silent, angry contemplation. "You hate my guts."
"You're not terribly fond of me either" She quipped, drawing nearer. "But Bella's graduated. Drommie is gone." Her look turned sad. "You and Regulus are all I have here. Despite everything, we're still family."
At any other point in time, Narcissa would take the opportunity to make fun of the tears running down Sirius' face, or the quiet sobs he tried so desperately hard to suppress in his chest. She'd call him weak, a coward, or worse – such were their usual exchanges. But now, she knew not to; not when the physically imposing, strong young man her cousin had become was reduced to a mere lost child before her very eyes.
She took another step in his direction, taking a round tin from within her robes. Sirius glanced at her suspiciously; she opened it to show him the contents: a brownish-purple, thick paste.
"Bruise Removal Paste, which I have adapted to include a rather powerful Numbing Ointment." She explained. "It won't fix it, not really, but it'll make it stop hurting." She said, almost in question. Sirius took a moment to further examine the paste, then nodded in defeat, or perhaps resignation.
"Fine." He muttered.
Narcissa stepped to face him directly, taking a healthy amount of the purplish paste in her fingers. "Open your shirt?" she asked politely.
Sirius did so reluctantly, and Narcissa tried to be as tactful as possible considering the situation. She was even mindful enough to supress a strong, sudden gasp of surprise at the varying shades of black and blue that mottled his pale skin.
Her cousin hissed in pain as she slowly applied the ointment to a particularly bad bruise. "Sorry" she whispered, because what else could she possibly say? She kept at her task, methodically covering his chest in the paste. Some of the lighter bruises had already begun to yellow, and she could tell the Numbing solution was also working as Sirius stiffness slowly melted away.
"Merlin, that's better." He finally conceded with a groan. "What's that smell?" he asked with a curious sniff. Narcissa smiled.
"Eucalyptus" she said. Looking at her handiwork, she asked "Are there any on your back?"
Sirius nodded, removing his school shirt completely and turning around. Narcissa dutifully set to applying her solution.
"I'll give you a tin of this – very useful for Quidditch injuries as well." She said, uncomfortable with their silence and proximity, yet trying to keep conversation as light as possible.
"Powerful stuff" Sirius muttered, slightly bent over the desk so as to give his cousin better access to the ugly bruising on his back. "It's actually great. Did you make it yourself?"
Narcissa nodded, then realized Sirius couldn't see her, so she hummed her confirmation instead. He nodded back in impressed acknowledgement.
They fell into silence again, despite the awkwardness. It was a long time – Narcissa was almost done with his back – until Sirius spoke again.
"I hate them. I hate them both, but I hate him most of all." He said to the dark nothingness of the empty classroom, evidently uncaring that Narcissa could hear him. She felt no need to ask him to elaborate.
Narcissa sighed, wanting to project sympathy, not pity. "Two more years" she said soothingly. "Two summers – then you'll be of age and you'll do what you want."
Sirius' shoulders drooped. "I don't think I can wait that long." He whispered grimly. Narcissa couldn't think of anything to say to that.
"There" she said instead, "all done. Though I suppose it's better if you wait for it to dry before putting your shirt back on, or it'll be ruined."
Sirius nodded, turning to stare blankly at his cousin. "Thank you" he said finally. Narcissa acknowledged him with a stiff smile. "I know you hate me, but truly, Narcissa, thank you."
"I don't hate you" she said. "I just don't like you very much. We're still family." She said. Sirius laughed darkly.
"I wonder for how long." He muttered ominously.
Narcissa's mind whirled back to the present, drowning out the password to the Slytherin Common Room. She had never understood what her cousin had meant, not until the next summer, when Sirius ran off to live with the Potters, earning himself a blackened spot on the Black Family Tapestry.
She remembered clearly how his pride – and his shame – prevented him from speaking about how Orion disciplined him. In truth, she very much doubted his closest friends even knew.
She wondered how she could possibly approach the subject with William White. While with Sirius she had just seen it as discipline, now she knew better – it was abuse. What she was at a loss for was how to proceed – were Muggle families harsher in their discipline?
She then remembered Hermione's photo album, and her tales of childhood. No, that was not the case.
An enormous amount of frustration settled deep in her chest. William would not want to speak about it – that much was certain, if her experiences with Sirius were any indication. How could she possibly intervene, when as far as she knew, the school had absolutely no jurisdiction in the matter?
Narcissa could think of only one person who could help her.
"Coming!" Hermione yelled, clumsily spelling her hair dry as she stepped out of the shower to answer the incessant knocks to her chambers' doors. Her pyjamas clung to her body uncomfortably, as she had scarcely been able to dry herself. Her brown locks stuck out in all directions – an unfortunate side effect of the Drying Charm – as she hurriedly scurried to the door.
She was surprised to find a breathless Narcissa waiting outside, her cheeks rosy, but her eyes wide. Had she run there?
"Good evening" Narcissa gasped out, sounding as breathless as she looked. "I was wondering it if I could trouble you with a few questions."
Hermione opened her door, motioning for Narcissa to come in while eyeing the blonde quizzically.
"Uh, of course. Please take a seat. Would you like some tea?"
Narcissa waved her off, taking a few seconds to catch her breath and regain her composure as she gingerly lowered herself onto one of Hermione's plush chairs.
"You look frazzled, Narcissa – is everything alright?" Hermione questioned, worried to see the normally composed Potions Professor so agitated. Narcissa sighed heavily, as if looking for the right words – that worried Hermione even more.
"I... It concerns William White. I need your help." She said simply. Hermione was more puzzled than ever.
"William White? What about him? Has something happened?"
Narcissa shook her head in the affirmative. "I sent him to Poppy to remove that dreadful thing on his arm. When she examined him... She found bruises – several of them. Bruised bones in his shins, bruised ribs. She also said that the injury to his arm was... was inconsistent with a fall as he described it; it was as if it had been pulled out from its socket."
Hermione's face immediately blanched. She took a seat herself; Narcissa could already tell the wheels in her head were turning madly in search of a solution.
"Have you spoken to Minerva about this?"
"Poppy has." Narcissa said. "I was going to speak to William about it but... but something stopped me. I came here as soon as I could."
Hermione nodded. "Not speaking to him was probably a good call." She took a moment to ponder. "This is very serious. We need to speak to Minerva immediately."
Narcissa had barely any time to nod – Hermione jumped to her feet and took her by the hand, sending an electrifying shock up her arm and into her chest as she pulled Narcissa with her, taking off into the corridors.
Hermione only released her hand once they had practically sprinted over the Headmistress' Office – the rotating gargoyle had not even requested a password for their admittance – it was quite clear Minerva was expecting them.
Narcissa's heart beat wildly in her chest – she had never had to run in her life – and Hermione huffed and puffed next to her, though the glimmer in the brunette's eyes was one of sheer determination. They stepped off the rotating staircase to be greeted by Minerva, who sat in her desk in her nightly tartan.
"Ms. Black, Ms. Granger. Thank you for coming." She called. Poppy sat at one of the chairs facing the Headmistress.
"Poppy has filled me in on her findings" Minerva continued, motioning for the newest arrivals to take a seat.
"Minerva, we must do something and we must do it now" Hermione said, not wasting any time with pleasantries. "I don't need to remind you of Harry." She said severely.
"What does Mr. Potter have to do with this?" Narcissa couldn't help but ask, utterly confused. Minerva sighed, buckling under the pressure of Hermione's gaze.
"Mr. Potter was in less-than-ideal living arrangements for much of his schooling years." Minerva said, looking guilty.
"Not just his schooling years. He lived with the Dursleys for eleven years before he even came to Hogwarts."
Narcissa looked more confused than ever. "I'm sorry, I don't follow. Who are the Dursleys?"
Hermione straightened stiffly in her seat. "They were his only living relatives – his Aunt Petunia Dursley was Lily Evans' sister" she clarified, her eyes angry. "They treated him horribly – stuck him in a broom closet for a bedroom, didn't feed him. They were monsters, and The Boy Who Lived should not have had to live in such conditions – no child should have to, for that matter." She finished emphatically, sending a glare Minerva's way.
The Headmistress looked like she was about to interject, when suddenly a voice interrupted from the other side of the room.
"In Professor McGonagall's defence, Ms. Granger, Minerva was staunchly against Harry's placement at the Dursley's. It was on my insistence." Came the soft tones of Albus Dumbledore's portrait.
Narcissa was surprised to see him speak – every time she had been in the office, he had been fast asleep like the rest of the Headmasters immortalized in portraits. Hermione turned to the late Headmaster, looking both sheepish and bitter somehow.
"It was inexcusable, Professor, with all due respect." She said.
"It was not the best of conditions – they were truly terribly" Dumbledore agreed with a solemn nod, peering at the witches over the rims of his half-moon spectacles. "But it was the safest he could have been."
Narcissa could tell Hermione was very nearly fuming, and was preparing a strong retort – she grounded the brunette with a dainty hand to her shoulder, which immediately calmed her down. Dumbledore smiled brightly, as if just noticing her there.
"Ah, Ms. Black. How lovely to see you. How are you finding your post?" he asked. Narcissa raised a quizzical brow.
"It... It is good, Professor" she said shamefully, without any strength to face the man her son had been tasked to kill, even if he was merely a portrait.
"Shall we remain focused?" Minerva called out mercifully. "I'm aware we have a problem at hand. However, we must be careful not to go about this the wrong way."
"Well-put, Minerva." Dumbledore called from his portrait. Narcissa called a glimpse of Hermione rolling her eyes.
"First things first: is William in any immediate danger, Poppy? How are his injuries?"
Poppy sighed. "None of them were magically inflicted. He'll be good as new tomorrow."
Minerva nodded. "That's very good. Now" she looked intently at Narcissa and Hermione. "Assuming William was hurt in his home, we can perhaps assume he is in no such danger while he is in the castle. However, Narcissa, I suggest you keep a close eye on him – see if there is anything in his behaviours that warrants our attention."
Narcissa nodded, though she looked unsure.
"I'm sorry, but are we ignoring the fact that this kid had bruised bones and his arm was pulled out from its socket?!" Hermione hissed, exasperated. "We must send the authorities to his parents' home – we need a full investigation!"
Minerva looked at Hermione, her eyes sad. "All we have at the moment is conjecture, Ms. Granger. The school has no real jurisdiction in this matter. Additionally, Mr. White's parents being both Muggles further complicates things. Without him there, Magical Law Enforcement – or even Magical Social Services – cannot be there.
"How is such a thing possible?" Narcissa asked, because she had never truly considered how Magical Laws would apply to Muggle parents. She had naively assumed they would be considered a magical family unit due to any magical children.
Minerva seemed to inwardly cringe. "As long as there isn't a witch of wizard in a dwelling, it cannot be considered a magical one. The Statute of Secrecy, as well as several other laws, prohibit us from intervening in such a home unless there is an immediate magical threat to its occupants."
Narcissa felt Hermione's shoulder stiffen angrily. "So we do nothing? Is that it?"
"I did not say that, Ms. Granger. We cannot send Wizarding Law Enforcement to directly investigate Mr. White's home or to interrogate his parents. What we can do – and that would be my suggestion – is set up surveillance there for a while. We should also petition Wizarding Social Services –WiSer – to set up such surveillance when Mr. White returns home for summer."
Hermione gripped the arms of her chair. "So we'll send him back at the end of term? Like Harry was sent back to the Dursleys, year after year?"
Minerva looked ashamed. "It's the best we can do, Ms. Granger. This school has no jurisdiction over Mr. White outside of the school year. We can't simply remove him from his family."
Narcissa felt the ripple of frustration coursing through Hermione's body; she subconsciously tightened her hold onto the brunette's shoulder.
"Can we not arrange alternative accommodation for him during the summers?" Narcissa asked. There had to be a way to remove William from the care of abusive parents.
"Again, Ms. Black, we have no jurisdiction. Additionally, Mr. White is still underage – we would need a guardian's approval to change his living arrangements."
Hermione scoffed. "How about Wizarding Social Services? Can they remove him from the house?"
"With enough proof, we could certainly petition for it. However, it would be highly unlikely. WiSer do not remove children from their parents' care lightly – especially if they are Muggles. They might have them go through a re-education program; however, since they are not Magical folk, it is within their rights to refuse."
"So, in short, we can do nothing." Hermione declared, supremely unhappy.
Minerva sighed, defeated. "We can bide our time, Ms. Granger."
Narcissa walked a truly unhappy Hermione back to her private quarters – she sensed the brunette needed someone to vent her frustrations to. And vent she did, airing her multiple grievances of the exasperating, old-fashioned bureaucracy that ruled the Wizarding World and its interactions with Muggles.
Sadly, Narcissa felt she had nothing to contribute. She hadn't realized how ignorant she was in such things until now; the idea of not being able to intervene for William until it was potentially too late filled her with sorrow.
"I'm writing to Harry at once; maybe he can pull some strings in the Ministry and at least have someone competent from the DMLE do the surveillance at the house as opposed to some pencil-pusher at WiSer." Hermione declared at a certain point, filled with righteous anger at the situation.
"I wish there was more we could do." Narcissa said truthfully. Hermione turned to look at her.
"We must keep an eye on him. I can't imagine how long he has lived like that – something tells me this is not new" The brunette said sadly. "We have to make sure William is well-cared for. Harry had horrible issues."
Narcissa looked at Hermione intently. "I had no idea Mr. Potter's relatives were so..." she struggled to find words.
"They were horrible, horrible people. I mean, his cousin eventually came around, but his uncle and aunt were... They wanted nothing to do with magic, and punished Harry terrible for it. I can't help but fear William's situation is similar."
Narcissa could not supress a shiver. The magic-hating Muggle was much too close to her family's warped rhetoric for comfort, and she could tell Hermione understood it immediately.
Hermione returned Narcissa's intense gaze. "We need to keep an eye on him." She left a silent question to hang in the air, hoping that Narcissa would be able to capture it without the need for words to explain it.
She was not disappointed. "I would truly appreciate your help in this matter, Hermione."
Hermione smiled, albeit a little sadly.
"You have it."
