Merit and Inheritance
Chapter Twenty-six
Farewell, Mother Livia
Harry was getting a lot of satisfaction out of running his business. Neville Longbottom was a valued partner, with skills and interests that complemented Harry's. Each trusted the other's judgment in his area of expertise, leading to a natural, comfortable-feeling division of labor.
The new building got updated apartments first. The tenants seemed pleased, and the modest rent increases didn't appear to be giving anyone heartburn. The ground floor was updated, although the work was incomplete. Harry, Mort and Daisy could only take the improvements so far. The finish work would require a plan for a specific kind of business. An office would take them one way, a café would take them another.
Harry asked Pansy and Neville to put the word out that a newly-renovated space in a good building was coming onto the market. Harry reminded himself the muggles had a saying: Think Outside the Box. He resolved to do so.
Pansy sent an owl with a note to Morag once a week. Morag usually responded right away. Pansy didn't pry, although she did ask Morag to tell Livia she sent her love. It had been more than a month, closer to six weeks since they had delivered the loaf of bread, when Morag's return note stated simply that Pansy might want to come soon if she wanted to see Livia again.
Pansy went the next day. This time she didn't hold with ceremony and stop at the stile, going instead straight to climbing over and walking up to the door.
She gave it two solid knocks, calling out, "Morag? It's Pansy."
Pansy was well north of Hadrian's Wall and the day had a definite autumnal feel.
"Come on in," said Morag as soon as she opened the door.
Pansy looked around the kitchen and eating area. The plank table stood in the center. Pansy couldn't help remembering Morag's improvised examination of Romilda just a few weeks before.
"Mother?" Morag called out from the doorway. Livia said something that Pansy heard but couldn't understand.
Morag waved Pansy over.
"Look who's here," Morag said. "Pansy came to see you."
Pansy felt a little shock when she first looked at Livia. The old but still bright and alert witch had shrunk into herself in the intervening weeks since Pansy last visited. Still, Livia managed a smile across one side of her face. She breathed in, the effort to get the extra air necessary for speech was visible, and the words that came out were so soft.
"Pans," said Livia, raising her one functioning arm. "Pans."
Pansy knelt by Livia's bedside and placed her near arm carefully over the old witch.
"Bless Pans," said Livia. She took her time and managed a very understandable, "Thank-you, came to see, old, old witch."
With that she was winded. Livia closed her eyes. Pansy knew she hadn't drifted off to sleep because Livia's arm was around Pansy's shoulder and it rubbed a little, back and forth. Pansy slowly and carefully extracted herself, putting Livia's arm on the blanket. She got up from her knees and took a seat on the chair next to the bed, making sure she was close enough to pick up Livia's hand.
Morag had gone out at some point, which Pansy hadn't noticed, and she returned with a cup and saucer.
"Tea?" Morag asked. "Let's see."
Morag moved a little occasional table over from a corner and put the tea down for Pansy, before carefully picking a spot at the foot of Livia's bed and sitting down.
"She hasn't been able to swallow since day before yesterday," Morag said. "That is pretty definitive. Then today she brightened up and asked about you. I'm imposing on you, Pansy, I know that. I can't do any more. I thought, if Pansy can come, say good-bye…It's my last chance to do for her."
"Oh, Morag," said Pansy, "Oh, of course, of course, of course. Thank-you for sending for me. Just that fast?"
"Yes," Morag said, her voice low, just for Pansy. As she spoke, Morag watched her mother's face.
"That is a fairly typical course. When humans get to a certain point something takes over and the individual kind of drops the reins. It's the same for muggles. If that sounds mystical it's because it is. What do you think of that, coming from a healer? I don't have an explanation. The whole process is miraculous, it seems to me. No pain or violence, no wasting disease, just the old body saying good-bye and the other going on."
Livia got a little blurry for Pansy, who had to sniff, but just once.
The two witches sat like that, watching their charge. Livia squeezed Pany's hand now and then. As Livia's grip on Pansy's fingers loosened her breath began to rattle, then it stopped for short periods before starting again. The daylight from outside grew dimmer. Pansy could see the sky turn to cobalt, then violet. Morag lit a single candle that stood in a short pewter candlestick set atop a battered wooden dresser. She dabbed at the corners of Livia's mouth with a tissue, then sat back down again at the foot of Livia's bed. Pansy continued to hold Livia's hand even after it was plain from the lack of pressure that Livia was no longer holding onto Pansy. Livia's breathing stopped for longer and longer periods, then Livia gave a little shudder. Her jaw dropped slightly. Livia's arm slackened completely.
Pansy looked at her friend, whose face was lit only on the one side, by the candle on the dresser.
"Morag," Pansy said. "Morag."
A shiny track down Morag's cheek showed the path a tear had taken. Pansy slid onto the edge of Livia's bed, being careful to avoid the old witch's feet, and wrapped her arms around Morag. Neither was ever very sure how long they sat there, just like that, Morag letting Pansy rock her a bit, now and then. The candle burned very low. Outside it was full dark.
"Well," Morag said at last. She extracted herself from Pansy and stood up.
"I'll need to let the others know," she said. "I doubt if they can come. They are so old."
Something in that short sentence made Morag start laughing at herself.
"Oh, Mother Livia," Morag said. Pansy thought she sounded mildly giddy. "You had a good, long run, didn't you?"
Pansy took a last look at the old lady's angelic face and lifted the sheet, placed Livia's arm next to her and pulled the sheet up and over.
"Funeral plans? Last requests?" Pansy asked.
"No," said Morag. "When we talked about it, two or three years back, Mum said, 'That would be presumptuous of me, now, wouldn't it?' We dropped it and never took it up again. There is a little church about two miles away. She and Dad used to attend, when they were fit. Everyone from their time is long gone, of course. There is a very understanding young minister there now. If I let him know the sexton will dig the grave and we can have a few moments there with her. I honestly think she might have thought, in life, by doing that little bit I was foisting something showy on her."
"Fine," said Pansy. "How about someone to help you? You really shouldn't be the one…"
Pansy gestured toward the bed.
Morag caught her breath and nodded.
"Let me send some notes," she said.
"Will you let me bring Harry?" Pansy asked.
Morag was on the verge of shouting NO when she caught herself.
"Oh, why not?" she said. "He's an incorrigible goody-goody. Might as well put him to use."
Pansy took her leave and returned to London. She found Harry and Daphne at the office, locked in an inconclusive discussion of whether they wanted to go someplace for a meal. Harry's do-gooder mind was spinning by the time Pansy finished her synopsis of how she'd spent the better part of the day. When Pansy returned to Morag's cottage, she brought Daphne, who refused to let Pansy go back alone.
Next morning at seven, Harry appeared in the lane with Neville Longbottom and Blaise Zabini. He led the way over the stile and walked up to knock on Morag's door. A whitehaired man who looked to be eighty or thereabouts opened the door and stood there looking, first at Harry, then Blaise, then Neville.
"Aye?" he said.
"It's okay, Angus, he's with me," said a female voice from inside.
"Oh, that's fine then, darlin,'" said Angus, his face turning radiant as he stepped back.
Daphne looked around the jamb.
"Well, come on in, then," she said. "How was your trip?"
"Ah, we came by apparition, so…," said Harry, confused by the cosmology behind the question.
Once inside, the newly-arrived were taken around the cottage to meet the guests, most of whom were quite ancient. Livia MacDougal was unusual only because she was over toward the right side of the magical longevity Bell Curve. The group's center was also well to the right of the standard British magical's expected shelf life.
Harry looked around the cottage. The plank table was full of food, except for one end that was covered by every kind of bottle and jar, most of them lacking a label describing the contents. Judging by the supply of mugs, cups and glasses in a metal basin near the window the guests hadn't been worried that the unknown contents posed any danger. Harry wondered how long the paying of respects had gone on, or if they'd begun and never stopped.
"Harry," said a voice. "Neville. Blaise."
"Pansy!" they all answered, together.
"What can we do?" Blaise asked.
"Harry met Livia," said Pansy. "Did either of you?"
"I did," said Blaise.
"No, never did," said Neville. "Gran knew her."
"Well, she's in her room," said Pansy. "If you want to say good-bye. Some witches will be handling arrangements. They'll be here this morning, then tomorrow there will be a little memorial and burial in a churchyard not far from here."
"How's Morag?" asked Harry.
"Doing well," Pansy answered. "It was hard last night, of course. She has built her life around Livia, especially the last two or three years. Now the organizing principle is gone. Why don't we go see her? I think she'd like that."
Morag did like it. Her classmates found her in Livia's room. The wizards stood silently, paying their respects to an ancient witch who had completed her race. When they'd finished, a round of hugs and condolences got Morag out of her chair and upright.
"I need a little air," she said. Blaise led the group out into the other room, then Morag showed everyone the way to the back door. Once outside they congregated around the bench beneath the trellis. The morning glories had died and hung, brown and dried out, on the lattice. Neville plucked a few pods and opened them up, dropping the seeds on the ground.
"Oh, much better," said Morag. "What are you all doing here? I told Pansy she could bring Harry back."
"Whatever you want done," said Blaise. "We're entirely at your disposal."
"Oh, that's nice," said Morag. "That's a first, for me. Three fine wizards at my disposal."
One or two more exchanges went by before someone laughed at something someone said. Pansy arrived and told about Livia's Shetland pony, Pansy, which got the human Pansy off to a wonderful start with Livia.
Daphne stepped outside and stopped to assist Angus with the step down to the ground, then walked at his pace out to the group around the bench.
"Everyone, this is my brother, Angus," said Morag. "This is Harry, this is Neville, this is Blaise, Angus. We were all classmates at Hogwarts."
"Ah, Hogwarts," said Angus. "Doubt I could find my way to the Great Hall today."
"Of course you could," said Morag, "It never changes."
"Perhaps I could, with a lovely guide or two," said Angus, putting an arm around Daphne's waist.
When the witches arrived to take charge of Livia the family and friends lined up in respect and waited until the group disapparated with Livia's coffin. There were a few moments while everyone stood, silent, looking back and forth at the faces around them. Pansy and Daphne flanked Morag, arms laced across her back.
Daphne took Morag aside and made a case for going to Glasgow until she was needed at the church the next morning. Morag protested. She needed to clean inside, there was too much work, and so on. Daphne caught Harry's eye and glanced off to the side and back. Harry moved off in accord with Daphne's directions.
"Harry, can you summon Kreacher? Morag is fretting about getting the cottage cleaned up. She shouldn't have to be thinking about that right now," said Daphne.
"I don't know," Harry said. "I've never tried from this distance, but there is one way to find out. Kreacher, I need you."
The elf appeared before Harry and Daphne. A few of the guests took notice but most didn't. Now that Livia was gone the crowd was thinning steadily.
"Kreacher, we need to give some assistance to our friend, Healer Morag," Harry said. "She just lost her mother, who had been living here for many years. The friends and family came to pay their respects and left a bit of a mess."
Daphne thought Harry had handled things perfectly and gave both Harry and Kreacher a very pleased smile.
"We should make introductions," Harry said, nodding toward the bench where Morag sat, Pansy alongside holding Morag's hand.
Morag wasn't used to working with a house elf so she kept getting in the way, trying to do some household task. Once she and Kreacher worked through that initial startup they became very efficient and the cottage was quickly made clean and neat. Morag couldn't stop thanking Kreacher.
"Morag, I know it's too soon to pin you down on plans, but I need to share an idea…," Daphne began.
Harry began soliciting suggestions for a lunch venue as mid-day approached. Daphne had elicited a promise from Morag to consider coming down to London and working for at least a few months. She made her pitch in terms of a chance for Morag to reintegrate with the other healers along with the easy access to advanced healing courses in the city. Around the time Daphne finished with Morag someone suggested getting some lunch at a magical pub in Glasgow.
No one had a better suggestion so the classmates proceeded to Glasgow by apparition. The pub, being magical, had no obligation to put up football photos or trophies. Thus the witches and wizards were relieved of the requirement to either mention or conceal their affinity for Celtic or Rangers.
"This is good," said Neville. He'd just swallowed a bite from his sandwich and was preparing to wash it down with a splash of butterbeer.
"Mm-hmm," Harry said. He'd ordered the same sandwich as Neville.
Blaise didn't say anything as he chewed. He had a good angle on the plate glass window in the streetside wall and was watching the near distance outside, as it did nothing in particular.
"Good chips," said Harry. He had put some brown sauce on his.
"Sauce good?" asked Neville, who was partial to ketchup.
Harry held up the bottle so Neville could see the label of a popular, mass-produced condiment that graced shelf space in every supermarket in Britain.
"Same as the Leaky Cauldron's," Harry said.
"Figures," said Neville.
The witches, Morag, Pansy and Daphne, sat three across on one side of a booth. Harry and Blaise occupied the opposite side. Neville couldn't fit so he was in a chair on the end of the table opposite the wall.
With Livia's arrangements in the competent hands of some local witches, and the cottage cleaned by the hyper-efficient Kreacher, there wasn't any reason for Morag to stay by herself overnight. Daphne suggested Morag return to London where she'd at least have someone to talk to. Neville thought there would be a room at the Leaky Cauldron, if Morag could give him a little time to talk to Hannah.
"Don't worry about it, Neville, really," Pansy said. "I've got space at my flat."
Plans kept evolving. Harry extended an invitation to everyone for dinner at #12 Grimmauld Place. Floo calls went out here and there. The group from Glasgow convened and spread out through #12. There wasn't a lot to do except drink tea or coffee and sit with Morag. Pansy left her side only when one of them needed the powder room.
Seven o'clock found Morag, Pansy, Blaise, Neville, Hannah, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Draco, Astoria and Daphne around the dining table. Kreacher was a near-cyclonic presence, preparing, serving and clearing. Harry spoke to Kreacher in the kitchen beforehand. In recognition of the solemnity of the occasion and out of respect for Madam Livia, Harry asked that Kreacher use the very best of the Black china and silverware. Kreacher swelled with pride.
"Of course, Lord Harry," he said before disapparating to a storage area, whence he brought back crested china and silverware. Harry had seen some of the pieces before, and some he hadn't.
Sirius and Regulus nodded and muttered, "Pleased to meet you," when Harry introduced everyone. They mugged a little at some comments they considered insipid, but overall they were well-behaved. An afternoon with a supportive group of contemporaries was apparently just what Morag needed. She had a few teary moments but there had always been a witch nearby to pick up a hand or lay an arm across her shoulder.
Eventually the group was reduced to Harry, Daphne, Pansy and Morag.
"How are we doing this in the morning?" Harry asked.
"We all know the way," said Pansy. "Why don't we meet at the cottage?"
Morag nodded.
"Done," said Harry. "Do you need anything we have here?"
"I'm pretty well-stocked," said Pansy. "What about something to wear tomorrow?"
Morag was substantially larger, in all her dimensions, than Pansy, and couldn't help laughing.
"Oh, you don't want me borrowing from your closet?" she asked.
"Even with expansion charms…No," said Pansy.
"I'm good," said Morag. "There are a few things at Livia's. I can get dressed there."
Conversation wound down and the pair took the floo from #12 Grimmauld Place. Harry looked at Daphne.
"Want to stay? We didn't get around to talking about that," said Harry.
"I think not," Daphne answered. "I can't go tomorrow. Work. You'll represent the two of us. It's best if I go home. Harry, this has been quite a day. Thank-you for including me."
Harry looked at Daphne. She looked back.
"We've been doing a good deal of including," Harry said.
"We have," Daphne agreed.
"I've been enjoying it," Harry announced.
"I'm glad, because I've enjoyed it very much," said Daphne. "Do you want to keep going?"
"Yes," Harry said. "If you have to ask, I'll make more of an effort to communicate."
"Oh, communication," said Daphne. She stepped closer, pulling Harry to her. "Even if one's wizard doesn't communicate, it is almost as good hearing him say he wants to do more. His heart is in the right place."
Harry listened, doing his best to parse Daphne's commentary, finally deciding he had done something right, in her estimation. He resolved to communicate his desire for communication on a more regular basis.
"Well, then," Harry said, leaning back enough to be able to see Daphne's face. He leaned forward and kissed Daphne's lips. When they pulled apart Harry didn't let go, instead putting his head next to Daphne's while he continued to hug her.
"You were wonderful today, with Morag," he said. "I heard you fussing over her, trying to recruit her. I wished I'd had some humanitarian award in my pocket to give to you, right there in front of everyone."
"Ha," said Daphne. "It was equal parts self-dealing. We need the help. I'm seeing patients in the office tomorrow and working emergency from three to eleven."
"You were the hostess for dinner, too," Harry said. "I was watching you, keeping an eye on the food, sending Kreacher for another pitcher of water for the table. You just did it. I know I need help with those kinds of things."
"I'm happy to do it, Harry," said Daphne. "I like doing it, I like doing it for you and your guests and I really like hearing you say that you noticed."
"We need to talk some things over," Harry said.
"We do," said Daphne. "And we will. There's no rush, is there? Can we do this for a little longer? We are still getting to know one another, again, after, after…all that other."
"For as long as you want," Harry said. He let go, leaned back and gave Daphne another kiss on her lips. "'Night," he said.
"'Night," said Daphne, stepping into Harry's fireplace, and the green flames.