Merit and Inheritance
Chapter Thirty-seven
A Denouement
"Madam, what are you?" Harry asked.
"Harry Potter, did you ask what?" countered the woman.
Harry wasn't intimidated, just curious.
"Who does not seem to apply," he said. "At least, not to me."
Harry looked at Daphne to see if she had an opinion. The woman laughed, quite heartily, too.
"Well done, Harry Potter," she said, "Did you think it through or was that instinct speaking?"
"Not sure, could have been both, couldn't it?"
"Is there no end to you?" said the woman. "Come here."
Harry stepped closer.
"What am I? This!" said the woman as her palm connected with Harry's forehead. Hard.
Harry rocked back and had to take a step to keep from falling.
Harry looked straight ahead and saw the woman, the path, the stone wall across the lane, a line of trees, the sky that was blue then violet then black, stars, great clusters of stars arranged in spiral discs that careened across the black void. Harry knew from his reading those were galaxies playing in the heavens, usually keeping lots of room between themselves and their neighbors but occasionally merging in great combinations.
Harry blinked.
"Oh, you're…"
Harry was stumped. His mind wasn't big enough to encompass the thought that the woman they'd happened upon was all of creation, and it didn't seem right to call her God.
"Nope, you're thinking too much," she said. "I'm just the manifestation, to you, of all of this. A construct, or possibly a caricature. There are more of us, many, many more, but you would have to travel between the dimensions to find more of my kind. Don't try that, by the way. Not while you still occupy a material body."
"I was going to ask if we'll see you again, but I suppose we see you all the time," Harry said.
The woman smiled a huge, satisfied smile. She gave Harry just one nod.
"Enjoy the rest of your walk," she said.
Harry looked at Daphne.
"Guess that is that," he said.
"You did well," said Daphne.
"I survived an encounter with ultimate reality," said Harry.
"That's what I meant," Daphne said. "Walk?"
"Lovely lane, good company, nice day for it," said the well-organized, businessman Harry.
The newlyweds set a comfortable pace and followed the lane. Harry enjoyed walking right on the edge of breaking into a sweat. He kept asking if he was going too fast. Daphne assured him he wasn't. They topped a hill and saw a manor in the distance.
"I didn't know this came out here," said Harry. They got to the far edge of the front lawn of Potter Manor. Harry turned and looked back the way they'd come.
"If we had some sheep the elves wouldn't have to tend this lawn," he said.
The words came out but Harry's conscious thoughts were pushed aside by the vision of Potter Manor, happy sheep on his front lawn, Harry and Daphne, Astoria and Draco, Neville and Hannah, Ron and Hermione, flocks of sheep commingled with flocks of children, dogs, cats, parrots, a loom and galaxies cavorting with galaxies and lambs.
"It's complicated," said a voice from inside.
"Nothing we can't handle together," said Harry. He realized he had said it out loud.
"You said what I was thinking," said Daphne.
Harry looked around and saw the familiar bedroom at Potter Manor. The incense from the night before had staying power. Harry breathed in. It was almost as strong as it had been when they went to sleep.
"Have you been awake?" Harry asked.
"Just woke up," said Daphne. "I was dreaming about taking a walk with you and that business about 'Nothing we can't handle together' popped into my head just as you said it. What a nice coincidence."
"Grimoire," Harry said.
He rolled and swung his feet over the side of the bed. Harry's gown had bunched up near his waist so Daphne reached over and pinched his bottom.
"Mrs. Potter!" Harry said as he stood.
"I know, I just always wanted to do that," said Daphne as she slid toward her side. "Paper, quills and ink are in the desk in the salon. Why don't I meet you there with coffee and put in an order with Kreacher for some eggs or muffins or something?"
Harry started writing up a report on the previous evening, beginning with going out to dinner. There wasn't a reason for starting with couscous and a vegetarian tajine, although every narrative has to start somewhere. Al-Andalus seemed like a pleasant place to begin.
Daphne listened while Harry read back his paragraph about dinner.
"Nice, not sure of the relevance," said Daphne.
"Let's move on to coming home, rinsing off, painting runes…" Harry said.
Daphne dictated her recollection of preparing the materials. Harry wanted to clarify what the blood, water and herb mix was.
"Was that a potion? Did we potion ourselves?" Harry asked.
"Make it a footnote," said Daphne. "We don't know enough, do we? Someone might have a question later on and we don't want to steer them wrong. You're writing for the ages."
Harry sat up, straight as an arrow.
"Oi!" he said, "You're so right. Some of the dates in these things!"
"Is this your first entry?" asked Daphne.
"Yes," said Harry. "Yours?"
"Yup," Daphne confirmed. "I had read a little bit of Greengrass, with Mum. She was using it as source material for introducing me, and Astoria, I guess, to what she called 'Witches' Duties.'"
"She called it that? She meant physical…demonstration…of affection?" asked Harry.
"Yes, otherwise known as sex, you prude. You don't have to dance around it, husband, everyone expects we're going at it like little bunnies right now, according to tradition."
"Right, we can get to that soon," Harry said. "What about this approach—we followed an old rite and took private vows on our own. I note the references and dates. We prepared a solution and drew runes on our bodies that amount to promises between us as well as mutual blessings expressing our hopes for happy, fruitful and satisfying lives with one another as we go forward in life?"
"That works, go ahead," said Daphne.
Harry wrote out the draft on some blank sheets of cheap paper. He wrote quickly as he was desperate to get started on the breakfast items Kreacher had brought to the salon.
"Let's see," said Daphne when Harry stopped writing. Harry handed her his notes and took up a plate of scrambled eggs and fried potatoes.
"I like it," Daphne said. "Clean it up, copy it out on parchment and you've got Lord Harry's first entry in the new Potter Grimoire. Maybe that should be the Potter-Black Grimoire."
"Hmm…we're going to need to make decisions on how to style ourselves, now, aren't we?" asked Harry. "What do you want to do about Greengrass? You'll be doing entries, too."
"True," said Daphne. "That doesn't have to be decided today. Back to the present—how are you doing? I'm very well-rested. Want to write up some notes on the experience?"
"Our dream?" Harry asked.
"Or vision," Daphne said.
It was late morning before the newlywed Lord and Lady Potter left the salon, hung up their gowns and showered off the remains of their rune-painting.
"I'm glad we did that," said Harry as they got dressed. "The runes?"
"Yeah, me too," Daphne agreed. "Lots of mystery to unravel there. I haven't read or heard anywhere about that woman or the symbolism of the loom, the lamb or any of it."
"Did I feed you, when we were there?" Harry asked.
"Yes, the lamb?"
"Lamb," Harry affirmed. "You fed me, too."
"One big circle," said Daphne.
They walked downstairs together and out to the breakfast room.