Merit and Inheritance
Chapter Forty-three
Back to London
Ricardo Mendini sat on the turf at the edge of the woods. It seemed he was having difficulty processing the last hour of his life. He went on an errand at the direction of his great-aunt, to find one Harry Potter at or near the Café Louisiane and bring him back to Our Place where he was expected to swap his own life, or, possibly, pay a huge ransom, in return for the release of his wife.
Now, Mendini was on the ground, with Harry Potter, Daphne Potter and another witch, Malfoy or something like it, standing over him, with wands all over the place and no help anywhere close. Mendini could not say why the English Harry Potter had out-walked him to the point where he, the native-born mountaineer, had collapsed, nor how Daphne Potter, whom he had last seen tied, hooded and sitting on a wooden stool in a bare stone cell, had been able to speak with her husband and join him in witness to Mendini's humiliation. And she had brought a friend, an older witch with dramatic hair and fingernails, but, worst of all, a bemused expression that conveyed an itch to end the preliminaries and get on to the main bout. Mendini did not like Ms. Malfoy at all.
"So," said Harry.
"Well argued, milord," said the Malfoy witch.
She was holding her wand in her right hand while she tapped the fingertips of her left hand on the shaft. She appeared to be absently fingering a guitar solo while awaiting her lord's nod to go ahead and get it over with.
"What's next?" asked Daphne Potter.
"Me?" asked Mendini. "You're asking me?"
"Of course, you're the host wizard here," said Daphne. "We really must get this underway. I have office hours in London this afternoon."
Ricardo Mendini gave up. There was no way he would understand how Daphne Potter came to be standing in front of him when she was supposed to be confined to a cell in Our Place. Nor could he grasp Harry Potter's complete mastery of the situation, and Ricardo Mendini, when Potter had not appeared to do anything besides eat breakfast and manipulate a low-level observer since the beginning of their encounter.
"This way," said Mendini, letting go of a great sigh.
The little party passed through the woods, Mendini calling a halt at one or two points to do a little wand-waving and jinx-removal. The owl stuck with the group, flying ahead and perching on a branch, letting everyone catch up, then flying on a bit further.
"This is so beautiful, Mr. Mendini," said Daphne. "Our landscapes aren't so dramatic. Do you ski?"
"Thank-you, Lady Daphne," said Ricardo. He was doing a lot better, even though they kept going up. Harry was glad to see the improvement. He used the same charm on Mendini that he had used on himself, silently and wandlessly, and was very pleased with the successful casting.
The little band walked out of the woods before a wild conglomerate of stone, timbers, roof tiles and parapets of every sort of building material, along with a dry moat complete with drawbridge. The moat stank to high heaven as the three walked across the bridge. Narcissa looked up and saw several centuries' worth of streaks running down the stone wall from a little overhanging turret with an opening at its base.
"Merde," Narcissa whispered. If Mendini heard he affected ignorance.
"Oh, yes, I ski," said Mendini. "Downhill and Nordic. Nothing like it—or them. Do you get suitable snow where you are?"
"Not a lot, as a rule," Harry said. "Popping over to Norway is a thing, especially in Scotland, where they can just take the ferry."
"Nice," said Mendini. "I'll have to give that a try."
Their guide led the party from England inside via a great opening in the stone wall. A double door hung on iron hinges but it didn't look to Harry like the doors had been closed for decades. Something must have shown in his face because Mendini turned to explain.
"Someone charmed the penetration so they didn't have to open and close the big ones all the time. The charm keeps the wind and snow outside in winter. Trouble is, they didn't write it down and no one alive seems to know how it works. I doubt it could be defended if we ever had a serious siege."
"Couldn't you close the doors?" asked Harry.
Mendini's face took on a rueful expression.
"I don't know for sure but I don't think so," he said. "I tried once when I was in my teens. I think I was in pretty good condition and I couldn't move it."
Harry held his tongue, somehow. He couldn't help wondering why there wasn't anyone around who could make a wand do a little work. A thought flashed through Harry's mind. The Bergs he had met in England were extraordinarily belligerent for people outside of their home territory. He had accused Dieter of having only degenerate Roman magic. Had he been too right?
Harry forced himself to focus. Even if the Berg-Mendinis weren't the wizards and witches that he and his companions were, they could still be dangerous, even lethal, if taken lightly. Marcella had nearly gotten to Romilda with a dagger, a weapon that doesn't require any magic at all.
Ricardo led the way into what must have been the main dining room. Harry could not count the chairs at the long table in the center of the room. There had to be at least twenty on each side. The walls were portraits from one end of the hall to the other. Collections of unpolished medieval weapons and armor stood in disharmonious arrangements in all of the corners.
"What a lovely room," said Daphne. It wasn't to her taste, of course, but her manners were seldom lacking. She knew from her etiquette lessons that a lady always found a subject for a positive comment as soon as she entered a room as a guest.
"Oh, imagine if we had this at our houses!" said a suddenly-enthusiastic Narcissa. "We'd be obligated to do all kinds of entertaining."
"Wouldn't we?" asked Daphne.
Ricardo looked at the two witches. He wondered what they had done with their wands, which they had carried in their hands as the group walked through the woods.
"Well, then, Mr. Mendini, here we are, how can we help you?" asked Harry.
"Well, ah, nothing has gone as everyone expected, so far, so I am not at all sure," said Ricardo. "I think it would be best to call a few people who worked on this, if that is acceptable?"
"Why not?" said Harry.
"Sure," said Daphne.
"We do need to move along," said Narcissa. "Lady Daphne…"
"Has office hours, yes," said Ricardo.
He spoke a few words in a language none of the others understood and one of the creatures that looked much like an English house elf materialized. The two had a short conversation and the elf disapparated.
Before long, Harry and the English delegation took their seats across a broad trencher table from five citizens of Our Place.
"My cousin Amalia Berg," Mendini said, gesturing. "my uncle, Adrian Mendini…"
Ricardo finished and Harry took over.
"My wife, the Healer Daphne Potter and my cousin, Lady Narcissa Malfoy," Harry said. "I am Harry Potter. Thank-you for welcoming us to your home. How can we help you today?"
Ricardo Mendini and his relatives sat silently, looking from face to face. No one seemed to know the answer to Harry's question. They gave every impression of being leaderless and devoid of a plan.
"Where is Dieter? Where is Marcella?"
Amalia Berg had come alive, all at once, her voice piercing the prevailing silence. She appeared prepared to leap the table to get to Harry. Her eyes spoke of outrage toward Harry and all of his accomplices.
"Perhaps?" Harry said, looking at Ricardo.
"Certainly," said Mendini.
"Madam Berg, I spoke to Dieter Berg and Marcella Berg some months ago, in England, and I assure you they were both alive when we parted. I know that and nothing further. Have you spoken to the magical authorities? Filed a report?"
"Authorities? We don't bother with the authorities," said Amalia. Two of the others hissed at her, one adding a little micro-shake of her head.
"Authorities," Amalia muttered as she snarled at her own delegation.
"Amalia, if Mr. Potter says they were alive, we have no reason to doubt him. The thing is, Mr. Potter, two of our number took it upon themselves to right what they determined was a wrong committed against our family," said Ricardo. "A young widow, the wife of our late baron, left shortly after his death, without regard to the family's feelings about a proper period of mourning. Baron Lorenzo wasn't yet buried and she left, leaving no word. It caused a great deal of offense to the community, particularly the late baron's closest relatives."
"That is most unfortunate," said Harry. "Still, I've yet to connect anything concerning your family with the abduction of my wife by a disappointed suitor. What brought about the conspiracy with Laurent Selwyn?"
The room went silent. Ricardo's relatives looked up at the rafters and down at the planks of the trencher, anywhere except at the British side of the table. Harry Potter had just framed the debate in a most disadvantageous way. The possible outcomes began to sink into the consciousness of the Berg-Mendini representatives. In trying to apply a little pressure in the interest of finding their lost relatives, the clan had managed to pick a fight with Harry Potter, who had somehow wrested command of the operation from the family from the outset. What's more, his wife, a healer for Merlin's sake, had single-handedly invited a companion along to Our Place, then declined to stay captured.
"Everyone?" Daphne began, "This appears to be at most a mistake. Laurent can be very trying at times, I know, but he may have learned his lesson. Perhaps with a little counseling he could be convinced to cease being a creature of his own hurt feelings and get on with his life."
Amalia Berg sprang out of her seat. She reached inside her robe as she rose, her face red.
"You…" she shouted at Harry as her wand came out.
Narcissa held up her hand in a 'Stop' signal, as if monitoring the casting of curses was the same to her as directing traffic.
"NO!" sounded in the room, audible to all, although Narcissa had not spoken a word.
Amalia Berg froze. One of the family, who had yet to speak at all, pinched her wand between his thumb and forefinger and plucked it from her hand, placing it inside his own robe, after which he folded his hands on the table in front of him.
"You won't get anywhere by fighting," said Narcissa. "Dear?"
Narcissa gave a most elegant wave toward Amalia's seat and the witch sat back down.
"I fear," said the Mendini nearest Amalia, the one with her wand in his robe, "That we have given offense to a noble family, unnecessarily."
Harry thought the man had been introduced as Maximilian. Maximilian Mendini.
"Madam…" Maximilian said, by way of inquiry.
"Malfoy," said Narcissa, "Please call me Narcissa, as long as we are at table together."
"Maximilian," said Mendini, tapping two fingers on his sternum. "Max, if you wish, Narcissa. It is clear that the family needs to consult. In my opinion we have just been shown that we can no longer live according to the old ways."
Max looked at his delegation.
"We knew this had to come, eventually," he said. "Lorenzo knew it."
At the mention of the old baron's name the family members muttered something that Harry took to be a Romansh equivalent of 'Rest in Peace.' Two of them made the sign of the cross. Harry took a reflexive look around the dining room but didn't see any religious art or symbols.
"He knew he was the end of the old Bergs," Max went on. "The last of his type. We talked about it, several times. He expected us to prepare. We will have to do as our old baron said. You all know he was right."
Maximilian stopped talking and leaned back.
"Mr. Potter…" Ricardo began, before running out of words.
Amalia Berg wondered where the rage had gone. She had come in with relatives determined to cleanse a blemish from the family honor and somehow the foreigners had tamed them all and brought them to heel.
"I hate to rush off, we've barely gotten started, but there will be patients in my waiting room and I'll have to be there for them," said Daphne as she started to get up.
Narcissa looked at Harry.
"We can stay, can't we, Lord Harry?" Narcissa purred. "If we're really needed."
Daphne's face showed a moment of surprise before she laid her hand on Narcissa's shoulder.
"Of course," she said, "If you're needed."
Daphne squeezed Narcissa's shoulder and looked directly into her eyes. Harry thought he could read a room fairly well but he knew he wasn't reading either of the witches. It probably wasn't any of his business and he resolved, in that instant, not to pry.
"Max is right," Ricardo began.
"You've been with the foreigners too long, Ricardo," shouted Amalia. She went off into a tirade in a language Harry couldn't understand, but which he assumed, again, was the Our Place Romansh; he had no doubt Amalia was verbally stripping Ricardo's skin.
"Enough, Amalia," said Max, in English. "Enough. While they are here these witches, and wizard, are our guests. We will not use our language to talk around them. Amalia, you don't know what you are talking about because you have always stayed right here at Our Place. Ricardo ought to invite you to accompany him when he goes down the next time, you need to see what is going on all around us. Our family has so much, so many assets, yet we give the bulk of our income to our agents so we can hide ourselves from the world."
"This is Our Place," Amalia shouted. "Our ancestors gave it to us. We owe it to them to pass it along to the children just as they did. This is our way of life!"
"Everyone has a way of life, as a child, Amalia," said Ricardo. "Children grow, learn new things, change, and that is what they hand on to the next generation. Their way of life doesn't stay the same in every detail. It can't. Our Place needs so much. If you are concerned about the children, don't you think we should do something about the water supply and the sanitation? Who will do that? Can you?"
Harry watched the clan across the table, waiting for someone to take the floor. Finally, Amalia said something in Romansh.
"My cousin cited one of our customs," Ricardo explained. "When we are without a baron the adult members of the community take decisions by meeting in council. She has exercised her right to convene the council and put her views before it. If you would like to take Selwyn and go, feel free. I'll see you out."
"Oh, Mr. Selwyn might want to stay and make his own apologies to the council, for getting you all involved in his private matters," said Narcissa.
"Mmm…" Harry murmured, nodding his concurrence with Narcissa. He raised his hand, in a fist, above his head. The little owl glided down from the overhead beams and perched. Harry transferred him to his shoulder.
"All we need is a little space and we can be off," said Narcissa. She slipped her hand under Ricardo's arm, who was now standing next to her. She let her wrist go a bit limp as her hand moved up and down, caressing his bicep. "Perhaps someplace with a view? I want a memory, like a post card, as a keepsake of all this beauty."
Ricardo swallowed, visibly, then conveyed the little group outside, heading for the drawbridge.
When Harry asked for destinations Daphne chose #12 Grimmauld Place. Narcissa agreed and seconds later they had all appeared on the front step and been welcomed inside by Kreacher.
"Coffee? Tea? Pepper-up?" Daphne asked Narcissa.
"Floo," said Narcissa. "Lucius will be pacing."
"Will he?" asked Daphne.
"No, of course not," said Narcissa. "He's probably still asleep. Draco and Astoria might be a bit agitated by now. We'll catch up over a nice, leisurely lunch. Thank-you, again, for the wonderful diversion. If you get into negotiations or have to exchange gifts, please assure the Bergs their Venus has a home at Malfoy Manor, if they want to offer her up."
Harry stood there, looking as confused as he felt, while Daphne laughed and hugged Narcissa.
"Consider it done," she said. "Thank-you for coming on such short notice."
Daphne looked expectantly at Harry, trying to mentally convey the idea that he should be thanking Narcissa for her assistance, just as much as Daphne.
"Thank-you for everything, Lady Narcissa," he said. "Your command voice got their attention. Saved the day. I won't forget this."
Narcissa swelled up at Harry's comment.
"Any time, my lord," she said. Narcissa seemed to be about to curtsy but Harry cut her short.
"Esteemed cousin," he said and held his two hands out. Narcissa gave him her right hand, palm down, and Harry took it and brought it to his lips. "Thank-you again. Our best to the family."
Narcissa nearly bounced to the fireplace, dropped her floo powder with a 'Malfoy Manor,' and was gone.
"So gracious," said Daphne. She appeared to Harry to be glowing as she gave him a smile and a kiss before dashing upstairs to change from last night's St. Mungo's uniform into her office clothes.
Five minutes later she followed Narcissa out via the floo, changing only her destination.
"Early evening, no St. Mungo's," were her last words before she kissed Harry one more time and was floo'd to her office.
"You'll need a roost, won't you?" Harry asked the owl on his shoulder. "Were you a Berg or an independent? You're welcome to stay with us, but if you like the wild life, that's okay, too."
"HOOT!" said the owl.
"I'll show you what we have here," said Harry as he started up the stairs.
The Blacks always had at least one owl in residence and accommodated it, or them, in an owlery on the top floor rear at #12 Grimmauld Place. There was no tower, just a small, closet-like room with a louvered window penetration that went right up to the soffit. Perches lined two sides of the room and the door was in the wall opposite the louvers.
"We have a house elf, Kreacher, and he is a fanatic about cleaning," Harry said to his owl. "Don't be frightened when he shows up. His appearance takes some getting used to, but you always have the option of going outside if you don't feel like socializing."
Harry got his new friend settled, went back downstairs and on to the offices of Harry Potter and Associates. Harry had a few administrative things waiting for him. They needed doing but it was routine work, requiring little more consciousness beyond a signature or applying a rubber stamp. Before long, Harry had descended into a static state, staring straight ahead for minutes at a time.
Questions arose, questions he couldn't answer. He couldn't even frame a reasonable hypothesis.
How did Laurent Selwyn come to the attention of the Bergs? How did the Bergs come to the attention of Laurent Selwyn? Did Harry read the message in the shoes properly or did he fabricate a red herring for himself? Was he being childish for continuing to harbor a wish to punch Laurent Selwyn in the nose?
Harry's reveries swirled around him in wisps and tendrils. He was about to drift off when the doorbell charm brought him upright in his chair.
"Harry! It's me!" shouted Pansy.
She stood in the door to the foyer, looking like she was about to jump back and put some wall between herself and Harry's wand.
"Oh," Harry said, getting an embarrassed expression as he set the wand aside. "Just drifting off, I guess. Startled. Sorry. How has everything been going?"
"You first," said Pansy. "Starting with where have you been?"
"Have a seat," Harry offered. "Coffee?"
It took about fifteen minutes to tell the story of Daphne's abduction, contact with Harry, the travel of Narcissa and Harry to Our Place and the subsequent negotiations.
"Oh, Merlin and Morgana, Harry!" exclaimed Pansy. "Why didn't you get some help? Those people are bad news, always."
"Timing," Harry told her. "By the time I learned about it Daphne was already at Our Place. She gave me five minutes to get Narcissa and be ready to come through. I had to send Kreacher to Malfoy Manor. So—how about you?"
"Not a lot that's new," said Pansy. "Sales receipts at the tea room keep going up every month. Morag will be here in London through the weekend."
"Then?" Harry asked.
"Back to Glasgow and the cycle continues," said Pansy.
Harry thought Pansy looked a little exasperated. He knew his associate was glad to have another single woman friend to pal around London with and supposed she missed Morag when she was working in Scotland. Harry made a mental note to suggest including Pansy in outings with Daphne when they knew Morag was out of town.
The conversation wound down and Pansy left for her office to update her ledgers. Harry hung on for a few minutes before admitting to himself he would either have to go home for a nap or indulge in a Pepper-Up Potion. Pansy wouldn't have minded if he left because she really wanted to focus on work to the exclusion of all else. Her brain needed a cooling-down break.