Merit and Inheritance
Chapter Forty-six
Dabble in Divination
Harry went about his business over the next few days, leaving the initial approach to Daphne. She'd shown to Harry's complete satisfaction that she had excellent rapport with Narcissa, not to mention an instinct for timing. Harry and Daphne were having dinner at Potter Manor two weeks later when Daphne announced she had spoken to Narcissa.
"She said, 'Of course,' when I asked," said Daphne. "She sounded really eager to get started."
"Great," said Harry. "You did mention it doesn't pay anything? At least to start."
"Not a problem," Daphne assured her husband. "Narcissa brought that up herself. The optics, you know. Lucius could seize on material recompense as an indication of divided loyalty. Narcissa seemed really pleased when I complimented her on the strategic insight."
Harry pushed a bit of mashed potato next to a piece of meatloaf while pondering 'strategic insight.'
"We'll go ahead then," Harry said once he'd broken out of his reverie. "And there are no formal duties, she's aware? In my mind I thought you might want a little help with an event now and then, with your demanding career. Dinner, here or London?"
Harry got his fork under his meatloaf-and-potato blend and brought it up.
"Oh, I think here," said Daphne. "Drinks on the lawn in some candlelight, weather permitting. Dinner right here. Madam and the lads looking down on the dining room. Investiture as soon as the main course is cleared, then coffee and dessert in the salon with the Old Ones in attendance."
"Perfect," said Harry.
The Black history book did not have photographs but there was a good description of the marshal's badge. Harry did a cursory look in the chaos of the Black vaults but didn't find a badge. He drew a pencil sketch and took it to a magical jeweler and commissioned a new one. The design was quite simple. The onyx in the center was not a problem as they are abundant and come in all kinds of shapes and sizes. Finding a source for the silk rosette actually took more time than the onyx.
The weather was cooperative on the designated evening. The plan Daphne had outlined did not require any last-minute adjustments. They had invited a mixed bag of witches and wizards, some family, some from other Black-connected noble families. Daphne kept an eye on Cordelia during the candlelit cocktail hour but her mother was enjoying sobriety. Cyrus always seemed to have a glass in hand but Daphne thought it might have been the same one throughout.
Daphne had taken care and primed the pump with Lucius, just to make sure he had positive feelings about Narcissa's acceptance of a Black family honor. She stressed Narcissa's skills as she dealt with the Bergs and Mendinis. Narcissa, she told him, had a fine, diplomatic touch. She exuded complete mastery during their Alpine encounter. Narcissa graciously offered forbearance while letting the other party see she backed it up with the threat of overwhelming force, should her adversaries not see things her way.
Lucius puffed up, several times, during their conversation, so pleased to hear Daphne's description of his noble wife's power, grace and expertise.
As soon as Kreacher had the dinner table clear, Harry stood up and asked for everyone's attention.
"The Black family possesses a long and illustrious history, at the heart of Magical Britain," he began. Harry glossed over the Blacks' more divisive stances, graciousness winning out over historical accuracy.
"During the family's most stressful moments, we had a source of strength…" Harry continued.
"The marshal is the indispensable officer. The rock, the anchor that holds. Most recently, Lady Black met a crisis, not one of her own devising, something thrust on us from outside both the family and the country. Discretion is necessary so I regret the teaser but I can't go any further. Daphne asked for one person to assist, Lady Narcissa. Our cousin proved beyond a doubt she is the consensus choice for marshal. Narcissa, will you accept, before these witnesses, the badge and duties of the office of Marshal of the Blacks?"
"I will," Narcissa managed.
The rosette was at hand, lying on a maroon velvet cushion on a nearby buffet. Daphne, Lady Black, had the duty of pinning the rosette to Narcissa's formal robe. The ceremony concluded, Kreacher supplied champagne, or ginger ale, to the assembled and a number of toasts were drunk. Walburga looked down on the dining room, seeming fit to climb out of her portrait and join the festivities.
Once the party moved from the dining room, Narcissa stood, smiled and accepted the huzzahs and congratulations of the portraits in the salon as Lucius, sipping his coffee, looked on with pride. Draco and Astoria chatted up Pansy and Morag, who were making their first social foray as a couple. Harry stood alone next to Dorea's portrait.
"What does it all mean, Lord Potter-Black?" muttered his great-grandmother. "Are you going to war?"
"We can't tell," Harry replied. "I hope not. The Selwyns, though, haven't made any gestures, of any kind. The Bergs and Mendinis must still be up in Our Place, talking amongst themselves, so we might be able to make peace with them. It's the Selwyns that have me worried."
"Where's young Laurent?" asked Dorea.
"Haven't heard," said Harry. "We've kept our ears open, of course. The people I trust, the ones who know how to listen and not blab, none of them have heard anything either. We may have to wait and see."
"Laurent is a loose thread," said Dorea. "Hmm…he might not be a player now, considering where you last saw him. The Selwyns can work that out with Our Place. Nothing you had anything to do with. What about the insult to the family? Has anyone made any noise about that, other than young Laurent?"
"Not to us," said Harry. "At this point I couldn't say, one way or the other, if the Selwyns are aware Laurent was out of bounds or not. If he was acting alone our involvement could escape notice. It might not be a factor."
"Then there is the unknown," said Dorea. "X. The threat you don't foresee."
"Darn that X threat," agreed Harry.
Dorea snickered.
"You've got it well in hand, Lord Harry," she said. "No one can ever see X coming. That's just its nature. Keep your allies close, and informed. Make new ones when you can. Watch the Selwyns. The Laurent problem could come back."
"You're the best counselor ever, Grandmother Dorea," said Harry. "And here is my valued colleague, and friend!"
Pansy and Morag walked up. Pansy knew Dorea and gave the portrait a little nod in greeting.
"Come to take our leave," said Pansy. She dropped her arm out from under Morag's and pulled Harry into a quick hug. When Pansy let him go Morag extended her hand.
"Thank you for inviting me," said Morag. "I didn't know we'd be included in something like this."
"How could we not?" Harry asked. "Pansy gets to pick who she wants, same as we all do. There's room for you. How are you going?"
"Out to the lawn," said Pansy. "The weather is lovely and we'll avoid the soot in the floo system."
"Oh, well, then…" said Harry, waving the way forward. "Let me walk you out."
Once outside they could stroll three abreast.
"Anyone who wants to share ignorant opinions, any kind at all, you can let me know," said Harry to the other two.
"Oh," said Morag, a big smile on her face. "Thanks. Let's hope it doesn't get to that."
"Wouldn't that be nice?" asked Harry.
Pansy and Morag left with a definite crack suitable for the two formidable personalities. Harry turned for the house to see that Lucius had wandered out onto the front steps.
"Wanted to thank you personally, Harry," Lucius said as Harry walked up. Lucius stuck out his hand, which Harry took.
"She earned it," Harry said. "Daphne is especially grateful. It meant a lot to her that Narcissa was ready to come help out in the middle of the night. Me, too, of course. We had to recognize her somehow. With something special, beyond the standard fruit basket."
"You've done that, certainly," said Lucius. "Narcissa enjoyed the excursion. Hope she doesn't become too insufferable."
"Doubt she'll do that, Lucius," Harry said. "Although, you can always let Daphne know and they can discuss things, witch to witch."
Harry's comment brought a quick guffaw from Lucius.
"What's so funny?" asked Draco, who'd just stepped out onto the steps.
"Your classmate, Lord Harry," said Lucius. "He's under the delusion that he can speak for his wife, the witch Lady Daphne."
"Forget it Harry," Draco said. "Not a good use of your time."
Draco turned to his father.
"About ready?" he asked. "Mother and Astoria are fidgeting."
The good-byes and congratulations inside took another half-hour, confirming that the Malfoy witches' fidgeting had arrived right on time. Hannah and Neville left via floo, whittling the remaining guests down to Cyrus and Cordelia.
"Coffee?" Harry asked. "Tea? Another dish of ice cream?"
Daphne's parents decided they would accept another cup of tea. The four got comfortable, Daphne and Cordelia sliding out of their shoes.
"Lovely dinner, dear," said Cordelia. "You, too, of course, Harry. Where did you get the idea to appoint a marshal?"
"Didn't Daphne tell you?" asked Harry. "I was reading a volume of Black family history and stumbled across it. Something just mentioned in passing. It sounded interesting so I looked for more information and discovered it used to be common. All the prominent families used to have a marshal. Maybe that is too broad. The ones in public life who had a variety of interests and stuck together. There might have been some who didn't. Daphne?"
"I think that's right," Daphne said. "It wasn't a requirement. Narcissa loves it, and the badge, you should know."
"Good!" Harry said. "It's my first design for a decoration."
The small talk continued. The Potters were a bit guarded. The expedition to Our Place was still fresh in their minds. They had agreed that no purpose would be served by telling the story of their encounter with the Berg-Mendinis. Harry listened carefully for any mention, even an allusion, to the Selwyns and the failed negotiations. If Cyrus knew anything or had been in contact, though, he was keeping it to himself. The energy went out of the conversation when Cordelia took her last sip of tea and put the cup and saucer on the side table.
"Cyrus," she said as she turned to look at her husband.
"I know, it's time," said Cyrus as he stood up and offered his arm to his wife. "What a lovely evening. Thank you for including us."
The Greengrass' also chose to leave from the front lawn. Harry and Daphne walked out and watched them disapparate. Back inside, Harry waited for the front door to close itself, which it did, letting go of a very good imitation yawn as the bolt shot home.
"We're in for the night," Harry told the door, leaving it to set its own locking and warding spells.
"Did you make that?" Daphne asked. "The door?"
"Came with the place," said Harry. "It might not be a bad idea to see if we have any information on it. There could be some historical significance."
"Sure," Daphne said. "Nobody we know has one like it. I've been looking since the time you first brought me here."
"Oh. Must be an artifact of family magic, plain and simple. I think I'll read a little bit," said Harry. "Care to sit up?"
"Okay, but not for long," Daphne said, following Harry into the little study next to the salon.
"Anything in particular?"
"The Potter grimoire," answered Harry. He opened a desk drawer and removed a black velvet bag, placing it on the desk.
"Specifically, anything related to these."
Harry removed the bag and put it aside, revealing a crystal ball on a bronze stand.
"Grandmother Dorea asked a couple of probing questions tonight and started me thinking. This is from the Potter vault. I saw one in the Blacks' when I went to look for a marshal's badge," said Harry. "Divination was never important to me, as a student. Necessity dictated I get better at defending myself after the future caught up to me, if you can make sense of that."
Daphne broke out laughing at Harry's broken syntax.
"Of course," Daphne said. "Then you're past the point of looking into future danger, aren't you? It's just danger."
Harry smiled and nodded.
"It appears the Potters and the Blacks both had house seers at some point," Harry went on, "That, or they won these at the fete. My current project is to go through the grimoires looking for information including how to use these, if that is written down. I'll stay alert for any cautionary notes, of course."
"Naturally," Daphne agreed, vowing to herself to double-check her husband's alertness regularly. "Okay, so hand me a volume and I'll give you some minutes. Not too many, I'm in the office tomorrow."
Neither of them found encyclopedic instructions for the employment of crystal balls, nor did they expect to. Magical research was seldom five minutes of reading followed by a 'Eureka!' moment. Study of multiple volumes and the slow teasing-out of facts from florid descriptions and intentional red herrings was much more typical. The search was part of the fun for both of them. A rough division of labor emerged. Daphne handled the Greengrass grimoire, passing it to Harry if she thought he could safely and profitably read a passage, and Harry did the same with the Potters.' Harry kept the Blacks' to himself, for the most part, at least until he was certain the volume would not object to Daphne reading a specific chapter.
Their knowledge grew, slowly. Harry began to get a tiny affinity for the crystal balls and their powers. Mental state was the most important determinant of success. Properly prepared, the mind could reach through the crystal and feel around. Visions were rare. Focus on a question worked best. A calm, focused mind could gauge the potential for various outcomes. The quality of the experience depended on the seer's mental state. Now and then he would get a little insight into something.
Life went on through the next few weeks. Daphne and Morag managed ten minutes for tea at St. Mungo's. Daphne tried to insert the idea that Morag might want to think about London as a full-time proposition. The truth was Daphne had begun to feel a bit worn, working at both her private practice and twenty hours of emergency work at the hospital. She viewed recruiting another healer for full-time work at St. Mungo's as a win all 'round.
Harry and Pansy found an herbalist couple, through Neville, and got them settled in the basement level of the new building. Traffic picked up in the tea room. Harry and Pansy both thought that was a synergetic phenomenon, the herbalists bringing customers who then treated themselves to a tea break, or tea-drinkers who remembered they had meant to pick up some fresh oregano, so as long as the herbalists were right downstairs…
Harry was at the office, a small crystal ball on his desk blotter and a volume of the Potter grimoire open in front of him, when the doorbell spell sounded. Witches' voices carried on for a minute or two and Harry was about to get up and see what was going on when someone knocked on his door.
"Come in," Harry said as he moved the crystal ball onto a small pile of papers. He theorized it looked like a paperweight.
"Look who's here!" said a very bubbly Pansy Parkinson as she opened Harry's office door.
A witch walked in with what was obviously a well-swaddled baby in her arms, and with a backwards snap of her head, threw the cowl of her robe back.
"Romilda! And, ahh, child!" said Harry as he got to his feet. "Come in, have a seat. What are you doing in London? Time for tea, coffee, anything at all?"
"Glass of water?" asked Romilda. She sat down on a guest chair and propped a near-toddler upright on her lap.
Harry and Kreacher had her fixed up in no time.
"We heard you had the baby, but I don't know if I ever heard if it was a boy or a girl," Harry began.
"He did, Romilda, he just didn't remember," said Pansy. "Wizard, you know. We never got a name, though, that I can recall."
"I didn't go to the Registrar right away, did Morag tell you that much? I needed to think it through. Angus was so kind and sensitive. He had some kind of business once or twice a week that brought him close to Livia's so he'd always check on me. Knock on the door, ask if everything was going well, and leave. Well, I was having a hard time with naming and I kind of explored whether I could just give him a local name. Angus gave me some good advice. He pointed out that could be seen as fraudulent. He suggested, if I wanted to avoid naming him Berg, there weren't a lot of Vanes around there so it was doubtful the Bergs would find us through James…"
"Excuse me," Harry said, interrupting the story. "James?"
"Yes, I took the liberty," said Romilda. "Isn't your middle name James? I had to recognize you somehow, after all the help you gave us. He's James Parkinson Vane."
Harry and Pansy each looked at the other and shrugged.
"Congratulations, Romilda, and best wishes from Potter and Associates," said Harry. "What next? If you can tell us without blowing up all of your security measures."
"The MacDougal family is being very generous," Romilda said. "Livia's cottage is adequate for the two of us and the rent is affordable. I have to be careful but we will be fine for now. Any more trouble here?"
Harry had not gone into a lot of detail with Pansy about the adventure at Our Place. She was aware something must have gone on to earn Narcissa the appointment as Marshal of the Blacks. Harry thought he was doing no worse than telling a half-truth when he answered 'No.' Technically, the trouble with the Berg-Mendini clan had all been in the Alps, so in actuality there hadn't been any trouble at all in London.
"Have you seen anyone? Anyone you recognized, that is?" Harry asked.
"No," said Romilda. "Of course, I don't see much of anyone, unless I have to buy food or something. Then I go to the village and stay away from Glasgow."
"That's great, Romilda," said Harry. "Let's hope it stays this way."
"Uh-huh," Pansy agreed.
Romilda stood up and got young James' weight shifted around for carrying.
"Better get on back," she said.
"Got anything to take? I can help you," said Pansy.
"No, this was just a Gringotts stop," Romilda said. "I'll be sure and ask for a little help in advance if we need to come down for serious shopping. Thank-you both, again, for everything you've done for us."
Farewells over and Romilda gone, Harry asked Pansy to sit down.
"Are you alright with James Parkinson? Is that fine with you?" he asked.
"I guess so," Pansy said. "I don't see what harm it would cause. Are you good with James?"
"Cute little guy like that? Sure. I'm the same as you," Harry said. "She could have asked, though."
"Sure could have," Pansy observed.
"Do you think we're getting the whole story, now?" asked Harry.
Pansy snorted.
"I haven't thought we were getting it all since the evening she showed up here at the office and it was obvious she hadn't given me the whole story there in Fortescue's," she said. "Romilda is a survivor, though, you have to give her that. Maybe she rations information. Merlin! She was sixteen when she went off to be that old man's wife! No one to help her ease into being an adult witch, no girlfriends, no mother, no allies. I'd say she's done pretty well, considering."
Harry and Pansy had both gone through their own trials after the end of the Second Wizarding War, trials with considerable overlap. They were very accommodating between themselves, a kind of two-person mutual aid support group. They even started to laugh at Pansy's assessment of Romilda at almost the same moment.
"Yes," said Harry, "I agree, she has done pretty well, so far. Can you, discreetly, you know…"
"Not really keep an eye on her, as such, just be alert?" asked Pansy.
"Exactly," said Harry. He picked up his crystal ball, fiddling.
"Learning to use the Orb?" asked Pansy.
"This old paperweight?" Harry asked in return.
"Harry—"
"Oh, okay, you got me," Harry acknowledged. "I never could do any of those divination things—crystal balls, tea leaves, star charts. It's just a project, to see if I have any aptitude. So far, other than enjoying the aesthetics, I haven't really gotten much out of it. You?"
"Oh, I like to think…" Pansy said as she reached across the desk. She pulled the ball and its stand to her. "Let's see. The orb does know."
Pansy let her eyelids get close together.
"It does know, but will it share?"
Pansy let her hands drift back and forth in caressing motions but it didn't appear she was touching the instrument.
"Weather mild and sunny for the next few days," Pansy said. She looked up. "Sorry, that's not very helpful, is it?"
"You're sure? Mild and sunny? That would be very favorable for all kinds of outdoor activities," said Harry. "Sure?"
"Harry, the Orb knows what it knows and shares what it shares," said Pansy. "It's as much mystical as it is magical."
Harry thought that was one of those comments whose meaning would evolve and develop for as long as it held his attention.
"I think I'll take advantage of the sunshine," Harry said as he stood. "Mr. Longbottom is due a report on some recent business activities."
"Enjoy," said Pansy, knowing Harry was off to the Leaky Cauldron for a butterbeer and some cronyism. "Mind?"
Pansy was holding up the little crystal ball.
"Feel free," said Harry, giving Pansy a wave as he left.