Merit and Inheritance
Chapter Forty-eight
Distress, Respite, Repeat
Harry looked around while he waited for his pot of tea to arrive at his table. Pansy kept an eye on him while she stood behind the counter. One of her employees cast a boiling charm at the kettle, listened for the beginnings of the rattling of a full boil and canceled the charm before the water pushed itself up the spout.
"Good," muttered Pansy. Her assistant looked back at her and nodded. She picked up the kettle by its handle and poured the hot, but not boiling water. The tea ball floated to the top of the pot before taking on water and sinking to the bottom. Pansy pinched the little chain of the tea ball, raising and lowering it three times before putting the lid on the pot.
"Go ahead," said Pansy, still keeping her voice down. She nodded toward Harry.
The young witch put the teapot on the tray that already held a cup, a glass full of water and a small dessert plate with two biscuits.
Pansy stayed behind the counter, keeping an eye on the room. Two tables had customers, all of whom were conspicuously ignoring Harry Potter sitting alone at a table in the corner.
Harry poured a little tea and took a sip. Judging it to be well-steeped and ready for drinking, he filled the cup about halfway.
"How is it?" Pansy asked. She pushed the low stool away from the opposite side of the table from where Harry sat.
"Perfect," Harry said. "You know, this was truly inspired, Pansy."
Harry took a long sip of his green tea.
"I'm really glad you did this," he said. "I do enjoy coming here. Lots of other people do, too. They've told me."
Pansy was turning red.
"Thanks," she said, barely louder than a murmur. "Don't go away before we talk."
With that, Pansy returned to her station.
The other customers did leave, eventually, and they weren't replaced. Pansy saw, and seized, her opportunity.
"Take a break," she told her assistant with a nod toward the street door. "Ten. Fifteen, if you want."
When they were alone Pansy returned to Harry's table, bringing a fresh glass of water for Harry and one for herself. She sat down, took a drink, and waited for Harry to bring up whatever was on his mind.
"Just thinking something through, or trying to," Harry said.
He went back to his study of the teacup he held in his two hands. Pansy gave him his head. She took another drink of her water, picked up the tea pot and filled Harry's cup. The tea ball rattled around inside the pot. Pansy got up, taking the pot.
Harry studied his cup, swirled the tea, took a drink. He went back to swirling. Pansy dropped in a freshly-filled tea ball and refilled the pot.
"Getting anywhere?" Pansy asked as she put the pot down in front of Harry.
"I was working with the orb," Harry began. "Nothing to do at the office right now. All the bills are paid. We don't have any deals in progress. Just passing the time until you finish up here and come by. I got into a bit of a state."
"It will do that," said Pansy. "Did you commune with Trelawney?"
Harry thought it over.
"No, but I am feeling a little more appreciation for her right now," he said. "If she was running around like this all the time it's no wonder she seemed goofy to us."
"Not to mention the sherry," noted Pansy.
"That, too," Harry allowed.
"Well, Harry, what was it that generated all the concern?" Pansy asked. "Did you see something scary?"
"Not scary," Harry said. "I saw some Bergs. Actually, I'm not even sure I saw them, as such. They could have been inside my head. I might have been asleep, or dozing, I can't say, at this point."
"Sounds like you got into a meditative state and some things surfaced," said Pansy. "Do you meditate?"
"A healer I saw, after the fighting, showed me his technique," Harry said. "He recommended daily practice. I tried, stopped, never went back."
"You're familiar with how it feels, then?"
"Yes," answered Harry. "It might have been something like that."
Harry stopped talking as he drained his cup.
"You'd better have a talk with Daphne, Harry," Pansy said.
Harry could see she was studying him, his face in particular, although she was very good at seeming not to.
"About?"
"What do you mean, about?" Pansy asked. "She has the contacts. You might need to see someone, a professional, and talk about this."
"You're right," said Harry. "As soon as we're both at home again. How's Morag?"
"Lovely, I assume," said Pansy. "She's in Glasgow, back home tomorrow afternoon."
"Mm…Heard anything from Romilda? Or about Romilda?" asked Harry.
"Not since she stopped by the office with little James," Pansy said.
Harry stood up and sidestepped out from behind his table.
"Five galleons cover everything?" he asked, knowing the answer. "The change can go in the tip jar."
Pansy got back to Potter and Associates a bit after two that afternoon. Harry was at his desk, reading a volume of the Potter grimoire. Pansy looked over Harry's desk top. There were no crystal balls in sight.
"Feeling better, boss?" she asked.
"Much, thanks for asking," said Harry. "That green tea can really fix one up. How do they get it into those little balls?"
"Something they do in the drying, I think," Pansy said. "What are you studying?"
"Some family history," said Harry. "I'm not the mystic, as you know. Just looking for some background."
Pansy noted that Harry was keeping his cards very close. She knew he'd expand when he was ready, and not a moment before, so she left for her own office with a little good-bye wave.
Harry Potter turned back to his Potter grimoire. He was right about a family seer. The Potters had had a number of them over the years. Harry wasn't sure of his relationship to most of them. Of course, if he wasn't a direct descendant of a particular seer, he would have been a cousin of anyone born a Potter.
The family didn't have a preferred method of divination, as far as Harry could tell. Seers used tea leaves, rune stones, crystal balls and other aids. Some of them seemed unqualified, divining the future more from luck than skill. Others were more like oracles, going into trances or meditative states and expounding prophetic tangles of words and phrases that defied interpretation.
Harry kept checking the clock throughout the afternoon. He wanted to spend some time with Daphne in the quiet at Potter Manor. He thought his experience with the orb merited discussion and he knew Pansy was right. If he was experiencing hallucinations in the middle of the day, he needed to hear a professional's perspective.
Pansy stepped out of her office when Harry got up to leave for the day.
"Be careful," she said.
Harry nodded.
Later that evening Harry proposed they have dinner in the breakfast room. Daphne noticed the portraits' drapes, which Harry usually left in place in recognition of the sunlight that flooded the room much of the day, had been sent off somewhere, and that James and Lily seemed to be present and fully alert.
"It might not mean anything…" Harry began as they each stirred the vegetable soup that was the first course.
Harry went on to a recounting of his conversation with Dorea's portrait, his reading and communion with the Potter orb, the ninety minutes of visions and out-of-body sensations, and the aftereffects he felt for the rest of his work day. Daphne tried to keep her eyes on Harry as they ate. She opened up, listening for unusual stressors and paying attention to Harry's body language.
"Would you like an opinion?" Daphne asked when Harry finished. "I won't even charge you for this one."
"Sure," said Harry. "I kind of manipulated our dinner plans just to get an opinion."
Daphne smiled at Harry's confession.
"We, the Potters, have gone through a slightly tumultuous period," Daphne began.
She did a quick recapitulation of their recent history. She began with the shared vision on their wedding night, followed by the reappearance of the annoying Laurent Selwyn in combination with the Berg-Mendini clan.
"In my opinion, you went through a series of events with those parties, events from which you and I emerged fit as fiddles. Your opponents did not fare well, not at all. Your mind is going back over what happened and asking what if? Do you disagree?"
"No, you're right, as usual," said Harry.
"Great-grandmother Dorea gave you a little advice," said Daphne. "It was sound, and perfectly reasonable for her, given her background and experience. You responded by working on your magic. You wish to enlarge your repertoire. I approve, that's a wise step. Letting go of our conscious mind to give the subconscious room to work is basic meditation for wizards and muggles both. Still with me?"
"I think so," answered Harry. "Things piled up and when I tried to see what the orb could tell me it all came back at once."
"Very good, Lord Harry, very good indeed," said Daphne. Harry wanted to give her a little more, she could see. Daphne took a sip from her water goblet while she waited.
"After Hogwarts and seven years of anarchist dog's-breakfast dysfunction, I thought I could be a small-time London magical businessman, with some rental properties and a country place," said Harry. "Get in touch with my dull and boring self."
That was as far as he got. The words ran out. Confronted with the internal conflict between being Harry Potter, Lord This, That, Heir and Member of the Wizengamot, and the peaceful intentions inside himself, Harry put his fork down and stared at Daphne.
"Brilliant," said Daphne. "You're doing everything right, Harry. You did not do this to yourself. Others brought it to you and you protected the people who deserved protection. I'm sorry you can't collect rent and give good value for the money and let it go at that but Madam told us, back there at the stone wall, it is all perfect, even the flaws."
Daphne broke a bread roll in half and reached across the table, putting a chunk directly in Harry's mouth. After chewing and swallowing the bread, Harry took Daphne's hand and brought to his lips for a kiss.
"All feeds all," Harry said. "Thank-you for the reminder, which came right on time."
Daphne gave him a grin.
"I'm going to prescribe something," she said. "Forty-eight hours of abstention from family grimoires and/or study of orbs or oracles of any kind. Give that brain a rest. Go look at some real estate. You don't have to buy it, just look at it."
Harry and James' portrait both burst out laughing. Daphne looked up at Lily's portrait. Lily sent back a wink and a knowing nod.
Harry listened to his healer and faithfully followed her guidance. He took a moment to re-shelve the grimoires that had been sitting on the little side table next to his favorite reading chair. Stepping back to look at the volumes back in their places, Harry felt a definite sensation of relief, as if he were granted a furlough from the prison of Harry Potter, to which he sometimes felt he had been given a life sentence.
Harry took his mid-morning coffee at the Leaky Cauldron. His intent had been to stop and leave a message inviting Neville to come by Potter and Associates, whenever he might be at the pub. As it was, Neville was there, in sole charge as his wife was out with friends, supporting the magical economy of London.
Harry and Neville held a segmented conversation, necessitated by Neville's leave-taking each time he had to deal with a customer. Even so, in less than an hour Harry had a list of properties they'd heard of that might present opportunities. Harry volunteered to do the legwork, out and around London, looking over the properties and collecting any available details that might help in the decision-making.
Pansy was in her office when Harry got back.
"Well!" she said when Harry walked in.
"You bet," said Harry. "I feel renewed."
"Prospects?" asked Pansy.
"At least two good possibilities," said Harry. "Plus, I still have a few left on the list for tomorrow."
"Glad to hear it," Pansy said. "An owl brought this, maybe an hour ago?"
Pansy handed over an envelope addressed to 'Harry Potter, London.' The only other information on the exterior was a monogram on the blob of wax that closed the envelope's flap.
Harry looked it over. There were lots of decorative elements but he easily picked out the initials— 'RM'—in the midst of the all the curlicues.