Wheels Within Wheels – Part Three
Iolanthe
Chapter Seven
Harry and Iolanthe
Following a few days' honeymoon at The Mill, Harry and Daphne returned to their London lives and professional responsibilities. Harry was exercising daily, some of his routines prescribed by the healer rehabilitation specialists, and some of his own devising. He made himself available to Ralph Mann and Bart Fudge, but consciously scheduled his appearances in the office to minimize disruption. He had packed up his personal items, over Ralph's objections. When he found that Ralph hadn't ordered new stationery, he put the order in, but kept his involvement to himself.
No one knew, other than Harry and Daphne, but Harry was not feeling his old verve. His workouts went well, but something was missing on his left side. His strength was slowly coming back. What puzzled him was lack of feeling across his upper left quadrant and down his arm to below the elbow. He had control of his hand, but with an overlay of tingling and loss of touch for fine motions with his fingers.
"It has to be nerve damage," Daphne said. "Do you want to see a specialist? I think they'll tell you to do what you're doing and wait for the feeling to come back. It usually does. If you want to see someone, I can set it up."
Harry dithered, thinking one day he needed to consult with a professional, then the next, convincing himself his hand felt much more normal than it had just the day before. Either way, his rehabilitation did not come close to absorbing his waking hours, so he found himself casting about for interesting projects.
Post-wedding administration kept him busy for a week. Magical families, especially old ones of means, were subject to all manner of law and regulation, and when those were satisfied, tradition stood waiting. Harry requested a meeting with Whetstone, who was managing the Potter and Black enterprises held in trust, to sit down with Daphne for an authoritative overview of what were now their joint holdings.
When the day of the meeting arrived, Daphne floo'd to her study from St. Mungo's. Harry heard what he thought was the WHOOSH of an arrival and stood outside the study, preparing to knock. The door opened, and there stood Daphne, just a tiny bit of soot on her cheek, Walburga Black looking on adoringly.
"Daphne," Harry said.
"Harry," said Daphne.
"POTTER!" exclaimed Walburga Black's portrait. "You wasted no time working your wiles on this fine Slytherin witch, I see."
"Madame, how are you today?" Harry asked. "Always a pleasure. Thank you for your good wishes. This," he said, patting Daphne's slightly-visible baby bump, "is your Aunt Dorea's great-granddaughter, Iolanthe Astoria, who will be raised to proudly claim her Black heritage in this very house. Won't all three of us feel lucky if she should become another fine Slytherin witch?"
Walburga kept her counsel, although she did feel obligated to sniff dismissively before appearing to drift back to sleep.
"You enjoy that too much, Potter," Daphne said when they were out in the hall with the door closed.
"Maybe," Harry said. "I like to see it as laying the foundation for a healthy portrait-infant relationship. You'll let me know if I'm encroaching on your professional domain."
"Count on it," Daphne said. "Now, do we apparate to Diagon Alley? Your apparation point by the flat?"
"Not today," Harry said. "There's another way I go for business."
Harry led the way to the big living room fireplace and took a generous pinch of floo powder. When he and Daphne were both in, he dropped the powder and said, "Gringotts One."
Harry was surprised to see Whetstone waiting in the paneled room that served as the terminus for Gringotts secure floo travelers. He had assumed they would be exiting into the lobby area and making their way from there.
"Lord Potter-Black, and Lady Potter-Black, welcome to Gringotts," Whetstone said. "Right this way, please."
Whetstone led the way back into the boardroom whence Harry had come when he was first shown the secure floo by Ragnak, Gringotts chairman. Harry was pondering how the boardroom had displaced the corridor as the route to Whetstone's office, or a smaller meeting room, when Whetstone opened the door and stood aside.
Ragnak waited just inside the boardroom, which was nearly full of goblins, and a few humans, like Bill Weasley, who worked for Gringotts. The great table was filled with flower arrangements, a serious buffet, a great bowl of punch, and trays of madeleines, biscotti, and mints.
"Lord and Lady Potter-Black, let me be the first at Gringotts to congratulate you and wish you many, many happy years together. We've taken a small liberty, since you gave us the opportunity, to arrange for some food and beverages for you and your Gringotts family, to celebrate."
"Mr. Chairman," said Harry, "We are so honored. We want to meet everyone and shake every hand, but I sense members of staff have been waiting and looking at this beautiful luncheon, so I propose we begin."
Whether that was what Ragnak had in mind was never really clear after Harry's comment, because the goblins pushed forward and began filling plates. Harry and Daphne stood in an out-of-the-way spot several feet back from the table, giving rise to an impromptu receiving line. Someone brought them plates they could manage standing up. Harry didn't know how Daphne would react to the goblins' customary blood-rare chunks of meat and raw root vegetables, but she gave the impression it was her regular diet, complimenting Ragnak on this or that item in between handshakes.
Goblins like eating, but typically don't waste a lot of time over meals. It wasn't long before goblins were putting plates down on kitchen carts and making their way to Harry and Daphne to convey best wishes and take their leave.
When the last of the staff departed, Harry turned to Ragnak and Whetstone.
"That was completely unexpected, and most memorable. Thank-you for your consideration," Harry said, while Daphne nodded in agreement.
"Gringotts was glad to do it," Ragnak said. "The prospect of a staff revolt if we did not recognize your nuptials had nothing to do with the decision, I assure you."
Harry never knew for sure with goblins, but he got the impression Ragnak was making a joke. It was a pretty good joke, too, for a goblin.
"Now, I'll have to get back to some other things, so I'll turn you over to my very capable associate. Madame," Ragnak said, taking Daphne's offered hand and bending over it in something like a kissing posture.
"This way, Sir, and Madame," Whetstone said.
The smaller meeting room was commodious enough. Whetstone saw Daphne looking at the stack of parchment and folders.
"This will take some time, but if you have other commitments, or simply require a little break, that is perfectly understandable," Whetstone said. "Just let me know."
The first document was the bank's copy of the marital agreement, that had been the cause of Harry and Daphne's first meeting in the bank. Gringotts was due a fee for its services in the administration of the contract. Harry took care of his and Fabio's obligations, just to have the matter closed. Daphne saw him staring at James Potter's signature, just beneath one of the red wax seals, and put her arm around his shoulders.
"Okay?"
Harry didn't say anything, but he nodded his head Yes.
The Potter enterprises broke down into three categories. The agricultural land around the Potter Manor, most of which was rented, was one. The second was the goblin-operated mines, which didn't generate vast profits but were very stable, year to year. The third was the investments he'd learned about at the meeting the previous fall. Most of those were fairly ordinary, common stock issues anyone could buy on the market. One was different. Harry learned he still received a minority share of the profits from Skelegrow, a preparation discovered by a potioneer ancestor who had had the good sense to hang on to a percentage of the corporation that produced the potion.
Collectively, the holdings gave witness to the efforts of generations of Potters, and the members of his family tree who had married into the Potters, to manage their assets carefully, and conservatively, thinking ahead and eschewing riotous living. The Potters had also been lucky, it appeared, in that no wastrel Potters had been born who undid the work of generations in one lifetime.
The Blacks, as could be anticipated, had lost much of their wealth by the time Sirius was killed, due to backing losing political horses, legal costs stemming from settling too many disputes by resorting to violence, and the lack of heirs with any sort of business sense.
Real estate had proven to be the Black salvation. For whatever reason, the Blacks had managed to prioritize hanging onto #12 Grimmauld Place, a unique magical property in the heart of London, and to the Black estate in Cornwall. Harry had made one brief visit to the estate. He knew he and Daphne could do a lot with it, and have fun while they were at it, but one thing after another had intervened. Harry was thinking, while Whetstone was droning on about the attributes of the property, if they put their minds to it, life for the Potters could become one long, drawn-out progress from London to Devon, to London, to Cornwall, world without end, amen.
"Harry?" Daphne's voice broke his reverie.
"Sorry," Harry said. "The Black estate looked charming when I visited, but I need to go back and get to know it better."
"We'll do that, but we've moved along. Now, I listened to your inventory, so you'll be listening to mine," Daphne explained.
"Oh, well, then…" Harry said and by some miracle, thought better of finishing with, "can't wait."
Daphne's fortune turned out to be every bit as quirky as Harry's. Greengrass Manor was the minority of Fabio's landholdings. He also owned farmland that was rented out, and most years the crops made money. In addition, the Greengrass family had been international traders for generations, building up businesses that imported and exported all manner of magical commodities. Daphne and Astoria had minority shares in all of the Greengrass enterprises, except for the manor and the attached lands. Those would remain in Fabio's hands exclusively as long as he was alive, when they would pass to Daphne, or, if she were deceased, her oldest child. Only if Daphne were deceased without children would the manor pass intact to Astoria or her descendants.
Harry must have appeared puzzled by the detailed chain of custody because Daphne leaned over and said, "It's medieval," which seemed a logical explanation for what was actually quite illogical.
Eventually, the process of itemizing Daphne's accounts, investments and sources of income came to an end. Harry had considered inviting Daphne to dine at the Leaky Cauldron, given their presence in Diagon Alley, but didn't really feel up to it by the time they finished. Daphne didn't look like she was eager for some more time away from home, either, so when Whetstone returned them to the little room with the secure floo, Harry just said, "Home?"
"Merlin, I guess so," Daphne said.
"You take us back," Harry said.
"Grimmauld Place," Daphne said as she dropped the floo powder.
There was a brief 'WHOOSH' before they stepped out of the fireplace in Daphne's study.
"Thought so," Harry said. "If you give the destination, we come here.
"Kreacher…"
"Kreacher is here, Lord Harry," said the elf, dipping even more deeply into the available heraldry.
"Kreacher, could you bring us a pitcher of ice water, two tumblers, and some lemon wedges? And two hot towels, if you please. We encountered some soot in the floo system. Not everyone is as skilled as you in keeping their section clean."
"Of course, Lord Harry," Kreacher said, disapparating.
Harry rolled his eyes, causing Daphne to execute an emergency laugh stifling just as Kreacher apparated in the study with the ice water.
"The towels are steaming," Kreacher said, disapparating and returning almost immediately.
"Mmmm…peppermint!" Harry said, inhaling the steam as he held the towel over his face. "Perfect."
Kreacher collected the towels and disapparated. Harry closed and locked the door, then cast muffliato so they could speak freely.
"Harry, what's with the secret floo address? I didn't know that was there, and I've been banking at Gringotts all my life," Daphne asked, taking and holding the floor.
"Fabio probably knows all about it. He's just the kind of person they'd want to use it. I was asked to come and go via the little room for security reasons. Head Auror, a little personal wealth…"
"A little?" Daphne asked. "And I'm pretty sure Father doesn't know."
"Ragnak mentioned kidnapping. They don't want me snatched on the steps of Gringotts," said Harry.
Daphne was at a loss for words, it appeared.
"Right about now," Harry said, "You're asking yourself, 'What have I gone and done?'"
"Harry Potter," Daphne said with a little snicker, "I know good and well what I've gone and done. I just didn't know I'd gone quite so far down that road. With all your time in the Ministry and experience with the aurors, you don't grasp the significance of granting you access to that system?
"That is Ministerial-level security, Harry. Ragnak didn't authorize that on his own. I expect you could floo directly into Kingsley's private office from that room. There were rumors about a parallel, secure floo system but it's never acknowledged. You're being discussed Harry, if you were given access. It is expected you will occupy positions of great responsibility. You didn't know all this?"
"I'd never heard of it until the day of our meeting," Harry said. "Are you sure it's that big of a deal? Ragnak didn't swear me to secrecy or anything."
"Yes, it's a very big deal," Daphne said. "I have to say, you get more interesting with each passing day."
"Ah. Okay, then," Harry said. "Moving along, it appears we are rich, Lady Daphne. What do you propose we do about that? I don't fancy a life of gilded sloth."
"You are correct," said Daphne, becoming serious. "I've always been comfortable, but other than the manor Father and Mother don't put on a show, and I get my tastes in pretty much everything from them. Plus, I got my professional qualifications to do something I love to do, and I don't fancy leaving that behind. Any ideas?"
Harry leaned back and looked at the ceiling.
"I think," he said, "They're going to have to make Ralph Mann's appointment permanent. Or, they could pick someone else, of course. They need a Head Auror. I'm not coming back the way I thought I would. I won't be fit for duty and they'll have to transfer me to the reserve force while I do rehab. Ralph is doing a fine job. He deserves his chance."
"Oh, Harry," Daphne said, "I'm so sorry. You love your job. Tell me what to do and I'll do it, is there some therapy you want to try?"
"The last few weeks have given me some time to think," Harry said. "That's a rare commodity for working people. I think I love being Head Auror. I'm not sure I love my job. It doesn't feel very challenging, not like it did when I first started. I can always go back on patrol, or be a shift supervisor. Lots of people do that when they get tired of the office routine. We just learned the amount of my pension checks are not of great concern.
"I want to get started on a house for one thing. Then there is the Black estate. Iolanthe Astoria," Harry continued. "And rehab. I won't feel right until I feel the way I did before that curse got through my block."
"Even so," Harry continued, "A lifetime of those kinds of activities wouldn't dent our holdings, even if I never added a single knut, and I can't see measuring my life's work in terms of vaults of gold added to the Potter hoard. It gets redundant after awhile, don't you think?"
"Did you mean what you said about Iolanthe Astoria being a fine Slytherin witch?" Daphne asked.
"Of course!" Harry exclaimed. "If she's happy in her house, that's where she'll belong. If the hat puts her in Slytherin, that's just Black, Davis and Greengrass coming to the surface. With those genes she'll probably own the place by her first Christmas break, wherever the hat puts her," Harry concluded.
"Well," Daphne said, stifling a yawn, "We won't decide it now. Some of us have to go to work in the morning. Take the pitcher and glasses back for Kreacher. It's good therapy."
Harry scheduled meetings with Ralph Mann, Bart Fudge, and Kingsley Shacklebolt as soon as they could see him. He told them all the same thing—his rehabilitation would take longer than anticipated and they should make plans accordingly.
"I may have some things coming up, Harry," Kingsley said. "You'll check in from your beach now and then?"
Harry, intrigued by the open-ended '…some things coming up…' assured Kingsley he'd keep him apprised of whatever beach he was visiting, right after he told Daphne.
Iolanthe Astoria and Daphne continued to come along without complications. Daphne and the midwife made some changes to Harry and Daphne's suite at Greengrass Manor, and Daphne moved to the manor the third week of November. There, she spent much of her time on a chaise in the sunny room, receiving a stream of witches who came bringing flowers, fruit baskets and baby supplies. Iolanthe Astoria arrived on the first of December, with her father, aunt and namesake, and grandmother in attendance. She bestowed smiles on all, performing like a Gryffindor, tolerating well the passing from arms to arms and back again, for two hours and a little more, then fell into a deep sleep. Six hours later, she woke up, well-rested and enthusiastic.
"I've got her," Harry said, getting up from his rocking chair.
"Get me to the chair, then bring her to me," Daphne said.
"Are you sure?" Harry asked.
"Harry…" Daphne answered.
"Okay, here…" Harry said as he gave Daphne his arm.
"I needed to stand up anyway," she said. "Nature made us to give birth on the savannah, get our breath back, and go catch up with the band."
"What possible relevance?" Harry began as he lifted Iolanthe from her layette.
Then Harry noticed his daughter had freed her arm from the swaddling and he held her up to ask her what she thought she was doing. Iolanthe reached out and touched Harry's face, giving him a big smile of recognition.
"Oh, she knows me already, look at that!" Harry said.
"Harry. Baby?" Daphne said, pulling her top aside. "And you can hand me a towel from that pile there. I expect I'll be needing it."
"Look, Daphne, she wants to pull my lip off! She's so strong!" Harry enthused.
A soft knock sounded on the door to the hallway.
"Come in," Daphne and Harry said together.
Astoria looked through the cracked door.
"Is she awake?" she asked Harry.
"Sure, come on in," Harry said.
The door opened, and Astoria entered the room, followed closely by Kendra and Tracey.
Harry looked at Daphne, seeking instructions. None were forthcoming. Clearly out of place in the room full of witches, Harry slipped out into the hall and headed downstairs. He thought about the library, but decided on the sunny room, despite the lack of sun, and a pot of tea. He was in luck. Fabio lay back in the chaise, Daily Prophet in hand, tea cup at the ready.
"Any chance we can get Trix to bring us a pot of tea?" Harry asked.
"Of course, and how about something to eat? You've been on duty for hours. Trix?" Fabio said.
Fabio and Trix soon had Harry fixed up with tea and a tuna sandwich.
"How is she?" Fabio asked.
"Both just perfect," Harry replied. "The room's full of witches watching her eat right now, but we might get an audience, if we're patient."
"What's next?" Fabio asked.
"Daphne wants to spend a week right here. I'm still exercising, so this is as good as anyplace for running. I can go to London for gym time. She has maternity leave at St. Mungo's, but my guess is with me to deploy for Iolanthe care, she'll feel the gravity from her patients," said Harry.
Kendra entered the sunny room.
"Fabio, your granddaughter is receiving visitors," Kendra said.
"The Honorable Miss Iolanthe Astoria? That granddaughter? Then I'd better go see how she is," Fabio said as he got up from the chaise.
"What do you think of her?" Harry asked.
"Why, she's perfect, of course," said Kendra.
"I thought so too," Harry confirmed. "I sort-of predicted to Walburga that she might be a little Slytherin witch someday."
"Yes, so I heard," Kendra said.
"It was more foreshadowing," said Harry. "Along the lines of idle speculation. Just raising the possibility for Walburga to consider. She did just try to rip my lip off with a big smile on her face the whole time, if that is indicative."
Tracey and Astoria arrived in the sunny room and began reciting the standard baby visitor verses.
"Beautiful…"
"Eyes…"
"Strong…"
"Happy…"
"Mmm-hm, SO happy…"
Harry waited for an opening, not wanting to spoil the fun.
"Go check…" he just managed to wedge in, between "Toes" and "Perfect, little pink pearls!"
Fabio as sitting on the bed holding Iolanthe when Harry got back to Daphne's room.
"What do you think?" Harry asked. "She has a lot more personality already, doesn't she?"
"Couldn't say," Fabio replied. "She gave me one good look and her eyes started to close. At least I don't scare her."
"How are you?" Harry asked Daphne. "Besides tired, which I can see for myself."
"Fine," Daphne said. "Can you walk me? Just out and up and down the hall. A little time upright and moving helps things get back to normal. Father, can we lay her down? I promise you another turn."
Miss Iolanthe Astoria's first week on the planet followed the age-old routine for newborns—eat, sleep, get passed around, get changed. One item stood out.
Harry began taking Iolanthe for little walks outside her room, initially staying on the second floor. When Iolanthe was three days old, Tracey walked Daphne downstairs and out to the sunny room. Harry brought Iolanthe down, one hand on the hand rail, and Iolanthe in the crook of his arm, against his chest. As they walked past the library, Harry spotted Fabio and Kendra inside, so he took Iolanthe in as a little diversion. He walked her around the room showing her the windows and the odds and ends that hung on the wall. Iolanthe's eyes were everywhere. Suddenly, Iolanthe began to scream.
"What?" Harry said. "Did you want to go back?"
He walked back the way they'd come. Iolanthe saw a plaque with the Slytherin crest, and began to smile. Harry, Fabio and Kendra all told the same story, and no one ever got them to budge.
Harry held her up so she could see clearly. Iolanthe smiled as she looked at the plaque, with its silver serpent.
"Sy-OSS-…," she said, plain as day.