Wheels Within Wheels – Part Three
Iolanthe
Chapter Twenty
The Potters' Domestic Arrangements Are Scrutinized by People for Whom It Is None of Their Business; Signs and Portents
Harry and Daphne hadn't really given it a lot of thought, but by Iolanthe's fifth birthday, and subsequent fifth Christmas, they had become the hub of an extended family that comprised Iolanthe, James Greengrass Potter, Tracey, Zelda, Draco, Astoria and Scorpius, Ron, Hermione and Rose, Ginny, Millicent, Blaise, Teddy and Andromeda.
Most weeks of the year saw some activity that brought most or all of their group to Potter Manor. Harry and Daphne had demanding jobs, but they became proficient in managing their time so that on most days the children had at least one parent at home. One all-family meal per day was a rule, and one they seldom broke. Tracey and Zelda Davis were fully integrated into the Potters. Harry and Daphne instinctively took them into consideration when making plans for travel, vacations, or large at-home events
They still hosted Black Christmas at the Black estate in Cornwall during the first week of December. Every Black cousin they could contact would get an invitation. Good behavior was expected, and in many cases, it was rendered. Anyone aware of recent magical history would disbelieve that statement. Blacks had married into so many other houses they were represented across the ideological and political spectra. Andromeda Black Tonks was illustrative. She had been removed from the Black tapestry for marrying the muggle-born wizard Ted Tonks. Her sister Bellatrix had killed her nephew, Sirius, and her sister Narcissa had married the Death Eater Lucius Malfoy. Her grandson, Teddy Lupin, was the godson of Harry Potter, who had sent Lucius to Azkaban at one point, and was now Lord Black and hosted the Black Christmas observance simply because he took his head-of-house duties seriously and thought all the Blacks ought to be able to get together for a firewhiskey and socialize.
Harry wasn't always certain he knew what he was doing, or why. He admitted, on more than one occasion, that it was complicated. When frictions developed, as sometimes happened, Daphne and Tracey were unusually skilled at calming everyone down. Harry saw witches and wizards in high spirits having a good time, and as long as no one got hurt, or set too poor an example for the children, it was all healthy fun.
Scorpius' fifth birthday provided the occasion for the summer Black event, the Black Picnic. Ever since his first birthday, the Blacks had gathered at the end of June for a picnic at the Black estate, with lots of local fish, early summer garden salads, pumpkin juice, butter beer, and, for those who indulged, a bit of firewhiskey. The children all received tissue paper crowns and the cutest little toy wands, which were, of course, non-functioning, in consideration of the fact that bits of kid magic were always manifesting without warning. There was no point in tempting fate with an estate full of magical children running around.
The Potters, including Tracey and Zelda, had begun spending the night before any all-Black event at the estate, in order to rise early and prepare for visitors.
"Iolanthe," Harry said, after he'd swallowed his last spoonful of porridge. "As soon as you're finished?"
"Indeed. Shall we go, Father?"
Iolanthe had begun modeling herself on Daphne, including her manner of speaking. Daphne said things like, "Indeed," to answer questions in the affirmative, so Iolanthe did as well. Daphne called Fabio "Father," so Iolanthe Astoria, age five and one-half, did the same for Harry.
The first task of the morning was a stroll around the grounds to seek out snakes. Iolanthe was highly influential among the snakes, and advised all the little ones who inhabited the garden beds, hedgerows and stone walls that there would be a large family event commencing soon, and they would be wise to go to ground. Each year Daphne charged Iolanthe explicitly to see that the adders cleared out until the Black Picnic was concluded. Daphne didn't worry about the little snakes' safety the way Iolanthe did. She simply did not want to be treating snake bites.
Harry and Iolanthe switched to parseltongue on their snake-clearing walks. It was easier than switching back and forth with English, since they had to speak parseltongue with any snakes they encountered.
"It's time to think like a snake," Iolanthe said. Her consonants softened, her S's stretched on and on, and she swung her head side to side as they crisscrossed the grounds.
"We're having a little party," Iolanthe would say. "Get under something unless you want the children picking you up and passing you around."
"Very considerate," Harry said.
"Father," Iolanthe went on, "What do you think of Slytherin House?"
"Your mother was in Slytherin," Harry said. That did not answer the question, a fact noted by Iolanthe. "Tracey, Draco, Astoria, Blaise, Millicent. All Slytherins."
"Did you have problems with the students in Slytherin?" Iolanthe asked, a little more specific this time.
"That was all Hogwarts stuff," Harry said. "Teenagers acting out. At least, that is what I think your mother would say. She is an expert. Have you had this conversation with her?"
"She can't speak parseltongue," Iolanthe answered, a bit dismissive. Harry considered Iolanthe's response. Maybe there was a little attitude showing. That was fine, for now. Harry was a consumer of information. He took bits of it from here and there and tried to make a coherent story of the bits.
"Iolanthe, you're going to be six in December," Harry said. "What can I do to free you, for the next five years, from worry about Slytherin House, or whatever house you end up in?"
Besides speaking parseltongue from birth, Iolanthe had thrown off enough accidental magic to make an acceptance letter from Hogwarts a foregone conclusion.
"I'll be in Slytherin," Iolanthe stated, quite definitively. "We both expect that. Don't we, Father?"
Harry didn't want to, but he had to admit she was right.
"Yes," he said, "But just because we both expect it doesn't make it an ironclad, guaranteed, certainty."
"I'm not worried," she said.
Iolanthe spotted a little patch of black under some leaves.
"All right, you there," she called out, dropping into a squat. "Show yourself."
An adder head looked out from the bed.
"Madame?" the snake said. "And would this be your Lordship? Oh, what a day! The two of you coming to call. How can I help you on this blessed day?"
"We wanted you to know there will be a large number of humans traipsing about and stepping on things with their human feet," Iolanthe said. "You know how they can be. With regard to snakes, that is."
"Sadly, I do," said the adder. "So I take it you would like for me to take myself away from your revels?"
"Could you, Brother?" Harry asked. "Just for the day? They'll all be gone by tomorrow and things will be back to normal. Thank you for all your work protecting the garden. We've had minimal evidence of rodent damage this summer."
"Madame," said the adder, "It will be my pleasure, and an honor, to comply with your wishes. The stone wall is usually adequate, unless you think otherwise…?"
"The stone wall it is," said Iolanthe. "Father will advise the guests an adder was seen nearby, so they should stay away."
The adder made a sound that could have been a snake laugh.
"So droll," the adder said, taking its leave.
Iolanthe turned her attention back to Harry.
"I'm not worried," she repeated. "I don't want you to worry."
"Oh-h-h," Harry said. "I see what you're getting at. I won't worry. You and I will know each other very well by the time you put the sorting hat on your head. You'll either like me, or you won't. Slytherin will have nothing to say about it. Besides, Madame Walburga will be ecstatic if you're sorted into Slytherin. Her portrait outside the young witches' dormitory will be able to keep an eye on you."
Iolanthe pondered Harry's response while she looked for more snakes.
"This is probably as far as we need to go this way," she said. Iolanthe led Harry toward a row of hedges that marked what they expected to be the limits of the picnicking grounds.
"Will we still talk like this when I'm in Slytherin?" Iolanthe asked. Harry heard the 'when' where he would rather have heard 'if.'
"Of course, if you want to," Harry said. "By that time you'll be on your way to becoming a skilled witch, and an independent woman. You'll have things you want to talk to me about, and things you won't. That is normal. That's life. The important thing is for you to be happy in your house, with whatever friends you choose, so that you can focus on becoming the best witch you can be. That is all I want for you. You and I will work everything else out between us, or with your mother's help."
Iolanthe kept spotting little snakes, and advising them to make their snake selves scarce for the next twenty-four hours. She led Harry on a roundabout route with the house at the center. When they completed one circuit she cut across the lawn on an angle to their first course and did another round, inside the first.
"Slytherin has a snake on its shield," Iolanthe said.
"Its arms," Harry said. "Or coat-of-arms. The snake is the symbol for Slytherin. The lion for Gryffindor, the eagle for Ravenclaw and the badger for Hufflepuff."
"Mother does not get snakes," Iolanthe said. "Slytherins should like snakes."
Harry walked along, looking for snake signs.
"I expect," Harry mused, "If a lion popped over that wall, I would be scared to death."
"Mm-mm. Nope, you wouldn't," said Iolanthe. "You would get between me and the lion and draw your wand."
"You, young snake. I see you," Iolanthe said in parseltongue, causing the snake to turn on itself and raise its head.
"Madame, are you her?" said the snake.
"My name is Iolanthe, if that is what you mean," said Iolanthe. "There will be dozens of humans arriving soon, so please take yourself to the stone wall and stay out of sight. It will be a very good day for a nap."
"Madame, I will, and thank you for the warning," the snake said. "Good day to you, milord."
"Good day," Harry answered.
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked. "If I did draw my wand on a lion I could still be frightened. He's the King of Beasts."
Iolanthe strolled along, eyes on the ground, looking for the bit of sunshine that reflected just so when it hit a snake scale.
"Father," she sighed. "Dragons are reptiles. Snakes are reptiles. The snakes know about you. They told me what you have done. You subdue dragons. Lions are not dragons."
"Iolanthe," Harry said, a little concern coming through. "Don't believe everything you hear. The snakes have a different perspective. They're down on the ground, looking up at everything, aren't they? Of course, they'll see things from their angle, just like we see things from ours. Besides, a thirteen-year-old doesn't subdue dragons. A thirteen-year-old who encounters a dragon and doesn't end up charred has simply gotten lucky. There was an entire conspiracy at work getting me past that task, so I could be delivered to my enemy, who meant to kill me.
"I think I'll stop there," Harry said, now feeling more than a bit agitated. "We'll have a long talk about everything in a few years, but you don't need to be hearing about all of my history now, at your age. It's not very pleasant."
"I know your history," Iolanthe said. "You've been sliced and diced."
She sounded very satisfied with herself for using the metaphor properly in parseltongue.
"What do you know about any of that?" Harry asked, barely keeping himself from laughing.
"Mother had me in her tummy when you went out on the street and got yourself sliced and diced," Iolanthe began in an authoritative tone. "Tracey told me. Then I asked Mother if it was true, and she turned red and I thought she was going to cry but she said Yes, but I wasn't to worry about it because she scolded you at the time and you would not be doing it again."
"Exactly!" Harry managed to get out, before the laughter took him over. "Your mother is so smart. She knows what is best for all of us, all the time. That is why we always listen to her."
When Iolanthe was satisfied they had done a thorough early warning to the snake community and evacuated them to safe haven, she turned for the house.
"Back to English," she said in parseltongue, her tone containing notes of disappointment, regret and anticipation of tedium. "Practical, but lacking in subtlety."
"Oh, be patient, Iolanthe," Harry said. "Subtlety is possible in English, if we work at it."
The Black Picnic picked up momentum from their arrival back at the house. Blacks apparated in, or used the floo network. Two of the larger families came by port key, the logistics being much less complicated.
Kreacher, Periwinkle and Winky had all contributed dishes to the picnic. They continually whisked empty platters and bowls from the long, white-draped buffet table, returning with fresh salads, fruit bowls and filled platters. Harry had established a relationship with several of the local fishermen and women, so fish, fried, grilled and steamed, dominated the entrée offerings.
Some surprisingly old relatives had come for the picnic. Harry, Iolanthe and Teddy became an informal support group, finding them shady spots and making sure they had chairs that remained stable when sat upon, bringing them plates of food and keeping them in butterbeer and mineral water. One or two liked a little firewhiskey in their water. Harry asked if their healer would approve, and was told somewhat convincingly that they had been fully cleared, within reason.
Andromeda and Narcissa sat together on an ancient marble bench. Draco brought them cushions and Teddy kept their drinks fresh and rotated mixed fruit plates in and out. They entertained a steady parade of cousins, both close and distant. Everyone knew about the two of them, and their late sister Bellatrix. The reconciliation had been a surprise at the time. After six years, wizarding Britain had gotten used to it, but that didn't make it any less remarkable. The pair had assumed something like a mantle, symbolic of the possible reestablishment of equilibrium after the chaotic years, if individuals could just liberate themselves from old ideas.
Draco brought a comfortable chair over to the bench, and Astoria took up a station at Narcissa's elbow.
"How do you feel?" Narcissa asked.
"Surprisingly good, for all the excitement hereabouts," Astoria said. "So I'll sit down now in hopes of making it through the day. Draco, can you see Scorpius?"
"He's right over there," Draco said. "I'll go keep an eye on him. Can we bring you anything?"
"A glass of pumpkin juice would be nice," Astoria said.
As Draco left to shadow Scorpius Astoria turned her attention to Andromeda and Narcissa's latest callers. Everyone asked how Astoria was feeling, studiously avoiding saying 'curse' at any time. Daphne came by and held hands for a bit, discreetly appraising Astoria's color, alertness and posture. James and Zelda came for hugs and kisses, bringing flowers they'd picked in the garden.
Teddy had found some like-minded gardeners and was hosting his own tour. Harry was watching from a shady spot when Tracey walked up.
"You've done so well with Teddy, Harry," Tracey said. "He could have been lost, and look at him now. He's got them all rounded up and paying attention. Remarkable."
"Andromeda gets the credit," Harry said. "She got him started in Ted's garden at her place. I think she had him out there when he was three or four. He seems to have a natural affinity for growing things of course. There's no substitute for that."
"He and Victoire are…" Tracey said, waiting for Harry to finish her sentence.
"Still the same, so far," Harry said. "It's beginning to look like there is something very deep between them."
"Good luck with that," Tracey said, smiling.
"It happens," Harry said. James and Zelda came up and handed them each a bouquet, then ran off at the first 'Thank-you.'
Daphne wandered over and linked her arm through Tracey's.
"Great party, Lord Potter-Black," she said.
"All credit to the party planners," Harry said. "Tell them for me if you see them."
The day went on. The oldest attendees tired first, and their younger relatives brought them by to say thanks and good-bye before leaving, followed by the families with young children. Harry and Daphne kept Scorpius with them so he'd be sure and get lots of extra birthday wishes. Time for cleanup arrived much too soon. Daphne called for Trix and the four elves made short work of it. Everyone even deferred to Periwinkle who was, after all THE house elf at the Black estate.
"Impressive," Harry said, watching the elves' progress. "So harmonious."
"Mm-hm," Daphne agreed.
"Did you do that?" Harry asked.
"Oh, a little positive reinforcement goes a long way," was all Daphne would say.
Harry, Daphne and Tracey planned to leave for Potter Manor as soon as the elves had restored order, so they collected the children and walked through the house. They spoke to all of the portraits, although some were so tired by this point they'd gone non-responsive. Phineas Nigellus was definitely not one of those.
"Wonderful event, my boy, all those people and not a single fatality!" the late headmaster enthused. "And ladies, I'm sure you get credit for the menu and the favors and all the planning, correct? Wonderful party. So many branches here. I wish we'd done this last century."
An ancient Black witch in the portrait next to Phineas Nigellus said something they couldn't make out.
"I have been told I must mean century before last," he said. "I stand corrected."
"Very good sir," Harry said. "We'll be off now. Regards to Dumbledore, if the two of you are awake at the same time."
"Come back soon, and bring your two…" Phineas Nigellus said, then, "uh, children, bring the children."
Harry didn't know what to think of the stumbling about, attributing it to advanced age, so he just waved and confirmed: "At the earliest opportunity."
Tracey and Daphne looked at each other. Harry didn't see, but Tracey gave Daphne a quick little grin, and Daphne shook her head.
House secured, elves dispatched, the Potters and Davises returned to Potter Manor. Periwinkle had been in charge of leftovers, of which there were plenty, but no one thought they were quite ready for anything to eat. The late afternoon sun was past its peak intensity and beginning to paint the valley of the Dart in shadows. Harry found himself a tumbler for some mineral water and took up a station supervising the children, who had migrated to the green for a session of aimless racing about.
"Lord Potter-Black," Daphne said, walking up and standing beside him.
"My lady," Harry returned. He reached down and brought her hand up to his lips. "Isn't this all just something?"
"I know," said Daphne. "Country bumpkin witch, saved from spinsterhood…"
"Castoff orphan civil servant takes refuge in obsessive careerism…" Harry responded. "Thank-you, Raffles."
Daphne laughed like she wouldn't be able to stop.
"Raffles," Daphne said. "Delivered you to my clutches, did he?"
"Raffles saved me from a life of empty striving. You could have simplified everything by inviting me over for a swim, just two classmates having a small, informal reunion, Greengrass Lake-style. I'm kind of stuck right there in the gazebo, emotionally," Harry teased. He was more than semi-serious, though. It was one of his few memories of a moment of unalloyed joy.
"Uh-huh," Daphne said, pulling harder on Harry's arm. "Now, did you get anything from Phineas Nigellus' odd comment as we were leaving?"
"That business about coming back and bringing the children?" Harry asked. "No. I didn't know just what he was getting at."
"Please don't take offense, Harry," Daphne began, "But I think Phineas Nigellus, a very old-time magical grandee if there ever was one, was referencing something that has pretty much gone out of fashion in the modern era. The old noble wizards, some of them, used to take multiple wives and concubines. Quite openly in some cases. Strings of them, according to the stories. That's why there are these magical families with branches all over the place. The more responsible ones would recognize the children, although there wasn't any requirement they do so.
"I'd started to hear little rumblings. I believe Phineas Nigellus was on the verge of telling you to come back and bring the two wives, which he changed to children in mid-stream," Daphne finished.
"You mean you, and Tracey," stated Harry. "Daphne, I never…"
"Oh, Harry, stop," Daphne said. "I'm not casting aspersions. The portraits are just a little less guarded than some of our contemporaries. You're a grandee and to some it looks like you're keeping company with two of your classmates."
Harry looked down, then he looked up.
"Merlin, Daphne!" he said, feeling a mix of confusion and consternation. "She's your first cousin. She was in a spot. At the time, it didn't look like anyone from the Davis's would help her out. We stepped up, and Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass, and sorted it. So now she's part of…of…"
By now Daphne was in full laughter-induced immobilization.
"Stop…" she managed to get out, so Harry stopped. "We're a witch and a wizard, not Puritans."
"I know about your deal, the one with Tracey," Harry said. "I've observed it, strictly, since the beginning."
"Oh, you know about an alleged deal?" Daphne said, more than a little curious. "Please continue, Lord Potter-Black, Order of Merlin."
She was having much too much fun but somehow it was all escaping Harry, focused as he was on grandees (of which he, apparently, was one) and strings of wives, concubines, and who knew what else.
"The night of our first St. Mungo's Ball, Tracey told me, if you ever dumped me, the first owl I would get would be from her. Not to worry, though, because you two never poach from the other. This is according to a pact you negotiated at the age of fourteen."
Harry stopped there and looked at Daphne.
"Gosh, that's the synopsized version, but surprisingly accurate," Daphne said.
"There's more?" Harry asked.
"Oh, the usual caveats and codicils, terrible spells to be suffered with immediate effect if either party breaks faith, et cetera," Daphne finished.
"Very dramatic," said Harry.
"Ah, well, two fourteen-year-old witches negotiating over open nail polish bottles, of course it was dramatic. That's the rule," Daphne explained.
"I'll take your word for it," Harry said. "What are we going to do?"
"We don't have to do anything," Daphne said. "We aren't breaking any laws. I think I would know if there were anything untoward happening. Tracey is as close to me as Astoria. Nothing stays secret for long.
"I don't know if you've noticed, Harry, but Tracey could be very vulnerable if it weren't for us," Daphne went on. "Without a career, she and Zelda could be in a real spot. You've solved her housing issues and Blaise supports Zelda, but Tracey has a very modest income from some small inheritances. Your generosity keeps her from knocking on her parents' door, or Fabio and Kendra's, babe in arms…"
"Please," Harry asked, rubbing his brow. "It sounds like charity. It's the right thing to do. I don't want anything from Tracey. She may be giving us more than we're giving her."
"Harry," Daphne said, with a little emphasis to move his train of thought to another track, "That is my point. Tracey and Zelda are family, living under our roof, taking their meals, going about on outings with us. We all get along and all the children have this loving circle around them, day and night. We're the beneficiaries of all that.
"The old magical ways are mostly gone, but not entirely, and certainly not in memory. No one will condemn you. Be aware some observers will put what they see in that context, just like Phineas Nigellus did. People are making assumptions. Whether you take offense, or let that get to you or not is wholly up to you."
Harry looked out over the valley. The last of the sun was reflecting back from the Dart, just bits and pieces here and there.
"What's this about grandees?" he asked. "I thought grandees were Spanish."
"True," Daphne said. "It's not formal in Britain like it is in Spain. That makes it wizard slang, really. There aren't any established rules. A man gets to be a grandee when he emerges from the pack. Accomplishments in some field. A little wealth helps. Siring a line of witches and wizards by a desirable mate. It's a consensus thing. Unbeknownst to you, one day you woke up a grandee."
Harry pondered the Dart some more.
"Never heard of it. Not even in the common room. Grandees in Britain?" he said.
"Oh, Lord Potter-Black," Daphne summed up, "You were in the wrong common room all along. You were born to be a grandee. If you'd been in Slytherin you would have benefited from my guidance."
Daphne turned and faced Harry. They weren't very far apart.
"Are we going to collect these children and get them inside?" she asked, a question that seemed to have embedded gradations of meaning.
Harry woke early the next day and went out onto the patio with a cup of fresh coffee to enjoy a midsummer's early morning. He'd put the whole Tracey-as-concubine and himself-as-grandee business out of his mind. Somehow, through one of those mysterious mental processes that keep humans interesting, he'd gained a new perspective overnight.
Daphne joined him on the patio, wearing her nightgown and the crimson and gold bathrobe from his bedroom at Greengrass Manor. Harry started at the flagstones and took in Daphne's bare feet with the terra cotta polish on her toenails, the nightgown out just a few inches from the bottom of the bathrobe, her hands, the nails done in the same terra cotta shade, her clean, freshly-washed face, and the platinum hair pulled back, coiled on the crown of her head, the coil held in place with a pair of chopsticks. Daphne placed her coffee cup on the table next to Harry's, yawned, raised her hands above her head, and indulged in a long, satisfying stretch.
Harry watched the whole sequence. Daphne noticed, and blessed him with a smile.
"What?" she asked, although she probably knew.
"I might as well go back to bed and write this day off," Harry said. "Absolutely nothing that happens after this point…"
He let the sentence trail off, which is to say, finish itself in Daphne's mind.
Harry was rewarded for his candid remarks with a long kiss that finished with Daphne pulling away slightly, temporarily taking his lower lip with her, until she let it go.
"Harry Potter," Daphne said. She rested her chin on top of his head. A pair of deer slowly made their way across a field on the slope below them.
Harry had gone near-total fugue by the time Daphne pulled out her chair and sat down next to him at the table.
"Great Black Picnic yesterday," Harry said. "Thank-you for everything."
"Wasn't that fun?" Daphne asked. "I remember a few times, before I started at Hogwarts, when Mother had friends at the house, and she'd serve tea and she and her guests would talk about this and that. House parties and country weekends figured in those wonderful stories about the days before Voldemort ruined everything, the first time. Then I went to Hogwarts, and right there sat Harry Potter, on the stool, with the sorting hat on his head, and all the death and destruction suddenly seemed real. They'd had childhoods, and fun, and went to school and made friends. Then…for us…the other. When I looked at you on that stool something like a thunderclap of doom went off inside me.
"I knew about your parents, of course. Even though he wasn't back just then, there was that element of unfinished Voldemort business. No one had found a body. Don't think I'm discounting your experience, Harry, or equating mine with yours. That cloud did hang over everything, though. The magical adults did the best they could, but there weren't a lot of country weekends or big all-family picnics. Everything and everyone seemed to have that fracture line running through it, and them.
"So here we are this morning. I'm sitting with the grandee who fixed things. Who funded my dream house. Who lets me plan big all-family picnics at our estate in Cornwall."
"Well, sorry," Daphne said. "Didn't mean to be maudlin, or bring up unpleasant memories."
"That's okay," Harry said. "Would you tell me if I'm getting therapy, kind of surreptitiously? You do such wonders for my emotional state."
"Harry, you know that would be unethical," Daphne said, employing a non-answer to move the discussion along.
"I've been thinking about our conversation from yesterday, over there," he nodded his head in the direction of the green. "It might not be a bad thing, what you were describing. In my job, I mean. If the people my department is interested in see a kind of dissipated grandee-type when they look at me, they might be careless when they oughtn't be. So, thanks for telling me about all those things."
Daphne looked at Harry over the rim of her cup.
"I don't see dissipated," Daphne said. "I see deep reserves of native intelligence, a natural learner, and the ability to take in lots of information from different and even conflicting sources and make sense of it. You are a grandee, I'm convinced."
"Don't know about that," Harry said. "If the Notts and Lestranges think I'm distracted by my own grandee-ness, though, that's to my advantage."
Harry looked around to make sure they were alone.
"Have you talked to Tracey about this?" asked Harry. "Not prying, I'd just feel better knowing neither of you would be hurt if a tongue should wag."
"How about if I don't go into it?" Daphne suggested. "Do you like just a bit of a mysterious air around you? In accordance with the demands of your position?"
"Just as long as you feel safe and secure," Harry answered. "With your feet on solid ground. Nothing gets to challenge that."
Daphne turned her face to the rising sun and indulged in a little basking while the angle was still low and gentle. She was such a Sphinx, thought Harry. At least he'd never be bored as long as Daphne was around.
"Good morning, Mother," said Iolanthe, in her best approximation of Daphne greeting Kendra, including a kiss on the cheek. "Good morning, Father."
Between Harry and Daphne they somehow covered "Good morning, dear; Good morning, Sweetie; How are you this morning?" and one or two more.
Iolanthe hadn't brought anything out with her.
"Periwinkle, may I have a cup of the raspberry tea, please?" Iolanthe called out.
"Good morning, Miss Iolanthe," gushed Periwinkle as she appeared with a tray holding a small teapot, cup, saucer and a little silver bowl of sugar cubes. Iolanthe was clearly Periwinkle's favorite out of the entire family. Everyone got equal levels of attention, but not everyone got the smiles and bows Iolanthe was given.
"Thank-you, Periwinkle," Iolanthe said. "You can let it steep for a bit."
Harry looked at Daphne, bemusement showing about the corners of his mouth. Daphne gave him the co-conspirator look.
"Wonderful work with the snakes yesterday, Iolanthe," Harry said.
"Indeed, Sweetheart," Daphne said. "I didn't see or hear of anyone encountering a snake all day."
Iolanthe pursed her lips a little.
"They are very responsible," she said, "If asked nicely."
Iolanthe grasped the handle of the teapot, which clearly outmatched her five-and-one-half-year-old strength, so Harry stretched out his hand and asked, "May I?"
"I'm going to check on James," Daphne said, getting up. "I'd take another coffee, if Periwinkle passes by."
Iolanthe let Daphne get back inside, then called, "Periwinkle?"
"Could you get another coffee out here for Mother?" she asked the elf. "Thank-you."
"What do you want to do today?" Harry asked. "Anything in particular?"
"I just got up," said Iolanthe. "What did you want to do?"
"Someone will be bringing me some things to read in a bit," Harry said. "That will probably be it, although you never know. We could walk to the Mill. Your grandmother and grandfather might like to see you. Maybe we could all go for a swim."
Iolanthe sipped her raspberry tea and looked down toward the Dart.
"All good," Iolanthe said, letting it sit there.
Daphne came back with James, followed by Tracey with Zelda. Daphne had traded her nightgown and robe for one of her seemingly endless supplies of emerald green track suits with silver trim. Tracey was in emerald green silk pajamas and matching mules. The children were in shorts and tees. Zelda and James had each inherited a version of their father's hair, which made for an air of almost competitive wildness in the morning.
Harry heard a 'pop' and looked toward the green. He got up from the table with a, 'Be right back,' and walked off to meet the messenger. Together they walked toward the house, and Harry's study. Harry offered coffee and mineral water, and the messenger accepted the water.
The messenger brought Harry some interesting reading, although nothing that would compel going to the office. He picked up a special quill and wrote notes that didn't show up on some of them. He filled a sheet of note-sized parchment and stuck the note to another of the documents with a touch of the wand and a silent charm. There was a muggle ministry with a reading room that Harry visited now and then. A liaison officer would bring him a file and wait while he read, then accept the file back when Harry was done. Harry was always amazed at the adaptations used—paper clips, staples, and straight pins. He'd lived with muggles until he was eleven, then gone back and forth for another six years, and he still marveled at the illogic of muggle life. It was all one big elaborate effort to make life work in the absence of magic.
Attaching his invisible note with a sticking charm gave Harry a lot of pleasure.
"That should do it, Mercury," said Harry. "Thanks for bringing that pile by."
"My pleasure, sir," said the messenger, anonymous behind the work name all the messengers used. "Anything else this morning?"
"Go on back and lead the prayers for a quiet remainder of our weekend," Harry said.
"Yes, sir," said Mercury, suppressing a laugh that instead came out in a semi-snort.
Harry waited while Mercury dropped his floo powder and said, "Forty-two," followed by the usual 'WHOOSH.'
Harry found the family engrossed in breakfast and lively conversation when he got back to the patio.
"Does everyone have something to swim in?" he asked. "It is the middle of summer, and Iolanthe and I were talking about what to do with today, and it occurred to me we haven't gone swimming. Would anyone like to go?"
It turned out everyone wanted to go, although James and Zelda probably didn't remember swimming from last year. Breakfast took a bit longer, but there wasn't any reason to rush. The group got to Greengrass Manor sometime around eleven, perfect for a swim before lunch, after which, with luck, the three-year-olds might consent to take a little nap.
They could have floo'd directly to the library, but Iolanthe had a special relationship with the talking gate, as did Harry, although hers was completely cordial in nature.
"Hel-LOW, Miss Iolanthe Astoria, and assorted others," said the gate in greeting. "May I say you're looking exceptionally fit this morning, and favoring your distinguished mother more each day?"
"Good-morning, talking gate," Iolanthe replied. "You are simply the best, smartest, most handsome gate anywhere. It's always a pleasure."
The gate could have let everyone pass without further comment, but the level of distinguished services to wizard-kind represented compelled additional ruffles and flourishes.
"Madame Davis, and the vibrant Miss Zelda, and Doctor Daphne, O.M. and her handsome son James Greengrass, and, of course…"
"Hello, talking gate," Harry said, acquiescing once again. "How are you today?"
"Oh, for a metal contraption that stands here in sun, rain, snow and ice, not opening even once, some days, probably pretty good, thank-you for asking, although, I never meet any of my own kind, so I really have no standard for comparison," the gate observed.
"I've never met any of your kind, either," Harry said, "so I'm wondering if you're unique?"
"That could be hurtful if directed to another species," the gate stated, a bit flatly, "But I'm made of metal and incapable of having feelings. According to current doctrine, that is. Someone needs to do some more research…"
Harry cut his losses and kept walking, bringing up the rear as the family moved into the foyer ahead of him.
"Grandmother!" Iolanthe shouted, racing down the hall. She didn't bother with the library. Iolanthe always seemed to know just where to find Kendra. Harry watched and tried to figure it out, so far without result.
Kendra was sitting in the sunny room with a pitcher of mineral water and a bowl of lemon wedges. Trix arrived and materialized tumblers for everyone with a snap of her fingers.
Iolanthe went straight for Kendra, who leaned down and presented her cheek for a kiss.
"Good morning, Grandmother," Iolanthe said. "How are you this morning?"
She reached for Kendra and gave her a hug, just the way she'd seen Daphne greet Kendra countless times. James and Zelda dispensed kisses as well, but saved the elan, letting Iolanthe monopolize the graciousness.
"Look at the bags, and the towels!" Kendra said. "Someone's going swimming, it appears."
"We are!" Iolanthe confirmed. "Will you come too?"
"Of course," Kendra said, "I can't very well let you go off on your own, can I? How would I know if you got up to something?"
Daphne and Tracey went through their formalities with Kendra as well. Harry collected all the bags and stood waiting for Daphne to lead the way to the clipped green, and Fabio's magical Greengrass Lake.
Harry waited while Daphne and Tracey got the children changed and into the shallow water near the shore. He did lifeguard duty while the ladies changed in the cabana, then turned the supervision over to them and changed. He felt like swimming so he took care climbing down and kept his glasses on.
Harry swam in close and Iolanthe demanded he let her stand on his shoulders. He'd created that particular monster the previous summer, so he knew he was in for a good hour of shoulder stands, then hand stands, then tumbling into the water to the sound of screams. Then they'd repeat the process. With luck, James and Zelda would allow their mothers to shepherd them around the shallows and not discover until next year the delights of toppling off of an adult's hands in a terrifying pre-splash free-fall.
Greengrass Manor post-swim lunches were always memorable, and wholly dedicated to producing happy, satisfied children. Tuna salad, egg salad and cheese sandwiches were available, as were potato salad and unlimited French fries. Generous servings of orange-mango sorbet completed the meal.
Harry sat at the table with Raffles on his lap. Sometime in the first year after their wedding, Harry and Daphne were guests at an informal dinner and Raffles had popped up to get a closer look at Harry's plate, and had been Harry's special guest at the table ever after. Daphne asked the children not to follow Harry's example. Harry tried to keep his surreptitious hand-feeding of Raffles to a minimum.
Harry was just finishing his sorbet when he heard a 'WHOOSH' from down the hall.
"That should be Fabio," Kendra said.
"I turn my back for one minute…" Fabio managed to say as he entered the sunny room, before Iolanthe hit the floor followed by James and Zelda.
"How was the water?" Fabio asked, sitting down and assessing the remaining food.
"Perfect," said Kendra. "How was Torshavn?"
"It's so nice this time of year," Fabio said, a little chuckle in his voice. "We need to go spend a few days there and get some use out of the apartment. It's so different. Sea air, sunny days, cool at night, of course. The fishing is good, I was told. We could eat some fish, clear our heads, stare out at the Atlantic. What more could we want?"
Everyone agreed Fabio's description was paradisal, and they'd ought to make a group trip of it soon. It wouldn't be that night, though, and the adults soon rounded up the children and shepherded them out to the flat spot and a quick apparation home. Raffles and Harry lingered over their good-byes, and Harry promised he'd be back in hours, not days, and Raffles accepted that, with minor skepticism.