Wheels Within Wheels – Part Three
Iolanthe
Chapter Twenty-Two
Iolanthe and Rose and All Their Nefarious Schemes
Iolanthe and Rose discovered that a loose system was in place that informally assigned elders to the new witches in the study group. During their first weeks following the meeting in the library work room, fifth and sixth-years would come by and sit down and ask how things were going. What were the young witches working on? Did they need any help, or were there things in their assignments they didn't understand?
At the end of the process, each second-year had two older witches from houses other than her own to whom she could go with questions about assignments, or anything else that was on her mind. There wasn't any name for it—no mentors, no big sisters, no guides. In the end, each of the serious young witches had two older friends from outside her house who had gone before and were available to talk about anything. The end result just seemed to have happened. Iolanthe and Rose puzzled over how that came about.
"Mother would know," Iolanthe offered. It was Saturday, a gorgeous autumn day for sitting under a tree and looking out at the lake. "We'll ask her at Christmas. I suspect it is a very old institution that evolved over time."
"A need existed, was identified, and witches stepped up to fill it," Rose postulated.
"As they always do," Scorpius said, flopping down on the grass.
After a couple of 'Hi, Scorpius' greetings, everyone lapsed into silence as they soaked up the surroundings. Rose had kicked off her loafers, exposing a prominent hole in the toe of one sock.
"Rose," Scorpius said.
"Scorpius," Rose returned.
"Hold still," Scorpius ordered, drawing his wand and casting reparobefore Rose could react.
Rose looked at her sock and wiggled her toes. The mend held. She turned and gave Scorpius a look, her face held in a strictly neutral pose.
"I have to thank you, for politeness' sake, for that most competent reparo, but you need to know that was extremely presumptuous of you," Rose said.
"Oh," Scorpius said, blinking rapidly while he turned crimson. Rose immediately felt very bad for her negative flash reaction.
"Come," Rose said, gesturing Scorpius closer. She put her arms around his shoulders and hugged. "You can get away with it with me," she began, "but you really don't want to go around mending ladies' garments without being asked, especially if the ladies are still inside them. It's guaranteed to raise questions in idle minds."
Rose let Scorpius go with just a little bump of her face to the top of his head, not really a kiss, as such, nothing anyone could find objectionable, and all three got back to normal, staring out at the lake.
"How's the Merlin research coming along?" Iolanthe asked some minutes later. Scorpius, grateful for a topic that would get his mind away from his faux pas, which he feared would henceforth follow him, hellhound style, throughout his life, opened up. The Merlin research was going very well, and Scorpius described it in detail.
The witches let him go on. They liked scholarship and neither one had done Scorpius' depth of reading-in on Merlin, so he was saving them from having to do the reading themselves. Merlin laid much of the foundation of British wizardry, and Merlin studies really was a topic every aspiring witch or wizard in Britain ought to know something about.
Scorpius tired of talking, eventually, and he looked at his watch. Lunch time had arrived.
"There's quidditch after lunch," he said, "If anyone is interested."
It took Rose and Iolanthe a few seconds to sort shoes and get them back on. Scorpius had strolled ahead some yards before they turned to go back.
"I saw what you did there," Iolanthe informed Rose, her back still toward Scorpius as he walked away from them.
"You didn't see anything," Rose corrected her, with some firmness, "And besides, you have to stick to the code."
"What code is that, anyway?" Iolanthe said. "I think I'd like to get a copy of that code."
"This one right here," Rose said, as she slipped her hand under Iolanthe's arm and linked up. "It's such an ancient code, I think it may be older than writing."
"Scorpius, who's playing quidditch?" Iolanthe called out. Scorpius stopped and turned, waiting for them to catch up.
"Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw," Scorpius said.
"No wonder," Rose sighed. "I can barely keep up with Gryffindor. The only reason I go to see them is to be prepared for the interrogations. Harry Potter and Ronald Bilius Weasley made my life very difficult last term, you may as well know. You'd think the Purpose of Life were to play quidditch, and when not actually playing, to talk about it."
"So, do you want to go?" Scorpius asked. "Another hour or two of fresh air? Sunshine?"
"It does sound better than sitting indoors," Iolanthe said.
They'd reached the Great Hall and would be dividing up to eat at their house tables. Iolanthe looked at Rose.
"Okay," Rose said. "Meet you outside the pitch."
Rose peeled away toward the Gryffindors, Iolanthe and Scorpius to Slytherin. Scorpius stepped over the bench and put his book down. Iolanthe noticed him gaze a bit vacantly toward the Gryffindors, then absently raise his hand to touch the top of his head. She dropped the book she'd been carrying on top of Scorpius' and sat down, turning a radiant smile on the Goyle sitting across the table, the very one she'd made her experimental rat for the field test of the Medusa curse.
"Goyle," she nodded, observing closely for any reaction, strictly for scientific purposes. He didn't seem to be affected by his experience. Iolanthe resolved to remember to record that in her field notes.
Hogwarts' weekend meals were much less formal than the weekday versions. Faculty and older students often had things to do away from school, considerably lowering the numbers present. Parents and alumni wandered in, especially on quidditch match days.
"Black alert," Scorpius said.
Iolanthe looked around. Blaise was walking up the center aisle with Zelda.
"How'd he pry her away from James?" Iolanthe wondered.
Blaise held Zelda's hand as they climbed the few steps to the dais, then led the way to Professor McGonagall. He exchanged a few words with the headmistress, who took Zelda's hand in both of hers and appeared to be welcoming her to Hogwarts a year in advance. Blaise broke away from the headmistress and walked down the row to Millicent Bulstrode, who stood to shake hands before leaning down to Zelda height for a brief hug and exchange of words.
"Probably came for the quidditch," Scorpius concluded.
"Or lunch," Iolanthe suggested.
The Slytherins were all consciously focusing on cool while fighting the near-overwhelming urge to stand up to get a better look at Blaise. The legendary Blaise Zabini figured in so many Slytherin common room fireside stories. There were a limited number of main themes, but those lent themselves to endless permutations. He was a survivor of the Battle of Hogwarts. He had selflessly exposed himself to all manner of magical danger to rescue casualties under fire. He had single-handedly rebuilt Hogwarts after the battle using only his wand. Zelda was his child with the beautiful and unobtainable Tracey Davis, now thought to have moved on to become Harry Potter's concubine. Some of the legends became just a bit more salacious in male-only fireside discussions, but those were mostly graded lower for credibility.
Blaise and Zelda worked their way back through the house tables. They got to Rose and Blaise asked how things were going. Zelda looked like she wanted to worm her way onto the bench alongside Rose and fill a plate.
Both Rose and Zelda had each chosen to comb their hair completely out when they got up that morning.
"I like your hair," Zelda said.
"I like yours," Rose returned, inclining her head so the two mounds briefly touched. "Are you going to stay and have lunch with me?"
"Zelda's got to say hello to Scorpius and Iolanthe," Blaise said.
Zelda and Rose exchanged 'Bye's' and bumped cheeks before Blaise led the way to the Slytherin table. Zelda went to see Scorpius and Iolanthe while Blaise walked up the opposite side. Goyle was the end of his row, so Blaise sat down beside Goyle and stuck out his hand.
"Blaise Zabini," he said. "If I had to guess, I would guess you are a Goyle."
By this time Zelda was stepping over the bench into the just-vacated space between Iolanthe and Scorpius.
"My favorite cousin, come to have lunch," Scorpius exclaimed.
"Uh-huh," Iolanthe said, throwing a little, quizzical 'Oh yeah?' look toward Scorpius.
"Yes, sir, Mr. Zabini, Walter Goyle," said Goyle, taking Blaise's hand. The entire Slytherin table seemed to be trying to keep from staring at the spectacle down at the end, without a great deal of success.
Blaise reached across the table and helped himself to a carrot spear from Iolanthe's plate.
"Where are your raw vegetables?" he asked Scorpius, crunching the carrot. "Is Winky here? We need two more plates."
Winky and the plates materialized as he said it. Winky had nurtured an elf crush for Blaise ever since she'd first come to work at Hogwarts, when Blaise was still a student. The possibility of seeing him, and now his daughter, to whom she was equally devoted, were extra special bonuses for continuing to perform temporary duty with the Potter household, whenever she was needed.
Blaise looked at a platter of fish several seats down from their place at the table and Winky brought it down with levitation.
"Looks like we've got plenty, thanks to Winky," Blaise observed. "Who needs fish? Mr. Goyle?"
"Uh, uh, certainly, sir," Goyle managed. His preferred menu comprised beef, potatoes and lots of well-buttered brown bread, but if Blaise Zabini was going to serve up fish and call him Mr. Goyle, then Walter Goyle would eat some fish.
Iolanthe kept a bemused eye on Goyle while she and Scorpius pumped Zelda for gossip from home, an explanation for James' absence, and the purpose of her visit with Blaise. It was all pretty simple. Blaise owed Zelda a promised trip to Hogwarts to watch a quidditch match, and Tracey had an event-management engagement in Glasgow. James, Daphne, Teddy, Harry, Trix and Periwinkle were performing a general fall cleaning at the Mill.
Lunch went on and the conversation continued. Blaise asked how everyone was settling in after the summer break, what subjects were holding their attention. He rehashed his feelings of advanced age brought on by conversing with a classmate at the faculty table who was now head of their old house.
He got a laugh out of everyone, except Zelda, who looked like she would have rather melted and dripped onto the flagstones than have to sit and endure her father's laments.
Lunch progressed through dessert, a warm apple crumble with a scoop of pumpkin ice cream on top. Few students took the time to linger over dessert, as game time was approaching. That was too bad, because the swirl of flavors and textures really was quite pleasing to the palate, and the kitchen elves had worked very hard on the crumble and the ice cream.
When the tables started to seriously depopulate, Blaise turned to Scorpius.
"Are you going to the match?" he asked.
"Uh-huh," Scorpius answered. "Iolanthe, Rose and I were all going. It's Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, so we can all sit together. Are you going to join us?"
"Yes, if I'm invited," Blaise said. "I do have one little thing to do here in the castle, so I was wondering if I could get you to take over for me with Zelda until I can get to the stands."
"Of course," Iolanthe said. She turned to Scorpius.
"If Zelda and I start for the pitch, and walk slowly," Iolanthe began, "Can you take our books to the dungeon?"
"On my way," Scorpius said as he stood and scooped up the books they'd brought in from outside.
"'Bye, Dad," said Zelda, getting up.
"Well…okay," Blaise answered, recognizing dismissal when he was subjected to it. "See you soon."
The essence of a beautiful autumn day is the lamination of golden sunshine, lapis lazuli skies, slow moving cumulous clouds and seasonal aromatics with melancholy, sprung forth from certainty that the aesthetic treasures are heralds of the dark months, the time of slumber, and cold, which plants, animals and humans will endure until the Great Turning, and spring, unlock the wonders of the living planet once more. It would not do to ponder that while trying to enjoy a good quidditch match, of course. The closer Iolanthe and Zelda got to the pitch, the more excited Zelda became. She was in love with the banners, the chants, the smells of fall, and the spectacle of two teams flying above it all, chasing three kinds of balls from broomsticks.
Neither Tracey nor Blaise had played quidditch at Hogwarts, but Zelda's wider family was filled with players. Harry, Draco, Ron and Ginny had all worn quidditch robes for their houses, and Madame Pomfrey had the medical record jackets to document their service. Zelda had no memory of not having a child's play broom that she could get on and fly around Potter Manor. The broom's maximum flying height was supposed to be about eighteen inches, but Zelda had discovered on her own how to fly hard toward the top of the stairs and let her momentum carry her out over the drop, getting her a few seconds flight at six or eight feet above the closest surface. Her fondest dream was to go to Hogwarts and play quidditch, preferably for Slytherin, but any of the other houses would do as long as she could play.
"We'll wait here," Iolanthe said. "That looks like Rose coming now, and Scorpius will probably need a few minutes more."
As predicted, a very short time later Zelda was being conveyed up into the general admission stands by Rose, Iolanthe and Scorpius. Seats were no problem as an early season Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw contest didn't pack the blood-feud emotional punch that a Gryffindor vs. Slytherin game entailed.
The party hadn't been seated long before the two teams emerged from their dressing room exits and flew up above the stands for a little warming up. Zelda was ecstatic.
Blaise arrived and took a seat shortly before the whistle sounded and the game began. It was early in the season so the new members weren't the well-fitted parts meshing perfectly with their mates that would be the standard later on. Even Blaise, who didn't have the quidditch insider perspective that game experience alone could provide, could spot players giving up advantage by being out of position, common flying mistakes that ought to be cured by more hours on a broom, and wasted motion awaiting the erasure of disciplined repetitions.
That was to say, it was a fun game to watch. There were no warming or drying charms needing refreshing, none of the dullness of perfectly-drilled, perfectly-matched teams playing for hours and hours with neither capable of forcing a decision. Bludgers got past beaters, breaking up chasers' formations, keepers lost track of the action making successful defense of the goals as much luck as skill.
The issue was in doubt from start to finish, until Hufflepuff's seeker, sitting still on his broom like a hunter in a blind, simply reached out and grasped the hovering golden snitch, scoring one hundred-fifty points and ending the game. It would not be until the middle of the season that the Hufflepuff captain could convince the seeker that sitting still awaiting a visit from the snitch was not a viable long-term strategy.
The group formed up again and exited the stands with the boisterous crowd, everyone feeling the intoxication of autumn sunshine, the aftereffects of cheering for the abstraction of sport, and presence in congenial company.
"Can we come again, Dad?" Zelda asked.
"Of course, Zelda," Blaise said. "There is plenty of quidditch season left."
"Oh, goody," Rose observed, getting laughs from Scorpius and Iolanthe.
Blaise and Zelda said their good-byes at the great front doors, Rose and Iolanthe dispensing love and invitations to Zelda for future visits, and Scorpius shaking hands with Blaise and thanking him for coming.
"Library?" asked Rose as they finished waving and turned toward the doors.
"I was thinking freshen up and take a little nap," Iolanthe said.
"I'm going to spend some time with Brother Glott," said Scorpius.
"Impressive," Rose allowed, falling into step with Scorpius. "Most impressive."
Iolanthe returned to the dungeon. When she got to the entrance to the girls' dormitory, she saw her book sitting on an occasional table under young Walburga Black's portrait, a piece of parchment sticking out that said IOLANTHE POTTER.
"Good afternoon, Madame Walburga," Iolanthe said, dispensing a quick curtsy along with the greeting. "I'll just take my book. Thank you for watching it."
"Any time, dear," Walburga answered, clearly clawing herself up from a deep sleep.
"Your cousin Scorpius was such a perfect gentleman when he dropped it off. Such a fine group of young Slytherin witches and wizards these last years. I'm so proud to be associated with you."
"That is high praise, Madame Walburga," Iolanthe said. "For the record, I'm very proud to be here. Thanks again."
Iolanthe tidied up the area around her bed in the Slytherin girls' dorm. She put her books away, got some clean clothes and a towel from her dresser and headed for the shower cabins. In the silence of the girls' bath it wasn't possible to miss faint sounds of crying coming from a cubicle at the end of the row. Iolanthe attributed it to a mild case of heartbreak and resolved to keep her nose to herself and let the victim handle it.
She turned toward the shower cabins and hung her towel and clean clothing on the hooks provided. She had her hand on the shower knob when she changed her mind.
"What's wrong?" she asked, flip-flopping down the row. "Do you need some help?"
"I don't know," came a voice Iolanthe thought she recognized.
"Well, why are you crying?" Iolanthe asked.
"It's embarrassing," said the girl.
Iolanthe started sorting the cues and took a guess about what was coming.
"Did you start?" she asked. "Is this your first one?"
Silence.
"Stay there," Iolanthe said. She returned to the shower cabin, retrieved her towel, and brought it back.
"Open up," she ordered. The girl inside was a fifth year, a Lestrange from whom she'd always kept her distance. Potters, Greengrass's and the Lestrange clan had had some rather disastrous encounters over the years.
"It's Lissette, isn't it?" Iolanthe asked.
Lissette Lestrange nodded. Daphne saw some discarded things on the floor.
"Here, Lissette, take this," Iolanthe said, holding out her towel. "Wrap this around yourself and go take a shower. Leave those, I'll tend to everything else. Where can I get you a pair of clean…?"
"Dresser, next to my bed," Lissette murmured, blinking out tears.
Iolanthe made sure Lissette got to the shower cabin and waited until she heard the water, then made her way to Lissette's room in the upper classes' section and selected clean items for a proper weekend outfit. She made a stop at her own dresser on the way back to the bathroom.
"Winky," she called, and Winky materialized at the foot of Iolanthe's bed.
"Winky, these are Miss Lissette's. There was a little accident and Miss Lissette's things need washing up. I'm sure it's not the first time you've seen this, with all of us young ladies around," Iolanthe said. "No one but us needs to hear about this, okay? If you could just see to the washing and drying and put everything back in Miss Lissette's dresser, I will be very, very grateful."
"Of course, Miss Iolanthe Astoria, thank you for asking Winky! Winky is so proud Miss Iolanthe counts on her," said the elf, barely able to contain herself.
Handing over the laundry to Winky, Iolanthe took her cargo to the shower cabin.
"I have some things here, when you're done," she called out, then sat down on a bench to wait.
The sound of running water stopped, the door to the cabin opened a crack and a hand emerged.
When Lissette Lestrange came to find her, Iolanthe was lying in bed, propped up on her pillow with her Fitzgerald, trying to keep track of Athena's transfigurations from human to bird form and back again.
"All set?" she asked.
Lissette nodded.
"Thank you, for everything," she said, and started to turn.
"Lissette," Iolanthe called after her. Lissette turned back around.
"You'll need more, soon. You came to school without any. What do you plan to do?"
Lissette's eyes welled up again, she crossed her arms and shook her head in an 'I don't know' gesture.
Iolanthe, the second-year who wasn't quite thirteen knew she was far out of her depth, but she also knew she couldn't release Lissette into the wild in her current condition.
"Let's go," she said, getting up.
"Where?" Lissette asked.
"You don't think you're the first witch to have the experience you just had, do you?" was all Iolanthe would say. She took a look around her area, didn't see anything out of place, slipped into her shoes and took Lissette's hand.
Iolanthe was sitting up late in the Slytherin common room, alone, staring out at the lake and hoping to add to her notes on the giant squid when Lissette joined her.
"Iolanthe," said Lissette as she walked up and sat down. "I owe you. Never, ever wonder if you can ask me for anything, anything at all."
Iolanthe didn't say anything while she looked at Lissette, studying her face in the subdued lighting of the common room.
"Mother's a Slytherin witch," Iolanthe shrugged. "She's spent years getting me up to an understanding of what that means. You're my Slytherin sister."
Iolanthe continued, as if reciting a creed: "We look out for each other. It's an honor to be the one who can render a service. When anyone does something for one Slytherin witch, they do it for us all."
She let that sink in before going on.
"How'd it go with Madame Pomfrey?"
"She was wonderful," Lissette said. "Explained everything. I never heard men and women and feelings and Nature and all of it being cycles and fitting together talked about the way she did. My mother should have done. I don't know if you're familiar with the Lestrange's, but…"
Iolanthe had to smile.
"Aptly named?" she asked.
"Exactly," said Lissette, nodding. "The list of things my mother can't discuss would fill a book. Taboo subjects. Hogwarts saved me, no exaggeration. First year was like a revelation a day. Can you believe it? I guess the book and the quill really are authoritative, if they found a witch down inside me. Anyway…"
"Anytime, sincerely," Iolanthe said, returning to her hunt for the giant squid as soon as Lissette turned to go.
That was the week Iolanthe began to fulfill the prophecy Harry delivered before she was born. She carried herself in a way that projected a little more authority. Older witches began to defer to her. When she entered a room, seats were offered, even if there were no more unoccupied seats. She still pushed herself. No subject matter intimidated her. She still spent her free time on gymnastics and studying magical creatures.
Iolanthe Astoria Potter was beginning to get an understanding of just who she was and what that entailed. Faculty interactions took on a new tone. Diminutives disappeared and she ceased hearing 'Potter,' only 'Ms. Potter' this and 'Ms. Potter' that. Except for Professor Bulstrode, of course, who would slip in a quiet, "Very good, dear, very good indeed, keep it up," if there were no one within earshot.
Iolanthe Astoria had grown up shadowing Harry as he walked among the Blacks at Black Christmas and the Black Picnic in June. She'd walked beside him, getting introduced, listening to conversations, gauging others' feelings by observing the way they stood and learning to recognize strain or confidence in their tone. By now Iolanthe and Harry followed up every Black Picnic and Christmas party with a long and detailed deconstruction of the event, the guest list, the various sub-clans within The Blacks, how one nuclear family differed from another, who'd had a sketchy past, where the pro- and anti-Voldemort boundary ran, and on and on.
It was true the Black family had lurched into difficult times. They could have become defunct, their properties broken up and sold, just another extinct family in 'The Sacred Twenty-Eight' had Harry not been available to be Sirius' heir. When Harry took an interest in nourishing a Black revival, he decided to include the remaining Black cousins, no matter how distant. Even if their connections were a bit fuzzy, they weren't any more so than his own, so he leaned toward inclusion. He wasn't afraid to exercise his prerogatives as clan chief. Those weren't written down anywhere so he made a few up as he went along, all in the interest of promoting the general Black welfare.
Iolanthe Astoria assumed leadership of the Blacks at Hogwarts. No one asked her to, and she didn't ask permission. None of the Blacks objected. They liked the way Iolanthe Astoria Potter represented them.
Iolanthe came across a Black witch in a clump of upper class witches, whom she vaguely remembered from the most recent Black Picnic.
"Hullo," she said.
"Hullo," said the witch. Iolanthe gave her a hug, and the witch hugged back. Iolanthe had to keep going, but the witch sent her off with a "Bye, Iolanthe."
"My cousin," the witch explained.
After that, Black witches merited hugs, regardless of other considerations. Black wizards were powerful paladins addressed as Mister. A Black quidditch player from a winning team got a stop-by visit and public congratulations from Slytherin-robed Iolanthe at the next meal, regardless of house, an unprecedented act for a Slytherin. If she heard of a Black cousin struggling with a subject, she looked for another one who could tutor them.
Iolanthe, Scorpius and Rose formed one of those human threesomes that illustrated the geometric principal of triangles, where the shape, once formed, could not be altered unless one of the members bent or broke. Near the end of term, right on the cusp of June, a distant Black cousin happened on the three loitering in some shade near the castle's great front doors, and stopped to ask if Lord and Lady Potter-Black were going to throw a Black Picnic around the time of Scorpius' birthday. Iolanthe pivoted to make an opening between herself and Scorpius and linked her arm through their cousin's to bring him into the fold as end of term exuberance asserted itself.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, YES," Iolanthe exclaimed. "We're the Blacks!"
Rose and Scorpius happily affirmed that they were absolutely, without equivocation, THE BLACKS, and proud of it. The foursome broke up with mutual assurances all would see all at the Black estate in a few weeks and went their separate ways in much-improved states of mind.
What began as a one-off bit of ribaldry turned out to be a seed, and it started to grow.
"That was a very nice thing you did for your cousin today, dear," Young Walburga's portrait said to Iolanthe when she next arrived at the Slytherin girls' dormitory. It took a few seconds for Iolanthe to grasp Walburga's meaning.
"Oh, of course, we are the Blacks, and we like it that way," she said, dispensing a curtsy as a sort of 'Thank you very much.'