Wheels Within Wheels – Part Three
Iolanthe
Chapter Twenty-Four
And There Are All Kinds of Turning
"Grandmother, can I come through?"
"Scorpius?" Kendra asked. "Of course, we're all here."
Scorpius arrived in the Greengrass Manor library with the usual 'WHOOSH!'
Iolanthe and Rose looked up. Scorpius said 'Hullo' to Iolanthe.
"Hullo, Rose," Scorpius said, adding a slight smile.
"Scorpius," they returned, together.
A scream came from out in the central hallway just outside the library door.
Iolanthe jumped up.
"I'll get it," she told Kendra, and left for the hallway.
Hugo, James Greengrass, and Zelda had outgrown the play brooms on which they'd all learned to fly. Strictly speaking, as unqualified wizards, and witch, not at school, they shouldn't have been flying at all. What spared them the ministry's harsh discipline was the magic was confined to the house, as long as they flew around inside, where there were qualified witches. Any objectionable magical leakage from underage flying would get lost in all the legitimate magic of Greengrass Manor.
Harry had acquired some very tame brooms of the Hogwart's academic variety. He invited Zelda and James, and whomever else was interested, to go ahead and fly, as long as they observed the house rules. Zelda, it became apparent, had been nursing some very unrealistic expectations in regard to her first real broom, and it had taken some counseling to get her through her personal crisis. Tracey had tried to explain how an adult broom, particularly a performance model of the Nimbus or Firebolt variety, would make a young, inexperienced witch a danger to herself and others. Zelda exhibited great disappointment, all the way to the threshold of invoking deep personal hurt, that her mother, of all people, doubted her well-demonstrated abilities.
Tracey played the Blaise card, briefing him well, and in advance, of the use he was to make of his injury, which had ended one career and still affected his physical abilities. Blaise made the most of his tale of how he had lost the first love of his life, the infantry, when he could no longer meet her standards. He did not want to go through that again, vicariously, with the current love, Zelda Daphne Davis, who could easily find herself outflying her own abilities on a hot broom. He even used his theory that Fortuna had taken pity on him when she'd snatched the army away, and gave him luck once more, Zelda being the living evidence.
When Zelda still couldn't be convinced, Tracey turned over her ace. Everyone was at Potter Manor, including Ginny and Millicent. Tracey went up to Ginny and Millicent's room and knocked.
"Tracey," she said, "Can I come in?"
"Sure," said two voices from inside.
Ginny and Millicent were sitting by the window that looked out over the patio, the fields on the downslope, and the treed course of the Dart at the bottom. Ginny was embroidering something on a piece of linen clamped in a stretcher. One foot was resting on a towel laid across Millicent's knees, and Millicent was busily buffing Ginny's toenails with a little block.
Tracey gave the job a once-over, her eyes well-schooled by two decades of nail connoisseurship.
"Hmmm…" Tracey said, nodding approval.
"She's all booked for today, sorry," Ginny advised.
"Ah, none of that for me, I'm afraid," Tracey said, wiggling her fingers. "I had a fun hour of solitary Tracey time after Zelda went to sleep last night. I do have some actual business, though."
Tracey sat down and proceeded to explain her problem to Ginny and Millicent, drawing on Zelda's talking points.
These were: She was old enough; She was good enough; She had to practice; She'd be expected to fly something hot if she made the house team. Tracey concluded with hers, and Blaise', negative results.
"Okay," Ginny said. "Tomorrow morning, right after breakfast. Bring them all, that way Zelda won't feel singled out."
Iolanthe left the library of Greengrass Manor prepared to invoke Ginny's Potter Manor flying lesson to calm down some young flyers who thought they were more skilled than reality would support. She had to throw out her plan as soon as she stepped out into the hallway.
"Grandmother!" Iolanthe called. "I think you'd better come out here!"
Kendra stepped out of the library, into the hallway. She followed Iolanthe's gaze up through the penetration made by the great staircase through the first floor ceiling, to the second floor ceiling. Hovering up there, a good twenty feet, or more, above the lowest step of the stairs, was James Greengrass Potter. He should have been on a broom, but his broom hovered beside him, appearing to be ready for use but not needed, at least not just now. James was laughing heartily at everyone's distress and confusion.
"James," Kendra called, "Could you just get back on the broom for now? It would give us all a very good feeling if you would."
Scorpius and Rose had joined Iolanthe and Kendra and stood looking up as well. Rose started making pantomime motions to Hugo, encouraging him to fly down to the first floor in a civilized fashion, but he was just as mesmerized by James' broomless flying as everyone else.
Asked nicely, James saw reason and reached for his broom, brought it up under his seat, and descended, very gently, down the stairs. He came to a stop in the foyer, put his feet down, and dismounted. Hugo and Zelda were right behind him.
"I'm thinking it's patio time," Kendra announced. "Fresh lemonade all around."
Iolanthe kept her eyes on Kendra, in case there were orders.
"If you could get the brooms put away…" Kendra said, letting the rest of the sentence go.
Scorpius stayed to help with brooms while everyone else followed Kendra through the house to the patio. They looked like they were having so much fun even Raffles, who was ancient, for a Bichon, joined the procession.
James had managed to disturb the peace of the realm, because broom riding had been downright sedate among the Potter-Greengrass-Davis set, ever since Ginny's flying lessons at Potter Manor. Ginny had brought out her Firebolt and two sets of gloves, two helmets and knee pads. She started with a short safety talk, then she described what she would be doing. Firebolts were more than powerful enough to provide one adult and one eleven-year-old with a thrilling ride. Ginny finished up her pre-flight talk with a request:
"If you feel like you have to be sick and we don't have time to get down, just remember to grip and lean. Grip and lean. Just get your head out and down and let it go. Okay?"
With that, she started taking young folks up on a Firebolt.
After demonstrating climbing, descending, and level flight, Ginny spoke into Zelda's ear.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Yes!" Zelda shouted, and Ginny took her hands off the broomstick.
Zelda promptly took them into a tight ascending spiral.
"Try level flight first," Ginny advised.
Zelda over-corrected and brought the nose up, stalled, and leaned forward, putting the broom into a dive. She again hauled back on the broomstick and brought the nose up. This time, she anticipated the broom's tendency to keep putting its nose into a higher and higher angle, and thought "Level, level."
The broom slowed and leveled off, generating a sudden feeling of stopping and hovering, before the broom and its two riders began a slow, flat descent. Zelda's stomach wasn't prepared for any of this, and she had to lean over and lose her breakfast.
"Much better," Ginny said, "Let's stay with level flight for a bit longer. Lean forward and we'll get a little momentum, and keep it level."
Zelda leaned forward and the Firebolt took off. Ginny had anticipated Zelda's excessive move and had a good grip on the broomstick with one hand, and the opposite arm around Zelda's waist, or Zelda would have had the Firebolt fly right out from under her.
"Little moves, until you get the feel," Ginny said in Zelda's ear. "Sit up, a little at a time."
The Firebolt was whistling as it passed through the air, the pitch getting higher with each incremental increase in speed. Zelda began sitting up, initially in little jerky stages, which were reflected in quick and brutal drops in speed. She began to get the feel of it, though, and before long she was doing controlled accelerations and decelerations according to Ginnie's instructions. Gradually they got lower and lower, and went slower and slower, until they sat on the Firebolt, hovering, Zelda handling the broom solo.
"An-n-n-d, down, please," Ginny said, and Zelda lowered the broom the few inches between their feet and the ground.
"And that is a Firebolt," Ginny said. "How do you feel?"
"Dizzy, a little sick," Zelda said, "But great!"
"Don't be surprised if it takes you a few minutes to get over that," Ginny said. "It's very common, among novice flyers, and some people never get over it. I'm sure you will. You made some real progress. You've got a future on a broom. You do see why we put in the hours on the lower-performance models, though, don't you? There were some iffy moments up there. That's why I didn't turn you loose on a Firebolt by yourself."
Zelda picked up on 'hours' and zeroed in.
"How many hours? On the slow brooms?" Zelda asked.
"Until you can do all the common things," Ginny said. "Mount the broom and fly a slalom course of 100 meters or so, turn around and fly back, between three feet and five feet above ground. Fly figure eight courses of various lengths at slow, medium and fast speeds. You can also do like I did, fly old, slow brooms and play pickup quidditch with your brothers all summer long. By the time I got access to a better ride, I'd had hundreds and hundreds of hours on those old brooms, so switching to the upgrade was just a matter of getting accustomed to the speed and responsiveness. Most important, though, is this: If you're going to make a mistake, make it going slow. The injuries are so much easier to fix."
Ginny got through to Zelda at some point, because that was the end of the discussion about faster brooms. After Ginny's familiarization flight, Zelda kept flying inside the manors, when she had to, and volunteered to be a flying companion to any adult who was feeling the need to get out and fly, anytime, day or night.
James' broomless flying gave everyone quite a jolt. Kendra kept everyone occupied with iced tea and lemonade on the patio while steering the conversation toward Zelda's latest business ventures with Tracey, Teddy's gardening projects, and what classes the third-years would be taking in September. She didn't want a general discussion of broomless flight until she'd had a chance to go over what had happened with Harry and Daphne. Unaided flight was a magical phenomenon, and, as such, simply something James discovered in himself and learned to control. The last group known to have used it extensively, though, were Voldemort and the Death Eaters.
"How is your mother, Scorpius?" Kendra asked.
"She's still tired," Scorpius said. "The Black Picnic. She'll need a little extra sleep for a day or two more."
Kendra made another mental note. If Astoria didn't make an appearance in the next twenty-four hours, she'd discuss a house call with Healer Daphne.
Harry and Daphne weren't swamped, but they were keeping busy. The first week of July was full of little, but important, distractions. Harry had a lunch at a muggle club with his muggle opposite number, which generated two new to-do lists for their respective organizations. Daphne presided over what amounted to a conference spread over a week of mental malady seminars, presenting one research paper and sitting on a panel at another session.
By the end of the week, Astoria had made two visits to Greengrass Manor. She'd seemed bright and energetic enough, but Kendra could not help feeling something was a little off. She shared her concern with Daphne, and they decided to invite Astoria to the Mill for lunch and conversation.
Astoria was always ready for anything involving the Mill, the Mill having been key to a number of major Astoria life events. Daphne arrived first, enjoying the walk from Potter Manor. She opened the front door and some windows to bring in the fresh air, then went outside to sit on the bench by the door.
Astoria arrived, flooing direct from Malfoy Manor, and joined Daphne on the bench. Fairies started flying around Astoria's head, the tiny lights coalescing into a crown.
"Hullo, how are the fairies?" Astoria greeted them.
The fairies took their time answering.
"The fairies are well," said the voice that spoke for the fairies. "How is Astoria?"
"Just fine," Astoria said, "Thank-you for asking."
There was another conversational gap before the fairies responded.
"The fairies are very happy Astoria is well."
Kendra came into sight, walking down the path past the millstone, where the first fairies began to find her, and swirl around her head.
Kendra went through some reciprocal greetings along the lines of Astoria's, then joined her daughters on the bench.
"I hope you have crickets for the trout," Astoria said.
"There should be," said Daphne as she got up. "Let me look."
"How are you doing, Astoria? We've been worried about you," Kendra said.
"Don't," said Astoria. "Daphne and her colleagues have done everything they can. Lucius is the premier potion maker in Britain. Daphne says 'Make this,' and Lucius makes it for me, perfect, every time."
"We're just concerned, dear," said Kendra. "If you need anything, just tell us."
Daphne arrived with the jar of crickets.
"Come on, Mother, let's feed fish," Astoria said. They took the jar of dried crickets to the mill pond. As soon as their silhouettes began to stand out against the July sky, movement began deep in the pond. The trout circled the pond, coming closer to the surface. Astoria flicked one of the crickets off her fingertip into the center of the pond, where it floated for a second or less before a massive trout grabbed it and rolled over, turning its speckled belly up in a kind of thank-you.
"Mother wants something done, Daphne," Astoria said, dipping fingers into the jar for another cricket.
"Of course she does," Daphne said. "So do I. So does everyone."
"The truth is, you've done everything you can," Astoria continued. "I've been fortunate. It's very rare for anyone born with a blood curse like mine to live as long as I have. Long enough to get married. Carrying Scorpius and giving birth ought to have killed me. He's thirteen. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Daphne and Kendra watched the trout rolling just under the surface of the pond. Kendra stretched out her arm and wrapped it around Astoria's waist.
"What I'm getting at is, I've lived a lifetime," Astoria said. She launched another cricket toward the pond. It arced and fell, right into the mouth of the trout that broke the surface to catch it.
"I haven't missed out on anything. Don't let anyone go around saying, 'So sad, she was so young.' That's mistaking time for life," said Astoria. "Look out for Draco. I've been over all of this with him, but he doesn't take it very well. I think he understands. He'll still want to rant and rave and curse the tide. Don't let it go on too long.
"If one of us had to have it, I'm glad it was me. My personality was perfect. I'm not one for long-term plans, like Daphne," Astoria said. "I'm still getting everything I can out of every day I'm here. I have no complaints."
By now Kendra's eyes were running a steady stream.
"Is Iolanthe doing anything tomorrow?" Astoria asked. "She wanted to get together and read The Odyssey. I'll meet her here and we'll do it, if she's free. She can owl or floo-call.
"Now, was I promised there would be a free lunch provided if I came over?" Astoria finished.
Daphne called out to Periwinkle, who appeared in the dooryard with a 'pop.'
"Lady Daphne," said Periwinkle, a form of address she'd picked up, apparently, from Kreacher.
"Periwinkle, we're ready for lunch, plus whatever Mother and Astoria would like to drink," Daphne said. "Mineral water for me, please. It's so nice outside today, could we have the table set under the arbor?"
Kendra and Astoria also asked for mineral water. Periwinkle had the table and chairs set up with some finger snaps. She left while the little group moved over to the arbor, and was soon back with a tray of sandwiches and three small green salads. It was a very nice day for an al fresco lunch under a shady arbor. Kendra started out barely able to chew and swallow, but a few bites led to a few more, and before she knew it she was enjoying lunch and conversation with some agreeable Slytherin witches.
"How are you doing, Mother?" asked Astoria.
"Much better, dear," Kendra said. "The day, the Mill, the company…"
"Lunch," Astoria said, before biting into half a tomato, avocado and lettuce sandwich on toasted pumpernickel. "Periwinkle?"
The elf materialized at Astoria's elbow.
"Mistress Astoria," she said, "Periwinkle is here."
"I'd like a glass of white wine, please, and the ladies might want to think about it as well," Astoria said.
Kendra looked at Daphne, who shrugged.
"What harm…?" Daphne asked.
"White wines for everyone, Periwinkle," Daphne said.
The wine was there in no time, chilled, the bottle wrapped in a napkin. Periwinkle placed the tray with the wine and three glasses on the table under the arbor.
"Thank-you, Periwinkle. Let's just see," Astoria said, more to herself than to Kendra and Daphne. She picked up the bottle of wine and stepped away from the table. Tipping the bottle over, she poured some wine out onto the ground. One glug, two glugs, then she turned it back upright. Astoria returned to the arbor and poured three glasses of a very nice white wine, just the thing for a ladies' picnic lunch on a fine day in July.
Astoria heard the stag before she saw it. The same snap of a well-dried twig presaged the stag moving into the open on the edge of the clearing.
"Oh!" Kendra said. "Where did you come from?"
They barely remembered to breathe while the stag walked, quite deliberately, across the open space to the arbor, where it stopped and stood looking at Astoria. She reached out and the stag lowered his head, so Astoria touched her fingers to his poll and let them rest there. When the stag stood still, Astoria began scratching the poll, then moved to an ear, down under the jaw, to his throat, which she treated to long strokes from the chin nearly down to the brisket.
Astoria slowed her rubbing of the stag's neck and looked at his eyes as the stag held her gaze. She didn't blink or look away as she leaned forward slowly and kissed him on his muzzle.
"Thank you for coming," she said.
The stag stepped backwards, raising his head, looked at Kendra, then Daphne, then turned and walked toward the stream. When he got a few yards distant, he burst into a sprint, straight for the creek. He leapt from the near bank, his forelegs tucked up, while he held his hind legs out in the position they'd taken when he'd launched. Time seemed to stop while the stag hung, suspended, above the water. He cleared the stream with plenty of distance to spare and sprinted for the tree line.
Astoria leaned against the back of her chair. She combed her chestnut hair back with her fingers, feeling the hair with her fingertips covered in the oil from the stag's coat. She tipped her glass back and took a sip of white wine, then put it down on the table next to her plate.
A little finger of mist rolled over the top of the stream bank and toward the arbor, thickening and spreading out as it moved.
"Wha…" Daphne began, but Kendra's hand was on top of her forearm before she could finish. Daphne looked at Kendra, who didn't take her eyes off Astoria, except to follow Astoria's gaze toward the mist that kept moving and getting denser. Kendra started to reach for her wand. Astoria caught the movement.
"Mm-mm," she said, shaking her head a little.
When the mist arrived it filled the space under the arbor, giving everything solid an opalescent cast, as if all were infused with the same magical qualities of the mother-of-pearl-lined shells of crustaceans.
"Artemis?" Astoria called out. Daphne looked at Kendra, who looked back, before both turned their heads toward Astoria.
A woman walked out of the mist. She wore a short tunic and sandals, a quiver of arrows hung from a broad shoulder strap, and she carried a bow. The dog that walked beside her walked straight up to Astoria and nuzzled her hand.
"Do you want to smell the stag?" she asked. "Artemis, may I present my mother, Lady Kendra, and my sister, Lady Daphne? Mother, Daphne, this is Artemis. THE Artemis. We met in Butrint."
Artemis pulled out a chair and sat down. Her dog sat on his haunches beside Astoria, who continued to stroke his head.
"Is this Cerberus?" Astoria asked.
Artemis smiled.
"No, he's just one of my dogs. Here," Artemis said. Astoria looked and noticed a pheasant hanging by its legs from a brass ring attached to Artemis' quiver. Artemis got the feet out of the ring and held the pheasant up by its legs. She handed the pheasant to Astoria.
"I shot it earlier, and took it to Father, but he sent me to you with it. He said you and your family should have it, as a gift. Have your servant hang it up for a few hours before roasting and the meat will be tender. There is enough for everyone."
Artemis looked directly into Astoria's eyes.
"I understand," Astoria said. She wrapped the pheasant in a napkin and laid it on her plate, ready to summon an elf to take it to Malfoy Manor. "Please tell your father we are all very grateful for everything."
"You're Kendra," Artemis said, "And you're Daphne. Astoria is already a legend at home. We don't have a lot to do these days except feast and recite the great tales. Everyone loves brave Astoria, even my stepmother. New stories are rare, and stories as beautiful as hers stand alone."
Artemis stood, pulled Astoria to her, and put her cheek against the top of Astoria's head. The dog stayed with Astoria until Artemis had walked nearly out of the mist, when she whistled once, and the dog bounded off.
The mist dispersed with no further fuss or bother. One moment Artemis was a faint presence, walking toward the stream, and the next she was gone, and the mist with her.
"Artemis," Astoria said, tilting her head toward the route Artemis had taken as she walked away.
Kendra and Daphne, both highly-skilled, extremely well-educated and experienced witches, were speechless. Daphne looked at Kendra, whose knowledge was so broad and deep Daphne knew, with certainty, that she would never grasp how knowledgeable and powerful her mother was. Kendra looked at Daphne, expecting her healer daughter with the muggle degrees to open a conversation for them both.
Daphne found her voice first.
"Astoria," she said, "do you mean that was Artemis, from Olympus? Zeus' daughter?"
"Uh-huh," Astoria said. "She was in Butrint and we ran into each other and I confided my plan to get pregnant and give Draco an heir. She was very honest with me. How I would be hurting my prospects for a longer life if I got pregnant and gave birth. She had a lot to do with pregnancy and childbirth in the old days, so I thought it couldn't hurt to ask for a little help. She was very gracious. Then she saw us back in Durres and she had already talked to her father about Draco and me. I understand they like our story. I got my Homer addiction from her. She said the best model for mortals is Odysseus, so read a little Homer every day. Now I've passed that on to Iolanthe, and the wheel keeps turning."
Astoria smiled and turned her face to the sun.
"Could I get you to come to St. Mungo's…" Daphne began, trying one more time.
"No," Astoria said. "There is no longer any point. You and your colleagues have been angels, Daphne, but without breaking the curse, the wheel will turn. There are all kinds of wheels, and that's their nature. They turn. Draco and I were alone, the wheel turned and we found one another. It turned some more and we gave ourselves the gift of Scorpius. I suspect we started him right in there, as a matter of fact. That is what we learn from Odysseus. The turning goes on, and on, and on. If we fear the turn of the wheel, we forget the purpose of creation."
A foot crunched on gravel. Everyone looked toward the sound. Iolanthe Astoria was walking past the wooden bench by the old millstone, her canvas satchel hanging by her side, the strap crossing from one shoulder to the opposite hip. Iolanthe wore jeans, sandals, and a canvas short-sleeved shirt with two large patch pockets for the wearer's choice of any number of handy tools for daily life.
Iolanthe walked straight to Kendra and kissed her cheek, then to Daphne, kissing her.
She bent over Astoria and hugged her, then kissed her cheek, then she hugged her again.
"What's this?" she asked, indicating the pheasant. "Have you been hunting?"
That got a laugh out of all the other witches.
"No, it was a gift," Astoria said. "Long story. It's got to go to Malfoy Manor and get hung up. We'll roast it and make it a side dish tonight.
"Change of subject," Astoria continued. "How about some Odyssey reading tomorrow? Here? Anytime during the day?"
"Anytime," Iolanthe confirmed. "Right after breakfast?"
"For me, that is about ten," Astoria laughed. "Ten it is."