Wheels Within Wheels – Part Three
Iolanthe
Chapter Twenty-Nine
They Begin to Emerge
The final weeks of freedom before start of term passed quickly that year, as various adults in Scorpius' constellation exerted themselves to come up with activities that wouldn't be considered frivolous or inappropriate for a family in mourning, but would still be a distraction for Scorpius, and often Draco as well, as they began their painful adjustment to the post-Astoria world.
Rose and Iolanthe, with the supreme confidence of thirteen-year-old collaborators, thought that they had conceived the original idea of keeping an eye on Scorpius while providing him with constructive diversions, and at times resented their parents' intrusive interest in their project. That the older generation had no idea the two had staked out a claim on Malfoy therapy for the remainder of the summer did not apply. Their planning capacity was not taxed as much as they anticipated, since Daphne and Tracey, and to a lesser extent Hermione, had all come up with ideas for interesting outings.
Draco had visited Albania with Astoria and Scorpius several times over the years, always setting up a base in Durres and taking day trips from there. Mr. Kadare' still operated his hotel for magicals near the corniche, and the staff still extended itself to ensure everyone had a visit every bit as magical as the visitors themselves. Draco took Scorpius to Durres and Butrint that summer. The whole trip had an air of pilgrimage about it. Scorpius thought Draco was sinking into melancholia at one or two points, but he always bounced back. When they returned to Britain, Scorpius invited his Aunt Daphne for a private stroll and raised the issue of whether he needed to become worried about his father's reaction to Astoria's death.
Daphne did her best, but she was coping with her own grief at the same time.
"One of the things we can't forget about grief, Scorpius, is this—just like pain, grief is felt differently by different people," Daphne began. "Some people can give the appearance everything is fine, while inside, they're breaking down. Other people may look emotionally broken, to the observer, but that is just their way of getting past the worst, then they come back, cope well, and can even help others with their inner pain.
"Contact with others seems to be very important for most people. Make sure you talk to your father every day, even if you have to start the conversations. Just asking him how he is doing might be all he needs to focus on you and your lives going forward."
"How are you doing, Aunt Daphne?" Scorpius asked as they walked around the Potter Manor gardens.
"Very astute, Scorpius," Daphne said. "I'm having my good days and bad days. Your father and I both knew years ago that this day would come, probably while we were left to pick up the pieces of our lives, so we have had time to get used to the idea. I did not anticipate the reality would be so cruel. I have a theory. There's no way to test it, but here it is. Your mother's time was short, for a witch, and perhaps she made the most of every day she had, as if I get sixty percent out of a day, and she got one-twenty. She was a huge factor in all our lives, wasn't she? She had a way of spreading herself around. Twenty minutes with Astoria was two hours with anyone else. Now that she's gone, there is a huge hole to fill. We will fill it, eventually, but not today, or this month, or before the end of the year."
They continued on in silence.
"I appreciate what everyone has been doing," Scorpius said, very softly.
Their deliberate pace through the garden paths continued.
"When did you catch on?" Daphne asked, the implicit humor in her question actually surprising her, and giving her a very welcome emotional lift.
"That lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, right after the funeral," Scorpius said. "Rose and Iolanthe are something else. I don't mind. We're going back to Hogwarts soon and we'll all be buried in books again. That's one thing about being connected to them, they respect a person's right to study."
"If you're worried about Draco," Daphne said, "Remember those Black owls. Send him a note every day. Two or three sentences. Quidditch scores, before he reads it in the Daily Prophet. If you want to talk about anything, just owl me and we'll work something out. I'd like to hear how your Brother Glott project is progressing from time to time. Can you send me regular updates?"
"Of course," Scorpius said. As a budding scholar, he was flattered his distinguished aunt thought his self-assigned work on Merlin was of interest.
The two eventually completed a full circumnavigation of the gardens. When they got back to the patio, Scorpius broke the silence.
"Everyone says they feel better after talking to you, Aunt Daphne," Scorpius said. "I can see why."
"That's a very kind thing to say," Daphne said, "Ready to be getting back to Hogwarts?"
"I think so," Scorpius said. "Keep an eye on him?"
"Yes," Daphne said. "You can count on it."
The school calendar called for the Hogwarts Express to make its journey on the first day of September. Rose and Iolanthe had been planning the logistics for taking Zelda, James and Hugo to Hogwarts and getting them sorted since spring term. Astoria's death and funeral had diverted their attention for some weeks, but the plan was so advanced the end result was nearly flawless.
Millicent Bulstrode had been among the faculty to draw Hogwarts Express chaperone duty, and she stood on Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters eyeing both parents and students with an air of detached interest that was taken, in combination with her way of looking at the scrum, her considerable physical presence, and her position as Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, as threatening or reassuring, depending on one's perspective.
Iolanthe managed her own luggage trolley, while James conceded that he could use a hand with his. Harry obliged him, putting only one hand on the trolley's handle, as if he were just going for a stroll with James, not propelling two hundred pounds of first-year necessities through the barricade onto the platform. Iolanthe had packed her trunk at #12 Grimmauld Place, picked it up, turned it around, and tried its balance from this or that angle until she was confident she could get the trunk all the way onto the car without any assistance.
Iolanthe, wearing her personal summer uniform of blue jeans, short-sleeved khaki shirt with patch pockets, sandals and a brown duck bush hat, pushed her trolley to a point near the car she wanted and stopped.
"Mother?" she said.
"Need a hand?" Daphne asked, walking over expecting to take one end of the trunk.
"Just hold the trolley, please," Iolanthe said, grabbing the trunk's leather handle with one hand, swinging it up into position, shifting her free hand and pushing and releasing at once, sliding the trunk onto the top step of the entrance to the car. Her timing was perfect, as she saw two Black cousins she recognized enter the car as the trunk slid to a stop.
"Do me a favor?" Iolanthe asked. "Stow that for me so I can say good-bye?"
"Of course," said one of the Blacks. "Hullo, Lady Daphne, hullo, Lord Harry."
"Hullo, dears, have a good term and we'll see you in Cornwall in December!" Daphne called back, while Harry waved and smiled.
"Very impressive, Ms. Potter," said Millicent, who'd been watching from a spot near the barrier.
"Professor," both Harry and Daphne nodded in greeting, even though they'd all had breakfast together in the little townhouse garden at #12 just hours before.
Iolanthe nodded her head in Millicent's direction, in addition to rendering a respectful, "Professor Bulstrode."
No one was close by so Millicent dropped the formalities and reverted to Auntie Millicent.
"Try not to curtsy out here, dear," she said. "You can save that for Madame Walburga. She thrives on that old-time protocol. You put a move on that trunk. I saw you. Have you been working out a lot?"
"Some," Iolanthe said as she shifted her hat to the back of her head. "After Auntie Astoria…The pushups really helped. When we weren't involved in something else, I went on lots of hikes, up and down lanes, over walls and fences. I was looking for animals, magical creatures if they were about, but anything would do."
A bowtruckle poked its head out of one of Iolanthe's patch pockets and looked around.
"So I see," Millicent said. "Have you ever thought about volunteering to be a tutor? Some of your fellows don't move between one Defense lesson and the next. You could be a big help just by showing them all their limbs articulate where they're attached to their bodies."
"Can we talk in two or three weeks? If I just have time to get a good start on my own classes and make sure our little charges are settled-in," Iolanthe said.
"Excellent!" Millicent said. "Tackle the highest priorities and I'll be waiting to hear from you."
Iolanthe grabbed her canvas satchel and slung it over a shoulder, picked up a small soft case, and turned to Daphne.
"Mum," she said, losing the Mother for the first time Daphne could remember. Iolanthe wrapped her arms around Daphne and squeezed. Without warning, all of the emotion of the past three months came flooding back. Scorpius' birthday party and the Black Picnic just days before Astoria's death, reading The Odyssey with Astoria for the last time, the walk with Daphne, the healing of Gorr, learning about the twins, traveling through the blue goo to wherever in the world Don Juan and Astoria sat on top of a mesa trading philosophy, Astoria's gift of the broken curse, her pyre and the spectacular lighting by Gorr and little Astoria Iolanthe.
Iolanthe had been telling herself she had done a good job of being an adult and coping with the loss of her beloved Auntie Astoria, but there on the platform she discovered how shallow her recovery had been. She didn't break down, but she shuddered a few times in Daphne's arms, to the extent Daphne considered walking her over to the barrier, out of the way, for a little private chat. Just to reassure herself Iolanthe was strong enough, Daphne told herself. She needn't have worried. Iolanthe straightened up and stepped back.
"Now, James Greengrass," she said, "It's time we saw to that trunk. Grab that end."
Iolanthe could have maneuvered the trunk onto the train just as she had done her own, but she knew James would be embarrassed to be seen riding his big sister's coattails before he ever got to Hogwarts. She and Daphne had discussed James to a degree that would have mortified him, had he known. Maturation, machismo, Iolanthe's already-established reputation as a leader-scholar, and her highly-visible relationship with Rose and Scorpius could all seem intimidating to eleven-year-old James. If he tried too hard to establish his own Hogwarts space and image, he might be in danger of adopting self-defeating methods.
Iolanthe let James take the lead on the trunk. He first started to climb the steps dragging the trunk up with him. He quickly assessed that method would be unsuccessful.
"Want to try this?" Iolanthe asked. She took the leather handle on the end of the trunk, and climbed on slowly, letting James push from the bottom end while standing on the platform. Once she got to the top step she pulled the trunk up the last foot and let it down. Looking up and down the corridor she saw a porter and nodded to him.
"My brother's," she said. "He's a first year."
"Of course, Miss Potter," said the porter, obviously quite pleased to have the opportunity to become slightly familiar with a member of the famous Potter clan. "I'll secure this and it will go on to the castle as usual. Does your brother need anything from the trunk? Robe, Hogwarts uniform?"
"Just a moment," Iolanthe said, hopping back down to the platform where James was getting in some more hugging and handshaking with Harry.
"James, did you pack your change of clothes in the little bag as we discussed?" Iolanthe called out.
James held up an overnight bag.
"All in here, robe, uniform, wand," he said.
"He's good," Iolanthe said as she turned back toward the train.
"About time to board," said Millicent. "I'll say good-bye here. I have to walk down and round up stragglers. I'll board down there. James, see you on the train."
Millicent turned and left. Daphne dispensed another hug and some back pats. Iolanthe returned as James was getting his natural color back.
"James, your trunk will be taken from the train to the castle for you. You will see it again in your dorm, in your new house," Iolanthe said. "Mother, Father."
Iolanthe dispensed the hugs, even though she was shorter and more compact than either of her parents.
"Ready?" she asked, reaching for James' hand. James didn't let her come close.
"Ready," James affirmed.
They waved from the top step as the steam whistle sounded, then the two Potters disappeared down the corridor.
"Aren't they something?" Harry asked. "Both of them, of course, but that Iolanthe…"
"That is all you, Harry Potter," said Daphne.
"Really?" Harry said. "I'd have said the opposite. She's such a scholar. I never could do what she does. I honestly have no comprehension of what one does to get those kinds of marks."
"You're looking at one facet," Daphne said. "There's more to her than that. That lightning you harness runs right through her. That might be why you're unaware. It just seems normal to you."
"Oh," Harry said. "I stand corrected. How's James, from your perspective?"
"He's fine, as far as I can tell," Daphne said. "Have you noticed he doesn't have a lot of special interests, books, magical creatures, that sort of thing? Yet he discovered unaided flight on his own, when he was ten. Then that job he did building Astoria's pyre. What did you make of that? You all talked about how he outworked the elves and the grown men both, but what did that mean? Where did he get the strength?"
"I really don't know," Harry said. "Something tells me we are about to find out."
Rose found Iolanthe on the Hogwarts Express. She was actually looking for Scorpius, but Iolanthe would always do. Iolanthe still had James in hand, and Rose had acquired Zelda along the way.
"Hugo's down that way, I think there is room in the cabin, if you two would be interested," Rose said.
"Sure," Zelda and James said, more or less in unison.
Rose led the way to Hugo's cabin, a collecting point for first-years. Iolanthe opened the cabin door and looked around. The cacophony collapsed as Rose joined her in assessing the cabin.
"Got room for two more?" Iolanthe asked, directing her question toward Hugo but getting an affirmative chorus in return. Iolanthe turned to James, tilting her head in a silent 'Well?'
"Sure," said James, sitting down as a space was cleared.
"Now, Zelda," Iolanthe said.
"Can I stay with you?" Zelda asked, her determination to stick with James having waned somewhere between the corridor and the reality of the compartment filled with first-years and their nonsense.
"Of course," Iolanthe said, Rose nodding in agreement.
With a wave to James, Rose and Iolanthe took Zelda in hand and went searching for Scorpius, and a place to settle down for the journey to Scotland.
"Where's your trunk?" Iolanthe asked.
"The porter took it," Zelda said.
"You kept your change of clothes separate?" asked Rose.
"Right here," Zelda said, holding up a small drawstring bag.
"How did you get it to fit in there?" Iolanthe asked.
"Mum shrank everything, but it is supposed to come back when I get it out," Zelda said.
"Brilliant," Rose said, looking at Iolanthe.
"Tracey," was all Iolanthe had in response.
The train puffed away northward, whiffs of burning coal and escaped steam migrating down the corridor. There wasn't any coal burning to boil water and propel the engine up the track. It was a magical steam engine, powered by magic over two centuries old, but the makers had thought to include the proper sounds and smells. Generations of young magicals had shared the experience, many of them realizing with a start that the fabric of their school years included that little detail that long-dead wizards and witches had so kindly included, a small personal legacy bequeathed to young people the originators would never meet.
Scorpius was in a cabin with two third-years and a fourth year. They'd piled a trunk atop another and were involved in a game of cards.
"Exploding Snap?" Rose asked, opening the door.
"Rummy," said one of the players. "Do you ladies want to sit with us and wait for an open seat?"
"Will anyone actually win and open up seats, or will you keep going bust all the way to Hogsmeade while you ask us to run down the trolley witch for you?" Iolanthe asked.
"She's onto us," Scorpius said.
"As it turns out, Melon did send something along," Iolanthe said. "My guess would be she meant for me to run into you, and invite you to share this."
Iolanthe lifted up her little bag and pantomimed looking for a place where she could lay it flat and open it up. There was actually room on either of the bench seats, but she clearly wanted a spot on the top trunk, so the hand was declared dead and the cards cleared away. Iolanthe opened her bag and removed a small iron Dutch oven, complete with lid. She touched the lid with her wand and it expanded to full size. A beefy, yeasty scent began to fill the cabin, an irresistible aroma for the young adult male, and four of them temporarily lost control of their salivary glands.
"Now, let's just see," Iolanthe said. She reached into her case once again and pulled out two plates and two tablespoons. Laying the spoons on the plates, she used her wand again casting a multiplying charm, and turned the pile into seven plates and seven sets of silverware.
"Anyone pick up a baguette on the way to the platform?" Rose asked.
No one had.
"Pity," Iolanthe noted. "Well, Melon thought to include this roll, so let's see."
The roll became seven and the card players were transfixed.
"Ready to take a break and have something to eat?" Rose asked.
Melon's contribution was a beef pot pie of sufficient size to provide lunch for seven Hogwarts students, but she'd left something to drink to the imagination of her guests.
"Do you think the trolley witch has some lemonade today?" Iolanthe wondered, the idle thought just popping into her mind. No one remarked on the two young wizards who jumped up and left the cabin, one turning left and one right. It didn't take long to locate the trolley witch and get her to come to the cabin. She did not have any lemonade, as it turned out, but she did have plenty of iced tea.
Time passed quickly, following lunch, with some talk of the upcoming quidditch season, classes either eagerly anticipated or dreaded, and relating the received knowledge on this or that professor to Zelda.
Rose looked at her watch and addressed the cabin:
"Time to change. How are we going to do this?"
Variations on 'We'll leave, then you can leave,' took several minutes. The last tie was properly knotted a few miles from Hogsmeade station.
Rose and Iolanthe had used their time out of the cabin to track down Hugo and James. After checking their appearance, they went over the arrival arrangements one more time.
"You'll look for Hagrid," Rose told Hugo. "He's not hard to identify in this crowd. You'll take the boats with the other first years, go inside, to the sorting ceremony. Then we'll all sit down for the feast."
"Who has the best food?" Hugo asked.
"It's all good," Rose sighed. "How many times have we been over this? It's all the same food."
"I know," Hugo said, "I just like the sound of it."
"You're very calm," Iolanthe observed, as she gave James the last look-over.
"Why shouldn't I be?" James asked.
"Well, the next hour will have a lot to do with how you'll spend your time for the next seven years, and with whom you'll do it," Iolanthe said.
"It's going to be fine, wherever I go," James said.
Iolanthe was startled by James' equanimity. He really didn't care. He'd be fine wherever he went! What did she think of that? She resolved to ponder the mystery of James when she had the time to do it properly. There could be some insights worth discovering.
Iolanthe thought back to her sorting. She and Harry had both confessed they thought it certain she'd be sorted into Slytherin. She didn't mind the prospect of being a Snake. She loved real snakes, why wouldn't she love to be a Snake? What worried her was that she and her father would become distant, his history with Slytherins being all hot and cold. Either they were conspiring to deliver him up to the Dark Lord, or they were falling in love with him and gladly having his children. It was a puzzle.
No one needed to worry. The transfer from the train to the castle went smoothly, and before long the first years started climbing onto the stool to be sorted.
The first few weren't of much interest to Iolanthe, Scorpius or Rose. There might have been one or two Black cousins in the batch, so they'd have to check up on that. Then the first of their special charges was called.
"Zelda Davis"
Zelda looked around, found Iolanthe and gave her a little smile, to which Iolanthe returned a thumbs-up.
"Slytherin," said Scorpius, very softly, as he looked over Iolanthe's shoulder.
"Merlin in Druid Heaven, I guess so," Iolanthe said, waiting for the foregone conclusion to be fulfilled.
Of course, no one but the first year and the sorting hat are privy to those conversations.
"Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin," Zelda thought as the hat came down over her brow.
"Slytherin? Well, you've got the genes, certainly. Rather distinguished Slytherins, both sides, too," said the hat. "But you like to fly? And play quidditch? What position do you dream about?"
"Seeker," thought Zelda. "I want a hot broom."
"Ah-ha," said the hat. "You should know Slytherin has a fine fourth-year seeker and there is a third-year almost as good right behind her. Gryffindor, on the other hand, needs a seeker. There is a chance, just a chance, if you went to Gryffindor, you could play this year. Do you think you can keep your grades up? You won't play if you're struggling in class."
"Merlin, YES!" thought Zelda. "I will do anything to play."
"Very well, then," said the hat. "Gryffindor!"
"What?" Scorpius said, looking first at Iolanthe, then around the Slytherin table.
"She was afraid she wouldn't get Slytherin," Iolanthe said, keeping her voice down. "I wonder what happened?"
Zelda ran, literally, to the Gryffindors and was swept up by Rose. She knew a fair number of her new housemates, from Black Picnics, Black Christmas, or from her travels with Tracey. Zelda was a catch, everyone knew that, but with her pedigree, the entire school just naturally assumed she'd be Slytherin's. The Gryffindors nearly hugged and back-patted her into the infirmary, before scooting down on their bench to give her the space next to Rose.
The sorting continued. Hugo came at the end of the G's, his name appearing on the class list as Hugo Granger-Weasley. Hugo wasn't expecting much. He had been immersed in Gryffindor lore since birth. His parents were both Gryffindors. No one kept a list of Distinguished Gryffindors, but if they did, one, and possibly both of his parents would be on it. As would his Aunt Ginny. Uncles Charley and Percy would be candidates, certainly. Truth was, Hugo was thoroughly tired of everyone assuming Hugo Granger-Weasley would take his place in the long line of Weasley Gryffindors.
"Anywhere but Gryffindor," Hugo thought as the hat settled down.
"Yawn," said the hat. "No names, but there is some of what you've got going around tonight."
"Not surprised," Hugo thought. "I'm a legacy, like it or not. Why shouldn't there be others?"
"Of course," said the hat, "Why wouldn't you want to be the author of an original story, am I right? You sound like a Slytherin."
"I could do Slytherin," Hugo said. "The thing is, I don't have lofty goals. I want to be an auror. I have to be in good physical condition and skilled enough to pass the entrance exam and the training course. Which is tough."
"Which will you need more help with?" asked the hat.
"The highest marks in the courses I need to be eligible to take the exam," Hugo replied.
"Ravenclaw gets treated unfairly," said the hat. "They like their studies. 'Wit without measure…' and all of that. But they really like housemates who want to learn. It keeps the Ravenclaw atmosphere conducive to scholarship. Some Ravenclaws have trouble keeping marks in perspective. The mark isn't important, the learning is. You've got the motivation. Do you want to learn?"
"I do," said Hugo.
"Don't ever slack off, or you'll be miserable," said the hat. "Last chance."
"Ravenclaw," thought Hugo.
"Ravenclaw!" said the hat, as Hugo slid off the stool.
The walk from the stool to the Ravenclaw table reminded Hugo of the sea breeze he felt when his parents took him and Rose on an outing to Dover to see the cliffs. The smell of sea water, the cold, damp wind in his face, the gusts that lifted his hair and chilled his scalp. He'd loved it, and it all came back as he became the first Weasley in generations not to walk from the stool to the Gryffindors, but to the liberating arms of the Ravenclaws.
James Potter was the last of the P's that night, the third of Rose, Scorpius and Iolanthe's charges to sit on the stool. Two of 'The Littles' had gone before, and both defied convention. Would they go three for three?
"Here's our Slytherin," Scorpius nearly breathed into Iolanthe's ear.
"Nah, he's a Gryff, darn it," Iolanthe said, hiding most of the despair.
"You want Hufflepuff, don't you?" the hat asked as James felt it touch his head.
"How did you know?" James asked. "I just got here."
"Hard work, camaraderie, don't give a hoot for others' measures of success. You already know what you're going to do with your life, you set your own standards, very, very high ones, too, and Devil take the hindmost. It's all over your face, your bearing…" the hat mused.
"I've heard all about you," James said, clearly delighted to find out the stories were true. "Ready? I am if you are."
"Hufflepuff!" announced the hat.
There was a hush, followed by a murmur, low, lips to ears, mouths shielded by cupped hands.
Hufflepuff? Harry Potter's son, the Harry Potter who had been cursed when just a year old and lived to tell the tale? The one who dueled the Dark Lord Voldemort multiple times and finally did what the greatest, most powerful wizards of the age had not been able to do? The Harry Potter who was a legendary auror, youngest Head Auror in history? The Harry Potter rumored to have beaten Gellert Grindelwald with his fists, although that was still a classified operation that was never officially acknowledged by the ministry? THAT Harry Potter's son, going to Hufflepuff? That's not even taking into account the rich Slytherin heritage on the other side of the family. Huh—how about that?
James wore a huge smile as he walked over to join the Hufflepuffs. They, of course, lost all sense of propriety in their welcomes. The Black cousin 'Puffs got to him first and showered him with 'Cousin James!' greetings, just so the others would be in on such essential information. James looked for Iolanthe at the Slytherin table, caught her eye and raised two clinched fists above his head in a 'V' which might have meant Victory, although Iolanthe thought it could be Latin, for Veritas.
The beginning of term feast was very well-scripted, or perhaps a better term would be encrusted, as in encrusted by centuries of history and tradition. The Headmistress made welcoming remarks and passed on some announcements of an excruciatingly mundane sort. Zelda perked up when she mentioned quidditch, and could barely keep her peace until the ceremonial parts concluded and they were invited to eat, and, of course, converse.
"Who's the quidditch captain?" Zelda asked Rose.
"Down there," Rose indicated a tall, blonde boy hunched over a plate of roast beef and mashed potatoes.
"Bobby Something-or-other, filling his gut with slow-acting poison," Rose added.
"I'm trying out. Slytherin's got seekers, it's overflowing with seekers, but Gryffindor needs a seeker," Zelda said.
An older girl sitting across the table looked at Zelda over her water tumbler.
"I don't know who told you that, Miss Davis, but they're mistaken," she said, raising the tumbler and taking a drink. "I was the second seeker last year. Thank Merlin our starter never missed a game, but I was there throughout, went to all the practices, of course. He graduated and I would be the presumptive replacement. Have you ever played quidditch?"
"Zelda's very talented, Dorcas," Rose said using her most studied, even tone. "I'm sure she is not aware of the others who might be ahead of her. Zelda, this is Dorcas Flyte, a fifth-year, and Gryffindor's second seeker last season."
Dorcas eyed Zelda for a moment before saying,
"Very pleased to meet you, Zelda."
Before long, the feast was drawing to an end. The prefects stood and identified themselves for the first years and led them off to their houses. Iolanthe fell in with the Slytherins. Ever since the portrait of the young, dewy Walburga had taken up residence on the wall across from the Slytherin girls' dormitory, a tradition had sprung up to welcome the new Slytherin witches to their Hogwarts home.
Once the prefects got everyone to Slytherin's common room in the dungeons, Millicent Bulstrode made some brief welcoming remarks, including forewarning that, if they didn't already know, a giant squid lived in the lake and would swim by the common room window now and then. The new Slytherins weren't to be alarmed, and they certainly weren't to scream or panic and set everyone's teeth on edge, just for a giant squid sighting.
Then Millicent would leave the boys to the prefects and take all the Slytherin witches present to the dormitory. One of the prefects would make sure Madame Walburga was awake, then Millicent would give a short talk about Slytherin, Slytherin witches, and Walburga's place in Slytherin history. Then she would bring the first-year witches up one-by-one and the young witches would curtsy and introduce themselves to Walburga, who would welcome them to Slytherin House. Walburga's memory was still functioning at a very high level, for a portrait, and she was brilliant at connecting the new girls with witches who had gone before.
"Oh, you must be so-and-so's granddaughter!" she'd say, a note of delight in her voice when she recognized a surname. "A fine witch, make sure you tell her I said hello whenever you see her."
Introductions over, Iolanthe walked up to the portrait.
"Miss Iolanthe," Walburga nearly wailed as Iolanthe popped up out of her curtsy. "I didn't see Zelda. What happened?"
"I suspect quidditch," Iolanthe said, "Although, I'm going to have to hold off speaking definitively until we've spoken. She was all set to go for Slytherin, but we've got solid players at every position. Gryffindor has a barely adequate seeker and no keeper. My information is they will have to press-gang one if no one tries out. Dry spell over there, just one of those things. My guess, and it is a guess, is the hat asked her what she wanted to do and she said 'Play quidditch' and the hat gave it up."
Madame Walburga was dumbstruck, a near-unique event.
"Slytherin lost Zelda Davis to quidditch?" she began, the spluttering evident underneath the words. "That hat diverted Zelda Davis from Slytherin House to Gryffindor with quidditch?"
Iolanthe wondered where her mother was at that moment, because as soon as she left, she had no doubt Walburga would be off to the portrait in Daphne's study at #12 Grimmauld Place to report.
"Long day, Madame," Iolanthe said. "If I have your permission?"
"Of course, dear," Walburga said. "We can catch up later."
Iolanthe curtsied again for good measure and headed for the dorm.
The next day was one of the busiest of the year for the Black owls. More senior Black cousins took the first-years to the owlery and showed them the drill. The new students wrote notes to their parents with news of their sorting and first few hours' experience at Hogwarts. James Greengrass wrote a second note, this one to Fabio, with a short version of his interaction with the sorting hat.
Harry and Daphne didn't know quite what to think about the selections as reported by James and Iolanthe. They were accurate as to the facts, but widely divergent in perspective. Iolanthe was disappointed, quite naturally, that she had lost Zelda's first-yearship to Rose, but that was it. She knew she'd be seeing lots of Zelda, because of her own attachment to Rose, so the only difference was they wouldn't be using the same common room.
Iolanthe didn't know what to make of James, and said so. James wrote his parents with obvious glee. He could not have been happier. The egalitarian Hufflepuffs were delighted to have him. They went out of their way for the first-years, even throwing them a low-key 'Welcome to Hufflepuff' party in the common room. Daphne formulated a theory that she explained to Harry as they had breakfast on the patio and waited for Mercury to bring Harry's morning file.
"James is talent and magical power," Daphne said. "Slytherin is 'What are your goals, what do you want, how are you going to get there?' and James doesn't need that. In Gryffindor he'd be in for seven years of reminders of Harry Potter's magnificent stands against Voldemort, hijinks and adventures with Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. And bravery. Oh, that Gryffindor bravery. He doesn't need that, either. He already breathes that air, he took it in with his mother's milk.
"He's going to write his own story, Harry. It looks to me like James Greengrass Potter, age eleven, has just told the world he will be the one making the decisions, thank you very much. That is all Harry Potter, too, if I may be so bold."
"Okay," Harry said. "I must say it has been fun to watch, so far. Am I allowed to offer guidance, from time to time?"
Hugo, James and Zelda settled into their houses and the routine of classes with little trouble. They had excellent preparation for the course work. Keeping to the schedule was a shock at first, because the parental tutoring they'd experienced for their primary studies was much more flexible than the well-organized Hogwarts system. Within a week, though, all had adjusted and were becoming practiced at being where they needed to be when they needed to be there.
Zelda stayed clear of Dorcas Flyte. The older girl was convinced the position of seeker was hers by right. Zelda knew making an enemy was not going to help her chances of getting on the team as a first-year. After a few conversations with other Gryffindors she learned they also needed a keeper. That could be a way onto the team as well. She could build up her hours on a broom, as Ginny had advised her to do, hanging around the goals. She certainly wouldn't need to ride a Firebolt to be a keeper. Then, when there was an opening at seeker, she'd be ready.
Zelda's second goal after making the quidditch team was to spend hours every day with her textbooks. She'd grown up surrounded by scholar-witches who had done remarkable magic before they even attained their majorities, and hadn't stopped since. Her mother's cousin Daphne was a healer with two muggle doctorates. Daphne wore it lightly, just something she did to get her qualifications to help others, but Zelda had looked at the requirements for those degrees and had an inkling of what they represented in terms of personal commitment.
Luckily, Zelda had Rose. Rose loved to learn new things. Rose and Iolanthe, also a serious scholar, had promised their young charges they would be available whenever Zelda, James or Hugo needed them. Rose took Zelda in hand and helped her set up a study schedule so Rose would not have to stop and think about what to do next.
"You'll have to work out what is the best way for you," Rose said. "I'll show you my system, you can give it a try, and make adjustments as necessary."
Ron and Harry had been showing the children the aurors' fitness routines since they were toddlers. Some had taken them up and exercised regularly, others developed their own pastimes. Hugo had one career goal: become an auror. He had to be seventeen to apply. That gave him six years to prepare himself for the mental and physical screening that was the first step to an auror's career. He knew the mental component would be the challenge. He was counting on Ravenclaw to foster the scholar in him.
The hat was right about James. He knew exactly what he wanted to do with his life, and that was to continue Fabio's synthesis of business, gardening and magical landscape architecture. Beyond a natural instinct for what to plant where, James felt the plants' inner reactions to their environments, including which plants liked one another and which ones didn't. That all happened in the buffer zone between the magical and rational domains, inaccessible to most people, whether muggle or wizard. James had learned about it on his own, just as he'd learned unassisted flight. He'd been on the old, slow broom one day, and felt the magic flowing through himself, and the broom, and made the connection between flight and the magical force.
"Oh," he thought to himself, "What if I got off the broom, and kept the magical…?"
That is how he approached magical horticulture. He'd been spending time with the Potter Manor garden elves all summer, and was starting to put his mark on the gardens. Greengrass Lake was the epitome of magical art, in James' view, a confection that required mastery of horticulture, landscape design, charms and spells, in addition to an imagination that could conceive such wonders. He had already talked to Teddy Lupin about working together when next summer arrived. Hufflepuff would certainly not get in his way if he wanted to spend his free time mapping the flow of magic in greenhouses.
School settled into a pattern for each of the new students. Hugo craved movement as soon as he got up in the morning, which he satisfied by going for a run before breakfast. He discovered Iolanthe also needed to work off some excess energy early so she could concentrate for the rest of the day. They began meeting outside the castle, jogging to the quidditch pitch, and pairing up in an evolving fitness routine. Like-minded students, and a few faculty, gravitated to their focused workouts and joined in.
Rose had an acolyte in Zelda, who adopted Rose' own schedule and followed it with near-religious zeal. She was so well-prepared for classes she began getting compliments from faculty right from the beginning. Some of her anxiety began to drop away. She remembered Daphne telling her if she loved studying enough, she wouldn't need a study group. That became a mantra for Zelda, rolling around in her mind as she opened a textbook, dropping into background when she began to read. She was still using it years later as an aid to focus, and a filter to keep internal chatter from intruding on her consciousness.
Black Christmas approached and Harry scheduled the observance for a Saturday so all the students could attend. It didn't take a lot of correspondence for Harry Potter and Millicent Bulstrode to convince the Headmistress to let the Black cousins take the first weekend in December away from Hogwarts. Rose, Iolanthe, Zelda, Hugo and James all left on Friday, under Millicent's supervision, and spent the night in Cornwall with their families.
The celebration was respectfully subdued, in recognition of Astoria's absence. When Harry raised the question, Narcissa and Scorpius both more or less demanded Black Christmas be held, mourning or no mourning. It's what Astoria would have wanted, for one thing, so one could say her survivors were honoring her wishes. For another, it gave everyone the chance to get together and share memories, thus keeping Astoria's memory alive.
Harry stepped back and let the Hogwarts students lead the tour of the house and toast the portraits. Phineas Nigellus and Walburga had briefed their fellow Blacks on the excellence of the entire Hogwarts Black delegation. The hugely pregnant Daphne accompanied the group and got the heartfelt thanks of the portraits for her personal commitment to the restoration of the Black clan in Britain.
Harry and Daphne were standing in front of the fireplace after seeing off the last of the guests when Tracey walked up next to Harry and wrapped her arm through his. Harry looked at Daphne, who gave him a co-conspirator smile.
"Thank-you for letting us take up residence here, Harry," said Tracey. "It's a perfect situation for Zelda and me. Not that I want to distance myself from Daphne and you, you understand, it's just…"
"I know," Harry said. "I have some experience with people being cruel. I can't see it and not do something about it. We all love you and Zelda too much, which I'm not ashamed to say in front of Daphne. Having you with us made our lives better."
Tracey looked at Daphne, who granted her permission with an, "Oh, go ahead, if I'm standing right here it won't get very far."
Tracey leaned in and kissed Harry on the cheek.
"Merry Christmas, milord," she said.
"Merry Christmas, Tracey," Harry replied.
Harry used muffliato on their room when he and Daphne got there.
"Do we have to find someone for her?" he asked.
"It's a puzzle," Daphne said after expending a valiant effort stifling a laugh at Harry's question. "I don't think so. She's a skilled witch with a pedigree and a successful business. If she wanted a relationship I think she'd go out and get one. Everything I see tells me she has found a space here with us that she really likes. There is Blaise on the one side, father of her child, dashing, something of a hero, clubman. They'll get dressed up for a charity function, often one she personally produced, and bedazzle all assembled. Hard to tell who is wearing whom on their arm. Blaise and Tracey are both happy with Zelda's perspective. Zelda likes her time with both. She doesn't fret about Tracey and Blaise living separately.
"Then there is family life with the Potters. Zelda has us at home any time Tracey can't include her in what she's doing. There's no trying to track down Blaise or ask around for friends or family to take Zelda. She remembers what you did for them when the Davis's were being awful. Tracey doesn't like the uncouth comments, but I hypothesize the air of mystery about her status here also adds to the allure of a Tracey Davis-planned event. I know she is scrupulously observing the terms of our pact."
"Do you now?" Harry asked.
"Uh-huh," Daphne said, moving in a little closer. "Life would have gotten very complicated if you had to slink off here and there at odd times or both of you just by coincidence had business in Zurich or Nice over the same weekend. Even your job wouldn't explain those kinds of things. Besides, Tracey's approach to me would be different. She'd have to start marking territory, taking little bites here and there. That's how witches work. It's instinct. We can't do anything about it."
"So brilliant," Harry said. "All of me is less than half of us. How are you feeling after all the exertion?"
"On the verge of sleeping for a week," Daphne murmured, burrowing down into the warmth a little bit.
"Thank you for your personal commitment to the restoration of the Potters," Harry said, "If I may paraphrase."
"Oh, Harry, the pleasure has been all mine, right from the beginning," Daphne said. "Honestly. I have to stop or I'll get school-girlish and weepy. When we're very old and sitting in our rockers maybe I'll be able to talk about it."
For punctuation she found Harry's hand and placed it on her bump. The two prospective Potters rolled around. One found Harry's palm and telegraphed some thought with a kick.
Harry took it all as Daphne's way of saying she liked the way their life together had turned out. He shifted his arm so he could reach around her shoulder and pull her close. He wondered when they'd ever get old and sit in those rockers. It would be fine, he supposed, as long as the children placed the rockers close together.
The Hogwarts Blacks had a variety of arrangements for returning to school following Black Christmas. Millicent went ahead to the Three Broomsticks after Sunday lunch and waited while the bulk of the Black Christmas attendees came by floo. Madame Rosmerta's place hopped, for a Sunday in winter, as the cousins came in ones and twos to form up for the walk back to the castle.
Before the Blacks started floo'ing in, Millicent arranged to run a tab at the bar.
"Anything they want, as long as it doesn't have any alcohol in it," Millicent said.
"Something for you? Belly-warmer? Chill-chaser?" Rosmerta asked.
"Not right this moment," Millicent said.
"Didn't really think so," said Rosmerta. "What has been going on with you?"
"My niece's birthday is on the first," Millicent said. "Harry gets all the Black relatives together around the date for a Christmas party at the old estate in Cornwall. It was a bit muted this year, of course, because of Astoria. Not that it ever gets really wild.
"Good bunch of students at school right now," she continued. "The usual hijinks we're never going to eliminate, obviously, young witches collaborating on spells beyond their ability to control, that kind of thing. No demons summoned so far this term, as far as the committee can determine."
"If you want a part-time job…" Rosmerta began, before she was cut off by a 'WHOOSH' from the Three Broomsticks fireplace. Two Black cousins from the borderlands, Millicent wasn't sure which side, stepped out of the green flames.
"Welcome back," Millicent said. "We'll form up here and I'll walk with you to the castle. You can get something from the bar, just as long as it is a soft drink."
The two got their drinks and came back.
"Thank you, Professor Bulstrode," they said, then took up seats with a view of the fireplace.
Returnees started coming in fairly quickly, and it wasn't long before Black Christmas had more or less transposed itself to Hogsmeade and the Three Broomsticks. Cousins took up banter, some a little rowdy, but mostly fun. Millicent heard one exchange she resolved to commit to memory.
"He fancies her."
"I can't fancy her, she's my cousin!"
"She's as close a cousin to you as every witch and half the lady muggles on this island are. You're telling me you've gone and joined a monastery."
"No, I'm telling you I'm a scholar at Hogwarts who will be emigrating to Canada the day after graduation."
Millicent tried to settle up with Rosmerta, but Rosmerta wouldn't hear of it.
"I won't take your money, Millicent, not for this. I haven't had such a good time since, ah, since something that I oughtn't share in front of the assembled. Take them back and enjoy the walk," she said. "This is my treat."
Millicent turned around and faced the room.
"Everyone," she called out in her classroom voice. "We'll be starting back in just a moment, so before we go, Madame Rosmerta has informed me she will pick up the tab for this evening's refreshments, so a big thank-you is in order."
When the noise died down, Millicent called everyone to order again.
"I want everyone to pair up with another student. Look them in the face. If you still don't know their name, after Black Christmas, introduce yourselves. We will be walking back in the dark. The path isn't hard to follow in the snow, but we can't have anyone wandering away from the group and getting left behind. All set?"
Millicent led the group out the door, down the street past the Hogsmeade habitations and storefronts and on out of town via the path to the castle. Once outside the village, the only light was from the stars. When their eyes adjusted to the light, the snow cover aided in separating path from bordering fields. The air was brisk, not freezing, but bracing. Conversations ceased and the group proceeded in near-total silence, overwhelmed by the star show taking place just overhead. They walked along listening to their feet plowing through the snow, magic from the Milky Way mixing with magic from the Earth, inside the hearts of the young witches and wizards making their way back to Hogwarts.