Wheels Within Wheels – Part Three
Iolanthe
Chapter Forty-Two
Metamorphoses
Harry took another disjointed route back to #12 Grimmauld Place. He didn't think there was any way he could join his family at Greengrass Manor for an afternoon swim. Thus liberated, he let his imagination run free, not thinking ahead to his next few blocks' walk or apparation, deciding only after he had reached a destination. Nevertheless, Kreacher was opening the door to #12 just as Harry's foot materialized on the top step.
"Lord Harry, welcome home," said the elf, adding a deep bow.
"Thank-you, Kreacher," Harry said. "How are things here at home?"
"Going very well, milord," said Kreacher. "Iced tea and lemonade are ready, if you require refreshment. Coffee and tea won't take but a minute, if you prefer."
"It's a beautiful day for a lemonade in the garden," Harry said. "I'll just be out there."
Harry was looking at the brick-bordered beds when Kreacher returned with the lemonade. He stood in the little patch of afternoon sunshine, admiring all of James' and Teddy's work. It was hard to remember how the garden had looked before they had taken it on. He thought about all the significant Potter moments associated with the garden. Many of those would have looked to an outsider like nothing more than a man having a conversation with his wife over tea. Such was the nature of his life with Daphne. The most ordinary became extraordinary if Daphne were part of it. Harry resolved to be more regular in his declarations of love and affection, if Daphne would permit.
Looking at his watch, Harry decided he'd given anyone looking to drop by and start a ruckus more than sufficient time to do so. Taking his lemonade glass with him, he walked to the kitchen and put the glass in the sink.
"Have to go catch up with the family, Kreacher," Harry said. "One of us will get back to you soon."
"Kreacher will be here, Lord Harry," the elf assured him.
Harry took a guess that some or all of the family would be at Greengrass Manor, stepped in the fireplace and dropped his floo powder.
"Grandmother?" Iolanthe had called out when she arrived in the library fireplace with Lissette.
No one answered so she led the way through the house and out to the patio. Two people and an undetermined number of elves were at work in a bed about halfway down the hill.
"You didn't feel like swimming?" Iolanthe asked James when she and Lissette reached the working party. "Hullo, Grandfather."
Fabio was on his knees pulling up brown stalks so Iolanthe had him trapped. She wrapped both arms around his shoulders and planted a kiss on his cheek, finishing up with a loud 'Smack!'
"Iolanthe Astoria," Fabio said. "You Davis women…"
"You get another one for that," Iolanthe said, making good on it. "They're at the lake?"
"So they said," Fabio answered.
"Okay, see you later," said Iolanthe, grabbing James' forearm for a little squeeze as she left, Lissette trailing after.
"Where is the lake?" Lissette asked as they reached the bottom of the hill. She didn't see anything but the expansive, neatly-clipped green with fields on the far side.
A little white dog, all wet and smelly ran up, barking.
"Show us the lake, Raffles!" Iolanthe called out. The little dog popped out of existence. "We'll follow him, and…"
They crossed the threshold, or passed through the portal, and Greengrass Lake appeared before them. Raffles ran back to the lake to cavort in the shallows. Four witches were minding a pair of babies in little floats.
"Swimsuits?" Iolanthe called out.
"Nah…it's all witches," Daphne answered.
"Okay, be right there," said Iolanthe. "This way to the cabana."
Getting swim-ready didn't take much time. Clothes on pegs, Iolanthe led the way to the open side and jumped in, feet first. She quickly swam away to clear a space for Lissette, who jumped as soon as she judged it safe.
"Whooo!" said Lissette, delighted, obviously, to be back in water. "How…?"
"The only one who really knows is Grandfather, and he won't tell," Iolanthe said. "Look over here."
Iolanthe swam to the middle of the lake with Lissette just as Daphne had done with Harry, Iolanthe and James.
"Look," she said, indicating the hill rising up to the house.
"Merlin!" said Lissette. "That's the most beautiful…"
Iolanthe kept silent. She knew very well what Lissette was feeling. She felt it too. Still, there is only one first time. Lissette was entitled to look in astonishment, for as long as she was astonished.
They stayed there, arms and legs slowly stroking the water, heads just above the surface. Eventually, Lissette broke the silence.
"You grew up with this?" she asked.
"Yes, as long as I can remember," Iolanthe told her. "Grandfather worked on it for years. Mother helped. She was really little when they started. Those are her palm trees, and the cabana out over the water. This is where Grandfather and Grandmother took Mother, Auntie Astoria and Tracey swimming. Mother and Father brought James and me, when we came along. Well, let's go check babies."
Iolanthe rolled over and began swimming toward the group.
Lissette dived, disappearing completely. Iolanthe started to get worried when she didn't come up, but Lissette popped to the surface next to the witches, a good twenty-five yards ahead of Iolanthe. Merlin! Could she transform into a dolphin?
"Hullo, all," Iolanthe said as she put her feet down on the sandy bottom. "Grandmother, you look so fit!"
"It's the water, dear," Kendra said, "It cancels out all the sagging."
Tracey and Daphne whooped, while Zelda looked off into the distance.
"How are the lads?" Iolanthe asked. "Are they natural swimmers?"
"That's hard to say since they're riding these little magical floaties," Daphne answered. Lissette saw the twins were bobbing up and down in the water, their middles, from armpits down to mid-thighs inside air bubbles that somehow never popped. "How was the hike?"
"One deer, and something that looked to me like dragon spoor," said Iolanthe. "No dragons or other sign, though. If one were around, there ought to be some burnt patches in the vegetation or a mess left over from a meal. It merits some more investigation."
Iolanthe stayed out of Lissette's episode in the stream. If Lissette wanted to talk it over with Daphne, that was her business.
"Want to swim?" Iolanthe asked Lissette. "Don't think you have to hang around here."
"Oh, alright, thanks," Lissette said. She lay face down into the water and kicked off the bottom. Within seconds she was yards away. She went feet-up and disappeared.
"She really likes water," Iolanthe explained. "Zelda! Did you get your fill of flying?"
Zelda's face lit up.
"No," she said, "But I do like to swim, too. I have to exercise. I can't just fly."
"You're a pro, Zelda," Iolanthe said, "A pro, and a star. We brag about you all the time."
Zelda looked embarrassed, a little.
"Who does?" she challenged Iolanthe. "Name one."
"All of us," said Iolanthe, "All the cousins. None of us have set any school records. Yet. We'd bore people to death except they all want to listen to us brag about you."
Zelda wouldn't look at her, but Iolanthe could see she was smiling. Iolanthe turned her attention to pushing floating babies back and forth between the adult witches. Sun was soaked up. Bits of gossip, cloaked in news items, provided the stuff of light conversation.
With the onset of some skin wrinkling, Daphne looked up at the sun.
"Probably about time. I hate to go in, but the young wizards…"
"I think I'll swim back. Want to come along?" Iolanthe asked Zelda. They took off for the cabana at the end of the pier, swimming a leisurely sidestroke so they could stay together and chat. Zelda was keeping her head out of the water. She planned her swimming around how much time she wanted to spend on her hair after getting out of the water. Today she wore a stretchy cap, not unlike a muggle swim cap, over her hair, topping that off with a towel wrapped like a turban, held in place with a charm Tracey'd shown her.
"Got your stuff for fall term?" Iolanthe asked.
"Most of it," said Zelda. "Mum wants to wait until closer to start of term before buying clothes. She says I grow so fast everything would be tight before I got to school."
"You are growing," Iolanthe said, "Shooting up. We all see it. How tall is your dad?"
"Around six, six-one, I think," said Zelda. "Pretty tall."
"I wouldn't be surprised if you catch him," Iolanthe said.
"I wish…" Zelda started, then stopped.
"Give it time," Iolanthe said. "You're twelve."
"Not that," Zelda said, "I meant…I wish…they'd get married. Or at least move in together."
"Oh, yes, well, Zelda," Iolanthe stalled, trying to think. "Have you talked to Tracey? She is sure to have her own thoughts on that. She loves you. She won't be mad if you want to talk."
"We HAVE talked," Zelda answered, sounding a bit put out. "I talk to Dad, too. All they say is they both love me and they think this is the best way for all of us. It's like talking to the wall. I just wish my dad came home at night and we put dinner on the table and sat down to eat like a family."
"I know you do, baby, I know you do," said Iolanthe. They were barely making headway. If they made it to the piling and the ladder up to the cabana they'd have to stop talking. Iolanthe sensed Zelda had been wanting, perhaps needing, to have this conversation with someone. She wasn't sure she was the right one, but she hadn't been the right one to help Lissette out of her difficulties, either. It had all just fallen on her. Iolanthe could see Daphne, back in her clothes, standing in the open side of the cabana, keeping an eye on them.
"Maybe you can look at it in a positive light," tried Iolanthe. "You and I have this big, odd, fun family, you're an essential part of it, and everyone likes and respects one another. Some people our age don't have anything like that. Some have families with yelling and screaming and hexing and beating one another up. You've probably heard of that going on. I know I have. We're both very lucky. Your mum and dad get along. They respect each other, that is obvious. The three of you do things together. Maybe not as much as you'd like, but they are smart, and they love you. If they think they could do better for you by getting together, I believe they would do it. Since they haven't, you can choose to trust their judgment, or choose not to. Just consider, when you're choosing, the possibility they might know what they're doing."
Zelda was still moving slowly, barely stroking with her flattened hands, yet managing to keep her entire, fully-wrapped head up and out of the water.
'Merlin,' thought Iolanthe. 'That witch is an athlete.'
Zelda changed the direction of the conversation once more, again without warning.
"Are you going to treat mental maladies, too?" she asked.
"What?" asked Iolanthe.
"Talking to you is like talking to Daphne," Zelda said. "I feel a lot better now. Are you going to specialize in mental maladies? Because I think you should."
"Maybe it's inherited, like a talent for something," Iolanthe speculated, "Suppose it was passed down from Great-grandmother Davis, through Grandmother, to Mother. Which means you could be the next one."
They had reached the piling with the ladder. Iolanthe stood off several yards so she wouldn't be beneath the climbing Zelda. It looked like Zelda was going up hand over hand, her feet barely touching the rungs. Iolanthe swam over and began to climb.
Iolanthe and Zelda toweled off and got dressed, but there was still no sign of Lissette. Daphne was getting worried.
"Iolanthe…"
"Let's see," said Iolanthe as she located her wand. She stood on the edge of the decking and put the wand tip to her throat.
"Lissette! Come in now, we're going!" she said.
Something broke the surface just beyond the big corner piling. Lissette shot out of the water to about halfway up the ladder, reached out and grabbed a rung.
"Whoo!" she said as she began to climb, her entire face a smile. "That was fun!"
Iolanthe called for Melon and asked her to dry the cabana floor and take the towels for a wash, then waited as first Zelda and then Lissette finished up dressing.
"How was the lake?" asked Iolanthe. "It's not running, like the stream."
"No, there's no current," Lissette agreed. "It's nice though. Friendly, I'd say. It wants to be liked. Most water is indifferent, at least to humans. Reciprocating our feelings, is my guess."
"Did anyone discuss dinner plans before we got here?" Iolanthe asked.
"It sounded like everyone is staying," Zelda said.
The three young witches walked back along the pier toward land.
"Did your grandfather make any more of these?" Lissette asked.
"Not that I know of," Iolanthe said, "Have you heard of any, Zelda?"
"Nope," Zelda said. "I believe this is the only one."
"That's not to say he didn't do some lily ponds or use water in projects he designed for people," said Iolanthe. "He was becoming a sought-after magical landscape architect before any of us were around, according to Mother. That came to an end because he had to take on more and more responsibility for the Greengrass businesses. The previous generation didn't do very well by them, at the end, is my understanding. So Grandfather turned his talents to business and restored us to respectability. We're all quite mad for him."
"I noticed," Lissette said. "Well, it would be hard to miss."
They had reached the patio. James sat in one of the chairs that matched the patio table, a big pitcher of iced tea in front of him.
"Iced tea? You can each have your own glass," James said.
"James Greengrass," Iolanthe said, "Are you sure? Do you even know where to go to get another glass?"
"Sure," said James, "Trix!"
"Trix is here, Master James!" said the elf. "What can Trix do for Master James this afternoon?"
"The witches say they want to drink iced tea, and I only have the one glass," James said. "Can you help me?"
"Of course, Master James," Trix said, snapping her fingers and materializing three iced tea glasses.
"Such an efficient elf," James said.
Trix blushed and dematerialized.
"James Shameless Greengrass," Iolanthe began, then dropped it.
The noise level from inside picked up. Iolanthe had heard what she thought was the 'WHOOSH' of the floo earlier. She had been right, as Harry walked out onto the patio from the sunny room holding one baby, dressed in a fresh baby undershirt and shorts, upright against his chest, Kendra trailing with the other.
Harry looked around the patio, inventorying the children.
"You're all here. You could convene a meeting," Harry said. "Tell me about everyone's day."
"We learned to tell the twins apart," Iolanthe said, "Can you do that?"
"Of course," Harry said.
"Who do you have?" Iolanthe asked.
"Evans," Harry replied.
"You know this because…?"
"Your mother, who besides being a mother is a fully-qualified healer, handed him to me and said, 'Here, take Evans.'" Harry answered. "Thus…"
Evans wanted to get off Harry's shoulder and look around, so Harry sat down and held him facing outward on his lap
"Goo!" said Evans, delighted to see everyone.
Kendra placed a chair next to Harry's and sat down with Davis.
"Umm!" added Davis.
"Who are these people?" Harry asked. "Is that your big sister? Is that your big brother? What do you say?"
"Brrupppp!" said Evans, getting rid of a gas bubble and a bit of curdled milk.
"Oooooo!" said Davis, indicating approval.
The afternoon turned into evening. Dinner was a salad made from vegetables grown by Fabio and the elves, with generous dashes of input from James and Teddy, topped with seared tuna, olive oil Fabio imported from a private source in Sicily, and plenty of the Greengrass Manor variant of Mad Monk bread. Harry set a bad example for the children. He and Raffles, after a prolonged negotiation, shared a chair and little pinches of bread dipped in olive oil. Dessert was cheesecake, with choice of coffee or tea.
Harry and Daphne had met with Tracey earlier and took a collective decision to spend the night at Greengrass Manor. The breaking and entering at the flat had given everyone a start. If the director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was committing felonies at the behest of a cult leader, the potential for mayhem developing from a chance meeting was high.
The three main Potter residences were well known in wizarding circles, mainly because the Potter-Greengrass nexus was where Hogwarts, the Ministry of Magic, the Black family and Fabio's magical commodities network all came together. They were all inside magical cocoons of concealment, disillusionment and jinxes. Kendra and Daphne wore out volumes of witch lore researching new wards to establish. Even so, Harry had been inside the flat when Bart Fudge and the Nott he'd brought with him strolled in, literally, like they owned the place. No one thought that could, or would be repeated, but a little extra caution wouldn't hurt anything.
Greengrass Manor was filled with magical conveniences. It never ran out of bedrooms, for example. No matter how many people stayed over, Kendra always had one more room for the elves to make up. Tracey had always had her own room, since she had been raised, more or less, with Daphne and Astoria. Kendra did a little wand work and converted a very commodious room with a very commodious bed into a double with a pair of twins for Iolanthe and Lissette.
When everyone settled down, Iolanthe got Astoria's leather-bound Odyssey out of her satchel and lit a lamp. She lay in bed, reading silently, paying attention to the rhythm of the lines, hearing the timeless music of the great bard coming through Fitzgerald's English treatment. When she was really focused, Iolanthe was convinced she could hear her beloved aunt's voice reading to her, as she had done from the time Iolanthe was a toddler.
"Iolanthe?"
"Is the light bothering you?" Iolanthe asked. "I can stop reading."
"No, don't," said Lissette. "I just wanted to ask why you're so attached to that book. I see you reading it at school all the time. How many times have you read it?"
"I don't really know," answered Iolanthe. "Lots, though. My Aunt Astoria, who died last summer, was really very special. She and Mother kind of raised Scorpius and me as a unit. Then we got James and Zelda, who were literally days apart. Auntie Astoria and I were a match. I wanted, I still want, to be just like her. Someone she met on a trip recommended she read a bit of Homer every day. She tried it and liked it. She started reading The Odyssey to Scorpius, and me, very early on. I fell completely under Homer's spell. Whether it is the poetry or Auntie, I don't know. I suspect both. We used to read it together, marathons, sitting down and reading until our voices didn't want to go on, trading back and forth. This is her copy of the Fitzgerald translation. She left it to me when…when she died."
"That is a beautiful story, Iolanthe," said Lissette. "I've never had anyone like that in my life. Read as long as you want. What is going on?"
"Some men were transformed into pigs," Iolanthe said.
"Oh," said Lissette, a bit of surprise audible in her tone. "That does sound interesting. G'night."
After his chat with Kingsley, Harry took it as read he was free to absent himself from public life until the minister recalled him. Kingsley had alluded to some expanded duties when the current investigation into the Jacques Lafleur group wound up. Harry resolved to lavish time and attention on his growing family as long as he had the luxury, along with Kingsley's forewarning.
After breakfast with Fabio and Kendra, the Potters, with Tracey, Zelda and Lissette, returned to Potter Manor. Harry and Tracey left the children with Daphne while they walked the perimeter wards. Satisfied all was quiet and regular, Tracey went to the house and Harry went on to the woods to look for Plum, who would have a solid report on anything out of the ordinary.
Harry and Plum burdened a fallen tree trunk for the better part of an hour. Harry gave Plum some background on the current situation, both the larger picture as well as the impact on the Potter family. It didn't pay to get overly detailed. Woodland fauns stayed away from the complications of human interactions for good reason. They led genuinely superior lives, in their view. The harmony between the natural environment and the wants and needs of the woodlanders was sufficient. The faun and his compatriots were repelled by the acquisitiveness of humans. Much as he enjoyed having the Potters around, Plum would never grasp Harry's taste in houses.
Satisfied the wards and woodland society had done a fine job keeping an eye on their country seat, Harry went looking for Potters to shape and influence. Harry worked his way through the house, accepting a cup of coffee from Periwinkle and stopping at the doors that led to the patio. He was standing there contemplating the landscape, both human and terrestrial when James walked up and stood beside him.
Daphne and Tracey lay back on chaises, absorbing a little morning sun before it started beating down in earnest, each with a baby stretched out across her torso under a gauzy baby blanket. Millicent had returned from somewhere and was leading Iolanthe and Lissette through some dueling forms, adjusting a foot, elevating an arm, very ballet-like.
"Maybe we should find someplace else," Harry said to James. "I do not like these odds."
"There's the greenhouse," James said. "It's time to thin the venomous tentacula."
"Let's go," Harry said, the prospect of working with a semi-intelligent, venomous plant far less daunting than disturbing a fairly-quiet nest of Slytherin witches.
After taking a roundabout route, James took some gear down from hooks on the backside of the greenhouse door and helped Harry get ready. The venomous tentacula had spirit but it wasn't particularly smart. The trick was to get the plant moving in one direction then come in from a blind side and pluck the stem right out of the soil, roots and all. A skilled move ended with a toss of the complete plant into a pre-positioned wooden box, whose hinged lid was quickly closed to disorient the plant and prevent a reflexive snap back at the gardener. Harry's primary duty was decoy, or, if one were unkind, bait to distract the plants from sensing James coming at their blind sides.
"I've been thinking about The Mill," Harry said as they worked.
"Don't we all?" replied James.
"Do you feel like taking on a little magical landscape design?" Harry asked.
"What do you have in mind?" asked James.
"A few enhancements," Harry said, "With due deference to preservation of the rustic charm. A large, flat boulder positioned near the stream for sitting on and listening to the water running over the gravel bar. A stand of aspen at a point beyond the pond so when we stand there on the berm feeding trout, we have those leaves fluttering. Then the leaves become gold in the fall. Things like that. We'd have to run everything by the fairies in advance, of course."
James thought the project over.
"That's some pretty advanced landscape design, Dad," said James. "When did this start?"
"I don't know," Harry answered, "Because I wasn't aware of anything starting. I suppose the first time I can say I was aware was around the time of Astoria's funeral, when I was wishing there were a place to go off alone and just listen to the creek. To tell you the truth, there were times I felt like I needed a private moment, to let the grief out. The rock would have been the place."
"I get it," James said. He kept quiet for a few minutes while they enjoyed the rhythm of their joint work.
"Don't misunderstand, Dad, please, but I don't think it would have hurt me any worse if it had been you or Mum," said James. Harry listened carefully. Expressing emotion, or volunteering to discuss the deeply-felt was not a very common James phenomenon.
"That's fine with me," Harry said. "Astoria was very gracious when I started to pull her sister away from her. She and your mum were very close, and that just naturally continued on when we all started having you children. That worked so well as long as we had her here with us. I'm glad you were able to be around her as long as you were. She was the best example I can think of for someone a young witch or wizard could emulate."
"Except for you and Mum," James added, pulling and tossing a tentacula in one smooth motion.
"Maybe excepting your mother," Harry said, "You don't necessarily want to go modeling yourself on me. I'm not the great humanitarian in the family."
"That's not your fault, though," James replied.
"Oh?" Harry said, a little amusement coming through. "Do go on."
"I do some reading, subjects other than botany," James said. "I also talk to Mum. Anyone can talk to her about anything."
"Pretty much," Harry said, "Which explains a great deal of our rapport."
"From what I've picked up, from her or the reading, I believe you ought to be commended for getting up and tying your shoes every morning," James said. "You were orphaned when your parents died by violence before you were two, you probably have residual suppressed memories of the attack on you, you were a magical child raised in an environment hostile to anything magical. Any one of those could have damaged a young wizard beyond repair."
"Thank-you for noticing," Harry said, trying for a little friendly flippancy. He wasn't sure he'd managed it.
"This is the truth, though, James," said Harry, "You're right. Without help, I'd probably have come apart by now. After Voldemort came back and showed his hand, I was marked for death, trying to go to school and get my homework in on time. Weird. Then the year on the run with Ron and Hermione, then the battle, then the big blowout afterwards. Two things saved me. I stumbled upon a teacher who kept me constructively occupied until my mind sorted itself out. Then when I was trying to fill the hole inside with work, having lost the only real romantic attachment I'd ever had, I got reacquainted with your mother. I guess she took pity on me and before long, someone loved me. There's some effective therapy."
Harry stopped there when a sniffle advised he'd soon be bawling like a baby.
"Sorry, there's no need to get maudlin," he said. "You're right, though. Very good. Are you going to follow in your mother's footsteps? Can you combine mental maladies and magical landscape architecture?"
"Oddly enough, yes," said James, "A thorough understanding of how wizard brains function, the afflictions peculiar to witches and wizards, carefully-planned and supervised gardening experiences, can all add up to a form of therapy. Troubled minds react positively to the creation of something beautiful. There is a school of thought that the activities required for gardening have therapeutic value."
Harry looked at his son. The children never stopped surprising him. Just when he thought he had figured one out, they confused him with some quick footwork and changed directions.
"So I'm going to get my rock? You've just said you think I need it, bad," Harry asked.
"Yes, we can do the rock," James said, "No, I didn't say that, exactly. Last one."
James closed the lid of the wooden box and fastened the clasp.
"Want to go take a look? The Slytherins appeared to me like they were happy having Slytherin Time on the patio."
"Sure," Harry said, taking note of the snark that would have been so at home in Gryffindor.
They kept some distance between themselves and Potter Manor, connected up with the lane that went to The Mill, and were soon at the wooden bench next to the mill stone.
"Best sit a few minutes and see if the fairies want to receive us," said Harry. "When did you start reading psychology?"
"Can't remember," James answered, "but it was before I went to Hogwarts. Mum's journals were always laying around. I couldn't understand a lot of it, but I liked looking up the words in the Healer's Dictionary. At some point I absorbed enough of the basics to make sense of the journal articles. It was something Mum and I could talk about."
Harry sat, silent, trying to remember Daphne saying anything about James' interest in her work. Nothing came to mind.
"There are a lot of wizards…," James began.
"Who could use…," Harry added, when James didn't go on.
The arrival of a delegation of fairies put an end to the idle chatter.
"Hullo, Harry, hullo, James," said the voice.
"Hullo to the fairies," Harry said. "How is everything at The Mill?"
"The fairies are at The Mill," said the voice.
"As always," Harry said. "James and I are visiting. The trout may be hungry."
Harry let his vague observation dangle.
"The trout appreciate Harry's crickets," said the fairies' voice, topping Harry's enigmatic comment. James caught the nuance and smiled.
"Well, we'll get going," said Harry.
They walked directly to, and over, the footbridge. Harry led the way upstream to the gravel bar that made the riffles. There was a cutback in the bank beneath an oak tree opposite. The oak's roots were exposed but it wasn't leaning over the stream. It was hard to tell from land, but the slow water across the way could have been hiding a pool ideal for harboring a great trout.
"This is the spot that I've been thinking about," Harry said. "It doesn't have to be here, but the water kind of sings as it crosses the bar, the tree casts a shadow in the afternoon, and there is good visibility so you can see anything walking up on you."
"Always a consideration," said James. He started walking a few yards this way and that, stopping and looking in different directions, moving to another spot and repeating the process.
"What kind of stone did you want? And, before we go further, are you set on a stone, or would you consider a wooden bench like the one by the mill stone, or perhaps a log cut length-wise placed on log sections? There are different ways to go about it."
"I was thinking of the stone," Harry said. "To be specific, those granite monoliths around Greengrass Manor were what I had in mind. It has to look natural, like the stone has been right here forever, or at least since a glacier dropped it."
"Got it," said James. "You don't want granite, then. There isn't any granite around the manor. We'll work something up."
James didn't go on about who 'we' were or what the 'something' was they'd work up. Apparently that was information Harry could live without. He fell in behind James, who was already headed back toward the footbridge.
Harry turned toward The Mill as soon as they crossed the stream.
"We'd better feed them," he said. James knew the drill. One of Astoria's final requests was more of a command to feed the trout. No one took the commission more seriously than Harry.
"Are we in danger, Dad?" James asked as they stood on the berm sending crickets out over the pond.
Harry didn't answer immediately.
"I don't think any of you are," he said. "The Lafleur organization appears to be your classic cult. The followers move up by submitting to more and more mind control. The mechanics of the cults are always the same. An irrational belief system preached by a charismatic personality, a little razzle-dazzle the low-levels haven't seen before, de-personalization with greater and greater demonstrations of loyalty by the followers. Eventually, we observe loss of free will and the leader has an instrument he or she can wield for some purpose. The question at hand is, what is that purpose? But, no, I don't think you nor your mum nor any of the family is threatened."
"You left yourself out," James observed as he sent a dried cricket arching out over the pond.
"James…I'm…I'm different," Harry said. "I know that isn't very satisfactory, but can it do for now? I have my reasons."
James picked another cricket out of the jar.
"I know," he said. "There were plenty of people at Hogwarts willing to fill in the blank spaces in my Potter knowledge. I let them. There's always more to learn."
"Oh, James," Harry said, "I'm so sorry. I know what you must think of me."
"What do you mean, think of you?" James asked, a little bristling coming through.
"Well, all of the fighting, death, destruction, carnage. Even if they exaggerated, there is enough truth there," Harry said. "We weren't planning campaigns of conquest, we were just trying to stay alive another day. That stuff, once it starts, no one can control how it will end. I hurt people. People who followed me hurt more people. Afterwards, with the aurors, I just wanted to be part of putting wizardry back together. Imperfect as it may be, policing appears to be essential for a functioning society. I'm glad my friends and I were able to help get the world straight again, but there are people in this country who have a right to be pissed at us."
James stopped feeding trout and stood on the berm, looking at Harry in astonishment.
"Dad," he began, "I think you are a true hero. Wizards my age owe you everything. Everything, Dad. We're back on our feet thanks to you. If you had to send a few madmen and career criminals to Hades so we could have a chance at life, good on ya. You feel bad because you had to hurt some people. People who wouldn't have felt bad about hurting you. That's hard to understand.
"Are the Lafleurs after you because of Voldemort?"
"No," Harry said, sighing. "It's personal. When I was traveling, I submitted myself to the discipline of a school, wizards who follow an esoteric practice, something passed down, mists of time, that sort of thing. Lafleur was a student in my master's school. Understand, this is very volatile knowledge. We work with it to master ourselves. We take a vow not misuse it, including doing tricks for money. Lafleur, whose name is really Lestrange, has gone rogue. He'd been dismissed before I got there, for misusing the knowledge, but it's a good bet he knows about me, and knows I know about him."
"Merlin, Dad!" James exclaimed. "Another Lestrange! Is Lissette part of this?"
"It doesn't appear she is," Harry said. "As you will have guessed, given the resources available to me and certain colleagues, some research has already been done. If she's a distant relative she's a third cousin or further. I don't even know if she's aware Jacques Lafleur is a Lestrange. From what I understand, if her stepfather was acting at the museum he really threw himself into the role. If she's part of a plot it is a darn complicated one."
"Yeah, it sounds like it," James said.
"Well, one more thing to do," Harry said, putting the cover on the cricket jar. They walked back to the mantle and put the jar next to Astoria's picture, getting another huge stage wink for their efforts. Harry led the way back outside.
"We'll just pass along what we've been doing and how we're thinking of our project, in case the inhabitants would like a public comment period," Harry said, sitting down on the bench by the door.
The fairies returned, starting with ones and twos. Pretty soon there was a good-sized ball of little lights hanging in the air in front of the bench.
"James Greengrass thinks he can arrange for a nice piece of stone for us to sit upon, up the stream and across from that oak that makes the big shady patch," Harry said.
The buzzing started. Harry never had discovered what that was, but assumed it was indicative of a collective thinking or discussion process. Harry wondered how far the information went. He had gotten used to the idea that the fairies saw all kinds of people, back to Iolanthe Peverell, at least, sitting with James and him on the bench. He had avoided trying to pass messages through the fairies. Communication with the dead, no matter the mechanism, was rarely a good idea.
"A rock is pleasant for sitting," the fairies' voice said.
"We would like to thank the fairies for greeting us today," Harry said as he stood, leading James to stand up as well.
"It is pleasant talking to the fairies," Harry finished.
"James and Harry are welcome," said the fairies' voice as the ball of tiny lights separated.
Harry looked up when he heard the 'pop' from the direction of the flat spot everyone used for apparation and reached for the knob end of his wand, inside his sleeve and just above the band of his watch. He was both surprised and not surprised to see Bart Fudge and his sidekick Nott walking towards James and himself, wands drawn.
"Let me see your hands, Harry," said Fudge. "You too, son. No need for you to get hurt."
"Bart, you came to Astoria's funeral. You know you're treading on sacred Potter soil," Harry said.
"Thanks for the tip, Harry, really," said Fudge. "Now, much as it pains me to do this here, I must advise you that you are under arrest. There are certain irregularities in your department's accounts, for which you must answer. You're an experienced public servant, so I'm certain you'll come along with no fuss or bother. If you cooperate in the investigation you'll do a few months in Azkaban and be back with the family by the first of the year."
"Uh-huh," Harry said, "And you are blowing smoke because you would have sent Ralph to see me and bring me in if you had proper cause. How are you going to explain your warrantless search of my flat?"
"There was no such search," Fudge spluttered. Fudge turned red. Nott turned to Fudge.
"You said…" Nott began.
"Shut it!" Fudge ordered.
"Ha!" Harry semi-exploded, "Next time you plot a crime with Bart, Mr. Nott, toss the place, no matter what he says. Always remember, sometimes a museum piece is just a museum piece, except when it's not."
Fudge probably knew at that point that it was all over. Harry Potter, who had somehow contrived to record their presence inside his London apartment, was quoting words Fudge had spoken during the actual crime. Still, he was able to switch gears and continue the charade for a bit longer.
"You…you…," Fudge tried, his right hand, which held his wand, getting twitchy. Fudge was a bureaucrat, and a good one. He'd never been much of a fighter, though, using magic as a convenience, signing and sealing and breaking into Harry's flat with his wand, doing a journeyman's job overseeing his department. Harry could see Fudge thinking it over, so he got ready in case the director made the wrong decision.
It was such a great relief when it happened. Harry had drawn deep to find the patience to let Fudge make the first move. Had he had less experience Harry would have gotten tired of waiting and simply dispatched the less-capable men before him. As it was, Fudge preserved some twisted version of self-esteem by casting a fairly competent 'stupefy,' which Harry met by swinging his left arm across before James and himself, not bothering to draw his wand, thinking 'protego' before watching Fudge and Nott topple like duckpins from the rebounding jinx. Harry's wand hummed a bit as they walked over to look at the intruders.
To give them just credit, Fudge and Nott managed to struggle to their feet, even keeping their wands in hand. Fudge got his up when Harry was still a good ten feet away.
"Oh, not again," Harry said.
"We're made of sterner stuff than that, Potter!" Fudge shouted, Harry's gentle handling of the jinx apparently having had the perverse effect of insulting Fudge's magical pride.
"Not you, Bart," Harry said, gesturing behind them, "Iolanthe and that blasted dragon."
Fudge and Nott turned around to see Gorr alighting soundlessly a short distance back in the direction of Potter Manor. Gorr stood on her hind legs, wings spread, and her head cocked back, inducing the universal human race memory of the last conscious thought of someone about to die of incineration by dragon.
Too terrified to remember they could disapparate, Fudge and Nott ran screaming away from Harry, James, The Mill, and Gorr, straight into several acres of fallow land still choked with tall dried grass stems from the previous summer.
"Good luck with that," James observed, surprised the two made it as far into the grasses as they did before getting wrapped up, tripping and falling forward.
"Lot of snakes in there," Iolanthe pointed out. Harry looked around for the dragon, seeing only Iolanthe, and Lissette just behind her.
"Was that Gorr?" he asked. "Where'd she go?"
"It wasn't Gorr, it was me," said Iolanthe, "Plus an illusionment charm to make me look like Gorr. With one little revelio, my story collapses. Good thing they didn't think to try that."
"Well done, Iolanthe," James said, his face alight with an astonished smile. "That was very well done."
Iolanthe looked like she would burst with pride. She craved her little brother's respect the way she did her mother's, and her little brother was not known for profligacy in handing out compliments.
"We need to retrieve our prisoners," Harry said. "Let's see…"
James' unaided flying abilities came in very handy. Harry sent him out over the fallow land to cast a 'brachiabindo' jinx, which put an end to the comical sequence of get up, run a few strides, fall down, get up, etc. Once they couldn't use their hands and arms to get back up, Fudge and Nott fell down in the tangled vegetation and awaited assistance. James, floating overhead, used 'levicorpus' and retrieved first Bart Fudge, then the Nott everyone knew was a Nott but still had no first name. He dropped them both in the triangle formed by Iolanthe, Lissette and Harry.
"Is Gorr around?" Harry asked.
"Don't know, but I can find out," Iolanthe said.
"She could save us some time," said Harry.
Iolanthe looked down at their prisoners and smiled.
It took two tries, but Iolanthe put her wand to her neck and managed to call Gorr up. Lissette had no experience with dragons, so James took her in hand and sat her down out of the way, on the bench by the mill stone, while Harry and Iolanthe parlayed with Gorr in parseltongue.
"What are they doing?" Lissette asked in a panicky whisper. Iolanthe stood next to Gorr, stroking her neck while she talked, occasionally pointing to Fudge and Nott who lay trussed-up on the ground.
"It's okay, believe me," James said, speaking very quietly. "Iolanthe is friends with that dragon. Well, as much as a human can be. Did her a favor once. The dragon thinks quite highly of her. They've done little projects together, you could say."
Harry was addressing his prisoners.
"I am arresting you for the crimes of breaking and entering, criminal trespass, assault and, oh, disorderly conduct. Anything you say will be taken down and used…"
James saw Harry finally draw his wand and do a little casting over the two. Iolanthe was permitted to dispense one kiss to her snout before Gorr leaned down and took the prisoners' restraints in her teeth. Her great wings beat the air once, twice, before she pushed off and was airborne, her prisoners dangling beneath. Harry and Iolanthe walked back to the bench, where Harry cast his patronus.
"I want you to find Ralph Mann and advise him I'm sending two prisoners to the ministry. The aurors on duty ought to be seeing them on the roof of the ministry in an hour, to an hour-and-a-half, depending on air traffic."
The stag had decent materiality in the shade around the bench but disappeared as soon as it entered full daylight.
"Iolanthe Astoria," Harry began. "Your late aunt knew how to make an entrance, too. I think she'd be very proud of you for that one."
They all sat there on the bench, calming down, thinking their thoughts. The fairies reappeared and made crowns for Iolanthe and Lissette. Iolanthe smiled and thought of the last hours she had spent with Astoria, reading The Odyssey, both of them wearing their crowns of fairies.
A loud sniff from Iolanthe pulled Harry out of his reverie.
"They'll be thinking about lunch at the house," he observed. "Shall we?"
"You did take care of the trout?" asked Iolanthe as she dabbed the corners of her eyes with a tissue.
"All done," James assured her.
Harry gave a silent, "Good-bye, be back soon!" to the community he was certain inhabited the environs. Not a boisterous one that would disturb their rest, of course.
The little party walked back to Potter Manor. Harry made a mental note to thank Kingsley for the time off. It was a true luxury to have whole summer days at his disposal, time for working on things around the house together, like placing a boulder or planting a stand of aspens. Having Iolanthe recruit her dragon acquaintance to transport prisoners wasn't a normal, everyday activity but she was a very creative witch and she needed her outlets. Otherwise, her natural curiosity could lead to Potter-esque adventures of an unconstructive nature.
"Well, the travelers return!" said Daphne, looking up from a bowl of some kind of puree she was spooning into a twin. "Where did you find them?"
"Just down by The Mill," Iolanthe said.
Harry looked around the patio. Tracey sat by Zelda, who was also feeding a twin. Millicent was exiting the house, and Ginny, also returned from somewhere, followed Millicent outside.
"Might as well tell them the whole story," Harry said, "Things must be happening to have flushed those two."
Lunch ended up taking two hours. It was very pleasant under the canvas umbrellas that shaded the tables, talking over salads and fresh bread, iced tea and lemonade. The scrap by The Mill didn't take very long. Harry wasn't going to be the one to give evidence against Iolanthe for sticking her nose into law enforcement business, but James could not resist telling the tale of the exquisite trickery of Iolanthe's use of illusion to tip the balance.
"Given the outcome, dear, you won't be scolded and sent to your room," Daphne granted, "But without it, I would have to comment on your judgment."
"In Iolanthe's defense," Harry stated, "She combined skill with imagination and brought about a non-violent solution, resolving an immediate public safety problem. It was a performance worthy of a witch far older and more experienced. Not that we'd want her doing that sort of thing every day, understand, but James and I were both impressed and grateful."
"Well put, Harry," said Millicent. "and to think one of my students, at Iolanthe's age…"
"Hear-hear," added Ginny. "Those bloodlines…always saving the day. Magnificent."
Ginny gave Iolanthe the co-conspirator look, which Iolanthe returned.
Talk turned to the overall Lafleur problem. If one knew how to read the aurors' reports in the Daily Prophet, the signs said a large operation was underway. Financial crimes were popping up here and there, the arrests getting prominent play. Most readers were too bored by fraud to read more than a paragraph, but the skimming of public funds was always good as tabloid subject matter. Harry hated corruption. The money could be made up, but the damage to the public trust was much harder to repair.
No one had contacted him from the ministry, so Harry was determined to keep his peace. Kingsley, Percy, Ron and Hermione all knew where he could be reached. If they needed him, they were welcome to send an owl.
The scandal and the morning's dust-up exhausted, Harry turned to Daphne.
"Do you have to go in today?" he asked.
"No," she answered, "I'll go tomorrow for rounds. I'm trying to keep my patient load down, but I can only fob off so many on my colleagues."
"So we have the rest of today? Great!" Harry said. "We can all hang out being witches and wizards. Should we invite anyone over?"
"Let me see what Rose is doing," Iolanthe said, getting up and going inside.
The twins were refusing more of their mushed-up vegetables and protesting something. Tracey and Daphne picked them up and went inside, asking unanswerable questions about washups and nice naps, Zelda following behind. Lissette left as well.
"Harry," Millicent said.
"Millicent," Harry replied.
"Are you being careful?"
"Yes, very," Harry said. "Have you seen something I've missed?"
"No," Millicent said. "To the contrary. I think we're all sitting here peacefully as a result of your outstanding security practices. Lafleur is dangerous, though."
"Thank-you," Harry said, "That's very much appreciated."
The three sat there for a few more minutes before Harry got up.
"I probably ought to send an owl," he said, forgetting his earlier resolution. "If you'll excuse me."
Harry went to his study and closed the door. At his desk, he opened his stationary drawer and took out a piece of note parchment with the Potter and Black seals impressed at the top. He disciplined himself, sticking with one sheet, composing a succinct description of his last two interactions with Bart Fudge, which he folded in half and slipped into a parchment envelope addressed to Kingsley Shacklebolt. He followed with another, this one to Ralph Mann, a third to Hermione with a request that she share with Ron so one note would do for both. Harry waved his wand over the envelopes, shrinking them to very manageable sizes.
Harry sat in his green leather swivel chair contemplating his desk lamps. Daphne had chosen a pair of oil lamps with emerald green shades blown by some method from heavy glass. Harry had to admit they were beautiful, true works of magical art. Of course they were the same green used in all the iconic Slytherin items such as blankets, ties, and Slytherin crests. Daphne possessed some powerful healer magic, Harry had to admit, if she could cure him of his near-phobic distaste for anything emerald green in color.
Harry looked between the lamps and pondered the study's fireplace. The floo address was closely held, since it was connected to the parallel system, along with Gringotts One, that was accessed only by individuals with the right clearance and a genuine need to move around outside the regular floos. The various Mercuries who brought Harry his reading would know the address, of course. He was sure Fiona could access it, and Fiona would be cleared to pass the Potter Manor wards as well.
Harry opened his drawer and withdrew one more sheet of parchment. He wrote out a carefully-edited version of the notes in the envelopes on the desk before him, sealed it and shrank the envelope.
Harry was pleased to see a selection of owls perched around the Potter owlery. He picked out three fast ones and sent them on their way, then held out his arm for the big barred owl.
"Find Kingsley," he told the owl. "Can you find Kingsley and give this to him? I don't want anyone else getting this one, even if you have to bring it back."
The owl opened his beak for the envelope, gave Harry a wink, and took off.
Harry returned to his study and went in, leaving the door open. He wondered how long he'd be waiting and checked his watch. He didn't think it would be more than an hour. Owl mail didn't travel at natural owl speed. Harry had never known exactly why that was, but now that he'd thought about it, he resolved to find out. It might be important someday, for someone in his position.
Forty-six minutes after Harry had checked the time the green flames flared in his fireplace and out stepped Fiona, carrying a file folder. From where he sat in his swivel chair it looked like the folder had all the stamps and seals normally found on his morning reading material. Harry's wand lay on his desk blotter before him but he thought Fiona might want a little banter before they got serious, so he left the wand alone. It gave off all the atmospherics necessary to get Fiona's attention without the aggression implicit in being in hand, ready to cast.
"Brought you some material," Fiona said, giving the file folder a little flip.
"Did you?" Harry asked. "Well, be careful with it because it appears you left your wand inside, unless I'm mistaken. That bulge does indicate the presence of a wand, doesn't it?"
"Oh," said Fiona, "No wonder it felt so lumpy. Left in a rush, see."
"It happens," Harry said. "Just so you know, Kingsley has put me on the bench indefinitely. My understanding is I come back to work when Kingsley determines it is time for me to come back to work. Therefore, I'm probably not cleared to see whatever is in that file, unless you just grabbed the folder, in your rush out the door, and threw something in that doesn't require that level of security labeling."
"That's it!" Fiona said. "The stuff inside isn't restricted. All the empty file folders were for the higher-level paper and I just grabbed this one."
"Because you were in a hurry," Harry said in confirmation.
"Trying to get out of there," Fiona semi-argued.
"Well, thanks for bringing it," Harry said. "If it doesn't require special handling just drop it on the desk. Do you need an answer right away? Will you be waiting to take it back? How about a mineral water, pumpkin juice, butterbeer? Have you eaten? We didn't have lunch that long ago, let me call Periwinkle…"
"No!" shouted Fiona, eyes wild, face starting to flush. "I don't want anything!"
Harry waited, making a little tent with his fingers, consciously staying away from his wand.
"Well, then, Fiona, I know you didn't come all this way for nothing, so what can I do for you?"
"You're coming with me," Fiona tacked, getting a little control. "Kingsley wants to see you."
"Are you sure?" Harry asked, getting a vigorous nod in return. "Where is he? We can just go to his office from right here."
Harry gestured toward the fireplace as he stepped out from behind his desk.
"No!" said Fiona, "We'll go outside and I'll take you to him. By side-along."
Harry kept an eye on the file folder. Fiona the competent analyst was completely out of her element and she knew it. She was agitated and had a wand in her hand, even if it was inside a file folder.
"Sure, if that's what you want," Harry said. He kept some distance between the two of them so Fiona wouldn't think he was making a move and overreact.
"Where'd you say he is? The front door is this way."
Fiona took her eyes away to follow Harry's pointing left index finger, as Harry dropped his right hand down next to his thigh, opening and closing as he thought 'ACCIO!'
"Right this way."
Harry stayed on Fiona's right, the grip of his wand in his palm, the shank lying against the inside of his right forearm. Fiona still carried on her pantomime of being someone from work who came to the country to bring the boss a little reading, which she had to keep pointed at him for some reason.
Harry and Fiona had cleared the stairs and were proceeding up a path to get outside the wards when Lissette stepped onto the front steps.
"IRIS!" she shouted.
Fiona froze where she was. Harry looked at her out of the corner of his eye. He started to spin and was raising his upper arm to bring his elbow to bear on Fiona's jaw when he saw the file folder coming up. At the same time he caught movement back at the door.
Fiona's 'expelliarmus!' was true, but Lissette's 'protego!' came from a place of rage and thirst for justice. Fiona went flying from the rebound, and even Harry stumbled back, nearly blown off his feet.
Lissette charged down the steps, her new wand sharing her righteous indignation that her tormentor had shown up at her refuge. The nerve!
"Petrificus!" shouted Lissette and Fiona stiffened. "Porcinafors!"she continued.
Harry watched as Fiona transformed into a pig before toppling over on her side.
"That's a good-looking pig," Harry said as he and Lissette closed in on the animal.
Rose and Iolanthe ran down the steps, wands out, followed by Millicent, Ginny, Tracey and Daphne.
"What is going on here?" Daphne demanded. "There is a pig on the front lawn of our home!"
That was so hilariously obvious Harry was sorely tried in suppressing his desire to point it out. He sought ways to move on from that very dangerous thought.
"Not just any pig," Harry said, "This great sow is my trusted deputy, Fiona Diggle, also known to Lissette as Iris. Considering how she treated Lissette I'd say she's lucky she's not turning on a spit over a fine bed of coals at this very moment."
"It's not a sow," James observed as he walked up to the group. "Look at that belly. Those haven't nursed anything. That would be called a shoat, or maybe she's just barren."
Rose and Iolanthe put hands over their mouths and looked off at nothing in particular. Everyone else stared at James.
"Hey, I'm just a simple farmer," James began, and ended.
"Well, Lissette, what are you going to do with your prize hog?" Daphne asked. The pig was rolling her eyes and managed one snort although nothing else was working due to the 'petrificus.'
"I'll let her go," Lissette said, "But first I'll make her a present of something."
The osage orange wand went next to Lissette's ear. She closed her eyes and began pulling a long, gauzy thread out from her temple, rolling the wand in her fingers to make the memory spool around the shank. When she finished she leaned over the pig Fiona.
"You gave me this, and I've carried it around for months," Lissette said to the pig. "It is time you got it back."
The wand tip hovered over Fiona's pig ear and the memory unspooled itself from the wand and into the ear. Porcine Fiona blinked a few times but didn't react otherwise. Lissette stepped back, still pointing her wand at Fiona.
"Reverso porcinafors," she said, and Fiona was back, looking a little confused.
"What?" she said as she stood up. "What are you all doing standing there looking at me? Aren't you Millicent Bulstrode? That's my wand…"
Fiona stopped talking as a memory bubbled up, unbidden. She was lying in bed, naked, looking out through Lissette's eyes. Scared, unsure what was coming. She was sixteen years old and had had several difficult encounters with men, all against her will. She had no desire for men, nor for women. She didn't want to be where she was. She didn't know what the older, naked Fiona expected. She wouldn't have come if they hadn't forced her. Now this. Fiona's face, her fifty-year-old face, appeared before her. Over her. The face she'd seen in the mirror that very morning. The pores in the skin that covered her cheekbones were prominent, so close they looked like moon craters, and they weren't particularly clean. Older Fiona's breath stank. The older Fiona face came down on the sixteen-year-old Fiona's, mouth-to-mouth. Fiona remembered that tongue in her mouth, so real, as if it were happening in the present. A rough hand squeezed young Fiona's breast until it hurt. Young Fiona lay there, wanting to move, repulsed, afraid. Something was rubbing her thigh, hard, something rough. The fifty-year-old Fiona shuddered, moaned and pulled her mouth away.
"Thank Merlin," thought the young Fiona.
Fiona stood on the lawn of Potter Manor, feeling a little disoriented, looking around at the people who stood there looking at her.
"I don't remember this happening to me," Fiona thought. "This is a dream. I'll wake up soon."
It wasn't a dream at all, though. Fiona's Lissette memory, more real than any of her own genuine memories, started over. She was sixteen years old, naked, in Fiona's room at the Lafleur retreat, helpless, alone with Fiona. She looked up at her older self, surprised at the folds of flesh, the floppiness, the stray hairs growing out of unexpected places. Fiona's breath stank, her mouth came down. The scratchy thing started up on the same spot on the same thigh. Why did she keep remembering? How many times would she have to relive it?
"Stop it!" Fiona screamed at Lissette, grabbing her own hair with both hands. "You monster! Bitch! Monster! What have you done to me? Get this out of my head!"
Fiona began to run across the lawn, pulling at her hair. She was pulling it out in clumps, screaming inarticulately.
"Monster! Little bitch!"
Daphne pulled up the long skirt of her caftan in her left hand and ran barefoot, casting spell after spell to calm Fiona, to slow her down, to dull her mind enough for her to get control of herself. The healers and associated professionals who treat witches and wizards with mental maladies have books full of charms to draw on to help their patients come down from their psychotic heights. Daphne ran through several of the most widely-used and was starting to think she would need to revert to brute force to end the episode, when Fiona finally stopped, stood still, and stared into the distance.
Millicent arrived, ready to assist Daphne any way she could, and took up a position at Fiona's side.
"Oh, that's so much better," said Healer Daphne. "Now, how about a glass of pumpkin juice while we wait? Would you like that?"
"Pumpkin juice?" asked Fiona.
"Yes, and then maybe a nice, quiet room, with a bed and friends around," suggested Healer Daphne. "I know just the place. How long has it been since you've been on vacation? Do you like staying in a nice hotel?"
"I like hotels," admitted Fiona, letting Daphne and Millicent escort her back to the big front door.
"Is this your hotel?"