Wheels Within Wheels – Part Three
Iolanthe
Chapter Fifty-One
Exploring Witchly Pleasures
"Mum!" James said, putting on his best homecoming smile. "May I introduce Moira Turley, who is a Hufflepuff from my year? We work on herbology together. Moira, this is my mother, Daphne Greengrass, and you know Iolanthe."
Daphne stepped over to Moira and extended her hand.
"Moira? Daphne," she said, "That is such a lovely name. And you're a Hufflepuff? Well, I'm sure we'll have lots to discuss, soon, but at the moment we're lighting Jack O'Lanterns so our guests can find the path to the bonfire just there. I suppose James brought you down to meet the woodlanders on Samhain? Yes, that would be James. You'll be staying here with me for just a few minutes while the party pays its respects. James, that's your father coming out of the tent with the Serene, so why don't you throw yourself upon his mercy while Iolanthe and I get the rest of these Jack O'Lantern's lit?"
She'd all but said, "Done," so James took it as agreed that soon he would be explaining his presence to his father. He looked at Moira and tried to send silent assurances that everything would be fine. Moira didn't appear to be overly concerned, thought James. In fact, she drew her wand and walked off down the path with Daphne and Iolanthe as if she'd been assigned lighting duties in Tracey's master plan.
James wrote Moira's comfort with their situation off to some kind of witchery to which he was not party and walked up the path to meet Harry, and for all he knew, learn his fate.
"James," Harry said, "Our guest of honor tonight, her Serene, Madame, you remember our son, James?"
"Yes, of course, delighted Master James," Caroline said. "You've come all this way for the Samhain ball? What a fine young wizard, Lord Harry."
"Yes," Harry said, briefly looking sideways at James, "Highly skilled, generally responsible. His mother and I are pleased with him, overall."
James had no idea what one does at thirteen when it's been discovered one has left campus without permission and flown several hundred miles in the dark on Samhain, so he fell in with Kingsley and Lissette, who were just behind Harry and Caroline, and joined the party.
Kingsley had met Plum on a number of occasions, but Caroline hadn't, so Harry made introductions. Plum called the woodlanders to order and made a short speech recognizing Caroline and the minister, then welcomed them and several hundred party guests to the woods on the occasion of Samhain. That earned him a huge round of applause followed by 'Hear-hear' and some loosing of wand pyrotechnics as the holiday spirit began to assert itself.
Fabio and Kendra appeared from somewhere and flanked James.
"Harry asked us if we could look after you for just a few minutes, dear," Kendra said.
"Grandmother! Grandfather!" James said. "Greetings on Samhain!"
"Compliments of the season," Fabio said as he extended his hand. He lowered his voice. "Adventuring?"
"I guess so," James admitted. "Accidentally. We were just flying around, talking, and ended up here."
James seemed as puzzled as everyone else.
"Excellent, those are the best kind."
Kendra stared at Fabio, but other than a slight pursing of the lips she didn't give any indication she meant to be critical.
The party in the woods continued around the woodlanders' bonfire. Iolanthe looked at home, standing in her gown next to Plum with one arm around his shoulders, laughing out loud, arguing with the bowtruckles who wanted to undo Trix' beautiful work and turn their hands to braiding. A little murmur started to run around the periphery, witches' voices.
"Good-night, Mother!" followed by repressed cackles. The murmur grew in volume. Someone sent a huge shower of sparks up into the treetops causing an outbreak of 'Ooooo' and 'Ahhhh' as they drifted down giving out faint hissing sounds.
"Better give everyone a 'Last call for drinks before dinner' Harry," said Daphne as she eased up next to him.
"Last call for drinks before dinner!" Harry dutifully announced.
"Drinks will be in the tent," Daphne noted, her lips next to Harry's ear.
"Drinks will be in the tent," said Harry as he led the way back on the pumpkin-lined path.
"Say, James, we might as well get you a butterbeer," said Fabio said to James, clapping him on the shoulder.
Someone produced a wooden chair, which was situated a safe distance back from the bonfire. It was rough in places, the logs not even stripped of bark, the uprights to which the back was fastened formed out of fresh pine boughs with their needles looking green and healthy. Sheaves of wheat were stood up on the ground around the chair. A crown of woven wheat straw was placed on the seat as if in wait for someone to wear it.
Moira looked around for James but he was missing, off getting his hide tanned by his father, she didn't doubt. She wondered where the other wizards had gone as it was plain the moonlit crowd was reduced to witches and woodlanders.
A fair number of older witches had remained in the tent, some to tend to ancient husbands, others simply declining the walk to the woods in the dark. The returned wizards sought out servers with trays of drinks and didn't think about the witches they'd abandoned because they saw witches here and there. The ones they'd come with must have been around somewhere. Probably in front of the mirror moving makeup around with wands. Meanwhile, there was just time for a firewhiskey and some good conversation before dinner.
"Post a watch, witches," ordered Kendra and a number of wands lit up as their owners drifted into the woods and formed a perimeter.
"Forty!" a voice called out, though no one asked a question, followed by "Forty-three!" then "Fifty!" from the witches around the bonfire. When the bidding reached "Eighty!" the whooping and cheering began.
"Bless you, Mother!" was heard. The count seemed stuck at eighty-nine for a moment until 'ninety' and 'ninety-four' reported and all the heads turned to Caroline.
"One hundred-" she offered to calls of "Wooo!"
"And…TWO!"
The catcalls and ribald comments stopped, replaced by applause and 'Bless you' and "More! More!"
There were no further bids so Caroline was escorted to the chair and surrounded by respectful witches, some already having trouble with weepy makeup, calling for blessings on Mother for all She does. The crown of woven wheat straw turned out to be for the surrogate who represented Mother on the throne.
"Mother Caroline," Daphne said after the roar died down. "It appears you will preside. Welcome to our Samhain. We have some maidens here."
"Let's raise them up then!" Caroline ordered. "Raise them up! Raise them up!" responded the witches. Those closest to Iolanthe, Lissette and Moira turned with drill-team coordination and precision and lifted them up overhead in the moonlight. There were plenty of hands to share the load and the young witches would remember years afterward that they never felt unsteady or unsafe in any way. The witches walked around and around the bonfire in counter-clockwise circles twirling the girls in the full moon's light.
"Here they are, Mother! Here are your daughters!" shouted some of the witches, while others called for blessings on the maidens and wishes for long life, a good man, wealth, babies and happiness. When the lifting up was over and the maidens had, by consensus, been presented properly, Daphne climbed onto a fallen log and raised her wand, sending a great shower of sparks up into the trees. The talk died out.
"Why are we here, witches?" she shouted.
"Mother made us all!" came the response. Caroline noticed Lissette standing beside her chair. She moved over and pulled Lissette down to sit beside her. The ritual had fallen into disuse in Britain during the bad years because the Death Eaters were sure to attack any unauthorized gatherings of magicals, just on principle. On the Continent, though, the observances went on as usual, and Caroline was well-versed and eager.
"There are a few differences but it's nearly the same," she muttered to Lissette. "Have you been to one of these before?"
"I think this is the first one of any size since before the wars," said Lissette.
"Oh, this is bound to mean very good fortune for you then," said Caroline, pulling Lissette a little closer.
Daphne still had some of the ritual to conclude.
"How did she make us?" she asked her congregation.
"She let Father shine some light!" laughed the witches. Hands moved to abdomens.
"He planted us in Mother with His light and she made us of her body!" Daphne said.
The responses got more varied. Some were sounding like they'd come from a place of ecstasy. Hands were patting now.
"In here, in here…" said the voices as some hands patted and patted.
"She carried us…" said Daphne.
"In here, in here…" came the response, mixed with sobs.
"For months and months," Daphne reminded the witches. "She made us from Herself."
Now the older witches who had celebrated Samhain for decades as girls, brides, wives and mothers, who had never expected to have the release of Samhain ever again in their lifetimes, started to feel Earth-spirit rising up from the floor of the woods, flowing through their feet and legs and viscera, out and up to the Moon and the heavens beyond.
"Oh yes! Oh yes!" the witches said, nodding in affirmation. Arms were raised above heads as the flow overcame gravity, going home through the witches. For the first time in thirty years the lord of a noble house had invited the witches of Britain, Ireland and Europe to the woods at his manor to pay their respects as their Mother prepared for sleep and to pray for her blessings when the wheel next turned and she woke from her slumbers.
"Yes, She made us, She made us all from Herself, and She carried us with Her, inside Her sacred place, wherever She went," preached Daphne.
"She pushed us OUT!" Daphne shouted.
"Oh, a good year is coming…," pronounced the witches.
"YES!" Daphne shouted. "She gave us life, and She pushed us out, and then…"
"She fed us!" shouted the witches.
"She feeds us from Herself!" Daphne spoke from her core, where she kept the knowledge she was raised up out of her Mother for just a short time, while it pleased Her to feed Daphne out of her own Life, until one day Daphne would lie down and return to sleep in Her sacred place until the End, THE End, of it all.
"She made us from Herself! She feeds us from Herself, she gives us Her Life!" preached Daphne.
The witches called back: "We are your Life, Mother, You are our life, thank-you thank-you thank-you!"
Witches began to moan, some raised their hands toward Daphne. Groups of two, three and four witches came together, embracing, sobbing, thanking Mother, blessing one another and everyone's families and babies and land and the souls of the beloved departed who were there in the woods sharing the celebration with the witches because it was Samhain.
"Thank-you, Mother, thank-you, thank-you," sounded from all over the crowd.
"She feeds us, we are Hers, and She is ours," Caroline said to Lissette.
Daphne turned to Tracey and smiled. She took one deep breath and hopped down from her log.
"Do me up?"
Tracey had Daphne presentable with very little wand work. They checked one another's gowns and makeup, confident from long practice they hadn't overlooked anything or left even a little mascara unrepaired. Daphne felt a bit drained and she let Tracey give her some support as they walked over to where Kendra stood with Iolanthe and Moira. They stepped around witches by ones, twos and threes, some curtsying, some reaching out to Daphne wanting to kiss her hand or simply touching her as she passed, some with just their fingertips and a few with their marigold bouquets.
"Did I get it right? I was petrified with the young witches in attendance that I'd mess it up," she asked Kendra.
"Perfect dear," Kendra said, "And even if it hadn't been, where are these crones going to find another one tonight?"
Witches began leaving the woods, farewells of "Good night, Mother," and "Come see us in the spring!" coming back as they walked along the path. Caroline let Lissette help her to her feet. She took off her straw crown and tossed it on the bonfire, acknowledging the polite applause from the witches nearby.
Tracey had organized a repair crew from trusted friends she knew she could count on. The team stood waiting along the path back to the tent. The wands disposed of any dirt or leaf mold on shoes or gowns, restored hair and makeup, and cast freshening charms that removed the smell of wood smoke. Returning witches were even offered a tiny vial of a lovely autumn scent perfume. The witches entered the tent by twos and threes, absolutely none the worse for wear.
"Oh! There you are!" was heard from around the tent as witches and wizards encountered their opposites.
Tracey had arranged for the herald to begin circulating with his ceremonial gong when the scheduled visit to the woodlanders' Samhain bonfire concluded, the key being the return of the stragglers, which, by the oddest chance, the returning witches fitted perfectly. Less than ten minutes after Daphne concluded the Samhain ritual, at least as celebrated by the witches of Devon, the guests were seated, Caroline and Kingsley arrived, and the serving commenced.
Kendra asked for a moment alone after the woods became quiet and sent Daphne, Iolanthe, Moira and Lissette ahead. Daphne didn't have a lot of time to think. The tables for dinner sat eight and each had an equal number of witches and wizards. Iolanthe and Lissette were each occupying a witch's seat at their tables and pulling them out to eat with James and Moira would unbalance dinner for the guests. Daphne didn't want to exclude her unexpected visitors, but Iolanthe was barely permissible because she was nearly fifteen and had been given a job by Tracey.
They could have improvised some formal wear for James and Moira to replace their school robes, but they really weren't going to fit in a formal, almost State dinner no matter how they were dressed. Daphne came to a decision.
"Moira, dear, will you come with me?" Daphne asked. Moira nodded and Daphne laid her arm across Moira's shoulders. They returned to the house, to the room just inside from the patio, and Daphne called for Periwinkle.
"A table and two chairs, please, Periwinkle, I think just about here," Daphne said as she indicated where she wanted things set up.
Periwinkle had the table and chairs placed in seconds. Daphne gestured to one of the chairs and pulled the other out for herself.
"Moira, I can't wait to hear your side of things, and James' because I'm sure they are going to be more fun and interesting than I can imagine right now, but we're about to start dinner in the tent and I just don't have time. Now, I'm going to bring James in here soon but first I have to tell you about what you saw in the woods," Daphne said, trying to edit for brevity.
"The Samhain ritual, according to the ways of the old witches, is just for us, and the creatures you saw in the woods. The wizards are welcome at some things, but not for that. Will you respect that?" she asked.
"I'm not supposed to tell James what we were doing, am I?" Moira asked.
"James won't bring it up, if you don't," Daphne said.
Moira thought for a moment, then broke out into a huge smile.
"Ohhhh…" Moira said. "Your wand…"
"Shhh!" said Daphne. "Of course. You don't have to lie. They won't think to ask."
"I swear," Moira said, raising her hand.
"Wonderful," said Daphne. "Now, we'll get you and James some food. You'll eat here because we don't have space in there. I'll have to let the school know we've got you here and we'll arrange a safe trip back for you just as soon as we can, but I've got the Minister for Magic and a sovereign at our head table and I must do that first. There won't be any further monkey business out of you two, will there? I'm counting on you to keep a clear head for a few more hours."
"No, Da…" Moira started, then stopped.
"That's it. Daphne," said Daphne. "Keep it simple. Daphne."
Daphne ordered two dinners for Moira and James from Periwinkle and left to fetch her son.
"I'll take it from here," Daphne informed Fabio as she slipped her arm under James' and steered him toward the door to the tent.
"Mum…" James tried but Daphne cut him off.
"No time right now, James, dear," she said. "I have to take control of your life from this moment until the dinner is over and our guests are away. You'll get all the time you need to explain yourself starting about two and one-half to three hours from now, Merlin willing. Enjoy your dinner, be a good host, chat up your friend, don't stray. Understand?"
"Yes, Mum," James said.
"Good," Daphne said, "Because, James, I really am counting on you. You didn't leave your father and me another choice."
After giving James an application of admonishment from her blue-gray eyes, Daphne found Harry in the tent and went directly to business.
"Did anyone contact Hogwarts?" she asked.
"I haven't," Harry said.
"Please do so," Daphne said. "Give the stag something to do. The headmistress needs to know they're here and safe. We'll get them back as soon as we have proper escorts."
Harry left for the green to carry out his instructions. His patronus loved having something to do and departed almost before Harry was finished with his message to Headmistress McGonagall. Harry went back inside and took his seat next to Caroline.
Dinner went well. Ambassadors listened for reportable bits of news, Fleur and Victoire charmed the French speakers, Ginny dazzled quidditch fans while on the fringes, a little discreet business was done. Daphne carried the conversation at her section, telling the story behind the original Lawrence Davis art throughout the house, the greenhouse down the hill and plans for the upcoming St. Mungo's Ball. Kingsley and Caroline left when the remarks were concluded. The tables and chairs were cleared away, lights in the tent dimmed and Tracey invited everyone to stay for dancing. Newly liberated from her hostess duties, Daphne walked directly to her extra-special guests.
"Ready?" she asked without any sort of prelude.
James looked at Moira, who looked back. Moira stood up and she and Daphne looked at James.
"I'm ready," he assured them, pushing back from the table.
Daphne closed the door of the library, sat down and looked at the travelers.
"You have the floor," she said.
Moira looked at James.
"It was me," said James.
Moira leaned back in her chair and waited.
"I went up to the Owlery to watch the moonrise. For some reason I ended up showing Moira I could fly without a broom, and took her to look for a few Samhain bonfires, and it just got out of hand," James said. "It was me. Nothing should happen to Moira. I apologize, Moira. I apologize, Mother."
Daphne didn't say anything. She just sat there staring at her son. She knew he could fly without a broom but she did not for a minute believe he could fly himself and Moira from Hogsmeade to Potter Manor, broom or no broom.
"James…," Moira said.
"No, Moira, I knew better, and I did it anyway, you shouldn't be blamed. They'll probably expel me. I'll be fine, I'll keep busy with Teddy or Grandfather," James said. "You have to stay in school."
Moira tried a different way.
"Daphne," she said.
"Yes, Moira?"
"It was me. I could have gone back anytime, and James would have come with me," she said.
"Moira! No," said James.
Daphne had listened as long as she could.
"If anyone is to be punished…" Moira began, until Daphne cut her off.
"Stop," Daphne said, and the crosstalk stopped.
"James did not fly Moira down to Potter Manor without a broom," she declared.
"Mum…"
"Moira, you are not responsible for James," she continued.
"MUM, she could be expelled!"
"James, please be quiet and listen," Daphne said, starting to shift into the cool professional who manipulated highly agitated witches and wizards with just her tone of voice.
"Do you have a broom with you, Moira?" she asked.
"No," Moira said, sighing. "I don't need a broom. I fly without any equipment. James, she needs to know. I'm a banshee, Mrs. Potter. If you want Hogwarts to send me back to our island, there's nothing I can do about it. We don't harm anyone, but we're widely misunderstood."
Daphne held the floor, in silence. She sat quietly, thinking. No one spoke, but James and Moira looked at each other.
"What do you think of my son, Moira?" Daphne finally asked.
Moira turned firey red under her milky complexion. James hadn't seen that before. Something stirred inside. He hoped the blushing didn't mean she felt bad somehow. That would break his heart. Something felt like it was breaking underneath his breastbone right then.
"He's a genius, everyone says that," Moira said, barely above a whisper. She couldn't look at either of them.
James turned red this time.
"Zelda fixed me up with him for tutoring in herbology, he's helped me a lot, he knows so much more than me and he can go through the texts with me and help me understand what they're talking about," Moira said, everything coming out in a flood. "I'm starting to understand the texts now on my own, thanks to James. I would have failed without him."
"Uh-huh," Daphne agreed, "That sounds like James. My question was what do you think of him? Not as your herbology study partner."
"He doesn't care if I'm a banshee, so there's that," Moira said. She hesitated, then went a little further. "I think a lot more of him right now than I did yesterday. Tonight, I can honestly say he is my friend."
Daphne was sitting there appraising James and Moira. They were adolescents, and she shouldn't have to be thinking about it, but she spent her professional life in the realm of emotions as presented by witches and wizards so she was realistic enough to know she had to start thinking about something, right there in the library, tonight.
"You're a second year, Moira, you're twelve?"
"Yes, Mrs. Potter," Moira confirmed.
"James is thirteen. Did he tell you about his birthday?" asked Daphne.
"Yes, Mrs. Potter."
"There is a lot for us all to work out," Daphne said. "Harry and I will apologize to your parents, of course, for James' part in this indiscretion. We will recommend James apologize to them as well, and to you and Hogwarts. James will be telling us all a lot about himself with his response. You use your time wisely when you're around James, this I can see. If I were you, I'd pay attention to his attitude toward you, his conduct and response to difficulties over the coming weeks. Watch, and learn.
"Is your home connected to the floo?" Daphne asked. "I really should speak with your mother."
"It can come and go, but, yes," said Moira. "It's Mrs. Turley, Turley Cottage, Isle of St. Magnus."
Daphne dropped her floo powder and asked for Mrs. Turley. Magical conditions were favorable and Daphne laid out a short version of James' and Moira's Samhain adventure. Mrs. Turley, once she was assured Moira and James were safe, seemed quite blase' about their whereabouts, assuring Daphne she was happy they'd found their way to the Potters' and wishing everyone in Devon a happy Samhain. Daphne assured Mrs. Turley they would keep Moira well-fed and comfortable while she was their guest.
"One thing and I'll let you go," Daphne said, "James? Anything to add?"
James gulped. He hadn't counted on making his apology under the prevailing circumstances. He came close to declining, then he looked between Daphne and Moira. They had expectations. Something told him it was not the time to disappoint them.
"Mrs. Turley, my name is James Potter, and I want to apologize for taking Moira out of school and bringing her home. It was wrong and I should not have done it," James said.
"Well, James, are you planning on doing it again?" Mrs. Turley asked.
"NO!" James said.
"So you've learned a valuable lesson?"
"Yes, ma'am, absolutely," James assured her.
"Um-hmm. Moira?"
"Yes, Mum?" said Moira.
"We'll talk, soon," Mrs. Turley began. "Meanwhile, you're to follow Mrs. Potter's instructions the way you'd do mine, understand?"
"Yes, Mum."
"When you get back to school you're to focus on your studies," said Mrs. Turley. "We'll catch up at Christmas. How was Samhain?"
"Incredible," Moira said. "I've never been to one this big."
"Glad you got to go, then," Mrs. Turley said. "Daphne? Thank you for everything. I hope to meet you soon."
"Merlin willing," said Daphne.
Daphne stepped away from the fireplace and stood there with her hands on her hips, looking back and forth.
"We are very busy at the moment," Daphne said. "That's not your fault, of course, but this could not have come at a more inconvenient time. So, what's done is done, welcome to Potter Manor, Moira. You're our guest and we'll do our best to make your visit memorable. James, I need Iolanthe, please."
"Mum," James started, because he really didn't think it would be a good idea to throw Iolanthe and Moira together, but Daphne wasn't having it.
"Is there a problem, James? I need Iolanthe, please."
James held his tongue and left the library.
"I can't have James walking you around, picking out your accommodations, that sort of thing, can I? You're going to be subjected to a lot of unwelcome questions, from your housemates and people who can't mind their own business, Moira," Daphne said. "Not that I had the experience of running away with my boyfriend when I was twelve, you understand, but the Potters have been subjected to ugly gossip at times. We'll do everything we can to keep that sort of thing at bay. For one thing, you and James won't be spending a lot of time in one another's exclusive company, okay?"
"Mother?" Iolanthe asked as she peeked into the library.
"Iolanthe, how's the party?" Daphne asked.
"Bunch of old people who think they can dance," Iolanthe said.
"No need to be uncharitable toward our guests, dear," Daphne observed. "This evening was very important, for Caroline, and the rest of us as well. We may soon find out just how important, ready or not.
"We have a last-minute houseguest, as you're aware," Daphne continued. "I need for you to spare James the responsibility for getting Moira what she needs to spend the night with us. Room, Periwinkle. Something to sleep in. Moira, you'll put what you're wearing just outside in the hallway tonight and the elves will return everything clean in the morning. The least we can do is get you back to Hogwarts properly fed and groomed after your country weekend."
Iolanthe looked at Moira. Was that a smirk?
"Moira?" said Iolanthe as she gave her head a little tilt toward the library door.
"Thank-you, Mrs. Potter," said Moira, falling in behind Iolanthe.
"Would it be too trite of me to ask what you were thinking?" Iolanthe asked as they got to the second floor hallway.
"That's just it," Moira said. "No one was thinking. We just flew and flew and talked and talked. The miles added up. Not a very good explanation…"
Moira shrugged.
"Well," Iolanthe said. "Well, well."
Moira had just come up a couple of notches in Iolanthe's estimation, a totally unexpected circumstance for both of them.
"You'll have to stay up here," Iolanthe said, starting up the stairs to the third floor. "The second floor is all occupied. I'll get you a nice view. Periwinkle?"
"Periwinkle is here, Miss Iolanthe!" said the elf. "How can Periwinkle help Miss Iolanthe tonight?"
"Periwinkle, this is Miss Moira," Iolanthe began. She couldn't resist adding, "A guest of Mr. James.
"She'll need a room, I think the one in the corner that looks out at the green. Check the bathroom and make sure she has towels, soap, toothpaste…Prefer shower or bath?"
"Bath," said Moira.
"A pot of those herbs for the bath that Lord Fabio gave us."
"Of course, Miss Iolanthe, Periwinkle will check everything," the elf assured her.
"What do you like to sleep in?" Iolanthe asked.
"Flannel pajamas," Moira said.
"Periwinkle?"
Periwinkle snapped her fingers and summoned a pair of neatly-folded flannel pajamas from somewhere, handing them on to Moira.
"Need a book? Witch Weekly? Hot chocolate?" Iolanthe asked, all of which Moira declined.
"Okay, Periwinkle will take you on. Clothes on the floor in the hall before you go to sleep. If you think of anything in the night, just call her."
Moira took her pajamas and followed Periwinkle.
"Moira?" Iolanthe called out.
"Yes?"
"Take a bath before bed. Use the herbs. Lock your door. Periwinkle will key it to your wand."
Iolanthe went downstairs.
"Come in," said Harry when Iolanthe knocked on the library door.
"Grandmother!" said Iolanthe, delighted to see Kendra sitting on the couch.
Harry motioned for Iolanthe to come over.
"Sit down, Iolanthe," said Daphne. "Moira all managed? We've some information to pass along."
Iolanthe took the place next to Kendra. She noticed Kendra had been laying out her runes.
"Trouble?" asked Iolanthe.
"Looks like it," Harry said. "Let me give you a little background. Jacques Lafleur, also known as Michel Lestrange, studied with a master some years ago. He learned a little esoteric combat magic and thought he'd go freelance. That is the basis of the lectures he gives. He broke the vows he took before he was accepted as a student and at two intermediate steps, but that wouldn't have gotten him the wrong kind of attention. What did is the criminal enterprise he developed to multiply the value of his ill-gotten gains.
"We have frustrated his ambitions. The investigators unraveled some of the schemes and the Potters just hosted an official visit with the Serene, which demonstrated our ministry's intention to work with her administration to keep him from chartering his shell companies inl'Anse."
"Wrap it up, O Wise One," said Daphne.
"We expect Michel Lestrange here shortly," Harry said. "He'll arrive at the wards with some close, core associates. They won't get in, but he will. Then he'll be advised to meet with his master and make amends. I expect he will try everything but the right thing and fail before he does the right thing. You, Lissette, James, and Moira will stay out of the way. Do you understand? You'll just endanger yourselves unnecessarily and make things harder if you try to help."
"I understand," Iolanthe said. "You're…"
"That's enough Iolanthe. Dear," Daphne said. She saw the shock, possibly some hurt, on Iolanthe's face. Kendra's head popped up and she looked between Daphne and Iolanthe.
"That was more abrupt than I intended. Silly, superstition," Daphne finished.
"It's fine, Daphne, Iolanthe can handle grownup conversation," Kendra told her. "She already runs the woods, that was obvious tonight, which means, she knows much more about how Nature and the Universe works than we thought.
"Iolanthe, Michel Lestrange is a renegade and he broke his vows to maintain his practice, the practice is what protected him from being misled by normal human egotism," Kendra went on. "He got too close and familiar with some serious power and thinks he can handle it. Another in a long, long string of very foolish wizards. He can't understand what he's trifled with, but he can do a great deal of damage."
"What your grandmother said," said Harry.
"Iolanthe, I need you to get Lissette and discreetly withdraw," said Daphne. "The young Toms' nursery would be a good place to relax. James is confined to quarters. We will be rejoining our guests. At least a few of them came to party. I hate to cut them off because we have needed this for so long. Don't you think, Mother?"
"Oh, certainly," Kendra said. She began to pick up her runestones and put them back in their bag. "We're finally getting magical Britain back to where it used to be, before all the carnage. It would be a shame to stop now."
"I'm in," Harry said. "I intend to party on."
"Your father feels the need to party on," Daphne advised Iolanthe.
Harry left the library, headed for the tent. He didn't know a lot about music, but he knew he liked the song he heard. The closer he got the better he felt. Harry entered the tent doing a kind of two step that felt good to him. That was what mattered.
The guests had departed, finally, by the time Jacques Lafleur showed up. Harry sat alone in the tent, a glass of mineral water close by, a bowl of crisps in his lap.
"Potter!" Lafleur shouted as he cut across the green. Harry got up and walked out of the tent. Wand in hand, Harry started casting lumosat the Jack O'Lanterns that lined the path to the woods. When he got them re-lit he began levitating the pumpkins to the perimeter of the green.
"What do you think, is that about right? Bigger? Smaller? It's your call. I have home field advantage," said Harry.
"Potter I am so going to enjoy killing you," said Lafleur. "My business is going to get bigger than ever and you will rot un-mourned, you useless, nosy prig."
"Well, I'll bring a little light into your life, one way or the other, it seems," said Harry. "Who's your executor?"
"I don't need one," said Lafleur.
"Are you really a vampire, then? No aging, heal fast?"
"I am a vampire, yes," said Lafleur. "You won't kill me."
"Good to know," said Harry. Lafleur looked confused, for a moment or two.
"Tell me, Brother Michel, I've been puzzling over this for months. If you wanted a new identity, why go from Michel Lestrange to Jacques Lafleur? Why not become something really special like Ignatius Equinox or Everest Denali?" Harry asked. "Going from Michel Lestrange to Jacques Lafleur makes it sound like you had to match the rhythm or you'd forget your cover name at an inappropriate moment."
"I didn't come all this way for you to insult me," said Lafleur. "It was just something that happened out of necessity, the circumstances are too common for me to enjoy revisiting. It was one of those on-the-run things and then my lectures started to catch on and I was stuck with the Jacques Lafleur brand. Now get in position and you'll take your best shot and this will be over."
"Not so fast, Brother Michel, we still have obligations," Harry said. "As I told you once before, I'm obliged to offer you the chance to make things right. Call on your master, confess your error, follow his guidance."
"As I said before, No," said Lestrange.
"Fine," said Harry. He spoke, just for his wand. "Let me do this. No free-lancing, no matter how desperate things seem."
Harry slid the wand into his left sleeve.
Lestrange, with the confidence of the vampire, who'd just seen his enemy put his weapon away, sent a killing curse right at Harry's chest. Harry saw the green flash, relaxed and waited, ending up on his back a good ten feet behind where he'd been standing.
"Told you, Potter," Lestrange taunted the dead Harry. "Now I'm going to ruin every member of your family, one by one, and suck up every knut the Potters have to their name."
"Okay…Aaaaaah…" said Harry, pushing himself back to his feet. "Say it like you mean it this time, though, because I never get used to that flying backwards and going to the afterlife, only I'm not really dead. Merlin, that has become so tedious."
Jacques Lafleur didn't take the time to analyze what he'd just seen, flew into a rage, drew his wand back and threw it forward. "AVADA…"
Harry adjusted his position so that the green bolt took him directly in his open mouth. He held his hands before him, fingers spread, like a keeper in front of the net, about to catch a hard shot. Lafleur put everything he had into the curse. It felt so good going out, like a sneeze that has been building.
Before Lafleur knew he was in trouble, Harry had fielded the hard shot on goal and used it to take control of Lafleur's arm. Then he opened up the route to the place he had built with hundreds and hundreds of hours on his cushion and practicing the forms entrusted to him by Master Francisco and began stripping the magic out of Jacques Lafleur. To be fair, when he'd left Master Francisco's school Lafleur had not yet gotten to that stage of his training, so it wouldn't do to say he should have seen it coming and been prepared. Even so, that was why one completes one's training and keeps the vows. That's why one prioritizes meditation in the midst of real life. That's why no one but Harry and Master Francisco knew he'd been taught how to capture a curse and use it to channel all the magic right out of a wizard. There is a reason to keep some volatile knowledge secret, and Jacques Lafleur stood paralyzed on Harry Potter's green, trying to understand his final lesson from the School of Master Francisco.
In less than a minute Jacques Lafleur's magic was no more. Harry sat down on the green and stared straight ahead, at Lafleur, who lay sprawled, a marionette with no one holding the strings.
"Harry!" shouted Daphne as she ran across the green, Kendra and Fabio close behind.
Healer Daphne wanted to start running diagnostics on Harry immediately but he waved her away. He looked aged, his unruly hair unruly, but white. His face was crisscrossed with deep wrinkles and he seemed physically diminished. The sclera of his eyes were completely bloodshot and a little trickle of blood showed below both of his ears and one nostril.
"Harry, I need to summon transport and get you to St. Mungo's," Daphne stated, although it was more of a demand.
"Mill," Harry said, staring at Lafleur, who seemed to be showing some little movements in his limbs.
"Wand," Harry said, pointing at Lafleur. Fabio called out "Accio wand!" Lafleur's wand flew to Fabio who grabbed it and put it inside his robe.
"So much Dark…couldn't anticipate," Harry managed to get out, then, "Water?"
Periwinkle materialized with a tumbler of water and held it to Harry's blistered lips. The water burned going down but Harry knew he needed it and kept swallowing. Daphne put her hand on his forehead, then jerked it away.
"Harry, you're burning with fever! What did you do?" she demanded.
"Not fever," Harry whispered, not explaining further.
Periwinkle stood by awaiting another assignment. The house was stirring, the children beginning to emerge despite their orders. Daphne couldn't see any reason to restrict them further. Besides, this might be the only chance they'd have to see their father before he died. She shrank from the thought but the issue was obviously in doubt. James had walked down from his room, met Iolanthe at the bottom of the stairs and the two walked on out to the green.
Daphne was kneeling beside Harry, still wearing her gown. Harry leaned back against her, his breathing shallow, eyes closed more than they were open.
"Iolanthe, the babies?" Daphne demanded.
"Lissette and Tracey are up there, Mother," said Iolanthe. She turned toward the manor at the sound of a window opening. It was the corner room, overlooking the green. Moira's head was visible in the moonlight, poking up out of her flannel pajama blouse.
"Father?" Iolanthe said. "Father, are you still with us?"
"Iolanthe Astoria," Harry said, his voice hoarse, scratchy, like sandpaper at work.
"Did you pass over again?" Iolanthe demanded.
Harry worked his lips. Iolanthe noticed blisters swelling. Harry reached for James and Iolanthe, taking a hand from each.
"Your aunt…and your grandmother…love you," he said, then, "Both."
One tear ran down Harry's cheek. Kendra brought Daphne's head close and gave her forehead a kiss. Kendra thought she'd felt Astoria and Lily at the bonfire. It was Samhain after all.
"Harry!" Daphne said, then more urgently, "HARRY! Oh, Merlin, no, no, no!"
She took both of Harry's wrists in her hands, trying desperately to find a pulse. Iolanthe and James looked on, helpless.
"He's fine," said a voice from the house.
Everyone looked. The only person visible was Moira, leaning out of her third story window.
"He's fine," she repeated, "Get him somewhere comfortable."
"Moira," shouted Iolanthe, the rage evident in her voice, "Moira Turley you don't…"
"Yes, she does," barked James, some authority showing itself. "If she says he's fine, he's fine."
"Moira, dear, please get back inside, we don't need you to take a fall tonight along with everything else," said Kendra.
"Moira will manage that," James said. He turned toward the house.
"Come on down, Moira, you'll be very useful here," James called out.
Iolanthe looked at Daphne. Daphne looked from Iolanthe to Kendra. Kendra waited for the next revelation. What a night.
"OH!" was all Fabio could say before Moira stood on the third floor windowsill in her flannel pajamas and bare feet and launched. The flannel dimmed as she dropped, to gray, then black, and something vaguely shaped like a human but flying like a blown-away scarf of black acromantula silk rolled and boiled its way to the group on the green, where it re-established itself as Moira Turley, James' young friend from Hogwarts.
"You're going to be fine, Lord Harry," Moira assured him. "I'd know if you weren't."
"And how, may I ask?" asked Healer Daphne, just a bit puffed-up.
"I'm a banshee. If he were about to die, I'd be wailing something fierce. Don't worry Lord Harry, we'd give you a proper banshee sendoff."
"That one isn't dying either," Moira added, nodding her head toward the prostrate Jacques Lafleur. "If you want to do something about him."
James would have let his mother handle things if she'd been her normal self. If it were his Mum, Daphne Greengrass Potter, upright on her own two feet, assessing the situation, seeing details no one else saw and plotting everyone's course to the desired end, but she wasn't. James stood up, letting Harry's hand go.
"Grandfather, perhaps you'd honor that gentleman with a proper restraining jinx, in recognition of his advanced studies. Dad, a relocation? Inside, out of the weather? It is November," James said.
Harry nodded.
"Please," he said, then, "Periwinkle? Drink?"
Periwinkle lifted the tumbler for Harry once again and he took in several noisy gulps.
When he'd finished, James ducked under one of Harry's arms.
"Iolanthe," he said. It wasn't a suggestion. Iolanthe ducked under the other.
"Ready, and UP," James said and all three rose together.
"Father?" Iolanthe said.
"Weak, that's all," Harry said. James reached across to Harry's throat with his free hand and undid his bow tie, then unbuttoned his collar.
"Last thing he needs right now," James observed. Harry nodded he was ready and they walked slowly back through the tent to the house.
Harry's study was a little confining for the group, which soon included Lissette, Tracey and the young Toms, wide awake and clamoring for an early breakfast. Still, Harry enjoyed lying stretched out on the couch, where he did much of his reading, and, to be honest, indulged in naps.
Harry didn't say a lot, but he listened and could communicate non-verbally. The mineral water went down easier and easier and Periwinkle was only too happy to keep replenishing Master Harry's mineral water. Daphne left Harry to Periwinkle and vice versa. Melon was summoned and everyone put in their own drink orders. In time the sky got a rose tint and Harry was getting his voice back.
"Lafleur?" Harry asked, looking at Daphne.
"Tied up, out on the green," Daphne said. "You went and got yourself a renegade monk without once considering how you were going to feed and take care of it, Harry Potter."
Harry would later say Daphne's mild scolding was the best remedy he'd received in the entire course of his long recovery. It was true that Harry did not have a proper dungeon because he'd built the manor long after those had ceased to be standard equipment for a gentleman's home and family seat. While he lay there on the couch with everyone talking around him, Harry tried thinking through the current phase of the Lafleur problem.
He would have been justified in killing Lafleur, who had invaded his property and challenged him. Harry hadn't wanted to create a martyr for Lafleur's followers, except as a last resort. If they put Lafleur on trial they'd simply be giving him a platform to spread his beliefs more widely. There was a question of how long he'd be imprisoned as well, leaving open the chance he'd be out after a short spell away, now equipped with a personal story of persecution. The thing with no magic out on the green was still a vampire, though, so advising him to make the adjustment to muggle and get on with his life was not a good option. Daphne, as was nearly always the case, was right once again.
"Call the aurors?" James suggested.
"Don't think so," Harry rasped. "Healer, may I have some pumpkin juice? Cold?"
"Pumpkin juice should be fine," Daphne said. "Periwinkle?"
Harry waited, then drank half the pumpkin juice before continuing.
"Oh, lots better," he said.
"A trial gives him a platform to speak to his organization. He'll claim religious persecution, based on the philosophical bits of his talks. He will no longer be magical, so there would be the question of jurisdiction. Our laws and criminal procedure apply to wizards, which Jacques Lafleur is no more. If we let him loose as a muggle, we let him loose as a muggle vampire. It is a puzzle," Harry concluded, ready to return to his pumpkin juice.
"We could confine him," Daphne speculated.
"You'd have to build something," Kendra noted. "You don't have a dungeon. Asking someone who does…well, that would present its own difficulties, wouldn't it?"
No one had any further solutions to offer. Daphne thought it was time to cut the number of visitors at her patient's bedside. She sent everyone but Kendra and the twins to the dining room and asked Periwinkle to take breakfast orders.
"Mother, could you hand me the fussiest baby?" she asked.
Kendra and Daphne chatted while she fed the twins, but Daphne observed Harry closely. He was taking more and more pumpkin juice. Daphne had no experience with the magic Harry had employed in confronting Jacques Lafleur. She couldn't remember anything from her training, nor her extensive reading in the healers' journals that described Harry's symptoms. Until there was some counter-indication she would treat him for burns. With a little persistence she might even be successful in getting him to St. Mungo's for a complete examination by specialists.
"Ice?" Harry asked.
"Ice pack for the head? Ice for your pumpkin juice?" Kendra asked, ready to summon Periwinkle once the options were narrowed down.
"Crushed, please," Harry said, adding, "In a glass."
Harry thought over the Lafleur custody problem while he nursed from his tumbler of crushed ice.
"Okay, Harry," Daphne said as she removed baby #2 and finished up. "Can I at least get you to let me do a more thorough exam? You can't sit around here in that condition, ready to topple over. Just do it as a professional courtesy."
Daphne took Davis from Kendra and the two of them left the study, Daphne tossing back, "Five minutes. Don't move," as she left.
When the babies were happy upstairs Daphne came back ready to focus on a proper workup. She had Harry take off his shirt and spent twenty minutes poking and prodding. The blisters on his face and lips were going down. Harry's face still showed the signs of rapid aging, his hair and eyebrows were white and his throat and mouth fiery red.
"You were cursed," Daphne stated. She was putting her wand up her sleeve after a good five minutes of scanning Harry from head to toe.
"But you're still alive," Daphne added.
Harry buttoned the last button on his shirt and fell back on the couch with a long sigh.
"I was," he agreed, "And I am."
"Why won't you go to St. Mungo's?" asked Daphne. "Take your condition seriously, just for two or three days."
"If things were normal," said Harry, done with that thought. He moved on to another.
"Lady Black, this is where I start to use you."