Chapter 8: North Star
As Hermione pointed out one day, babies were everywhere that spring and summer. Tiny fawns, following their mothers through the woods. A young moose, drinking in the shallows on the far shore of the lake. Loon chicks, perched on their parents' backs as they cruised the waters.
"It's wonderful, isn't it Severus? It's rather like we're part of the cycle of nature this year."
Any other time, I would have scoffed at my wife for a silly flight of fancy; this time, I had already made the same connection myself.
It seemed that Brady was growing in front of our very eyes, as evidenced by the fact that his scrawny little bird legs had become chubby and sturdy. He slept through the night by the time he was two months old, much to our relief. He smiled indiscriminately at everybody and everything, displaying a personality that was all his own. Business at the general store always came to a screeching halt whenever we put in an appearance in town; Neola absolutely had to fuss over her 'adopted nooshenh', and would leave customers waiting in the lurch if Brady was in her arms. She asked us if, when Brady began talking, he could call her his adopted 'nokomis'.
"That would be wonderful," Hermione said, quite pleased. "He already adores you, you know."
"You think?" Neola looked hopeful, but it was clear from the grin on my son's face when she smiled at him that there was mutual adoration. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "there will be a naming ceremony held sometime in the fall. Don't you think Brady should have an Ojibwa name?"
"But he's not Ojibwa," I pointed out needlessly.
"No, but you and Hermione are part of our community, which means Brady's part of the community, too."
Hermione beamed. "That would be wonderful, Neola! I've read all about the ceremony, of course, but I never dreamed that Brady could take part in it."
"Then it's settled. I'll find out the exact date and ask Tom Cooper to find a name."
I frowned. "Tom Cooper? The teacher?" The man taught at the local primary school, and thought rather highly of my Soothing Potion after long days in a classroom with seven- and eight-year-olds.
"He's an Elder. He'll be the one to do the ceremony, plus he has a real knack for coming up with just the right name. And it's better to do it sooner rather than later, because the name will be close by."
"What do you mean, 'close by'?" I asked, mystified.
"When a baby's just come from the Spirit World, the name is easier to find. The older you get, the names tend to float away," Hermione burst in, evidently eager to display her knowledge. Some things never change.
Neola nodded approvingly. "Right you are, Hermione. Now: do you two have sponsors?"
Apparently I looked no more enlightened at that than at the rest of the conversation, because she went on without missing a beat. "Stanley and I would be proud to serve as Brady's sponsors."
Sponsors must be the same thing as godparents, I decided. "That's quite generous," I said, aware that beside me, Hermione was nodding enthusiastically.
"You can invite as many sponsors as you wish," Neola went on, "but it must be an even number of men and women. Many couples ask as many as eight people."
Hermione turned to me at once. "The Lawfords," she said. "They should be sponsors. After all, the baby's named after him."
"You could ask your British friends," Neola said, "but I suppose they live too far away to come for the ceremony."
Hermione looked thoughtful, and I very nearly groaned aloud. Neola had put the notion out there, and I was certain that my wife would be plotting a way to get the Potters back come fall.
...
The headlines in the July issue of Practical Potioneer were large and enthusiastic:
Caldwell Pharmaceuticals of Winnipeg Breaks Through: Combination Success!
...
The August issue of Practical Potioneer told a different story:
Caldwell Celebrations on Hold: Patent Issues Delay Production
...
The September issue was even more subdued:
Caldwell In Negotiations With Private Brewer
I framed the page and hung it prominently in the living room. Then I bought a bottle of champagne, and Hermione and I celebrated. We could easily afford it.
...
The van marked Great Camp Fishing Lodge pulled to a stop in front of the cabin on a gloriously golden Sunday in October. I went out to meet it at once.
"Sebastian!" Brady Lawford grinned at me as he eased his way out of the front passenger seat.
He looked older, thinner, and balder, but the smile on his face was the same as always. I shook his hand, realizing that this was the first time I had ever been truly delighted to see my benefactor arrive.
"You look well," I said.
"Liar. I look like something the cat dragged in, but at least I'm alive. What do you think of my new look?" Lawford patted his shiny head.
"Easy to maintain," I deadpanned.
"No kidding. But the hair's starting to grow back a little, and I feel good, and I don't need any more of those chemo treatments."
Marita climbed out of the driver's seat. "Hello, Sebastian. It's so good to see you!"
"And you. Have a good flight?" I knew they'd been flown up from Thunder Bay yesterday, and had spent the night at the new lodge.
Lawford made a face. "That idiot pilot made a horrible landing. I'm surprised we lived through it."
"He's just mad because he wasn't the one at the controls," Marita pointed out with a grin.
"How is the fishing camp coming?" I asked. I had only been down to Brady's old property once since we moved. I was curious as to how construction was proceeding, and two months ago I'd gone to see for myself. The place was a beehive of construction activity as cabins sprang up at lakeside and the main lodge took shape next door to the old A-frame. The constant noise of the Muggle power tools made me thoroughly grateful that construction on our cabin had been relatively quiet, and had taken days instead of months.
"It's turning out great. Eight of the ten cabins are finished, and a big part of the lodge is done. Steve's already had people staying there, family, friends of friends, that sort of thing. There's only limited food service right now, but we've had pretty good meals so far, haven't we hon? Oh, and the cook said there was no problem making yams for us to bring tomorrow for Thanksgiving dinner. Have you seen their new dock? It's huge, and they've got a very nice storage building for the boats and the tackle. Steve said they'll start advertising at Christmastime for next summer. They're going to make a lot of fishermen very happy, I think. And with word of mouth, I bet it'll be a real moneymaker."
Marita interrupted, throwing up her hands. "Can you talk about the lodge later? I want to see the cabin and the baby!"
"Oh, yeah." Brady turned then to look at my home, and his jaw dropped. "Are you kidding me? This is the rundown shack that we sold to you for a buck?"
"I can't believe it! It's looks wonderful," his wife said huskily. "Granddad would have been so pleased to see it come back to life!"
"Come inside and see the rest," I said, leading the way.
We climbed the stairs to the cabin, Brady doing so with only minimal assistance from Marita. Hermione greeted us at the door, her cheeks flushed with excitement.
"Hello! I'm so happy to see you both!" she cried. "Come in! Can I take your coats?"
Our guests craned their necks to take in the cabin interior.
"Wow, look at this!" Lawford enthused as he handed his jacket over to Hermione's care. "Isn't this nice in here, hon?"
"It's so warm and welcoming," Marita gushed. "And your furnishings look just perfect. So eclectic!"
"That would be Hermione's doing," I said. "She found all the pieces and repaired and freshened everything."
Marita headed over to investigate the kitchen. "This is just lovely! There's much more counter space than what you had before."
"We really appreciate that feature," Hermione told her. "It makes life much easier when we're both cooking at the same time."
I noted that my wife was looking ridiculously pleased at the compliments. For someone who had been touted for her intelligence all her life, receiving high praise for her decorating skills was rather out of the ordinary.
Brady was more interested in the repairs that had been done to the structure. "I could have sworn there were big holes in the roof. How long did it take 'em to replace it? "
"Not as long as you would think," I said vaguely.
Lawford shook his head in amazement. "Are you sure they didn't tear this cabin down and rebuild it from the ground up? It looks next to brand new. This is crazy! How many guys were in on the project?"
"Not a lot," I shrugged. I would have had to Obliviate my friends if I'd told them that there were only three full-time workmen whose combined ages totaled three hundred and twenty-six.
By the time the house tour ended at the nursery, Hermione had the baby dressed for the naming ceremony and ready to be presented to the man for whom he was named.
"Ohh," Marita breathed. "He's beautiful! Hello, Brady sweetheart! Look at his pretty dark blue eyes."
"They'll turn brown later, I think. Would you like to hold him?" Hermione asked, pointing to the rocking chair that they had given us. My son gazed at the newcomers with interest.
"Maybe later," she said. "Brady, you should go first."
Lawford looked nervous. "Are you sure? I don't know that I've ever had a way with babies..."
"Believe me," I said, "if I can do this, you can do this."
"Well, okay." Brady senior sat down in the chair and Hermione placed the baby in his arms.
Both Bradys regarded each other.
"Aw, looky there," Brady the elder said, a broad grin splitting his face. "He's a champ, I can tell. Isn't he, hon?"
"Definitely," Marita agreed.
"Another Brady in the world. How about that?" He tentatively tickled the baby's stomach with one finger, and was rewarded with a crowing, toothless laugh. "I think we'll get along fine, this little guy and me."
It was then that I heard the unmistakable crack of Apparition down by the lake. At once Hermione's eyes lit up and she excused herself.
"What was that?" Lawford wanted to know. "Tree limb snap or something?"
I ignored the question.
"Two of our friends from Britain are here, down by the lake. They should be in shortly," I said, my face impassive. I knew all too well that we were being invaded, and braced myself for it. It took less than a minute for Hermione to return.
"Brady, Marita, this are our good friends Harry Potter and his wife, Ginny, from Britain. I was at school with both of them," Hermione said, beaming, "and Ginny came to help me after the baby was born. Harry and Ginny, this is Brady and Marita Lawford."
Hands were shaken and people sized up. Potter, I was pleased to see, was polite and deferential to the Lawfords.
"So," said Brady, still pumping Harry's hand, "have you and Sebastian been friends for a long time, too?"
Potter glanced in my direction, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. "Ages," he told Lawford solemnly. "We go way back."
My wand hand twitched.
Ginny Potter had to fuss over the baby for a few minutes ("He's so big! He's grown like a weed since I saw him last!") before we could all leave for town. Hermione looked worried.
"Do you have the feast plate?" she asked me.
"It's all wrapped up, on the dining table," I reminded her. Why we had to offer perfectly good food to the Spirits was beyond me, but it was part of the ceremony, and therefore we would arrive armed with food.
Hermione surreptitiously conjured an infant carrier and secured it in the Lodge van, and then everyone else jockeyed for seats. I wasn't particularly pleased that we had to travel to town this way, but given the circumstances, there was little choice.
...
A large crowd had gathered at the Community Center, as four children were receiving their Spirit Names on this day. Babies cried, small children ran about, and friends and family visited until time for the ceremony to begin. Hermione introduced the Potters to some of the townspeople; Ginny had already met many of them when she visited before. All in all, it was barely controlled chaos that set my teeth on edge. But at the stroke of four o'clock, Tom Cooper asked for quiet and instructed everyone to form a circle. He then invited the first family for the Naming to stand in the center.
The first child to be named was the baby that had been thrust into Hermione's arms all those months ago at the store. His little sister - the jelly smasher - danced excitedly by the parents' side. Then two more families went forward with their offspring.
We were the last family called. With Brady cradled in Hermione's arms - and our offering of food placed on a blanket on the floor - we stood with Neola and Stanley Dorsey, the Lawfords, and the Potters in the midst of the circle. Cooper announced to our baby his Ojibwa name – Giiwed'anang – and then turned to each of the four compass points to announce it. The townspeople repeated the name after him each time; we were supposed to repeat it as well, but mangled it rather badly. I was sure that Neola would see to it that we would get the hang of it.
"The Spirit World has heard your child's name and now recognizes his face. Giiwed'anang," Cooper told us, "means 'North Star' in the Ojibwa language. Neither you, Sebastian, nor you, Hermione, came from the North Woods. Your son, however, is a native of these parts. It is fitting that 'North Star' become his name."
He then led the sponsors in their pledges to be a guiding force in Brady's life, and the ceremony was concluded.
...
The following day was Thanksgiving. We shared the meal with the Lawfords and the Potters.
"And you wondered why I bought six dining room chairs?" Hermione asked, teasing.
"We could have conjured extra chairs if we needed them," I said, stubbornly unwilling to concede that she had been right about their usefulness.
It was the first Thanksgiving meal for the Potters, and they enjoyed it thoroughly - as did little Brady, who sat at the table in his high chair, happily cramming small bits of mashed potatoes, yams, and pureed turkey into his mouth.
Yes, there was much to be thankful for.
A/N: 'nooshenh' - grandchild; 'nokomis' - grandmother
