It was at this very moment, as they were all reeling from what they had learned—they really had only been given the briefest of summaries—that their Professor of Defense against the Dark Arts entered the room.
He paused mid-step, barely across the threshold, as every eye turned to him—two in undisguised wariness and suspicious, and four in varying degrees of distress.
In one glance he understood the situation, well, as much as he could without all the facts, and slowly walked toward the headmaster.
"Headmaster?" Professor Riddle questioned, his sculpted eyebrow arching as perfectly as any pureblood. "You called?"
His eyes slid inexorably toward the other side of the room, keeping his back facing away from the strangers and most likely sensing how very tempted they were to curse him.
In the part of his brain not overwhelmed by everything, Dumbledore noted absentmindedly that he still did not know why they disliked Riddle so much and that that information was curiously missing from the packets. This left him with an uncomfortable feeling that perhaps there was a very bad reason for that.
"Are they the…visitors…from another world?" His tone conveying flawlessly how very credulous he thought such an explanation to be, no doubt baffled as much as irritated by Professor Vector from her tendency to babble at high speed when confronted with an amazing discovery as travel to an alternate reality would be.
"Yes, yes. This is Victoria Granger, the Creator of the being sent to greet us. Her companion is Antigone Black. They are two of the four individuals who lead Hogwarts in the other reality." At the surname 'Black', he saw some interest spark the eyes of his Defense Professor, though he still clearly disdained of them.
"I know you may find it hard to believe but they have proved to me that they are telling the truth. And as I said to the others," he began, seeing that Riddle was about to point out that—"I am a trained Legilimens and Occulemens, I would have known if they had been lying, or at least, lying for the most part; they would have made a slip by now and so far they have not; they have told me three truths that only the dead would know; and by Merlin, do you really think Hogwarts would have allowed a threat to remain in her halls if they meant harm to anyone?"
"As you say, Headmaster." He could tell that Riddle was not satisfied but could not argue without knowing more. Dumbledore bid him to sit and silently passed him his own copy, not needing to read it again as the information was permanently burned into his mind. He noticed that Granger and Black were both carefully observing Riddle, as if expecting him to suddenly attack; both of their hands had disappeared underneath the table when he had entered.
It was quite possible that they were fingering their wands, so he discreetly slipped his into his own hand just in case. He hoped they had learned self-restraint as part of their harsh learning environment as he didn't want to fire call the Diggorys to inform them that their adopted son was dead due to being cursed by strangers from another reality.
Yes, that was not a conversation he was looking forward to.
He was almost, almost surprised when both snapped their eyes to him the second he pointed his wand toward them, in preparation of a simple stunner. He stared at them in stern disapproval and warning; he wasn't about to allow anyone to stun a teacher under his employ. For long moments, the only sound was of Riddle turning pages until the two of them nodded to him in grudging agreement and placed their hands back on the table.
Black laid them down with his wand still held in one hand while Granger—Granger placed them atop the table, one hand on her wand and the other wrapped around a muggle firearm with her finger on the trigger!
Before he could say a word—warning or spell, he didn't know—she said this: "Don't. It's impervious to magic of any kind and trying to destroy it will only make it stronger. All you need to know is that neither of us will 'shoot', so long as he keeps himself in line."
A soft 'thump' was heard as Riddle dropped the packet, startled to find a gun pointed at him, as he finally noticed how tense the situation had become in only a matter of minutes.
"From what the Headmaster has told us, you are as far from the Riddle we know as we have ever dared to imagine. Yet, you wear the face of an Enemy; of the general who led his side against ours. Just as you are unsure about us and our intentions, so too are we about you and yours.
"Our first instinct was to curse you into oblivion and burn your corpse, never to be resurrected again through any Dark ritual, no matter how great the sacrifice. And we are not even among the ones who suffered most under the authority of your counterpart. So, please, forgive us if we seem…unwelcoming. It's simply hard to overcome years of hate. I'm sure you understand."
With that, she appeared to relax somewhat; seeming to find that finally facing the doppelganger of her enemy and threatening him to be quite the therapeutic activity.
Her companion was quite the opposite and sat stiffly beside her. Obviously he did not feel the same. "I, on the other hand, still vote for the 'curse you into oblivion' action. An Enemy is eternal—to be cursed in name and deed always. Or do you forgive so easily, Sister?"
He suddenly turned to her in anger. "Have you forgotten what he has done? Do the faces of the dead not haunt you in your dreams, as well as your waking hours?"
Her eyes narrowed. "I have never forgotten what has been done to us, nor the thousand dead. Likewise do I not forgive my Enemy; this one in front of us may bear his face but he is not the same. You can see as well as I, he is more man than serpent and more content in his lot in life than restlessly wandering for more—does this man before you so fear death as to make his nom de guerre the 'flight of death'?!"
Her lips curled back and she bared her teeth. "Perhaps he is just as cruel and cunning; just as power-hungry. And if he should make the same mistakes thrice, we shall swiftly end his life." She deliberately paused to lean just the slightest bit forward, making her own anger known.
"BUT THIS IS NOT THE SAME MAN!"
Her voice rose, suddenly, to an ear-splitting shriek, hair actually sizzling with magic in her own anger.
But just as quickly, she calmed; the red leeching from her cheeks and serenely smoothing her hair down. "I'm not asking you to forgive-I'm asking you to set aside your hate as I have mine and focus on the reason you're here with me, rather than Evans or Weasley; to negotiate a business arrangement and to secure ourselves an Ally with a powerful Clan in a new world where we have none. Now, can you do it or should I send for someone else?"
He flinched as if struck, but turned back toward the headmaster, resolutely ignoring Riddle. "No need. It's my job, isn't it?"
"I certainly thought so." She said, some residual anger finding its way into her voice. "Forgive my Brother, he has anger issues. Let's get on with the meeting, shall we? Are there any particular questions that you, Headmaster Dumbledore, need answered more? Or should we begin final arrangements?"
Dumbledore blinked, still trying to decide whether or not she was serious about ending the life of one of his professors. He had the feeling that she did not make threats easily or without the will to follow through them.
"Ah, yes. I do have a few more questions, if you don't mind. Mostly out of curiosity, mind you, so don't feel you have to answer."
"If any of your questions have to do with the business arrangement, go ahead. Otherwise, please save any personal questions for afterwards as my companion and I would like to return to the Remnant soon. I may not have mentioned it before, but there is a time limit on the portal currently open between our two realities. The one we used today—it was mid-afternoon when we left—will remain 'open' for two hours more before it closes. The next one will not be available for another week." She said, tapping a watch similar to one he owned on her companion's wrist, hidden underneath the trailing sleeves.
"I just have a few questions then, mere technicalities, I'm sure. Nonetheless, could you explain to me exactly what you mean by the following terms: 'ally', 'enemy', 'clan' and 'business arrangement'?"
She nodded approvingly. "A most reasonable and wise request to ask for clarification on certain things before agreeing to contracts of any value."
'How Slytherin of her,' he thought. He noticed that Sirius and Riddle both had an expression of grudging respect and nodded along with her.
"An Ally is someone who a) has pledged their allegiance to you and yours, b) made a lasting 'business arrangement' with you, or c) is one who you may trust with Family; an Enemy is someone who is or are in some way a threat to your Family by a) actively attacking you and yours, b) have wronged you or yours through word or deed, or c) one whose very existence poses a threat to the Family; a business arrangement is simply that—a mutually beneficial and satisfying exchange of service, resource, knowledge and/or any other asset available; and I believe that 'Hagrid' has explained what a Clan is?"
"Yes, he did. But I was wondering why you referred to the people residing here as a Clan. We have not banned together for survival nor do we need to."
Grim amusement touched her face. "No? Is Hogwarts not a castle fortress, once laid under siege by witch hunters and dark wizards alike? Are your halls not guarded by ancient statues which will come to life should the need arise to defend its denizens? Do your students not depend on you and your staff—and the house elves—for food and shelter? You protect and guide them, teaching them how to survive in your world; how to defend against those who would harm them, how to turn an object into anything they may need and you offer them sanctuary from forces that would seek to pervert them. Hogwarts is and will always be a Clan, home to all who seek the fortress, though some will betray and be cast aside or leave, never to return."
She spoke with a deep and utter belief bleeding through every single word, daring him to deny her. But he could not, for though he still did not consider Hogwarts a 'clan', she did not state any untruths.
"Now, let's proceed with the arrangements. We have wasted enough time."
For the next hour and a half, he and Granger went over the pre-written contract she drew from her satchel, adding some things and taking unnecessary clauses away. The contract was very practical and simply stated that the two parties and any mentioned sub-parties would agree to an exchange of goods and/or services; that the supplies Clan Hogwarts provided would be repaid in full as soon as possible; that aid would be rendered if necessary; and a token of goodwill be exchanged and sealed with a blood quill.
He was somewhat hesitant to use his own blood; effectively making the contract ironclad, even though he had signed many an important Ministry document in the same way. But he was assured that it was standard procedure and only meant for both parties to be sure the contract would remain unbroken.
Once both Dumbledore and Granger looked it over a final time, he had the house elves bring some refreshments to celebrate. He noted that Granger frowned when they appeared but said nothing. "Is something wrong?" He asked, delighted now that 'business' was over with, he was allowed to ask what she deemed as 'personal' questions—his favorite kind.
She shrugged lightly. "A matter of personal opinion, nothing more; I simply don't like the use of house elves for such trivial matters. And it's been a long time since any of the Remnant relied on one, if any. I suppose I'm just not used to their presence anymore."
"If you don't use house elves, who cooks for and cleans Hogwarts—surely not the students?" He asked, half-joking.
She nodded. "Yes, all 'students' and 'staff' are required to cook their own meals and keep their rooms clean—the non-magical way. The elves do some general maintenance, of course; provide meals for special occasions and the sick, and sometimes the disabled. But we have far better uses of their skills."
His fork stopped part way to his mouth, a slice of lemon pie dangling from it. "Such as what?" But she shook her head—matters of security, right. "Do you really expect eleven year old children to cook for and pick up after themselves?"
"We do expect it of them and they meet all our expectations; they cook their own meals and pick up after themselves, otherwise, they will not eat and their room will stink. They also do their own laundry and many work for pay." Granger paused to drink. "Additionally, we have children from the ages of 5 to 18 residing with us."
"But that's even more unbelievable! How can you expect it of an 11 year old, much less a toddler?"
Dumbledore would have reprimanded his Deputy Headmistress from possibly alienating their guests and refusing to answer their questions, if he wasn't just as curious to the answer why. She didn't raise her eyes from the steak she was cutting into precise squares and spoke quietly, but no one missed a word she said.
"You underestimate them; they're children, not invalids. Many of them were orphaned, the last of their families or caught by slavers—if we had not found them and taken them in, they would be dead—or worse. As it is, we had to refuse many. Those children had been living on their own for months, maybe years, scavenging for food and resorting to thievery when needed, and they could afford the risk. They've lived through a bloody war and an even bloodier Aftermath. Any 'innocence' they may have had is long gone. To treat them like helpless babies would have been an insult not only to their intelligence, but also to their fierce will to live—to survive."
Black was quick to agree with her. "If we had even thought to treat them that way, there'd been a revolt. Especially from the younger Creevey brother. They're all a bunch of prideful little buggers. Anyway, it's not like we don't teach them how if they don't know; that's what the classes are for."
The piece of lemon pie finally plopped down on his plate and made a mess of his beard. While he was busy hastily wiping it away, Minerva took over. "You teach them to cook and clean? But, but what about Transfiguration, Charms and the like?"
Granger motioned for Black to answer the questions, intent on finishing her steak. He looked forlornly at his own steamed oysters and scowled at her, clearly wishing to do the same. He sighed. "Oh, we have a dual education: some of the core Hogwarts classes alongside non-magical subjects, such as English, math and science. There are also some elective courses they can take depending on which House they follow. And, of course, there are the mandatory courses."
"Muggle subjects! What for? Ah, no offense, Petunia, but really…?" Petunia snorted in snide resignation and simply went back to eating her meal of plain yogurt with mixed berries on the side. "I can understand learning proper English and basic mathematics, but why science? And what do you mean by 'the House they follow'?"
"Well," he drawled. "Considering that there are hardly any adults left, much less private tutors, and it was far too dangerous to send them off into the non-magical world for some lessons, unstable as it was, someone had to teach them how to read the bloody alphabet and count their toes, didn't they? Then, Granger here introduced the rest of us to science and we realized it might be handy for them to know how the world works, you know, the logic behind it all. Anatomy, Biology, Chemistry…they were all considered practical to learn, so we added them to the general curriculum. Mostly, they're electives but they can't blame us if they didn't take the class and not know that looking into the bloody sun is a bad idea."
Here, Granger interrupted with a quick: "Oh, they're not that bad."
"Hah! That's because you got all the nice law-abiding ones. I get stuck with the dunderheads." She rolled her eyes and went back to eating. He huffed, annoyed, but continued his explanation.
"The Houses are the four curriculums that a student can choose to follow, based on their greatest strength or area of interest. I'm the founder of House Black, where we focus on developing 'people skills', that is, the ability to form and maintain successful business relations with other Clans and Institutions. Granger is the founder of, well, House Granger and their focus is on accumulating a broad range of knowledge to create a reliable base of information.
"House Evans, led by Harper Evans. Its focus is on accumulating a specific range of knowledge with a practical application, for the goal of creating an effective security force. House Weasley, led by Ron Weasley, focus on a program of extreme physical and magical fitness, supplemented by the Mind Arts for the goal of creating an effective fighting force."
This time, it was Sirius who asked the questions, interested by the combat lessons but uneasy about them as well. "So you train the students to not only cook and clean, but to fight as well? Isn't that a bit extreme?" He was met with darkened eyes, sharp with remembered pain.
"Extreme? No. Extreme is when you have to eat tasteless gruel for months because the house elves are all dead, insane or gone to wherever the bloody hell they came from. Extreme is when you have to kill your own father to live because his precious Mark destroyed his mind when the Dark Lord was defeated. Extreme is when you have to turn yourself into a girl because the other side is so biased, they'll stupidly dismiss you on the fact that you're a muggle-born, much less a female—and you're the number one target in the war. So, no, I don't think it's extreme to teach them a few life skills."
"Is 'life skills' one of those mandatory courses you were speaking of?" Riddle questioned. A pained expression crossed Black's face but he answered promptly, if a bit sullenly.
"Yes. Life/Survival Skills, Basic Combat, Research 101, and my favorite, WND, which stands for 'what not to do'; these are the four mandatory classes every student must take and pass. Excuses are not tolerated."
"Interesting. What exactly do you teach in Basic Comb—"
A muggle song interrupted from the direction of the watch, accompanied by blinking lights: 'welcome to a new kind of tension-all across the alienation-where everything isn't meant to be ok…'
Both Granger and Black stood up. "Sorry, it seems we're out of time. That was the 10 minute mark." Soon they were all back where it all began, in the middle of the Great Hall. Dumbledore handed over a shrunken package of medical supplies and food as his 'token of goodwill'. In seconds they were gone, the only evidence of their stay the modified Book of Names left behind on the table.
He didn't know if he was dreading or anxiously anticipating their return. To be perfectly honest, it was probably a bit of both.