It's fourth year, and Harry's name has just come out of the Cup of Doom. He's not happy. Most definitely non-canon. The Potter universe is the property of J.K. Rowling, who has graciously allowed us to play in her sandbox, thank you, ma'am. As usual, I've derived no financial benefit from this, because, as usual, there's not a mid-fifties Vanden Plas Princess parked out front.
Hold My Butterbeer …
Chapter Two
Dean Thomas was still quietly beating his head on the Gryffindor table, although he'd switched his chant to "Oh, shit, oh shit."
"Dean. Mate. What's the problem?" asked Fred Weasley. That his question wasn't in 'twinspeak' was significant.
"Didn't you hear what Hermione told Dumbledore?" Dean asked incredulously.
"Well, yeah."
"Her magical guardian is her muggle guardian."
"She's going to be brassed off …"
"And will contact Dumbles." Fred finished.
"Bugger. Bugger. Sodding bugger," came from next to Dean. Heads turned.
"Neville?" Dean asked.
"Bugger. Bugger. Bugger."
"Neville …"
"Why 'bugger,' Neville?" finished one of the twins.
"Odin's Eye!" Neville swore. "You two don't know?"
"Know what?" chorused the three others.
"You didn't hear what Miles said?" asked Neville.
"Hermione's dad …" Fred began the twinspeak.
"Is some sort of muggle lord," finished George.
Neville covered his face with both hands, and mumbled something. Dean blanched, and began banging his head against the table again. "Bugger. Bugger. Bugger."
"Explain …"
"Please?"
Dean stopped banging his head. "You tell them, Neville. You probably know more than I do."
"Bugger," responded Neville. "Bugger, bugger, bugger." Dean resumed beating his head on the table.
"Neville?" chorused the twins.
"Stop that, Dean," Neville ordered. "All you're doing is damaging the table."
"Okay," Dean replied. "Now tell them."
Neville sighed. "Your mum didn't teach you any history, did she?" he asked the twins.
"Some. Not much," replied Fred.
"Didn't understand the number before Hermione's Dad's name?"
"Well …" began the twinspeak.
"He's the sixty-first lord," George finished..
"Bugger. Bugger," Dean resumed chanting.
"Where's Rheged?" Neville continued.
"England?" the twins chorused.
Dean's chant changed. "Stupid. Stupid. Sodding buggering stupid. Stupid …"
"Yes, Dean," Neville said. "Now shut up, it's difficult enough without shouting over your cursing."
"Okay, Neville."
Neville continued. "Hermione's dad …" He paused. "Okay. No questions until I'm done, you two."
"Okay."
"No twinspeak when you do."
The twins looked at each other, both nodded slowly.
"Hermione's dad isn't just 'some sort of muggle lord,' " Neville began again. "He's a bloody Marcher Lord. Probably the oldest Marcher Lord.
"Think, you lot. Sixty-first Eorl Rheged. Sixty-first. That means the title goes back to just after the Romans. If not before."
The twins blanched, their freckles standing out vividly. Both began shaking their heads from side to side, as if denying what Neville had just said.
"And then there's his rank," Dean said. "He's a bloody major in the SAS." Dean paused. "Or was. Doesn't make … oh, shit."
"Dean?" Neville asked.
"Shit. Shit. Shit," Dean responded. "He's that Granger. Shit.
"My dad. He's my dad's CO. Shit."
"This means something, Dean. Explain, please?" asked Neville.
Dean sighed. "Miles left out one thing," he said quietly. "He's not just the Eorl Rheged. He's Major Eorl David Bruce Granger, VC, et c., 22nd SAS, and a fucking Marcher Lord. Fuck.
"He's probably the most dangerous man in the U.K." Dean finished. "And my dad is his Company Sergeant-Major," he added. "Formally, Warrant Officer 2nd Class Robert Dean Thomas, DSC, et c., 22nd SAS. Bugger."
"Okay," Neville said. "Now, one at a time, you two. Questions so far?"
"Marcher Lord?" Fred asked.
"They secure the borders of the Kingdom, traditionally the Welsh border," Dean replied. "Most of the titles go back to the fucking Normans. Hermione's dad's goes back a lot further, he's 'Eorl,' not 'Earl.' It's the antique spelling." He paused. "Rheged was … is … in the north-west, up against Hadrian's Wall, east to the mountains. Now it's part of Cumbria."
"SAS? VC? DSC?" asked George.
"Special Air Service. Also Sport and Social. It's a British Army unit. They do black ops. The VC … Victoria Cross. It's the highest decoration given for bravery in combat. Usually posthumously. The DSC … Distinguished Service Cross … ranks just under it.
"What it means," Dean continued, "is that someone did something suicidally stupid. The DSC, in my dad's case, means he was there backing up Major Granger, and also doing suicidally stupid things, one step behind him.
"All I know is that it was in the Falklands, Dad won't talk about it, presumably the Major doesn't either. Hermione may not even know he has it."
"Black ops?" George asked.
"Secret operations, hence 'black,' " Dean said. "Think hit-wizards."
"Well, shit," Neville said. "That's even worse."
"Worse? Worse? Hell's bells, Neville, there isn't a worse," exclaimed Dean. "Didn't you hear what Hermione said about her magical guardian?"
"Ummm. I kind of blanked out at 'Eorl,' Dean."
" … her Palace and Fortress of London, Neville. HER."
"Odin's Eye," Neville cursed. "We're … well, Dumbledore, anyhow, is fucked."
"So, Hermione's guardian is important?" asked George.
"She's the fu …" Dean exclaimed. "Ahhh. She's the Queen, you idiots."
"So what can she do?" Fred asked.
Neville began beating his head on the table. "Stop that, Neville. If I can't do it, neither can you," Dean said. Looking at the twins, he asked "Was there a part of Dread Sovereign you two don't understand?"
"Seriously powerful?" George asked.
"Palace and Fortress of London, George. As in Tower of London. Her Majesty's Palace and Fortress of London, George. The Bloody Tower," Dean said quietly.
"Fuck." Fred brightened. "With any luck, Malfoy will mouth off to her."
NOTES
Marcher lords defended the kingdom against the Welsh. Here, I've expanded that to include what was once the kingdom/principality of Rheged, now, as I noted, a part of modern Cumbria.
Dread Sovereign: used in the Mayflower Compact. I decided that the title fit the circumstances of this story.
