DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns most of the characters and settings here—I own the rest.
The title of this chapter is taken from Agent Mulder's famous poster.
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NOTHING ELSE MATTERS
Chapter 30 – I Want to Believe
Walden sent red sparks up from his wand, and Yaxley's elf obligingly trotted over and transported him inside the wards and directly to the sitting room, where the wizard was sitting next to the fire in a recliner, having a drink of whiskey. Once Walden had been similarly equipped, and he'd lit his pipe, Yaxley glanced at him questioningly.
"So, do I need a new second-in-command? And are you available?"
"Aye, and I am," Walden said.
"Good," Yaxley grunted. He waved his wand and the elf reappeared. "Take Mr. Macnair's things up to the guest room." After retrieving Walden's satchel, the elf vanished. "I assume you covered your tracks."
"Had already packed me things before we went ta the pub," Walden said, after which he released a large puff of smoke.
"Well, to be truthful," Yaxley said, "I won't miss Herbert a bit. Constantly whinging, mostly about witches, and he kept on grabbing those Muggle women, which wasn't helping our cause. The fact is, though, without him, it's you and me, Travers, Selwyn, and a few Snatchers and their hangers-on who miss the old days." He paused. "I think we need to go for a grand effect…something that will teach those Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers to take notice that not everyone agrees with their liberal agenda."
"What were ye thinkin'?" Walden asked, after a short pause.
"I think we need to hit Hogwarts," Yaxley said. "They won't expect it."
Walden released another puff of smoke and then sipped at his whisky before replying. "They may no' be expectin' it, but I didna join up wi' ye for that. Me son will be startin' there this fall."
"And wouldn't it be more pleasant if you knew that there were fewer Muggle-lovers there to teach him?"
"Aye," Walden grunted. "What's yer plan, then?"
Evan came running up to the tea table and stopped just short of knocking the entire thing over. He had a huge grin on his face.
"I like snow, Madam Wilkes! It's super cool! Have I got back in time to have some tea?"
"Of course you are, Evan, unless you'd prefer to wait for supper. We're going to go back into Salem and meet some of your mother's friends."
"Can I have a scone right now?"
"May you have a scone," Hermione automatically corrected, just before she took her last sip of tea.
"Oh, right, sorry. May I have a scone, please? Or two?" Evan looked eagerly at the pastries.
"You may," Lucinda said. "And after you're done, go wash up and change into some nicer robes."
"I noticed," Hermione mused, "that plenty of witches and wizards were wearing their robes on the street, and yet the town appeared to be mostly Muggle. Isn't anyone concerned about the Statute of Secrecy, or does it work differently here?"
"Oh," Lucinda replied. "Salem is well-known for its large population of eccentric types. The Muggles rather expect it. In fact, many of the individuals wearing robes are Muggles, so we hide in plain sight. Rather refreshing, I think, although it did take a bit getting used to, when I first moved here."
"Are we, er, meeting up with Auror Gundarsson again as well? He was a friend of, er, Evan's mother…." Hermione attempted to make the question sound casual by adding a hasty statement to the end of it, and failed.
Lucinda gave a small, knowing smile. "I'm not certain, but we could fire-call him, if you like?"
"No, that…er, won't be necessary."
"I can't blame you; I've always thought he was rather charming. And I'm nearly positive that he really was just friends with Mrs. Macnair," Lucinda said, as she lifted her wand and circled it in the air in order to gather the scattered tea things, after which she flicked it in the direction of a bell, which rang once.
"That, er…well…I…" Hermione was rather uncharacteristically unable to form a coherent sentence.
"Really, Hermione," Lucinda said. "You're intelligent, you're a hero, and you're young and attractive and you've spent too many years on the shelf waiting for that dreadful Weasley—thank Merlin he's out of the picture—to marry you. And would you have even really wanted that? Imagine, he'd have tied you down immediately to a home with too many children, because that's what he's used to…." She paused. "I am sorry. Like most of us expatriates, I get a lot of my news from Witch Weekly and that awful gossip column in the Prophet."
Conversation paused as the maid entered the room and cleared away the tea things. When she'd left, Hermione nodded for Lucinda to continue.
"Anyhow, if it turns out that Walden has, in fact, turned, and isn't coming back to his senses, you could do worse than an American Auror."
"I dunno, Yaxley," Walden said. "Nae sure I like a lot of this plan. I do like gettin' back at Hagrid, though, me shoulder's never been the same since he tossed me against tha' wall." He paused, during which he puffed a bit more on his pipe.
"Then we'll take out Hagrid first," Yaxley said. "Strike after dark. The students won't be on their way back until the end of the week. I'm loath to harm any children, even if they are Mudbloods. We're there to teach a lesson to any of those who stood against our Lord."
"Wouldna think there are many left after ten years," Walden said.
"There are, I've been paying close attention through the Prophet," Yaxley said, after which he took a long draught of whisky. "So let's assemble the team tomorrow and get it done." He stood up. "I'm going to get some sleep and I suggest you do as well."
As Hermione opened the door of the Flying Witch, a small bell rang twice, and she nodded politely at the woman behind the counter, who had exceedingly short, brightly colored hair. Reminds me a bit of Tonks, she thought, with a smile.
"May I help you?" the shopkeeper asked, with an accent that placed her origins in the American South. Interesting, thought Hermione.
"Yes, I'm Hermione Granger. Lucinda Wilkes and Evan Macnair will be right along, and we're supposed to have lunch with…er, Inanna Moonwomon and Rhiannon Whitefeather?"
The woman-obviously a witch—raised her eyebrows just a tiny bit. "I'm Inanna," she said, stepping out from behind the counter to shake Hermione's hand. "Very pleased to meet you."
Hermione smiled, and shook Inanna's hand, and then glanced around the store. There were several displays full of what appeared to be stylized space aliens, which were quite puzzling, but then again, she'd noticed that the American wizarding community had its own, rather eclectic, way of doing things.
"So, er, I hope you don't mind me asking, but what's the reason behind all the alien figurines?"
"Oh! I kinda forget about them, being around them most of the time, and all," Inanna drawled. "We get Muggles in here too, looking for souvenirs, and those are some of our best sellers—along with the Witch City t-shirts." She gestured at a rack of black t-shirts bearing the likeness of a stylized flying witch on a broomstick. "Rowan named the shop after that image and I've never changed it." After that last sentence, she nodded up at a picture behind the counter. It shimmered a bit as Hermione stared at it-it was obviously glamoured against Muggles. Instead of the tame landscape that had been in the frame, the picture showed three witches, all dressed in green, under a banner that read "The Salem Witches' Institute." They had their arms around each other and were laughing. One of them was Inanna, but her hair was green in the picture. The second was older, taller and rather overweight, with long graying hair, and wearing some sort of bright green robe. The third was wearing a shamrock-covered bowler hat and a Chudley Cannons shirt, both of which clashed quite abominably with her shoulder-length red hair. She also sported a silver snake pendant hanging around her neck.
"So, er, that's Evan's mother in that picture along with you and your other friend, isn't it?"
"Yup! My friends and I from the Institute went to the World Cup a few years ago—the one where the, erm…" she paused. Hermione had learned, through her brief discussion with Auror Gundarsson that American witches and wizards did not wish to discuss anything having to do with the Dark Lord, which personally suited her just fine. The witch made a very slight face, and then continued, "You know, where there was that, er, disturbance?"
"Yes, I was there, too, but we managed to escape the worst bit," Hermione said.
"Well, of course you did, I remember reading about that," Inanna said, with a smile. "That Golden Trio book is one of our best sellers, you know," she added.
"Yes, I've read it to Evan," Hermione said. "Bit weird, that, reading about yourself."
"I imagine so," Inanna said, as she reached under the counter for her messenger bag. "Rhiannon's in the back taking a nap—I'll go get her and the rest of the folks should get here by then, right?"
"I think so, Evan was looking at the Quodpot equipment in a window down the street."
A couple of hours later, Inanna and Hermione were laughing together like old friends, while Evan finished his second ice cream sundae, and Rhiannon and Lucinda, having discovered a mutual interest in gardening, were deep in a conversation about growing zones and how they effected magical plants.
"You know," Inanna said, abruptly changing the subject as she watched Evan devour his dessert, "I actually liked Macnair. He wasn't so bad when he was here."
"Apparently opinions vary," Hermione replied. "Auror Gundarsson wasn't a fan. He said he was here once?"
"He, er, was here for about a week, came to get Rowan when she—well…she'd left her, er, husband…you know about all that, right?"
"You mean Headmaster Snape?" Hermione said.
"Yeah, well, they were just handfasted, not married, I should say. He was all right, too, I guess…I met him at the World Cup—that's where I first saw Macnair, come to think of it…." Inanna looked down at her whisky. "It seems like a million years ago that all happened. I just wish she'd managed to escape. Eric said he left her a package with an emergency Portkey, and he always wondered what happened to it."
Hermione picked up her coffee cup and sipped at it slowly. "You know…I think I may have run across it. It was very odd, Walden and I were looking at Rowan's old wardrobe, and he couldn't face packing up her clothes, so I helped him, you know. It was rather mysterious, but I never felt right asking him about it. There were duplicates of a lot of clothes and a suitcase that was absolutely pulsating with magic…I bet the Portkey was in there!"
"Do you, er, do you know what happened, exactly? To her? I never did find the story in the Daily Prophet."
"I wasn't in court the day Walden testified about that, but Percy Weasley left me some notes. From what I recall, she stood up to Voldemort, told him that she wouldn't…er….you know. And he hit her with the Avada right then and there, so she wouldn't have had any time to grab a Portkey." Hermione frowned. "After that night, Lucius assisted Walden in getting his children to safety in Australia, and I think he buried Rowan on the grounds of Malfoy Manor himself, but he's never specifically said. I suppose I could ask him."
"Lucius Malfoy?" Inanna said. "Really? Eric told me he was an insincere asshole."
At that, Lucinda, who'd apparently exhausted the subject of gardening, turned and stared at both of them, and said, "That is as may be, but he's done a lot of good behind the scenes, more than one would expect. Of course, there's always a price to be paid."