Chapter Fourteen
Harry Introduces Daphne to Madame Black
"Check your watch, Harry," said Ron, dabbing his lips with his napkin. "You've got ten minutes."
"She specifically said, 'take your time,'" Harry semi-protested.
"That's how you know you've got ten minutes," Ron told him. "If she doesn't say that, it means you're already late."
Harry looked reflexively at his wrist. He was just about done with his stew, and the butterbeer had one more swallow, at most. Harry reached in his pocket and pulled out a handful of sickles.
"I'll get lunch," Harry said. "You've earned it today. I really needed some wise counsel, and you came through."
"Glad to be of service," Ron said. "I'll just tell Neville you're letting me have your extra ladle of stew, then?"
"If you can convince him, you can have it. Best to Hermione. Oh! Daphne already said that, didn't she? See you Saturday, if not before."
Harry walked back through Diagon Alley, window shopping. He was passing Cranville Quincey's Magical Junkshop when something caught his eye. Checking his watch, he decided he just had time to make a purchase, if he was quick about it.
Entering the store, Harry waved to one of Quincey's staff. "What is that little chest in the window?" he asked.
"You have good taste, Mr. Potter," said the clerk. "That is a goblin-made item, probably between 200 and 400 years old. We have priced it at 200 galleons."
"Oh, I had a limit of 50 galleons," Harry said.
"I'm sure we could come down a little," said the clerk. "One hundred fifty galleons would be a very fair price. Shall I wrap it?"
"I could go to 100 galleons, but I'd need to give you something on deposit to hold it until Monday. If that is adequate…"
"Mr. Potter, the very best we could do is 130 galleons, and of course, if you could give us ten percent today, we can hold it for any reasonable period," said the clerk.
"One hundred thirty galleons it is," said Harry. "And I have ten galleons in my possession at the moment. I'm a bit short of time. Here is the deposit. I'll see you tomorrow and settle up."
"Excellent, Mr. Potter. A wise choice. This will be behind the counter, waiting for you. Allow us at least fifteen minutes to show you the features the goblins added when the box was made."
Harry dashed back out to Diagon Alley and turned toward Flourish and Blott's. He glanced at his watch to see where he stood with Ron's ten-minute deadline. If he remembered correctly, he had two minutes. Entering Flourish and Blott's with thirty seconds to spare, Harry looked for the green chair in the corner by the window. Sure enough, there sat Daphne, the latest issue of Witch Weekly open on her lap. Harry noticed her sneak a quick look at her wristwatch.
Her smile was blinding.
"Harry," she said, standing and presenting her cheek for his kiss.
"Daphne, that patronus…"
"I practiced," she said, still smiling, sounding just the least bit pleased with herself. "Do you like it? I think it enjoys being useful."
"Do you need to get someplace?"
"Nope. I'm done for the day. I thought we might take advantage of this opportunity to talk about the weekend. Who knows what the week will be like?"
Harry noted she'd said, 'the weekend' and not 'Saturday night.'
"Smart," said Harry. "There's a great place for that nearby."
Less than a minute later, Harry and Daphne stepped out of the fireplace in his apartment's living room.
"Chez mois," Harry said, sweeping his arm in front of them.
"Oh, Harry, this is really nice," said Daphne. "Comfy chairs, nice views out the windows, is this your kitchen?"
"Sure, take inventory," Harry laughed.
"I guess that was obvious, wasn't it?" asked Daphne.
"Just a bit," Harry said. "I don't mind. There hasn't been anyone to care about it for quite a while."
Daphne crossed the room to where Harry stood. Wrapping her arms around him, she said, "Was I a spoiled little snot back there at Britannia? I didn't mean to be, you just took me by surprise. Then I could tell you were in both of our thoughts, and I got a little bit jealous."
"Daphne, you're making up for a lot with this extended hug. I'm dizzy from pleasure. Should we sit down?" Harry said.
When they'd taken seats on opposite ends of the couch, Harry looked at Daphne, Daphne looked back, and they started to laugh.
"Oh, Harry," Daphne said between giggles.
"I swear I had no idea, until last week at Gringott's," Harry began.
"In retrospect, though, you gave me ten years to get an education and establish a practice," said Daphne.
"Speaking of which, I get the muggle MD for a Healer, but what's with the philosophy?"
"You've seen the thing from the Prophet, well, the Prophet thing was misleading," Daphne said. "The PhD is in psychology. I completed a program to become what muggles call a psychiatrist. I treat wizarding folks who have psychological issues. There is a lot of room in many wizards' lives for the manifestation of severe mental illness."
Harry laughed out loud. Daphne looked confused. "Is there something funny about that?" she asked.
"No, it's just, I have some experience with wizards manifesting severe mental illness, that's all," Harry said.
It was Daphne's turn to laugh. "I guess you do, at that," she said. "If I do my job properly, perhaps I can save you some trouble in the future. Seriously, though, I'm not going to resent you for ignoring me for ten years, because it gave me the room to do all that school. I love what I do. I feel good about it. It wouldn't have happened if we'd been a couple."
"That's very gracious of you," said Harry. "Will you give me the chance to make up for it?"
"Nothing to make up for," said Daphne, with a wave. "After what you did yesterday, all debts are canceled. We're free to start fresh. Now, how are we going to organize Saturday? Did you get another couple for our table?"
"Not yet," Harry said. "Ron and Hermione are all set. I was going to invite Neville and Hannah, but the Cauldron was really slammed. Let's see…"
Harry crossed to the fireplace and threw in a pinch of floo powder.
"Leaky Cauldron. Hannah? Neville? It's Harry," he said.
Neville's voice came out of the fireplace, "Harry, what's up? Is your head feeling better?"
"Yes, it is, thanks to Dr. Greengrass' professional skills, and a hearty bowl of stew," Harry said. "Neville, we have need of a couple of congenial people to share our table at the St. Mungo's Ball on Saturday. Are you and Hannah interested?"
"Wait one," Neville said.
"Harry Potter, this is short notice," said Hannah's voice. "Saturday night! I run a pub! Still, St. Mungo's Ball, you can appreciate my dilemma."
"I take it since you're of two minds that eventually you will formulate a plan to attend, so we'll consider it done," Harry said. "We'll send the tickets."
"I should make you detail an auror to handle the bar," Hannah said.
"Trust me, Hannah, you don't want an auror back there. You'd be hosting Auror Appreciation Night."
"What's next?" Harry said, turning back to Daphne.
"Getting there," said Daphne. "Where do we meet, what time, how do we go?"
"Do we go alone, or with your family?" Harry asked.
"Mother and Father will go directly from home. I'll have to be in London for rounds Saturday morning. I think Astoria will go with her date from his home. It's Draco, by the way. Lucius and Father have been doing a ritual dance of sorts, but Draco is a needy lap dog where Astoria is concerned, and Mother expects they'll be shaking hands on it soon."
"What about Astoria? What does she think?" Harry asked.
"Astoria's fine. All she wants is someone stable to start a family with. Draco, for all his quirks, doesn't seem to have a need to stray. The portents are positive, at present. Don't tell Astoria and Draco, but Mother runs everything by her runes, and the runes are pretty much saying it's a match."
"So it is just the two of us," Harry said. "We can go from anywhere. I've been thinking about something else. What would you think of throwing an after-party, for people our age? Take off the robes, sit down with a firewhisky, bask in the afterglow."
"Great idea, but wouldn't this be a little snug? So where?" Daphne asked.
"Hard to tell you about it, easier if I can show you, if you feel like going out again," Harry said. "There are a couple of folks you need to meet anyway."
Leaving his building, Harry led Daphne to a handy apparation point, visualized #12 Grimmauld Place, and disapparated. They materialized on the steps outside the front door, which opened for them. A voice said, "Welcome, Master Harry, and guest. Will you come in and take some coffee, or tea?"
"Thank you, Kreacher," said Harry, leading Daphne inside. "Daphne, I have the honor to present Kreacher, who is responsible for the care of #12 Grimmauld Place. Kreacher, this is Miss Daphne Alexandra Greengrass, who is the daughter of Lord Fabio and Lady Kendra Greengrass. Miss Daphne will be coming to #12 from time to time. Make sure she is made to feel at home and has whatever she needs in the way of food or beverages, whenever she is here."
"Kreacher is at your service, Miss Daphne. Kreacher recalls Lord and Lady Greengrass calling at Grimmauld Place many years ago. Please come in and sit down."
"Kreacher likes to keep busy, Daphne. When I was still at Hogwarts, I didn't make enough of a mess here, so a position was arranged for Kreacher in the kitchens there, and he is the most extraordinary chef, whether cooking for one, or one hundred."
"Master is too kind, Kreacher lives to serve the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black," Kreacher said.
"House of Black?" Daphne asked, somewhat confused.
"Master Harry is Lord Black," said Kreacher, "and he is doing much to restore the House of Black to its former glory."
"Kreacher, I'm just trying to live up to your expectations, I assure you," Harry said with a laugh. "I thought it might be nice if Miss Daphne were to be introduced to Madame Walburga, if this is a good time. Do you foresee any difficulties with that?"
"No, Master Harry. My mistress has expressed a desire to meet Miss Daphne, whenever she should come to call."
"I don't recall mentioning Miss Daphne to Madame Walburga, Kreacher. How is she aware Miss Daphne might be calling?" Harry asked.
"Kreacher can only say, the portraits can be well-informed, at times. Kreacher does not pry into the portraits' business."
They had arrived at Walburga Black's portrait, which was silent, its drape pulled down. Kreacher brought a wooden stool and placed it in front of the portrait, climbed up, and slowly drew the drape aside, speaking in a low voice the whole time.
"Kreacher is here, Mistress, there are others who have asked to see you, Master Harry and his guest Miss Daphne Alexandra Greengrass, you spoke of her once, Kreacher recalls, Miss Daphne asks your leave to pay her respects."
Kreacher broke off his introductions just as he finished tucking the drape under Walburga's frame. Harry braced himself for what he knew was coming. There was a pause, as if Walburga's portrait were filling its portrait lungs, then:
"Vile half-blood, serial defiler of pureblood virgins, coming to torment me once more!" Walburga screeched.
"To be fair, Madame, I haven't had the opportunity to defile anyone for a long time. But that isn't what I'm here for. Madame Black, may I present my friend Miss Daphne Alexandra Greengrass, daughter of Lord Fabio and Lady Kendra Greengrass, of Greengrass Manor? Daphne, this is the portrait of the late mistress of this most noble house, an authoritative source on Black family history, and an eyewitness to countless notable magical events over much of the last century."
"I am most honored, Madame Black, to be received in your home. You are a legend among my Slytherin sisters," said Daphne, lowering her eyes as she dropped into a perfect, deep curtsy before Walburga's portrait.
"POTTER!" Walburga shouted, louder than before. "What wizardry have you performed on this noble witch, to bend her to your will? This witch has manners, she shows respect toward her elders. She observes the most sacred traditions of our ancestors! What business would she have with you?"
"Actually, Madame" said Daphne, keeping her eyes just slightly lowered, "our mothers made arrangements for Harry and me, when we were in the womb. They were faithful to the ways of the old witches. The bonds were well-cast and have brought us together. And, Harry has turned out to be a perfect gentleman. He made it a high priority to bring me to meet you."
"I hope Miss Daphne will be here often, Madame," Harry said, finding Daphne's hand, and giving it a squeeze, "so I would like you two to be comfortable with one another. Kreacher, if you could join me in the kitchen?"
He gave Daphne a wink. "We'll be right through there," he whispered, pointing at the door across the hall that led to the kitchen.
"Are they gone?" Walburga asked, in a low, but normal voice.
"They are," said Daphne.
"He won't give us long, so I'll keep this short, this time. Are you going to marry him?" asked Walburga.
"The Agreement encourages it, but we aren't yet contracted, or engaged," answered Daphne. "How…"
"Another time," Walburga snapped. "Let's proceed, then, on the assumption that he expects to spend a lot of time with you in this house, or he wouldn't have bothered to formally introduce you. Right now, he only comes here four or five times a week, to use that exercise room he developed upstairs, for an hour or two, then he leaves."
"You will need a space to work. I'd suggest the small study off the hall. Make sure he shows it to you. There's a fireplace, if you need to floo directly in or out, or put some heat under a cauldron. The light is good, and you can activate some serious wards for privacy. Just so there is no misunderstanding, Daphne, when I say seriouswards, I mean they will be lethal, for anyone who tries to get at you for the wrong reasons. Understand? Don't take them lightly. We'll see you are informed how they work. This house has some surprises in store for you. Learn to use the tools it gives you, and give them a chance to help you. Now I need Kreacher, but not Potter. Call him, he'll come."
"Kreacher, come here, please!" said Daphne.
"Kreacher is here, Miss Daphne," Kreacher said, appearing at once.
"Kreacher," said Walburga, "Miss Daphne will be admitted to #12 Grimmauld Place whether she is with Harry Potter or not. She needs to learn how Grimmauld Place works. Grimmauld Place needs to cooperate with her, and support her. Treat her exactly as you would me."
"Yes, Mistress, Kreacher will carry out your wishes as always," said Kreacher.
"Right, then, please get back to Potter and get us one more minute."
"Kreacher will do so, Mistress," said Kreacher, before disapparating.
"One last thing—I'm glad you're here. Now, questions?" asked Walburga.
"Who is the old gentleman in that portrait?" Daphne asked, pointing.
"Phineas Nigellas Black, late headmaster of Hogwarts, why?"
"I remember Kreacher. In my sixth year at Hogwarts, he hung a portrait of the late headmaster in the hall opposite the Slytherin girls' dormitory. It seemed an odd place for an elderly gentleman's portrait. Is there a portrait of you around the house, that would be appropriate for that spot? How would you like to be among Slytherin girls once more?"
"Well, Phineas Nigellas ought not be someplace that would overexcite him, for his own good," cackled Walburga. "There is a portrait of me, the year I got married, in the small study. Kreacher will know the one, and I don't think it would scare the young witches, seeing it first thing in the morning."
"It was an honor meeting you. I hope we can spend more time together soon," Daphne said.
"Likewise, dear," said Walburga. "It pains me to say it aloud, but Potter is the future of the Blacks. If the two of you can't put us right, no one can. I'm depending on you to do your best for us. Regards to lovely Kendra."
"Let me see what can be done," said Daphne. "I'll treasure your advice."
"Want a tour?" Harry said, as he entered the hall. "Thank you for receiving us, Madame Black."
"How DARE you lay hands on this flower of pureblood witchery?" Walburga spat after them.
"How'd it go, pureblood flower?" Harry asked, leading Daphne off.
"As well as could be expected," said Daphne. "What an interesting woman."
"Yes, my godfather's mother. He was a mismatch for the Black family. He sort of…adopted himself, to the Potters. My father and Sirius were, I'm told, inseparable, and chronic miscreants."
"And yet here you are, a magical copper," said Daphne.
"I've often wondered if they're spinning, wherever they are," mused Harry. "Well, this," he said, opening a door, "is a little office of sorts. Nice little desk, plenty of windows. Very convenient to the kitchen. I like this little room but I don't know what to do with it. I have a feeling it belongs to the lady of the house, sitting at the desk, writing her invitations and thank-you's and sending and receiving owls. That's a portrait of the young, breathtakingly gorgeous Walburga, according to the plaque. She couldn't have been more than a couple of years out of Hogwarts."
"All the room needs is some plants, airing out, and a little furniture polish" Daphne said, "and a lady certainly could sit herself down here and do all her ladylike tasks, couldn't she? Can I take it?"
"If you want it, it's yours. Does this mean you're going to be a regular here?" Harry asked, trying to keep excessive eagerness out of his voice.
"Do you want me coming and going? It would be nice to have a quiet place to work available, when I'm in London. I love St. Mungo's, I mean, as an institution, but the setting isn't the best for concentration."
"Yes, of course, it would help me with one of the problems I have with the house. It is just too big for one person. Besides, I know the property is highly magical. Fully understood, it could hold its own with Hogwarts, I'm convinced. Any help with that will be most appreciated. Let's go upstairs, there is something up there I need to show you."
"Started using a room I'd cleaned out for a dojo," Harry said as they climbed. "I was practicing some traditional martial arts forms, looking for ways to adapt them for wandwork in dueling situations. One day, I had some opponents."
Harry opened the door and led Daphne inside.
"We bow when we enter the dojo."
They walked to the center of the room.
Harry said, "Wands."
Two mannequins materialized, one in front of Harry, one in front of Daphne.
"Raise your wand, prepare to block, then cast," Harry said.
The two automatons attacked, not too quickly or accurately, Harry and Daphne parried and counterattacked.
"Again," said Harry.
This time, the attacks were quicker, and more accurately placed. Harry and Daphne parried, but the extra effort affected their aim and their counterattacks went wide.
"One more," Harry said. The mannequins cast, Harry and Daphne parried as before, and moved smoothly into position to cast a return. Both hit the mannequins.
"Good one!" Harry said.
"Wow, that's fun!"
"That's enough for a demonstration. We'll come back again and have a proper work out when we have more time," said Harry. "Now we bow to our worthy opponents."
All four, two humans, and two automatons, bowed from the waist. The mannequins rose and stopped moving, and Harry led Daphne to the door.
"This floor is all bedrooms and baths, except for the dojo. I'm not sure, but the house might be equipped with an expansion charm. I've never seen it run out of accommodations, although I've also never taken inventory."
Harry walked down the hall opening doors.
"Harry, what are you doing here?" Daphne asked. "I don't understand what you are doing with this house, or Kreacher, or the Blacks. Why are you Lord Black and not Potter?"
"Actually, I amLord Potter. No one has made a fuss about the title for generations, I've learned, but there is one. I'm Lord Black because my godfather, Sirius, was the last male of the Black family line. He never got the chance to marry and have children, so he made me heir to his worldly estate. Then his cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, nee Black, killed him, and I succeeded to the title. The Magical Heraldry Office at the Ministry sent me a nice letter on the most beautiful parchment, telling me I can style myself Harry Potter, Lord Potter, Lord Black, Lord Potter-Black, or Lord Potter AND Black, as I wish. They gave me some options, you could say.
"Here's the master bedroom. Suite, really. It goes all the way across the front on this level. See the park across the street? There is a smaller room just there, and there's the bath in between. It's really quite the barn. I've never gotten close to figuring out how to make it function and I don't know what to do about the interiors."
"I might have some ideas," Daphne speculated.
"Tell Kreacher. He's highly accomplished. I just wanted a place to work out, did my forms a few times, and the first mannequin showed up. The house seems to want to help.
"Anyway, what would you like to start with?"
"I'd remove everything on the walls, paint it a light gray above the chair rail and a slightly darker gray below, re-hang that landscape over there, get rid of that oil lamp hanging from the ceiling and put in a chandelier with candles and lots of prisms to make the light dance."
"Kreacher," Harry said.
"Kreacher is here, Master," Kreacher announced.
"Kreacher, Miss Daphne has some ideas about a little maintenance for the house, that I would like you to help her with. She'll tell you what she has in mind."
"Kreacher," said Daphne, "I would like to see this bedroom with some new paint, cool gray, with a little darker shade below the chair rail and a lighter one above, if possible, and a new light source in place of the oil lamp, I'm thinking a crystal chandelier with candles. I think that landscape should stay, but the other things on the walls can be stored. Can we try those things and see how the room looks?
"Of course, Miss Daphne," said Kreacher, and snapped his fingers. "The room will appreciate Miss Daphne's interest and attention."
The room brightened up immediately as the former maroon walls updated themselves to the two-gray arrangement. One landscape painting remained, while all the other pictures and bric-a-brac from the walls disappeared. Two deer, a stag and a doe, wandered into the landscape and stood looking into the room, seemingly curious about what was going on. The oil lamp that hung from the ceiling, all oily soot and tarnished brass, transformed into a huge chandelier, with dozens of candles and hundreds of crystals.
"Kreacher, that chandelier is so beautiful, but I think it may be a little larger than the master bedroom can handle. What do you think?" Daphne asked.
"Kreacher wishes only to please Miss Daphne, of course," Kreacher allowed, "if a smaller chandelier is needed…"
Kreacher snapped his fingers again, and the chandelier shrank by about one-third.
Daphne waved her wand, lighting the candles. Then she waved it again, closing the window drapes. The room settled down. The prisms cast rainbows on the gray walls and ceiling. The drapes and bedclothes, however, some crimson and gold items Harry had liberated from Sirius' old room, did not match the room's new look. Daphne pondered the problem.
"I have an idea, Kreacher. Could we try taking those curtains off the four-poster?" Daphne asked.
Kreacher snapped his fingers.
"Now, the coverlet doesn't look quite right to me," she said, and Kreacher removed it with a snap.
"Sheets next I think. And the pillows need to be replaced, two nice fluffy ones on each side," Daphne continued.
Kreacher removed the sheets with a snap.
"Might as well replace the mattress, who knows what kind of nonsense that one has seen?" said Daphne.
"I'm standing right here," reminded Harry.
Kreacher snapped his fingers and a new mattress appeared on the bed.
"Now," said Daphne, "I think a pair of nice green sheets with a silver pinstripe around the edge for some contrast. Um-hmm, a couple of shades darker, yes, very nice. Matching pillow cases? Oh, yes. Maybe a canopy instead of the full drapes on the frame? Green and silver? I'd like to see what you can do with Potter and Black, Kreacher. Can you do those, in script, repeating, in a border along the edge of the canopy, Potter, Black, Potter, Black? Oh, yes, all the way around the canopy. You're doing such great work. Now, a coverlet for the bed. I think something with a little substance to it, for winter nights, a lofty quilted duvet, perhaps. It should be in green silk, the nubbly kind, perhaps with a little silver near the edges. Oh, that is nice. Let's try making that silver band somewhat wider, maybe twice as wide? Yes, we are getting there. Now, to finish up, I think that coverlet needs a silver serpent, right in the middle, very subtle, just two or three silver threads, what do you think, Kreacher?"
"Kreacher can do that, of course, Miss Daphne. Would Miss Daphne prefer it resemble the serpent seen on the Slytherin crest? Kreacher is familiar with that one."
"Kreacher, that would be delightful, I think that would be just right," said Daphne, and Kreacher made it so.
"Now, I think, window curtains made of the same material as the canopy," Daphne finished, and Kreacher snapped his fingers once again.
"The light coming through that window overlooking the park is perfect for reading, so a chair, with arms, in green." A snap of Kreacher's fingers. "And a small table, with enough room on the top for a book, a glass, and a pitcher." One more snap.
Daphne turned to face Harry, who, staring at the transformed bedroom, appeared to be incapable of speech. She put the tip of her index finger on his lips and gave him a smile.
"You can thank me later. What else should we see on our tour?" she asked.