A/N
About Catholicism: Aeonir asked why I mentioned it. The reason: It will play a (small) part in this story (only as a background explanation) and be somewhat more important in the sequel because of Ana Hernandez. It doesn't have to be Catholicism; I could have chosen any other Religion of the Book (Christian, Judaism, and Islam) too. I chose Catholicism only because Ana is a Spanish Lady and I know the history of that belief the best. But don't worry; its part will be very small.
By the way: I'll mention Westminster Cathedral in this chapter. It is the Catholic Church in Westminster/London. Perhaps you've heard already of its Anglican counterpart Westminster Abbey.
.
Family Celebration
.
Westminster Cathedral – 25th of December - Midmorning
.
Hermione was a bit nervous as they approached Westminster Cathedral. They – Neville, Anne and she – had left the others at Pinegrew Manor and met her parents a few minutes ago near the impressive cathedral. She had been here more than once in the past. Before her time at Hogwarts it had even been a family tradition to attend the mass on Easter, Whitsun and Christmas as often as possible.
Her mother had been delighted to re-establish the tradition, while her father unsurprisingly had been more interested in meeting Neville – a realization that wasn't helpful to calm the boy. To meet the father of your girlfriend certainly wasn't the most relaxing prospect. For the past ten minutes; her mother spoke with Anne about their common belief, while her father had started to grill Neville 'about his intentions'. Really – like they intended to elope on New Year. Perhaps I should buy a brochure of Gretna Green and leave it lying around, Hermione mused with a wicked smile.
Hermione suspected that Anne accompanied her to get an impression of her parents, especially her mother. But the reason for this was completely unknown to her until now.
"You corrected your teeth."
The sudden statement of her father got her mother's attention too. Hermione had been happy about the distraction Anne had provided so far. Even happier would she have been to delay this discussion, until much later – next year perhaps.
"I…"
"It's far better this way, isn't it," Neville came to her rescue. "It looks much nicer now. Not that Hermione would need any improvement." It was kind of sweet how he positioned himself between Hermione and her parents.
Her mother glared at Hermione.
"She has a very cute smile," Anne agreed, but it was of no help.
"We wanted to correct them later, traditionally." Her mother was not amused, while her father stayed silent. Hermione knew that he shared Emma's opinion about the matter, but apparently Dan thought that she was able to handle the matter alone. Or he was unwilling to spend energy on a discussion about spilt milk.
"I wanted to wait," Hermione wailed a bit.
"She had no choice," Neville tried to explain.
"You're full of excuses, young lady."
"You're unfair now." Neville showed his newly found glare and continued: "She really wanted to wait, despite your decision being the wrong one. Yes, wrong." He growled. "It is one thing to decide to do this 'the correct way' but something completely else to live fourteen years as 'Miss Bucktooth'. Do you really expect that she liked to be insulted for something she wasn't responsible for, for something that could be corrected quite easily? And please don't say anything about it being 'character molding'. Hermione respected your wish. But this fall, our school git Draco Malfoy hexed her. Her teeth grew a full four inches and our school nurse had to shrink them again. And now her smile is even sweeter than before and she certainly doesn't deserve any reproaches on your side."
Hermione stared at her boyfriend, while Neville tried calm himself again, waiting for a response on his little speech. It came after a while but luckily in a better way than expected.
"That settles the case, I suppose," Dan said in a soothing way. "Don't you agree, Emma-darling?"
Her expression switching between confusion, consternation and stubborn anger, Emma sighed defeated at last: "Okay."
As she turned to walk away, leaving a stunned Hermione behind, Neville – in a sudden and not very intelligent boost of self-confidence – demanded: "An apology would be in order."
Emma blinked, Hermione groaned and Anne grinned. This conversation started to really amuse her.
"You haven't believed your daughter in the matter. That's not okay. Hermione did nothing wrong. We had to trick her to…" Neville turned fire red.
Emma narrowed her eyes and showed a very sweet smile. Hermione knew this face, it demanded full concentration to avoid the 'Granger enrage experience'. "You had to trick her to do what?"
"To do nothing," Neville attempted a retreat. "Alright, perhaps we did something wrong, but not Hermione."
"What…" Hermione puzzled stared at Neville. Suddenly realization hit her. "It was a trick. You tricked Malfoy to use that hex on me. And Daphne… she distracted me when Madam Pomfrey used that shrinking potion on my teeth."
Neville nodded weakly. "She knew that it troubled you. But you never would have disobeyed your parents. So we… pushed you a little bit to help you."
"You're right, young man," Emma relented. "I have to apologize to Hermione. But you and I will have a small, nice conversation later about meddling around with the education of our daughter."
Neville gulped: "Okay." To make matters worse Hermione didn't look very happy about the news too. No snogging session this afternoon, Neville feared.
.
Pinegrew Manor – around Lunch time
.
"Welcome to Pinegrew Manor."
Despite Agatha still being the owner of the estate Roxanne, as the current Lady of the House, had the honour and duty to greet the guests. For a short moment Harry was imagining a future with Daphne taking that role, clinging to his arm, a long dress flattering her shapes.
"Thank you for your invitation, Lady Greengrass." Emma Granger shook hands with Roxanne, while Dan used the moment to look around. It was easy to see how impressed he was. Certainly the Grangers weren't poor by any means, but this house belonged to a completely foreign world. He could imagine several generations living in this palace, meeting each other only every few days, perhaps each Sunday for the family dinner.
"Please call me Roxanne," she responded. "Your lovely daughter told me so much about both of you that I have the impression to have known you for years."
A little chinwag continued between the two ladies and Hermione used the distraction to enter the sitting room where the other guests were already waiting, having arrived while she had been in London. Near the window Harry was in spirited conversation with Augusta Longbottom, the elder lady fully concentrated listening to the young man and only sparing a few seconds to wave her grandson a welcome. Hermione wasn't too eager to speak with her. She had written to her a few times in the last weeks and had perhaps been a bit too angry and determined in her discussion about the new wand and the steady comparisons to his father.
"Hello Hermione."
The sight of Remus was a very welcomed one. For a moment Hermione sent a smile in the direction of the large black Grim at his side. With Augusta around and a few other guests expected for the afternoon, it certainly was the best for him to stay in his Animagus form. Would she be able to master this spell too, Hermione pondered. She was really eager to learn that particular spell but she feared that it wasn't her kind of magic. Harry's – yes, absolutely. Neville's – perhaps. Daphne's – yes, the question of those weird other 'abilities' left aside. But her? She really didn't know if she should allow herself to hope for it to happen. The disappointment would only be the greater afterwards.
For a moment she thought about the conversation Harry wanted to have with both men. I'll speak with them after Christmas, he had told her. I don't want to spoil the mood. She wouldn't be there. That conversation was between the three of them.
"So… you and Neville?" Remus showed Hermione an arched smile, and enjoyed watching her blush. The girl nodded weakly, glancing in Augusta's direction to make sure that Neville's Grandma wasn't listening.
"I always expected that you and Harry…"
"Oh no," Hermione shook her head. "That would be so wrong. No, Daphne is far more appropriate for him. She's more 'earthen' than me, more patient; able to hold him to the ground when his temper is doing a summersault again."
"Yes, he needs that from time to time. He's too similar to James sometimes. Luckily there is much of Lily in him too."
"Roxanne mentioned that too. But he already changed in the last months. Perhaps his Occlumency and Meditation lessons are helping too."
"Occlumency," Remus wondered. "Meditation? Quite the change of pace I have to say."
Hermione nodded with a smile but before she had a chance to respond, she noticed a shadow of danger nearing her position.
"Miss Granger, may I have a word with you?" Augusta's expression wasn't the friendliest one, and her voice promised pain.
.
Hermione followed the elder lady without much enthusiasm into the adjoining room and watched her nervously as she waved Neville away and closed the door. "About that letter…"
Was it the influence of Harry's temper in the last years? Or perhaps the last discussion with her parents two hours ago still showed an impact. In any case Hermione wasn't willing to be the quiet listener anymore, especially if her conversation partner was just plain wrong.
"Let me explain," she stopped Augusta with a gesture. "I understand that your son was important to you… is important to you. And I realize that you only wanted to give Neville something to remember him. But to achieve this he could put his father's wand in a showcase and put it on the mantelpiece. He doesn't have to use it. You know as well as I do that a Wizard has to use his own wand to get the best results. Yes, Neville can use his father's wand, but with his own he will be far better at casting. You should have allowed him to have his own wand from the beginning.
The past years hadn't been easy for him. How often has he been insulted because of his apparent lack of abilities, as with that wand he always was subpar in the practical part? And to compare him with his father every day was certainly not helpful. Neville needs approval and encouragement, not 'you could do better' every day."
"You know, young lady," Augusta glared "that I pondered about being your magical guardian in the future; and the guardian of your parents too, allowing their house to be warded against fire and other dangers. But now I'm not convinced anymore that it would be wise to burden myself with such a stubborn and impertinent person as you are."
Hermione paled. She had expected Augusta to be a bit angry, but not quite this angry. Not only would she retract her offer, but there was even the very real possibility that she would be opposed to any relationship between Hermione and Neville. Repressing her tears she responded:
"I really would have liked to have you as my guardian. Neville thinks highly of you and I heard some wonderful stories about your abilities and character. But if you're unable to cope with me, than it would be better to stop this now. I'm certainly not willing to change in the future. Some things are more important, Neville's self-confidence and welfare to name only two."
Augusta death-glared at her and Hermione reciprocated at her best. For a long time both women – the old and the young – weren't willing to look away, to lose this battle of wills. At last Augusta's face suddenly relaxed into a very warm smile. "You really like him, don't you?"
"I do," Hermione whispered. "He deserves it."
"He'll need a strong woman at his side, a woman willing to fight for him."
"No," Hermione shook her head in a determined manner. "He needs friendship, love and support. He needs to evolve more self-confidence and a reason to develop his own abilities. Neville certainly doesn't need to walk away from one strong woman to the next. He is more than a boy with a green thumb. Don't forget how he won the house cup in the first year because of his bravery to stand up even against his friends. He'll be strong himself."
Augusta's smile broadened and suddenly Hermione understood: This had been a test. Augusta wanted to know if Hermione was willing and able to fight for Neville. The elder lady was very head-strong and respected the same trait in other women. A weight was taken of her mind – surely weighing more than a hundred pounds – and left her hovering in the air, light-headed.
"Not many young women your age would be able to endure my wraith as you did, young lady." This time she said 'young lady' with far more positive emotion. "I'm impressed. I would be honoured should you accept my offer of magical guardianship." Augusta offered her hand and with a sigh of relief Hermione accepted.
"You'll see… with his new wand and after Anne's removal of that despicable charm on him…"
"Charm? What charm?"
Hermione realized that Neville wasn't the only one with the talent to say something inconsiderate instead of simply staying quiet. She had intended to leave it to Anne to explain the result of her spell. Shakily she started to explain: The potion, the spell, the result and how Anne intended to remove the spell. Anxious she awaited the reaction, but she didn't have to wait for too long.
During her little speech she had watched Augusta, the old lady slowly getting quite a bit of red colouring her cheeks. Her eyes were incandescent now. Hermione noticed that something was really wrong, as the glasses in the sideboard started to clink, the windows following some seconds later, as did the ceiling lamp. If Hermione thought that Augusta had been angry before, she had to admit how wrong she had been.
Now Augusta was really angry, angry in a way that left every temper tantrum of Harry or Ron look like a gentle murmur.
It's like the temperature is rising, Hermione mused. Seconds later she realized that it wasn't only an impression. While in the past Harry's anger had been sometimes strong enough to trigger icy winds around him, Augusta's magical rage apparently unleashed its energy in a different form.
Neville tore the door open a few seconds later. Someone had started to yell blasphemous curses, someone… he needed a few moments to realize that it was his Grandma who behaved like that, and a whole time longer to really believe it. She was sputtering cusses she would have washed from his mouth using soap – a few of them he didn't even understand – and he stood there totally flabbergasted. After a while Augusta realized that her grandson was listening to her. Instead of stopping she changed to Gaelic curses, something Neville had heard about from his Uncle but never before had 'the pleasure' to watch. He had always thought the stories about even Dumbledore and Voldemort fearing her wraith to be pure exaggeration, but in this moment he wasn't so sure anymore.
Accompanied by waves of angry magic, her feet stomping on the stony ground, Augusta went to Anne and demanded to hear a confirmation about what Hermione had just told her. Anne complied with a wicked smile.
.
"And you can help him?" Augusta asked, now far calmer again. Her eyes were still blazing but at least she didn't yell anymore. The tea laced with brandy had certainly helped her to get back a modicum of composure. Harry smiled an angry smile, thinking… hoping… to be present at the next meeting of Augusta and Dumbledork.
"It will be a difficult ritual best cast on New Year's Day and it'll need some preparations. I thought it would be better to stay silent about it instead of sending him to St. Mungo. They have a broader experience with the spell, at least the older Healers, but I wanted to hold it 'in the family'."
Augusta nodded. She knew that the spell had been used in the past to 'calm' dangerous and mentally instable Wizards. It was – used in a stronger way than the one done to her grandson – something similar to a magical lobotomy and a very disgusting and outdated 'healing method', a method not taught for at least two decades now.
"It will be difficult, but yes: I can help him, be assured." Anne smiled and her serious tone convinced Augusta. She nodded her agreement. "But don't expect an instant change. Presumably, there will be a slight improvement within a few hours. But he'll need several weeks to really get better and months to reach the alignment he should have had for years. I want to be careful. Better we use a second ritual later – kind of fine tuning – than be too hasty now. I assume that's in your interest too."
"It is." To Neville Augusta appeared very old in that moment. Many emotions were visible on her face: Regret, relief, anger and many more. Her eyes told her grandson how much she regretted her behaviour in the past, scolding him instead of finding the reason of his magical weakness. "Neville, I'm…" She hesitated, tears brimming in her eyes. Augusta felt like she had betrayed the trust of her son. How could she be so blind?
Neville felt a small push in his side. Hermione mouthed 'Go'. With a nod he obeyed and hurried at his Grandma's side, hugged her heartily. "You're the best, Grandma."
Augusta patted his head, forced a small smile. "You're the best, Neville, I'm so sorry…"
After a long silence she explained in a low voice: "After the attack on your parents Headmaster Dumbledore came to our house. He examined you. That at least he told me. He said he wasn't sure about your… your talents. He returned a few times in the course of the next two years. Each time he examined you, cast some spells. I thought…"
Augusta sighed deeply. "He told me that your magical core was too weak, perhaps from the experience. That you would never be a powerful mage. That's the reason I gave you the wand of your father. I thought it wouldn't hurt; that even with another wand…"
She hugged Neville again. "When Pomona told me about your talents with herbs and plants I was so proud. Not only it is something important but also you wouldn't need much magic to find a niche later, a niche to be happy and content. I should have pondered more about the problem, find a way to help you."
"Don't blame yourself, Augusta," Agatha tried to calm her old friend. "Who could have expected something like that from Dumbledore? No, please don't blame yourself."
"No," Hermione whispered angrily. "Blame Dumbledore and rip him apart." Her blazing eyes caused shudders on everyone in the room and prompted a wicked smile on Augusta's lips. Oh yes, she wouldn't forget.
.
The next hours went by in a much calmer and happier tone. Amelia Bones made a short appearance, with her niece Susan and her best friend Hannah Abbott. While everyone exchanged small presents and best wishes for Christmas, Hermione showed clearly that Neville belonged to her now. Hannah had begun to show interest in the boy since last winter, but never done more than speak a few words with him.
To see him holding hands with Hermione, a goofy grin on his lips sent the right message to Hannah. With a sigh she registered the approving nod of Augusta. Hannah knew that in a traditional family like the Longbottoms, this meant something like 'official agreement'. Even some kind of formal binding – perhaps a promise ring – could be expected in the near future, around his fifteenth birthday. Her small nod towards Hermione told the girl that she had understood.
Neville noticed nothing of this exchange. He was too preoccupied with his newest book: Harry's gift to him after Remus found it in the Potter library. It was a very old and rare book about water plants of the Mediterranean region. Very careful and gentle, he turned the pages.
A high-pitched squeal caught his attention and with a soft smile he watched his girlfriend as she caressed her new turtleneck. It had been a present from his Grandma, knitted after he had written to her how unhappy she had been in the past to never receive one of the Weasley's. Now she had her own, knitted from bronze wool, the Gryffindor crest added in red with a prominent 'H' integrated. The small Longbottom family crest on her left shoulder told everyone that Hermione was under Augusta's protection from now on.
A few minutes later Hermione put the book Harry had given to her away – 'Journalism through the Ages', to show you that not every journalist is like Skeeter – and looked expectantly at Daphne. She had two presents in her hands, offering one each to Hermione and Emma Granger. "I thought you could use this… for exchange… for remembering later."
Emma and her daughter unwrapped the packages and found two very similar looking books in them, books with empty pages. "You use them to write letters. Write a sentence, a longer passage or a whole letter. Tip on the page with the small wand included and the message will appear on the second book. The small wand to activate this will function for your mother too. There are other methods to transmit messages, magical mirrors and the like, but I thought that you would like the idea of reading these letters again in the future, perhaps to your children before they go to Hogwarts."
.
"Don't expect leaps and jumps in your magical strength after reading this, Harry," Anne appeased him. She had bestowed a book to him about the training of his magical core. "It is more to control your core and use it optimally, efficiently, and to steady it faster. Every core is growing very fast until twenty to twenty-five, far slower after that. But not before you're seventeen will your core be stable enough to allow serious training. It is like a muscle or memory training. You have to train, not too less otherwise nothing happens, not too much in fear to overtax yourself. Be careful and only try the exercises to steady your core for the beginning. We'll speak about it in the summer again."
Another book, Harry groaned inwardly, another lesson in his already full week. As if she had read his mind – a thought not too unrealistic in Harry's opinion – Anne smiled: "It is nothing additional. You'll see how well the basic exercises for Occlumency, Meditation and Stabilization can be integrated with each other. Two hours a week and five minutes every evening before you go to sleep would be more than enough. Steady exercise is much more important than forced afternoons. Daphne already owns this book and I'll give copies to Hermione and Neville too. Perhaps you could train with them. It would be especially important for Neville, after the ritual, to spend some minutes each day with the book."
He had already anticipated that. To change the alignment of Neville's magic would certainly send his core into an uproar. "By the way, please don't assume that I think your emotions to be something to be quelled. Yes, we instruct you how to control them. But they are important too. Next week I'll show you something completely different about them. I hope for great results. Emotions and control are two sides of the same coin, both important. To allow your emotions to control you is dangerous, to suppress them is unhealthy. Please don't forget that."
.
Harry had seen Daphne smile when she unwrapped the books she got from Minerva McGonagall – a basic guide to your inner animal – and Filius Flitwick – Charming results: How to interpret detection spells. But now, with the books from Roxanne and Anne in her hands, she was pouting and looked a bit depressed. Her mother watched her a bit anxiously while Anne stared unhappily at her. Apparently both had hoped for a better reaction. Slowly, he went at her side and took a seat on the couch.
Without a word Daphne put both books in his hands. The one from her mother seemed to be about the healing arts regarding unusual patients and using unusual spells. Harry found chapters about magical animals, Werewolves, Veela and even Dragons, as well as the description of a number of spells he never had heard about before.
The other one was written in strange symbols.
"I didn't know you speak… Greek, isn't it?"
"I don't speak it, I only read it. And it is ancient Greek." Daphne traced the symbols with her finger: "Spiritualism, the healing of the mind."
"And," Harry asked softly: "You don't like them?"
"I do, very much even" Daphne sighed. "But… I feel cornered… cramped. You like Quidditch really much, don't you, Harry?" He nodded and Daphne continued: "Perhaps you'll even play professional later, but certainly you don't know for sure now. What if everyone around you would tell you how wonderful you are at Quidditch, how they expect you to play it professionally. Every present is a broom or something else about it; every book you get discusses Quidditch."
"I would feel cornered too," Harry agreed.
"I really like to heal. And I know that I have a special talent for this occupation. But sometimes this is simply too much."
"You should tell them. You have a wonderful mother and a fantastic aunt, they'll understand."
.
"It was really nice of you to come, Pansy."
The past hour had been weird, Harry mused, even bordering on the absurd. Dinner was approaching and with it the last guests, time to go for Pansy and the other Slytherins. Like the Bones before, the Slytherins had only been at Pinegrew Manor for a short visit, until the Christmas celebrations of their own families started.
He had known that not only Tracey and Blaise, but also Pansy and Millicent too would be there, but the amicable conversation between Pansy and Daphne in particular had been a surprise. And according to Roxanne's face he wasn't the only one who watched flabbergasted how Daphne hugged Pansy farewell. What had happened to change their relation so radically? Pansy had already been supportive at the Great Hall incident but this cordial behaviour was suspicious.
"Seemed the least we could do after Nott's little stunt…" Tracey clasped her mouth shut with her hand, her eyes widely staring at a fuming Daphne. Idiot, she mouthed.
"What little stunt do you mean?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowed, his voice telling the girl that he wasn't in the mood to hear elusions.
"Nothing special," Daphne tried to calm her voice. "He was a prat as usual after the ball."
"After the Ball? But I accompanied you to your dorm afterwards."
"Yeah," Daphne shrugged. "They were waiting inside." For a moment she didn't realize her small slip in wording and interpreted his expression as the usual Harry 'I'm to blame for this'. "You couldn't guess that the trouble would be waiting in the dorm instead of on the way there, Harry."
"They?" Harry growled. "They were waiting?"
"Harry, it is okay. Professor Snape handled the matter; Pansy, Millie and Balou came to my rescue. Nothing to get worked up for. Leave it, please."
"How can I leave it? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because of this," Daphne made a wide gesture. "I didn't want to spoil the mood. I would have told you after our return to Hogwarts."
"But I want to know things like this," Harry growled, ignoring the sour expression of Daphne. "I can't protect you if you…"
"I… don't… need… your… protection," Daphne accentuated every word with a poke of her finger into Harry's chest. "Argh" with a yell of anger she turned around and before Harry could stop her, she left the room, closing the door behind her with much force.
"Splendid," Hermione groaned.
After shortly glaring at her, Harry addressed Tracey: "Spill. The whole story."
And so Tracey did. How she awakened and reached the room. Nott and his two cronies. Daphne's bruises and how she kicked Nott into the head. Pansy and Millie to the rescue. Balou punishing Nott with wild claws.
"Daphne begged him to handle the matter after Christmas and Professor Snape agreed," Tracey concluded.
"It is already around in some circles," Pansy added with a low voice. "Only you didn't hear about it because this year you're limiting your party to close friends and family," she explained to Roxanne. Daphne's mother was obviously no less angry than Harry and quite concerned about her daughter, but had been quiet so far. "Nott's two cronies won't return to Hogwarts. Their parents extracted them and they'll send them to Durmstrang from now on. They wanted to avoid an expulsion."
"And Nott?" Harry asked, a little calmer now.
"I don't know. His father is very important. I don't think that much more than a detention will happen to him."
Before Harry's temper had a chance to raise again, Roxanne put a hand on his shoulder. "I'll speak with Professor Snape about it. You, young man, should speak with Daphne now, but in a calm way. I understand you, really. I'm concerned too. But it is her decision what to tell us. Please don't push her away because you're afraid, concerned or blame yourself. Daphne is a strong young woman able to make her own decisions. It is hard for me as her mother to realize that, but I have to. And you have to see this too. Equal partners – only this way can it work."
Harry opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to respond. Then he nodded and smiled weakly. "It's difficult."
"I know," Roxanne hugged him. "We'll learn it, both of us." She pushed him gently towards the door behind Daphne had vanished.
Before he followed her, Harry said "Pansy… Millie… thank you for helping her. I won't forget that."
.
Daphne was sitting at the window, staring outward. She had a present on her knees, caressing it gently without looking at it. Harry felt a warm wave rolling through his body. For weeks, but especially since seeing her in her ball gown, he had realized how beautiful she was. Watching her mother and how similar they were in appearance, he had an idea of the beauty she would become once fully grown.
He should have trusted her, her and her judgment. If she wanted to stay silent about the Nott incident, then it was her decision. Roxanne had been right about that. And she would have told him later. Would he have reacted calmer if she had been told about it earlier? Presumably not. His – how did Hermione call it? His hero-complex? – It was very strong developed, he knew. And now he had to add the direst urge to protect Daphne. Remus would be proud of my inner wolf, Harry grinned weakly.
"I'm sorry, Daphne." The girl tensed. She turned around and watched him silently, hints of tears on her cheeks.
"I shouldn't… I'll try to…" Harry hesitated, groaned. "This is really difficult. Could we perhaps out-duel this? It would be easier."
Daphne sniggered, stood up and left her place. "I don't know. I don't want to hurt you. You bruise too easily."
"It's a boys' thing," Harry grinned. After a moment of silence he asked: "You kicked him in the face?"
Daphne shrugged. "It was an easy target after he went to the ground. My foot into his groin does such things," she explained, prompting Harry to flinch in sympathy.
"Remind me never to annoy you," he whispered, his hand caressing her cheek. She stood very near now, Harry realized, feeling the warmth of her body.
"I'll remind you… by one means or another." Her lopsided grin promised pain should he forget again how to behave.
Harry flinched again. "Oh… I completely forgot to give you this." He offered a small present to her.
Daphne accepted it and shoved her own, larger present into his arms. "It is a bit… weird… after our discussion this afternoon. But I wanted to protect you a bit in return. You know: bruising easily and all."
He opened the package and blinked: "A jacket in Dragon leather?" This would really help, not only in a fight, but on the Quidditch field too. Harry smiled. Yes, she was correct about being a weird present after their healing-Quidditch conversation. But it was a very thoughtful gift nonetheless. "It's wonderful." He especially liked the Griffon on the back with a Golden Snitch in his claws.
Daphne nodded shortly absent-minded and squealed after a glance onto her own present. In the small case, resting on velvet, she saw a platinum necklace with a large citrine.
"Your birthstone. It represents optimism, clear mind and creativity," Harry explained.
"Put it on me, please…" she urged.
Harry followed the command, carefully putting the necklace around her neck, his fingers perhaps lingering on her soft skin a tad too long.
"Thank you," Daphne whispered.
"Don't I deserve more than…"
Before he could finish the sentence sweet lips were pressed on his, ending all thoughts about speaking.
.
Dinner time
.
The last group of guests had arrived a couple of minutes ago and they were now ready to have dinner. Harry was especially happy about Tonks' presence. He liked her despite her clumsiness, and grinned as he had to watch her ogling his former DADA teacher. Remus was apparently clueless about his pretty fan, but the smiles and giggles of the Pinegrew ladies would certainly change this quite fast.
Together with Tonks, her parents had arrived. Andromeda he already knew, but it was his first time speaking with her husband Ted. A Muggleborn wizard – a disgrace to the Black family, Andromeda's parents had judged back then –, he had been the reason to Andromeda's disownment twenty years ago. According to the loving looks she exchanged with her husband, she didn't regret her decision.
"Ciddy," Augusta addressed the house elf. "You forgot dishes and cutlery for Mister Black."
All motions stopped, some faces paled, only Agatha grinned.
"You knew?" Harry asked hoarsely.
"I may be old but neither blind nor deaf, young man." She seated herself and took her napkin. "And Frank told me fifteen years ago."
"And… why… Misses Bones," Harry stammered.
"It is not my business who is a guest at Pinegrew Manor. That's for Lady Greengrass to decide. Now, please, let's eat. I'm hungry." After a short pause she added: "And I wouldn't be too sure about Amelia's lack of knowledge. She has a very sharp mind."
.
They lingered over the dinner, enjoying the moment as one happy family. For a while Harry felt what it would be like, this normality with Daphne, Roxanne and Sirius. Too bad that she was married to that prat, he pondered. On the other hand he couldn't really imagine her married to Sirius. He wouldn't survive a week, Harry grinned.
"Cissy visited me," Andromeda's words stopped every conversation.
Several sets of cutlery hit the table after that announcement. Tonks stared, her mouth working silently. Sirius frowned, waiting for an explanation. Only Roxanne appeared to not be surprised.
"When?" Tonks asked at last.
"Yesterday, when you were working at the Ministry."
"You…" Tonks stared quizzical at her father, but Ted shook his head: "I knew about it but I wasn't there either. Had a small walk in the park."
"She wanted to speak with me alone," Andromeda explained. "It was quite pleasant."
She struggled to appear calm and composed, but Harry didn't need Daphne's sensibility to realize how shaken she still was by the experience. As far as he knew the sisters hadn't spoken with each other for twenty years. The wishes she had begged Tonks to deliver had perhaps been the first hint of acknowledging her sister's existence since then.
"What did she want," Sirius asked with a stern voice.
"She wanted to speak with the Head of House Black," Andromeda explained: "With you."
Shocked silence. It was already difficult to imagine that she had visited her sister, but that she wanted to meet Sirius was… staggering.
"I'm not the Head of House Black, at least not officially before I'm able to stand before the Wizengamot."
"She knows, but she wants to meet you nonetheless. And before you ask: She didn't tell me what she wants to speak with you. I have some ideas but it is really her business to tell you."
"Why should I comply?"
"Because she begged you to meet her," Harry interjected. "I can imagine how difficult this was to her. And remember how she was at Hogsmeade. I think… I think she changed. You should at least give her a chance."
"I agree with Harry," Roxanne said. "Narcissa certainly still isn't a sweet lady and I don't expect her to suddenly adopt a Muggleborn child. But she changed this year. Please, at least hear her out."
.
Late evening
.
With a thoughtful smile Roxanne had gestured Harry to come along. It was nearly time to go to bed now. With Daphne holding his hand – her body tense, Harry noticed – he followed Roxanne to his room; Hermione, Neville, Agatha, Remus and Sirius close behind.
In front of the door to his room she stopped shortly. "It is time for your last present, Harry. It has been a common gift from us four" She pointed towards her mother, Remus and Sirius "and it is only a beginning. The gift is unfinished, as of yet."
With a quizzical look Harry walked into his room, as Roxanne opened the door. Everything seemed to be the same as before: His bed, his desk, his trunk… a picture. Harry stopped. Hanging on the wall was a picture, an oil painting measuring three times three feet, depicting a cozy little house and in front of it… his parents. They were sitting on a wooden garden bench – red with bronze ornaments – his father sitting straight, his mother leaning against him, her head with that renowned bunch of flame red hair resting against his shoulders. Both were sleeping.
Harry had been staring at the pictures for minutes as Roxanne gently put her arm around his shoulders. "Perhaps you know those magical pictures that were created to allow someone to speak with deceased people."
Harry nodded weakly and responded with a low voice. "The headmasters of Hogwarts have such pictures."
"Correct," Roxanne agreed. "And the Ministers of Magic are immortalized in the same form. They were created while the person still lived and the pictures were sleeping until the person died. Regretfully this kind of picture wasn't possible to recreate, because they have to be started while living. This is another, weaker kind of magical picture. The artist used one of Sirius' memories to create the picture and we added our own. You have to add more memories, the more the better, to finish the picture…
"I've already spoken with Professor Sprout, McGonagall and Flitwick, as well as Madam Pomfrey. They're willing to add their memories, too. And we could search for some of the former students that had been their friends. Here" She gave him a parchment roll and a small bronze rod "you'll need these to add memories. They are working for Muggles too."
Roxanne gave him a meaningful look. "While we four knew your parents very well, it is important to integrate aspects of a different kind too; given from people who didn't like your parents or were at least critic. You should ask your Aunt Petunia and Professor Snape, they would be very important."
"But they hate me. And they hated my parents."
"Perhaps. Perhaps not." Roxanne stared silently at the picture for a while. "If you collect enough memories, they'll awaken and will be able to speak with you. I don't know when or how many memories you'll need, perhaps a dozen, perhaps a hundred. I hope not so many" Roxanne smiled. "Remember: I don't want to replace your mother. She loved you deeply and would have been a tremendous mother, I'm certain. I really hope that this will succeed. Happy Christmas Harry."
.
A/N
I always wondered why there aren't more magical pictures. There has to be a kind of limiting factor. Perhaps it's simply the costs. In my story it is the prerequisite to start the picture while the person still lives. The alternative Roxanne offers is a much more complicated version and needs the cooperation of many people (and the result would still not be of the same quality).
I haven't mentioned all presents, there would simply be too many of them. One is especially missing. I realized too late that the turtle neck – despite being given because of Neville's suggestion – is still Augusta's present. So I'm lacking an idea for a gift to Hermione given by Neville. Any ideas?
From all the presents only the picture and the healing books while play a greater role later. Oh yes: And the plant book. I only say second task.