After the fiasco at the Prismatic Dragon, Hermione had a close look at the parole statutes with Leota Yaxley. The fair haired witch was half-way through her pupillage to become an advocate, the wizarding equivalent of a solicitor. They dealt mostly with civil disputes in order to limit the frequency of duels between litigants.
"Newer businesses and homes are more likely to be exempt simply by lack of precedent, Madam Flint." Leota sat stiffly on one of the leather sofas. Her posture would have delighted a deportment teacher but Hermione found it irritating. The rapport they had seemed to have at the club had cooled considerably.
"Have I committed a faux pas of some sort?" Hermione asked bluntly. She had offered tea and biscuits, which had been accepted but not consumed. The flat was clean. She was wearing presentable clothes for all she felt like she had been dragged through a hedge backwards.
"No." The Durmstrang alumna met her hostess's raised eyebrow with an elegantly curved one of her own. "Not essentially." She clarified then reminded herself Muggle-borns truly knew nothing of polite society. "You are the Lady of the Manor and we are not in it. That gives the strong impression I am not welcome there."
"I'm living here. I've no plans to move into the estate. I definitely have no plans to be the Lady Bountiful." Hermione took a sip of tea to cut herself off from an acerbic comment on antiquated customs. "You, Leota Yaxley, are welcome in this flat. I would very much like your advice on where we can hold meetings. Do try my shortbread."
"Thank you, I will." Leota took a dainty bite and found it too sweet like all Muggle desserts. That Madam Flint had bought or baked the biscuits herself made them a more welcoming offering than simple house elf-made food. Assuming she knew the difference.
"We need somewhere accessible by the approved list of Floo destinations." Hermione tapped a scroll, making it hover so they could both read it. "That is designated a public space or is otherwise not prohibited due to association." She did not make the second scroll she cited hover. It was too heavy. The list where parolees could not go was extensive. That piece of legislation reminded her bitingly of the werewolf cordon laws. "How much of Muggle London falls into that category?"
"Most of it. Not the City of London itself, due to ancient treaty, but the rest is largely ignored." She unrolled a map she had borrowed without permission from her pupilmaster. Borrowed after she had been informed due to her impending marriage, her pupillage could not continue until she had the permission of her husband. "Unless the land is owned by a pure-blood family."
Hermione studied the illuminated chart. It looked a kittened yarn-ball, with prehistoric trackways, Roman roads, and medieval streets interwoven haphazardly. Quite a bit had been revised after the Great Fire in 1666. A Welsh Green and densely packed wooden buildings did not mix well. However there had been little modification after the Victorian sanitation works had cleansed the Thames.
"Canary Wharf." Hermione did some dead-reckoning of geography with what she knew of the chronology of urban development in Muggle London. Her dad had loved modern architecture and had taken her on several walking tours to admire the glittering edifices. "We'll book a conference venue."
"That will be popular." Leota remarked sarcastically. She had only learned of the Isle of Dogs' reclamation when she had become lost in the Underground. The witch expected most of her peers still considered that area of London a stinking lower class mire. "We will need a great number of illusions to mask so many wizards."
"Not at all. Give everyone a Tudor bonnet and we will be a Charter society. Have a few people on mobile phones and no one will look at us sideways." Her experience on the run had solidified a long-held belief in Londoners' disinterest in fellow pedestrians. So long as they all looked like they knew what they were doing, and pure-bloods radiated arrogant self-confidence, it would be fine.
And it was.
Yaxley had been sceptical. When they had told Rosier and Nott about the venue, Alun had admitted he had been to London only twice as a child and Theodore had argued about their planned use of public transport. Marcus and surprisingly Tabia Shafiq had assured their fellows all would be well.
The very merry widow Shafiq had spent the war in Dubai, shedding both her Death Eater husband and British society for the sake of ridiculous luxury. She had returned to England only after her elderly father had become too infirm to manage the family holdings. Which included an impressive real estate portfolio.
"It was not quite the thing during Riddle's War but my family has always held property in Muggle cities. That is where the money is, and all the best shops." Tabia led a fellowship of wizards from the tube station out into the cold light of modern Britain. "We have the conference room for the day and there will be catering. Our food, not theirs."
Madam Shafiq did her spiel and escorted the group along the footpath to the skyscraper, getting them into an elevator with a minimum of fuss. She had been doing this all morning with the panache of a tour guide. All the while making certain that everyone saw her with the Flints. While disinterested in politics, Tabia had a keen instinct for influence. The new Madam Flint could bend the world to her will.
The new Madam Flint had a check-list. Hermione marked off all the attendees as they arrived while Edmund Fawley, an Auror and divorced father of two, verified that the parolees were wandless. Not everyone at the meeting was on Ministry Restrictions. Quite a few had portkeyed from overseas, having fled or sat out the conflict. Several dual nationals had learned of the legislation only on receipt of a notification of pairing scroll.
Marcus and Justin Finch-Fletchley did the rounds as question-wranglers. Justin had presented himself to Hermione as soon as he had arrived from Switzerland. His parents had sent him to Le Rosey to finish his education rather than comply with the Muggle-Born Registration Commission. He regarded any Ministry directive with an extremely jaundiced eye.
"I cannot believe the Wizengamot expects us to go from cockroaches to prize livestock without demur." Justin said in an aside to Hermione when they finally shut the doors to begin the meeting. "I haven't said a thing to my parents. They think I'm recovering from my dissolute twenty-first birthday party. That Ministry owl was a simply delightful present."
"Put it all in an official statement. We're trying to get as many voices as we can. A wider spectrum." Hermione did not add 'than only pure-blood elitists' but from Justin's comprehending nod he heard the tacit addendum. They took their places as Alun Rosier opened with a polished ice-breaking speech.
Then Hermione took the floor to outline their strategy. She spoke ably and concisely, reassuring and frank. Marcus listened with a growing feeling of pride. Tabia Shafiq, who had positioned herself near him, noted his smile. Leaning in conspiratorially, she murmured some advice. He gave her the ghost of a grin then returned to paying attention to his wife.
Yaxley, Nott and Rosier joined Hermione to take questions. The one most urgently pushed was where to go to avoid the law. The Gamut Treaty covered the 'civilised world', according to one plaintive witch. Wincing at the colonial mindset, Hermione cast a charm to display a world map centred on south-east Asia.
"Palau." The witch said crisply, pointing to the small archipelago east of the Philippines. "As a republic in free association with the United States, it is neither a kingdom nor a sovereign country by wizarding law."
"Furthermore, its use of the US dollar as its currency means it is not tied to Gringotts directly. Thus anyone with their assets seized or under audit can still do business there." Theodore Nott stepped up to do his piece. He had spent days diligently working through all the nations of the Muggle and wizarding world to find one that was either new enough, obscure enough or remote enough to be a refuge. Palau was the undisputed best of the meagre results.
Theo outlined the residency requirements and the benefits of settling in the tax haven. Palau was a tropical paradise with most of two hundred and fifty islands untouched by anything but indigenous magic, so the aura would be harmonious and restful. A perfect hopefully temporary sanctuary.
There were complaints. There were always complaints. The Strategy Committee headed off the worst of the whinging by requesting all concerns to be submitted in writing so that copies could also be sent to the Ministry. That would keep the cursing to a minimum as well as bolster their petition.
The meeting ended with petit-fours, canapés and gossip. Hermione retreated to a quiet corner to catch her breath. It had gone well. They would be able to present something to the Wizengamot quite soon and then the slog of legal appeal would begin. It felt good to be back in the fray again.
Madam Shafiq brought her coffee and congratulations. The fashionable witch had done a quick circuit of the crowd before drifting so naturally over to the Muggle-born. She toasted with cafe hellenico then aired a well-practised friendly smile.
"Well done, my dear. This is rather herding cats but you will save us from yourselves, again." Tabia carefully did not laugh. She was actually sincere in her appreciation as she had no wish for another arranged marriage. Particularly to someone with no breeding, manners or heritage.
"It's a group effort." Hermione sipped the black coffee and blinked at the rush of caffeine. "Can we count on you for a donation to the island sanctuary? Not everyone affected by the law has the resources to relocate to avoid it."
"Of course. My family will give generously." She had several nieces and nephews she fondly wished to remain at liberty for several more years. Tabia had seen nothing of the world before her wedding at seventeen. "May I offer personal congratulations on your marriage? I have known Marcus since he was a baby. I have never seen him so happy."
"Really?" Hermione asked, surprised.
"Really." Tabia chuckled softly. "May I offer some unsolicited advice? Consider politics. Oh, and keep him. It is difficult to find a wizard who will stand as a shield-man while his wife brings order to the cosmos."
"I don't need a husband to have my own career." Ms Granger, daughter and granddaughter of professional women, was not amused.
"No one does, dear, but speaking as a woman who had to bite her tongue while the reckless idiot she was married to nearly ruined her life, it is nice to have someone who listens." Madam Shafiq raised her coffee cup in salute. "You will have to fight for your due all your life. Find a rock to brace against."