Chapter 135 – Fish Out of Water
Harry was livid that Severus and Sirius had allowed their mutual antagonism to progress to a duel – how dare they! He was pacing around the sitting room, unable to sit quietly, his robes swirling about him in a manner very reminiscent of the dungeon's other resident. The two people he cared most about, and there they were, trying to kill each other! He was glad that he removed their wands and immobilized them, he thought, as he put the two wands on the desk. While he supposed they could do some damage to each other with their fists, that did not seem so immediately lethal as the kinds of spells they were sending at each other. At least they seemed to have calmed down very significantly once he'd yelled at them. He wasn't too worried about leaving them in the hall, even as he cancelled his spell, although he was acutely aware of the time and ready to go after them if they didn't come in to retrieve their wands in a few minutes.
When the two older wizards followed Harry into his rooms moments later, they still showed signs of being annoyed at each other, but both had cooled significantly. Harry stopped mid-swirl when the two entered. "Calmed down now, have you?" he asked, still a bite in his tone.
Sirius reached him first, retrieving his wand with one hand, while pulling Harry into a hug around the shoulder with the other, planting a kiss atop the shorter wizard's head. "Yeah, Pronglet. We're OK now, thanks to you."
Severus collected his own wand, directing a look of disapproval at the man now blatantly pawing his bondmate. His anger might have dissipated, but he was left in an unsettled frame of mind. He chose to ignore Sirius. "Did you wish to speak to me, Harry?" he asked.
Harry moved away from Sirius and turned to face them both. "Actually, I did. I had a visit from the ravens right before lunch. I asked for sandwiches here so I could write down my notes once they left, so I didn't forget anything. Severus, you always help me capture the details, so I hope I got it all. But I certainly didn't expect a visit today, after they visited yesterday, and once it began, I couldn't go to you."
Sirius looked confused and a bit concerned. "Ravens? They're still coming around?" He'd learned about the ravens in general, in conversation with Harry, but was unaware that they had become Harry's more regular companions.
"Yeah, Padfoot. They've been visiting again for a while. They were interrupting me in class, so I asked that they visit before lunch."
Sirius shot a look at Severus, who scowled back, but shrugged – yes, these magical familiars accommodated Harry's preferences.
"I usually come to Severus' office before lunch, and I describe what I'm seeing to him, and he asks questions if anything isn't clear. I didn't expect them today, after a really detailed vision yesterday, but they came anyway. Still the same old-time weapons as yesterday; bows and arrows, that sort of thing. Like yesterday, maybe 50 men, not wearing uniforms, in a field, learning to use the weapons. Like the first time, before the first attack. No great sense of urgency – that was actually the strongest feeling I got from the ravens today. The men are learning, and probably planning, but it's not something that will happen immediately."
Severus looked thoughtful at the news. "That is good to know. I shall let the Headmaster know."
Severus moved toward the door, but Harry wasn't done. He chose his words carefully, since they weren't alone. "Actually, there's more. I'd like to ask a favor of you. I'd like you to meet with Hermione and me and that lady that Mr. Malfoy asked to help identify the man who attacked you."
Again, Sirius looked concerned. "I wouldn't trust anyone Malfoy works with," he spat.
"Actually, Black, she's already been here. Madam Bunswil – name ring a bell?" Severus replied snarkily, fairly certain that even the lone Gryffindor from an ancient Slytherin family would recognize that name immediately.
Severus' supposition was correct. "Her! She's been to Hogwarts? What is Albus thinking? My blasted grandfather, and my father, thought the world of her, hardly a sterling recommendation. She was always tied up in their business, and you can imagine what that involved!" Sirius sputtered, his agitation clear.
"Calm down, the two of you," Harry said, taking control of the conversation again. "Madam Bunswil met with Hermione, and Hermione was actually very impressed with her. She's got some strange talent – she apparently picks up all kinds of things about people from their magic. She made her living by helping some of the old families" – he waved his hand to quiet Sirius, who was clearly about to burst – "yes, mostly Slytherin families, assess the people they were going to do business with, or even people they proposed to marry their children to."
"Why on earth would Granger want to speak to her?" Sirius asked, at least now past his gut reaction to the old Slytherin confidante.
"Hermione has a theory that magic gets loose, and gets picked up by others, when someone dies violently. She figured that's how I became a parselmouth, from Voldemort, and how I got the ravens, from the Eye of Odin. She's been researching other incidents. She sent her article to a journal and the editor asked for more proof. She figured the man who attacked Severus died violently, so maybe his magic was loose, and we assumed I might have picked up some of it. She wanted to learn as much as she could about his magic, so we'd know what to look out for if I, or anyone else who was at the ceremony, showed signs of having acquired his magic. The Aurors hadn't got anywhere on that case, so Mr. Malfoy asked Madam Bunswil to help, and she identified the man. Of course, Hermione wanted to know more than just his name, so she asked if she could meet with her. Madam Bunswil visited here a week or so ago. Hermione met with her in the Headmaster's office."
Severus stroked his chin, watching Sirius calm down. Curious. The man's emotions were stirred so easily – it took very little, really, to get him extremely upset. But it all turned off, just as fast, if someone simply gave him answers to his questions. That particular answer should have provoked quite a few more questions, if not a rant in its own right. Yet here was Black, intellectual curiosity of a flobberworm, quite satisfied.
Sure enough, Sirius took his leave just a moment later, with the rather useless observation "Well, you need to be careful with that woman, given the company she's kept over the years!"
When the door closed behind Sirius, Severus turned his attention back to Harry.
"That was not much in terms of news from the ravens today," he observed.
Harry handed over the parchment. "Well, there might be a bit more there that you and the Headmaster can ferret out. I wrote down notes as soon as they left. But the main thing, really, from them today was that this is preparation, not an immediate attack."
Severus nodded as he took the parchment, but kept his eyes on Harry. "Is there more about this Bunswil woman? Why did you even bring that up in front of Black?"
Harry suspected he was caught out, but soldiered on, nonetheless. "Actually, that was the reason I wanted to speak to you, but Sirius was here. I didn't think it would get quite the reaction it did, but it's important. I really need for you to meet with Madam Bunswil. I'd like to arrange a meeting with Hermione, you, me and her, if that's OK? Hermione said the Headmaster said something about students aren't supposed to meet privately with someone who is not a relative without a member of staff being present."
"I'm to be a chaperone?" Severus asked, confused and growing suspicious.
"No, not really." Harry sighed, realizing this wasn't going to work if he didn't come clean about the reason for the meeting. "Actually, we think we have figured out what happened to the would-be assassin's magic. It was broken up when he was killed, and I think it did get absorbed by someone. This might actually prove to be really important to the fight against Voldemort, so I want us to be sure and to understand what is happening."
Severus leveled a look at Harry that went past questioning, to demanding. Harry realized he had to continue.
"Madam Bunswil told Hermione a few things about the man who died, about his magic. I've seen evidence of that magic recently, and want to confirm my suspicions. If this is real, we need to know that and learn how to use it."
Severus' look told Harry that his bondmate still wasn't satisfied, even though the man remained silent.
"I think you absorbed some of that man's magic, Severus."
Harry realized he was holding his breath as he watched Severus' reaction to that news. It was an interesting display of emotions on the normally stoic face: rage, for sure, disgust, a bit. But there might have been some fear in there, too. And anger. Not surprisingly, given that this was Severus, anger asserted itself most prominently.
Severus struggled briefly to get himself under control. "This is nonsense. I perceive nothing different about my magic. You are way off here, you and your little friend," he sneered. He swirled as he made his way to the door.
Harry nearly ran to get in front of Severus, to block his exit, and was as placating as he could be. "No, Severus, I'm not off. We were all looking for me to show some of that man's magic, because we assumed I'd be the one who would grab it, given my past. But I realized the other day, I don't fit the profile here at all. My magic wasn't disturbed by the spell he cast; yours was. Hermione was told to look for instances where I had an insight or something that I just knew, but did not know how I knew it; that's a trait Madam Bunswil said she would expect, based on the man's magic."
Harry stopped for a second, to give Severus time to absorb what he just said. Then he continued, "You are the one who knows that there will be three battles, and I'm to participate in just the third."
Severus took a sharp breath as he considered this. It had bothered him for a while now, that absolute certainty about something, for which he had no explanation. Absorb another wizard's magic? It almost felt like a physical violation! But, it did answer that nagging question, he reluctantly supposed.
Taking advantage of Severus' distraction as he processed this information, Harry took him by the arm and led him to the sofa, getting him seated. Harry sat next to him, still holding his arm, looking at him with concern. "Look, it's a bit of a shock, I know that. But really, it all fits. If we can confirm what's going on, and maybe even find out how you can make this happen at will, it will really help. Won't it?" Harry released his grip on Severus' bicep, and took the man's hand in both of his own.
For his part, Severus collected himself. Once again, he had to push his personal concerns aside, and focus on others; at least, he'd had lots of practice with that. He studied the flame in the fireplace as he thought this through. Finally, he relaxed a bit, and Harry smiled at him encouragingly.
"Well," Severus began slowly, nearly stopping there. "I don't see that I have a choice. I suppose I should draw some comfort from the fact that you have been adding magic to your already substantial supply, and you seem to be dealing with it."
Harry smiled warmly at that, and gave Severus' hand a squeeze. "Madam Bunswil told Hermione that her theory explained things she's been seeing for years. You see, she doesn't just see things about people with magic and their magical skills, but where the magic came from, the geography of it. She told Hermione that she's assessed the magic of people who she knew were from a particular place, but often found a bit of magic in them from someplace entirely different. There's every reason to believe that this is not such a rare occurrence." Harry's expression became hopeful. "You'll meet with her?"
Grudgingly, Severus nodded. "I shall do so, if she is willing to return to Hogwarts. But privately. I will share with you and your Miss Granger the ultimate conclusion; if Madam Bunswil confirms that she sees the assassin's magic in me, I will tell you that. The rest, . . . well, I'd prefer to speak to her on my own."
He quirked an eyebrow at Harry, inviting a response. For his part, Harry was beyond pleased that Severus had even agreed to the meeting with Madam Bunswil, and the fact that he and Hermione were to be excluded was not going to dampen that.
"No, no. I'm really glad you'll do this for me, Severus. Share what you are willing, but just learn what you can about this magic. It can help us," he said, as he caught sight of a second parchment in Severus' hands, beneath his note about the visit from the ravens. "What's the other parchment? I don't remember you having one in the hall. And didn't Sirius have one, just now?"
"Oh, this," Severus allowed, setting Harry's note aside and unfurling the parchment that recorded the latest King's Law. "It would appear that Magic read your intention out there in the corridor a bit more formally than you might have intended." He passed the parchment over to Harry, whose jaw went slack as he read it.
"How . . . What . . .. " Harry sputtered, not knowing where to begin.
Severus smirked as usual, but there was more amusement than snarkiness in his expression. "Eloquent as always, Mr. Potter. It would seem that, even though you did not specify that you were pronouncing a new law, Magic saw it that way. After the original parchment disappeared, Black and I were each provided with these copies for our reference. Curiously, it developed that Black could not utter the words that would call my honor into question, and I was unable to strike him for the words he'd uttered previously."
"How, exactly, does this work?" Harry wanted to know, gesturing with the parchment, and looking far less than pleased with this development, but intrigued in spite of that.
"Well, you saw what happened the first time you pronounced the King's Law. Your words were recorded on a charmed parchment, and a copy was left behind. Your words had the effect of law, and as a consequence of that first time, your beloved mongrel became a free man. Today, the same general process followed, even without your stating that you were pronouncing law."
"How can that happen? And what does it mean?" Harry went on. Then, with a gleam in his eyes, he added, "Can I use this to help us fight Voldemort?"
"All good questions, for which I have no answers. I am going to speak to the Headmaster. There might be references to this in some of those ancient manuscripts he located in the Headmasters' Library," Severus allowed with a sigh. "I'm sure Albus has kept them handy, just in case."
Severus accepted Harry's offer to set up an appointment for him to meet with Madam Bunswil at her earliest convenience while he paid a visit to the Headmaster with the parchment evidencing Harry's latest foray into the world of Kingship.
Albus was absolutely fascinated with the parchment that Severus presented to him after waving away the offered lemon drops. "Just like the first time, you say? But without any spell pronouncing this as law?" Albus probed.
"Yes, just like that other time, except without the spell. The words were burned into a parchment that appeared behind Potter. When he was done, that parchment disappeared and Black and I were presented with a copy each. Any challenge to my honor was simply not possible at that point. Black tried, but could not form the words." Severus decided to leave out his own attempts to attack Black for the words used earlier; the point was adequately made using Black as an example, he reasoned.
"Is it possible that Harry did this himself to stop your argument, maybe speaking the spell before he entered the hall?" Albus persisted.
"No, it is not possible. He was absolutely stunned to see the parchment, slack-jawed, actually. Dissembling is not his strong suit. I'm quite confident this is not a prank on his part. This is a real law, as pronounced by the King, even though he didn't specify it as such."
Albus looked like a child who'd been given a new and fascinating toy. "I will have to look into this, my boy. I will see if there is anything about this spontaneous pronouncement of King's Law in the Headmasters' Library, and maybe there's something about how this operates."
"Harry was most interested if this could be used in the effort against Voldemort," Severus volunteered.
"Of course, of course. He'd wanted to know if the King's Banishment could be used to banish Voldemort, I remember. I fear that there will be no easy solutions to Voldemort, even for a King. But, still, we want to know as much as we can about any unexpected weapons that present themselves to us," Albus agreed.
On the subject of another unexpected weapon, to Severus' slight surprise, Harry informed him when he returned to their rooms that Madam Bunswil was most willing indeed to return to Hogwarts, quite amenable to flooing to meet with him privately, and even offered to make the trip that very afternoon. Dobby had helped Harry arrange for her to step through the floo to their rooms, rather than use his office, to keep this visit as private as possible. After all, Harry's office was right next door to the Headmaster's office, so that might not be private enough.
Harry was working on a Charms project in the Gryffindor common room at the time he'd set for the appointment. He had figured if Severus was willing to invite him to any part of the meeting, it was best that he be easy to locate by a house elf, plus it gave him something to do while he waited for the outcome of this meeting.
Severus was as startled as Hermione had been by the old woman's appearance, a bohemian dowager with kind eyes and a very engaging disposition, not at all what he expected. After his own rather stilted, formal greetings, she declined his offer of tea in favor of a whiskey, neat. Severus was surprised, as that was his own drink of choice, and how he preferred to take it. He poured out two glasses, and sat across from his guest, looking as miserably uncomfortable as he felt.
Madam Bunswil wasted no time in starting a conversation, hoping to set the man at ease, but also to get onto the topic of his magic. "Lord Snape, it is quite a pleasure to meet you. I knew your father of course, not well, but we met a number of times, mostly through Lord Malfoy, senior, of course. And your mother – I'd met her perhaps twice, very briefly. I must say, your magic is not what I would have expected, based on your parents' magic. Usually, there are threads, similarities, that run through families. You are not," and here she paused for a beat as she tilted her head and peered at him intently, "well, not what I would have expected."
Severus swallowed. He bit back a sharp response to what he felt was a hugely presumptuous and insulting statement. He had to, given who she was and why she was there. He could not say nothing, however. "I am not sure, Madam, if I ought to take offense at that statement," he replied neutrally.
"A statement of fact, sir, not a value judgment, goodness, no," she waved him off. "Your father had an aggressive nature, evident in his magic, very worried about being taken advantage of, I think. He was not particularly sly or cunning, but vengeful. I remember your mother because she was such an interesting contrast to him. She was almost lost in her own world, fascinated as she was with old legends and her potion work. Perhaps you represent a very unique and unusual blending of their magic, drawing yours not from the topnotes of theirs, but from their deeper resonances. Most intriguing."
That was a surprisingly placating and perceptive answer, one that Severus immediately appreciated. He actually agreed whole-heartedly with this stranger's assessment of his parents, although he'd never considered her suggestion about himself. "And perhaps all the magic I have right now did not come directly from them," he ventured.
She sat back and tilted her head again, a smile playing on her lips. "That was apparent the moment I shook your hand, Lord Snape. Your family is of ancient British stock, I know that and it's obvious in your magic. But there is something in your magic that clearly is not from your magical lineage. It matches quite strongly the magic I detected in that awful young man who attacked you. I told your student, Miss Granger, that I've seen this phenomenon many times over the years. A bit of magic that's out of place. But there it is. And it is, most definitely, there in you."
Severus took a deep sip of his whiskey as he considered that. "Tell me about this magic," he said flatly.
"Gladly, my dear man," she began, a smile still on her face as she leaned forward and patted his arm. "It's actually quite exciting for me, you see. It's not terribly rare magic, in itself, but I don't believe I've ever encountered a situation where it was held by someone as magically powerful as you are. The possibilities here are most intriguing."
Madam Bunswill explained to Severus, as she had to Hermione, about the apparent presence of Roma magic in the Szlay clan, the nature of that magic, and her own personal experience, as a reasonably powerful witch with Roma heritage. He took it all in with what she felt was remarkable sang froid.
"And my path with this magic was largely uncharted," she continued. "I was the first member of my clan to be invited to Beauxbatons. I realized at school that I had a skill that others did not have. Not something to share with others, it seemed, but I worked hard on my own to understand it, learn more about it, and find out how to expand and exploit it."
Severus looked up sharply at that last statement. "Exploit this? How?"
"I came from modest means, and had I returned to my village, my path would have been the same as the one trod by my parents, and their parents, and so on. It was not what I wanted, so I knew I had to make my own way. I developed techniques to quiet my mind and bring these insights from my magic to the fore. Using this magic strengthened it, and made it easier to access, more available to me. I also came to realize that I could trust what this magic told me. There were people to whom these insights were valuable, and I had the good fortune to procure introductions among a number of them, all wealthy businessmen."
She leaned back and took a sip of her own whiskey before concluding, "And a hundred seventy-five years later, here I am!"
"Could you teach me how to use this magic?" Severus asked, almost in spite of himself.
"You are already a renowned Occlumens, Lord Snape, so you have fully mastered the hardest part of this, the element that defeats most with this magic. When your mind is quiet and clear, you can sense the subtleties of the insights you have. Sometimes, an insight will be overwhelmingly powerful, and it asserts itself even if you do nothing to bid it forward, but you are actually perceiving and understanding things all the time. When your mind is still, you allow this magic to work. The more you do it, the easier it will be to sense the whispers in your mind, develop them and understand their meanings."
Severus mulled this over, swirling the small amount of whiskey still in the bottom of his glass.
Madam Bunswil knew he was conflicted, so she went on. "This is not fluff or nonsense, I can assure you. It's very real magic. Most with it never get past meaningless parlor tricks because they cannot draw upon it at will, or they never learn how to find the more subtle nuances that are disclosed. But someone who can control their mind and create the opportunity for this to develop can find remarkable things. You might even find new paths for this magic, Lord Snape, given your existing skills and your remarkable power. Perhaps my story is just the beginning of yours."
Severus was brought up by her comments, speaking as they did to the very thought nagging him. Where was this going to take him?
"I found that a meditation practice helped me, years ago, to enhance my gift," she volunteered, watching him closely. "Of course, I have no experience with Occlumency. You begin at a place that I have still not reached."
She hesitated, realizing that she was still not speaking to the issue central in his mind. "Nothing requires that you do anything with this at all, actually. Ignoring this magic entirely is an option that you have. Likely, then only the truly powerful insights will work their way through to your conscious mind. At the very least, you now know that you can listen to the insight, as it is a valid harbinger."
She could see that he was still struggling. She realized with a start that he'd already had an insight or vision, probably a very powerful one. While she'd long ago forgotten her first brush with this sort of magic, she imagined it might be unsettling, especially for someone this much older than she had been, and with very strong magic as it was, and from a wholly different culture. So, she went on.
"This is an entirely personal matter, you realize. No one else knows what is in your magic – I have honed a skill that appears to be exceedingly rare, one I've never encountered in another. And no one else has to know that you have this particular gift. The path I followed was the right one for me, but this can be something that you hold very close, if you wish."
She saw that she had told him what he needed to hear. Severus' demeanor changed right before her eyes, as he relaxed.
Madam Bunswil herself leaned back in her chair and took a tiny sip of her drink as she took in her surroundings. Magic told her much about a person, but she learned at least as much from the things with which a wizard surrounded himself.
Severus watched his guest peering about his parlor with undisguised interest, and it was evidence of his own relief that he saw her attention not as nosy prying, but as clear appreciation for the few trinkets and items on display. "Madam, I appreciate your visit today," he began, a bit less awkward than before. "You have put my mind at ease. I had promised my bondmate and Miss Granger that I would tell them of your conclusion about my having added magic, but I will keep the remainder of our conversation private, at least for now. I trust I can rely on your discretion?"
"Of course, young man!" she enthused. "When Miss Granger's owl arrived inviting me back to meet with you, I was very excited myself to learn that someone was just beginning on the journey on which I have been these many years. At this point, you are just becoming acquainted with this new element of your magic, and I hope I gave you a few pointers in that direction. As time passes, I invite you to owl me, please, with any questions about what you experience. This is most exciting, and I am at your service to help you on your way."
"There is, of course, the matter of the fee for your services," Severus continued, not entirely sure what this would cost, but aware that he had requested a professional consultation for which he assumed a fee was due.
She waved the thought away with her hand, jewels sparkling in the firelight as she did so. "I will not hear of it, Lord Snape! This is not a consultation, it is a visit between two individuals with a most remarkable shared . . . interest, shall we say? It was my privilege to meet you, and start you on what I know will be a most remarkable journey."
Severus had caught the reference to Miss Granger's owl. Hadn't she mentioned Harry's involvement? He knew Harry was probably bursting to meet her, and it occurred to him that Madam Bunswil might be just as interested in meeting Harry.
"Madam Bunswil, may I invite you to stay at Hogwarts for supper, as it's growing late? The meal will be served in the Great Hall, in half an hour or so. In the meantime, I know that my bondmate would be most interested in meeting you. I believe he is studying and imagine he would be most pleased for an excuse to break early."
She positively beamed that the offer. "Thank you, and of course, I would be thrilled to meet the young King. I gathered that Miss Granger felt he would be the one to add the magic that was loosed at the death of the attacker?" she replied.
Severus nodded at Dobby, standing watchfully near the fireplace, presumably invisible to his guest, who popped off as soon as Madam Bunswil accepted the invitation. He then addressed his guest's question. "I believe that he and Miss Granger were of that opinion, yes. Apparently, after several of his friends spent some time watching him and finding nothing of what you told them to look for, it occurred to Harry that I'd exhibited something that fit exactly what you said to look for."
She'd already realized as much, and nodded as she struggled a bit to her feet. "Lord Snape, would you mind terribly if I took a closer look at that picture over there?" she asked, gesturing to the photo taken at the Weasley baby's christening. Severus gallantly brought it over to her.
She had a broad smile on her wrinkled face, and her eyes gleamed as she studied the picture. Remarkable, quite remarkable. She could see the emotion between the two men holding the infant, but there was something else at play here, involving their magic. She could not put her finger on it, but then it was rare for her to get a detailed reading about magic from just a photograph. Lord Snape's magic was an amazing surprise in its own right, and she expected she'd understand more when Lord Potter arrived.
She handed the photograph back to her host with the neutral remark that it was a lovely photo.
Not a few moments later, the door opened and Harry hurried in, still flushed from the obvious run at which he'd come from Gryffindor tower. Severus was just about to present Harry to his guest when he realized she was no longer standing beside him. Harry saw her crumble to the ground first and was able to use wandless magic to arrest her fall before she touched the floor. Severus did a double-take when he realized what had occurred, and quickly helped Harry direct their now-unconscious guest to the sofa. She revived before they had the chance to summon Madam Pomfrey.
"Oh, my apologies! Oh, my, this has never happened to me before," she fluttered, as she allowed Severus to help her into a sitting position.
"Perhaps we ought to summon the school's mediwitch," Severus suggested, as Harry was already moving toward the fireplace.
"Absolutely not, Lord Snape! Totally unnecessary! I had opened my magic for our conversation, and that seems to have left me in a particularly vulnerable, unprotected state when Lord Potter arrived. The strength of his magic momentarily overwhelmed me, that is all," she replied crisply, her voice regaining its power.
Harry summoned a glass of water and offered it to her, as he sat beside her on the sofa. "Are you sure, Madam Bunswill? I'm sure Madam Pomfrey would be happy to step through, to be sure you are alright."
"Such a lovely young man you are, Lord Potter!" she gushed, patting his hand. "To be concerned like this for an old woman! No, my dear, I am quite fine. Your magic just overwhelmed me, really. The strength, of course, ancient strength, plus something else. Quite remarkable! I've never seen anything like this. And there is a most unusual, most unusual indeed, connection between you and your bondmate." She settled back against the sofa cushions and took a sip of her water, as she looked between the two. "Two most remarkable young men, you are."
Harry studied Madam Bunswil's face for a second to assure himself that she was alright, and then looked away to Severus. "So, Severus, any conclusions about you?" he asked.
Severus nodded. "It appears that you and your friend were correct. Madam Bunswil confirmed that I have magic that is not from my familial inheritance."
Harry smiled fondly at the overly complicated answer. 'Yes' or 'you were right' would have sufficed.
"I am not divulging the details of the magic at this time. It appears that Miss Granger's theory is quite correct, but my case will not serve as her proof. You may confirm to her that she is right, but I will share no more at this time," Severus continued.
Harry nodded with a tinge of resignation. "We figured as much. She will understand. Knowing that it's really just a matter of time until she is able to get the final proof will hold her. Can we be confident that your insights are to be trusted?" Harry's main concern was not what Hermione could be told, but whether Severus' strange conviction about the three battles and Harry's role in just the last could be relied upon.
Severus just nodded in reply, and Harry took his cue, and said no more about that.
Madam Bunswil was inwardly pleased that her realization that something had, indeed, already broken through from this magic to Lord Snape's conscious mind. What it might be did not particularly concern her. She gingerly moved forward to stand, and was helped to her feet by the two younger men, whose gallantry was rewarded by a beaming smile. "Oh, such lovely young men! Thank you for your assistance. Now, Lord Snape, you mentioned dinner?"
X X X X X X X X X X
The helicopter ride that Vernon took from a small local airstrip up to Sir Harold's estate was the first of his life, and it would not particularly bother him if it was the last. He needed two seat belt extenders to get buckled into the contraption for the ride. At first he found the entire process very uncomfortable and confining, but when the machine took to the air and started bucking and tossing, the only thing that kept the horror of the flight at bay was the pain he felt being pushed against the restraints.
Charles Frost turned green from the experience. What Vernon and their host did not know, of course, was that it was taking all of Cornelius Fudge's self control to not apparate his way out of this absurd contraption.
Reggie Mason was thrilled to have been included on the trip, and had much more experience flying in helicopters. A number of the estates he represented were rather remote from Surrey and several of his clients had private airplanes and helicopters. He found Sir Harold's helicpoter quite luxurious based on what he'd experienced in more utilitarian transports.
Sir Harold himself was totally at ease; he had a pilot's license for small airplanes and was starting to work at qualifying for a license for this kind of aircraft. He noticed that his guests were not all comfortable, so refrained from offering any beverages or nibbles until after they were at his estate.
The men were all assigned to guest bedrooms in the manor house, and given a couple of hours to unpack and rest, or recover from the experience of the flight, before joining Sir Harold and the Brigadier for drinks in the library. Vernon needed to sit for a few minutes for his stomach to settle, but then he was driven by curiosity to get up and waddle around his room. He'd never stayed in a place that absolutely reeked of old money like this. He even studied an oil painting hung over the desk, craning his neck to verify that there were brush marks on the surface. He made his way slowly around the room, carefully checking all of the marvelous (and clearly expensive) accoutrements scattered about. He so wished he'd thought to bring a camera – Petunia and Marge would be so impressed!
At the appointed time, he joined the others in the library, another space crammed with impressive antiques and obviously rare and expensive accessories. Even the glass in which his aperitif was offered by a liveried butler glittered in the firelight. Vernon was terribly torn between a desire to present an image of someone quite used to these kinds of surroundings, and to sneak peeks and inspect everything. Reggie seemed to be in a similar situation, trying mightily to appear worldly while surreptitiously trying to take everything in.
As the two chatted, while appearing to casually inspect some antique maps framed on one wall, Vernon caught sight of Charles Frost, the last of the group to arrive. Reinforcing Vernon's perception of Charles as a man of means, he observed that the older man seemed almost oblivious to their surroundings, accepting his drink and enjoying it as he took a seat in a leather club chair and studied the fire in the enormous fireplace.
The small talk persisted for a while, as Sir Harold and the Brigadier circulated among the guests, until dinner was announced.
Dinner was served in a small room just off the library, on a round table set with antique plates and very heavy silver. The table, draped with crisply-pressed linen, very comfortably accommodated the small party. Vernon waddled in quickly, and was pleased to find himself seated next to their host. He'd be regaling friends, family, and even casual acquaintances, with reminiscences of this private dinner seated next to Sir Harold Beckwith for months, he was sure.
Sir Harold lifted his wine glass. "Gentlemen! A toast! To our efforts to wipe the scourge of magic from our land!" All responded with a "Here! Here!" and sipped at their glasses.
The Brigadier spoke next. "Gents, we've gotten some sobering news from London this evenin'. The attacks by the magical people have stepped up, greatly, over the last week, as I'm sure everyone here knows. But late this afternoon, well," the military man went on, clearly struggling to maintain his composure, "I've never seen the likes. Seven airplanes crashed at Heathrow – just came down out of the sky. Enormous damage, and loss of life. And no fewer than five massive explosions throughout London. At first, it was thought they've targeted the underground, but reports are still coming in. It might have been just a coincidence that a few underground stations were hit, as they were near power stations."
Everyone at the table looked very sober and upset at the news. Vernon spoke first – his jowly face now a deep pink, and getting redder. "Damn them, damn all the freaks. The mission we are planning is more important than ever now, and we can't fail."
The meal that followed was not as celebratory as it otherwise would have been, as each attendee processed the ever-higher stakes in their war against magic.
The next morning, at an hour much earlier than Vernon felt was strictly necessary, the men spilled out of the manor and into a small fleet of Range Rovers, for the drive down to the camp. They joined the men up for training for breakfast, and then Vernon, Reggie and Sir Harold watched some of the training. Vernon was particularly amazed at the trebuchet, while Reggie and Sir Harold seemed quite taken with the longbows, even to the point at joining in with the younger men training to try their hands.
Charles and the Brigadier set off in one of the Range Rovers for the drive the magic castle, so the Brigadier could begin the process of planning the assault. At Cornelius' instruction, they left the vehicle behind some trees, and walked the rest of the way. Cornelius wanted to be sure that they had a good view of Hogwarts as well as Hogsmeade, so the Brigadier would have a clear understanding of the geography of the area.
Once Cornelius pointed out where Hogwarts stood, the vague stone outcropping came into clear view for his companion. "Amazing, Frost, just amazing. Once you told me where it was, I saw it clearly. Clever, very clever. And just that low stone fence protects it?" the Brigadier wanted to know.
"No, that's the problem," Cornelius grumbled. "They have some kind of magic, I think they call it 'wards,' that protects the castle and the grounds. We can't penetrate it. We've also learned that our regular weapons can be disabled by magic – they can do something to the ammunition. The old-time weapons don't use the same ammunition, so those are harder for them to stop. No, what we need to do, Brigadier, is draw them out and away from the castle, into a fight. The castle itself is not the objective, it's the people in the castle."
Cornelius watched curiously as the Brigadier lifted some odd-looking contraption to his face and peered through it toward Hogwarts. "I don't see that many of them around the castle," he observed as he looked. "Just a few tents, it seems to me."
Cornelius assumed that the contraption helped him see more clearly. "Most of them are probably inside, now that it's getting cold. It's a pretty big place. But we have to make the ones inside want to come out, that's the trick."
The Brigadier gave him a funny look. "We have to get them out of a magic castle where they are completely protected? And how do we propose to do that?"
Cornelius had given this a great deal of thought. He pointed off to the right. "There – that's Hogsmeade, it's one of their towns. I found it in the records of the Post, so it's a real town, but it's all magic people that live in it. We attack there."
The Brigadier frowned; attacking civilian targets was not acceptable to him. However, he followed the direction Charles was pointing, and looked through his field glasses. "Mmmm. I do see people, for sure." He zoomed in closer. "Not dressed like normal folk, are they? Don't see no cars. Odd looking place."
"Odd, indeed. All magic, actually. And given that we can see it clearly, that town is not nearly as protected as the castle and its inhabitants. If we attack their kind, I'm confident that the ones in the castle, the ones who are leading this scourge, will come to their defense. And then, we'll have the advantage of our troops and the old weapons, and be able to engage them in a battle where their magic won't be an advantage."
A small smile crept onto the Brigadier's weathered face, as he carefully scanned the small community perched near a railway station. Those were not civilians, those were magical people, for sure – the enemy. He spent a bit of time making notes on a map he'd unfolded, identifying landmarks and places that afforded some protections. Attacking that magic town was a very do-able exercise, and it did make sense that the ones in the castle would defend the town. He wasn't sure why, but he found himself agreeing with Frost about the difficulty of attacking the castle, even as it stood there looking totally undefended. He shrugged that off, and focused on the town.
An hour later, he and Frost walked back to the Range Rover and returned to Sir Harold's estate.
X X X X X X X X X X
Petunia had taken advantage of her husband's trip to have a quiet afternoon and evening. She enjoyed two new magazines that had recently arrived, and took the time to try out a new recipe for poached salmon; it looked delicious but was far too light dinner fare for Vernon. She had her dinner all prepared, with a nice salad, and sat down to eat it in the dining room, rather than the kitchen. It felt odd, to be eating a rather fancy meal all by herself, but she shook that off. She deserved this.
As she finished her coffee, very pleased with her meal, she realized with a start that a big barn owl was perched on one of the chairs on the porch, peering in at her. She eyed it warily, and it watched her back. She gestured for it to "shoo" but it just blinked back at her. She stayed seated, but looked more closely at its feet, and sure enough, there was a large envelope.
Petunia remembered that owls tended to want food – the one that had gotten into her kitchen had eaten her sandwich. Keeping her eyes on the owl, she carefully stood and sidled out of the dining room into the kitchen, taking her plate with her. She found a paper plate in the cupboard and scraped the leavings from her dish onto it, adding a small portion of left-over salmon as well. She opened the door from the kitchen and pushed the paper plate out into view on the slate floor, closing the door quickly behind her. She hurried back to the sliding doors off the dining room, and was relieved to see the envelope sitting on the chair while the owl had gone to inspect the food she'd just put out the other door. She grabbed the envelope, and closed the door as fast as she could.
She went into the lounge with the letter, her heart still pounding from the fright of seeing the big owl. She opened it carefully, and was relieved that it was a note from Amaranth. How odd, though – it began with rather frantic expressions of concern for her safety – what could that be about? Petunia had kept the telly off all afternoon, enjoying the quiet for a while, and then playing some music on the old record-player to keep her company while she cooked and ate. Now a bit concerned, she turned on the television set.
There was a news broadcast that apparently preempted regular programming, and all manner of awful things had been happening this afternoon. Airplanes had crashed and there were a number of explosions across London. She watched in fascinated horror for several moments, before glancing down in her lap at the note that had alerted her to all this. How could Amaranth have known about the events so quickly, and then gotten a note to her so fast?
Petunia had a moment of panic when she wondered if Vernon was alright, given all this madness. The reports were clear that the events were all within London, and Vernon had left from Surry to fly up to Sir Harold's estate in Scotland, so he was not impacted by these attacks. It finally occurred to Petunia to reassure herself that this mayhem was restricted to London and not going on just outside her door. A quick peek out the front window suggested that everything was normal. There were a few cars driving up the street, and it looked like many of the neighbors were in their front lounges watching television, as well.
She did not encounter her neighbors until the following morning, as she returned from church.
Clarice saw her car drive past, and she donned her coat and hurried down the road to intercept Petunia before she would get inside. "Morning, Petunia!" she called, cutting across the lawn.
"Oh, hello, Clarice. Nice morning, isn't it?" Petunia answered. "We've been due for a bit of sunshine for a while now. Nasty business in the world, though."
Clarice shook her head. "I was just horrified when Jeremy called me to come see what was on the telly last night. Magic, they say?" She looked at her neighbor with a hint of accusation evident on her face. Hadn't the neighborhood learned last summer that the Dursleys had harbored a wizard in their own home? Granted, the boy was being touted as the wizard king, and appearing in all those announcements with the Royals, so he was a bit of a celebrity at the time, but was he the one behind all this? That put matters in a different perspective.
Petunia caught the look on her neighbor's face, and felt anger bloom. "Unfortunately, Vernon wasn't here yesterday afternoon," she said, rather certain that Clarice would have been among those peering out the window as he was collected in the Rolls Royce. "So I didn't even turn on the telly until after dinner. Quite the shock. Vernon is off at Sir Harold Beckwith's estate, so I'm on my own this weekend."
Clarice seemed intent on coming inside, so Petunia graciously offered a cup of tea and directed her guest into the lounge. The largest window in the house was the front window, and it had an unobstructed view of the sky, so the lounge was Petunia's favorite room these days.
Clarice immediately resumed the conversation, with "Sir Harold Beckwith?"
Petunia might not like Clarice all that much, but she was a neighbor, and quite the gossip. As good a way as any to get the story widely-known.
"Well, yes. You know, in the wake of the nonsense last summer, Vernon made the acquaintance of a number of gentlemen who were not in agreement with the placating attitude toward magic. He'd never put much store in magic, and became quite a catalyst for the anti-magic movement," she boasted. "He's been speaking all over, at community gatherings, for months now, he along with some local men. Sir Harold was of the same opinion and began to join in with them. He invited several of the leaders up to his estate in Scotland this weekend for a meeting; I'm guessing you saw Vernon being picked up yesterday afternoon? Sir Harold flew them all up to Scotland, and I expect they'll be back later this afternoon."
Those were Petunia's key points – Vernon's leadership, his acquaintance with Sir Harold, and the fact that Sir Harold sent a Rolls Royce saloon to collect him and then flew him up to Scotland. That would make the gossips green with envy, she was sure.
And Clarice's reaction was just what she'd wanted. Fawning and fussing, spending the rest of the time it took to finish her tea trying to wheedle every imaginable detail about Vernon's trip, and relationship with Sir Harold, Clarice was unable to control her excitement. She completely dropped the accusatory stance she'd had earlier about the Dursley's harboring a wizard.
But then, as Petunia was showing Clarice to the front door, the big owl swooped overhead, returning from wherever it went to a tree in the backyard.
"Owls! When did we have owls in these parts, Petunia?" Clarice remarked. "They are all over, it seems. At least, I've seen one near here now several times. Don't think I've seen one up at the other end of the block." She gave Petunia an odd look.
Petunia hated nothing more than being the recipient of odd looks.
"I suspect that there might be a problem with moles in one of the neighbor's yards," Petunia sniffed defensively. "I've noticed some problems with my plants along back fences, so maybe something's digging in the roots. I would imagine that if meals are near to hand, owls are willing to follow them. I might have seen an owl once, maybe twice before around here – hardly an infestation!"
Clarice looked a bit nervously overhead as she waved good-bye on her way back to her own house. Petunia looked nervously and guiltily at the sky herself. She went back into her kitchen to find a notecard and pen, so she could send a reply to Amaranth, assuring her of her continued good health and thanking her for her concern. And get rid of that owl, now that neighbors were starting to notice.