Chapter Three: Fruit of the Carrow Tree
"Master Goshawk, I'm afraid you've brought us a child in the place of our morning appointment. What error is this?"
The witch who had spoken was the only one standing.
She was not particularly tall, but her proud bearing made her seem much bigger than she was. The two wizards who were seated in the winged armchairs she stood between were clearly her relatives; Hermione could see without being told that the square, blunt features, avian-like eyes, and bold jawlines meant they were family.
Hermione was instantly intimidated by the family Carrow, as Master Goshawk had introduced them.
Master Goshawk was decidedly not.
"Lady Alecto, please, my darling. Your doubt is unbecoming of a witch of your nobility." Master Goshawk sealed the door with a casual wave of his wand, not looking away from Lady Alecto Carrow. "I have been a master of this institution longer than you've been alive. Please observe, for rare and unusual moments like this are teaching moments, above all. Miss Granger, please come and be seated with us."
Hermione didn't move.
The elderly man to the immediate right of Lady Alecto's short but looming figure made a noise that was somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle.
"Master Goshawk is correct, daughter. This is a teaching moment, above all. Observe how the Mudblood child is skittish as a Mooncalf foal. She likely hasn't acclimated to the presence of any Dark Magic, let alone the raw Darkness that flows in an institution such as The Symposium. We unnerve her, undoubtedly." The elderly wizard wasn't unkind as withdrew his wand and pointed at her. "Come, child. Let us take your cloak before you join us. We'll teach you to be civilized like a proper wizarding child, yet."
Hermione tried not to flinch as magic landed upon her squarely.
Her cloak removed itself from her body and floated away, putting itself on a hook near the door.
She felt exposed, standing there before a room of important wizards and a witch in her plainly Muggle clothing.
"Oh, my. You weren't exaggerating, Master Goshawk. She is indeed a feral Mudblood child," remarked the other wizard, the youngest one in the room who wasn't gray-haired or elderly like either Master Goshawk or Lady Alecto's father. The wizard tutted in disappointment as he scrutinized her. Hermione couldn't help but feel that her sleeveless blue shirt, plain black trousers, and comfortable sandals were the same as being starkers under his beady gaze. "Sister, are you sure you're up for this task? I mean, look at her. She quite literally just walked in off the street – the Muggle streets –"
"Amycus, mind yourself, please." The Elder Carrow interrupted the younger Carrow, sharply. Hermione clutched at her vine wand as the Elder Carrow turned his focus on her again and was cold politely, as he insisted: "Come be seated, young Mudblood. We've a short audience with one another, before we must move on with our day."
Hermione didn't think hesitating further would go well.
She nearly scurried to be seated before the Carrows.
Harry stood alone with a satchel of wizard gold clutched in one hand and his list of school supplies in the other.
He was on his own for the next hour or so.
Hagrid had said he needed to take care of an important errand that Harry couldn't come along for; he would not and could not discuss, but it wouldn't take very long, he'd claimed.
Harry wasn't bothered by suddenly being left without a guide.
There were a few things that he wanted to do for himself while he had the rare time alone and the impossible reality of having his own money to use. He didn't necessarily want Hagrid along to see how badly he needed so many basic things, so many things that he should have but didn't because of his miserable relatives.
Without any idea of what could be found in Diagon Alley or where it could be found, Harry set out by himself to do his own shopping for the first time in his life.
A lot of boys might think that shopping for basic items like underwear or socks was an awful way to spend their eleventh birthday, but Harry didn't. This was a better birthday than he had ever had, magical or not.
Madam Malkin's Robes was bigger on the inside than the narrow, quaint storefront looked from the outside, able to allow large groups of people in to browse and shop and be helped by salesclerks.
Harry nearly disappeared in a wave of parents and children seeking Hogwarts robes. He had to make himself separate from the crowd and stand clear of a second wave, before he was able to politely be approached by a salesclerk. Harry was thankful that the salesclerk that greeted him was a wizard. When he shared what he was looking for, Harry was hardly embarrassed; the wizard guided him an area of the shop that was less crowded with people and directed him into a fitting room.
The salesclerk wizard was very straightforward about Harry needing to undress and letting the magically enchanted measuring tape start the process. The wizard was almost whispering as he very kindly offered to dispose of the ragged, oversized clothing and trainers that Harry had taken off; the complementary gray robe and plain wizard's boots were the first pieces of wizard's clothes that Harry had ever owned.
Harry was more than happy to wait for the salesclerk to return with the properly sized items he needed. He looked at himself in the mirror, admiring how he now looked just like a wizard should.
Fleetingly, he thought of Hermione the girl-witch and her blue cloak from earlier.
Maybe if he came across her again, now that he looked like a proper wizard, he would be able to get more than a handshake and her name from her. Maybe she had been repelled by his embarrassingly ragged Muggle clothes and how he didn't look like he belonged in the Wizarding World, as if he weren't a proper wizard. She had said that her parents weren't magical, but clearly, she was well familiar with being a witch.
Her cloak and determination to get into Diagon Alley meant that she had definitely known about magic and the Wizarding World longer than he ever had.
Harry frowned slightly.
He wondered how many other people would be repelled by how far behind and how lost he was, despite being the famous and legendary hero that was so honored in this world.
"Hail, young wizard! That's no look to have upon your handsome face in a robe like that. Stand straight, look more noble!"
Harry turned on his heel, startled.
His eyes were wide as an elderly witch with white-blond hair came striding through the fitting room lobby with another witch, pausing to look at him. He had never had an elderly woman speak so warmly or casually affectionately to him. That she was clearly a witch, dressed in stunning turquoise robes and an enchanted hat, made it even more surreal.
"Hello, young wizard. You are well met." The younger of the two witches was blonde, as well but her long curls were darker. Harry blushed a little bit at how very, very beautiful she was, her curly hair like delicate spun gold and her smile bright and perfect. "Please forgive my mother-in-law for her vibrance. She couldn't help herself. You look very dashing in those robes."
The older of the witches tutted. "Oh, precious Narcissa, those are the wrong color entirely for him. Look at those eyes! Grey is a grave disservice. Please, young wizard, ask the salesclerk for green, blue, or purple; they'd very striking colors to have in a daily robe set."
Harry glanced back at his reflection in the mirror. He'd been so pleased to have one robe, his first ever robe; he hadn't considered that it would come in other colors.
"Thank you, madam," said Harry, sincerely. "I'll be sure to do that, when the salesperson comes back."
As if summoned, the salesclerk returned with several stacks of clothing floating behind him in the air with a spell. Harry was fascinated by the casual use of magic. The elderly witch made an encouraging motion to Harry that made him smile, slightly. Her daughter-in-law, Narcissa, smiled politely but touched her mother-in-law's arm, a bit insistently; they had just been passing through the fitting area, not actually meaning to have stopped.
"Excuse me, sir. If it isn't too much trouble, would I be able to get the colors of my daily robes to be –"
"Green! Green would be a lovely color on that young man." The elderly witch interrupted, before Harry could finish. With a knowing smile, she declared: "Please, Petrus, make that his signature color palette for whatever he is buying today. Charge it to my Gringotts account through the Denaris Stone on file."
Harry blinked.
A perfect stranger was paying for his clothing, simply because she thought he'd look good in the color green.
The salesclerk didn't seem surprised at all. "Oh, Lady Urania – ever so generous, as always. Spoiling young wizards everywhere as if they were your grandson! This young wizard is incredibly fortunate to receive your grace today, my Lady. Shall I charge to one of the Denaris Stones on the primary account or shall I charge it to your maiden account?"
Lady Urania was mischievous but elegant all at once as she answered. "Well, my brother has cancelled lunch because an appointment of his in Crosswise Alley has turned into something else. Assign the charge to my maiden account, Petrus. Let the House of Carrow be the source of my generosity today!"
Harry didn't know what to say. He had no idea who Lady Urania Carrow or her daughter-in-law Narcissa were, but it didn't seem to matter. Lady Urania Carrow had seemingly stopped at random, thought that Harry would look good in a certain shade, and then purchased his wardrobe without hesitation. If he weren't in the deep of a magical world, Harry would have wondered if Lady Urania and her daughter-in-law were fairy godmothers, bestowing magical gifts without rhyme or reason.
As it was, Lady Urania really did seem to be a random, wealthy witch, indulging a familiar fancy.
Narcissa touched her mother-in-law's elbow again, her winning smile going well with her kind goodbye. Lady Urania winked at Harry, waving merrily to the salesclerk.
The witches had left, as quickly as they had appeared, likely to onto whatever had taken the place of the cancelled lunch date that Lady Urania's brother had stayed in Crosswise Alley rather than attend.
Hermione felt as if she were on trial.
The plain chair that she sat in was central to the parlor, with the winged armchairs that the Carrow wizards occupied were angled towards her; from where she stood between them, Lady Alecto was able to stare at her directly. Under the piercing, flaying gaze of Lady Alecto, Hermione sat up straighter, crossed her legs at the ankles as was proper. There was something about the witch that made her instantly want to improve everything about herself or be found incredibly lacking.
Hermione wasn't comfortable with putting her wand away, but nobody complained or insisted that she did so.
"Hermione Granger, please meet Hektoris Carrow and his children – his younger son, Amycus, as well as the Lady of the House of Carrow, his only daughter, Alecto." Master Goshawk stood in the small space between the Carrows and herself as if he were brokering an important deal. "Hektoris, Amycus, Lady Alecto, this is the witch that was clever enough to seek The Symposium and willing enough to accept its magic and purpose for herself. Please, become familiar with one another as the profane and the sponsor."
Hektoris Carrow was clearly not in the mood to waste any time.
"Welcome to our sponsorship, young Mudblood. Master Goshawk has been our family's chosen petitioner for several generations. The House of Carrow trusts his skill and experience, as well as his selections. If Master Goshawk has selected you for our sponsorship, if he believes that you are worthy of our possible guardianship, it shall be."
Lady Alecto spoke up immediately after her father, for the first time since Hermione entered the room.
"Master Goshawk has a fine hand for choosing valuable Mudbloods who can truly become the fruit of The Symposium seeks to bear." Lady Alecto leaned forward slightly, unyielding in her winter-gold, dark stare. "Tell us, little girl – what makes you desire to abandon your misfortune of being a Mudblood and aspire to become a proper witch?"
Hermione glanced between the Carrows, quietly thoughtful before answering.
"Thank you for the honor of your sponsorship, Carrow family." Hermione knew that it was proper to do so, but didn't linger on her gratitude, continuing on with same words that had impressed Master Goshawk: "I am a witch of no magical origin, who has no family, no name, and no representative in the Wizarding World. I have come to The Symposium to find my place in the Wizarding World. I'd like to be welcomed."
Lady Alecto scoffed, disgracefully.
Hermione was startled, worried.
She felt like the eleven year old she was, unsure of what she'd done to draw up Lady Alecto's almost-instant disdain. The words had word well with Master Goshawk. He had seemed impressed and accepting, easily. None of the Carrows seemed impressed or accepting. Hektoris was staring at her with an unreadable look, while Amycus continued to look at her as if she were a wild beast that had wandered into his immaculate home.
Lady Alecto pinned her with a look that felt like the blade of a sword. "Tell the truth, little girl. You're a Mudblood. What makes you aspire to become more?"
Hermione bit her lip, nervously.
Her honesty could be the difference between all of this working better than she hoped or her being sent away from Crosswise Alley with nothing gained.
Hermione ignored how exposed she felt and looked at Lady Alecto just as directly, sharing the feeling she'd never voiced aloud to anyone but herself, before now.
"I aspire to become more being I'm not good enough, being born without magical parents. I want to be better than not good enough. The Symposium says that I can become purified from being a Mudblood through the power of Dark Magic. If I can become a proper witch through the devotion to Dark Magic, then that's what I want – to not be a Mudblood anymore."