Around the Bend.
Chapter 3. Favours.
Michael decided, in the end to just wear normal clothes, jeans, jumper, warm black woollen coat and hiking boots. He went out the back door, walked along the pavers in the back yard to the designated apparation spot- just next to the little barbecue. He apparated into Diagon alley, and immediately the bustle of people struck at him. He wobbled a little, which might have been the apparation, or the shock of so many people. Diagon Alley was really busy. He pushed past people and eventually found 'A fine Brew' by its sign, hanging it right angles to the shop. Which appeared to be a coffee shop.
He opened the door, a little bell rang, and he stepped inside , where it was markedly warmer. The shop had dark wooden beams and creamy plaster walls, and dark wood shelving. And it appeared to be a cafe, of a sort. Small square tables and simple wooden chairs. And what looked like shelves and barrels of potions ingredients, Not overrun with pink or love-hearts. Michael walked in a bit more, and must have passed a charmed barrier, because the smell of coffee and warm walnuts filled his nose. And something else that smelt more like potions ingredients.
"Welcome to a Fine Brew" said a young witch behind what had to be an intentionally rustic looking bench "Would you like to order?" Michael spared her a look – she was about twenty, but blonde and her bulging eyes reminded him of Luna Lovegood.
"I'm um" said Michael, scanning the room. There were a dozen witches in here, but none seemed to have chestnut hair, or look particularly tall. "Waiting for someone" he said.
"Oh right" said the witch "Tea or coffee? We can have it waiting for you?"
"I um, don't know what she takes" admitted Michael.
The witch inhaled "Oh. A first Date. How exciting." she said "Who is it?"
Michael stared at the witch. "Who?"
"Well, I might know what she likes" said the witch "I run the place weekdays."
"Um… Astoria Malfoy" said Michael awkwardly. The witch smirked briefly.
"Another one. Well, she drinks coffee. She's a regular. The middle table in the back, next to the beetles eyes." said the witch.
Michael pondered 'Another one' for a moment, then asked "Can I just um, wait?"
"Course you can" said the witch "I'm Helen. You must be a Hogwarts boy."
"Graduated" said Michael. "Ministry."
"Course. Go and save her fave table."
"Thanks." said Michael, and he went and sat in the – cushioning charmed chair. The table didn't even wobble. He waited.
After his stomach started to grumble, he checked his watch. It was quarter to twelve, and she still hadn't arrived.
He stood up and went to the counter, waiting for a portly witch in a purple woolly coat to order tea, and asked "Can I get some um, sandwiches?" he asked.
"Toasted cheese and onion?"
"Um… maybe not onion."
"Pineapple?"
"Bril" said Michael.
"Under a minute, four sickles." said Helen.
Michael rummaged, handed over four sickles, and she rang his purchase up on an old-fashioned cash register. He inspected the cash register while Helen wrote out a short note, and banished it. On the bottom right of the cash register was a small brass plate. 'Rented from Black Books of Diagon Alley.'
Michael went and sat down again. A plate with two cut toasted sandwiches floated to the table from some a back doorway a little later. The bread wasn't perfectly toasted, but he was hungry. Soon after, the plate was empty, and he eyed it. On the face of the plate was printed in black 'Tap with wand to banish.'
Michael drew his wand and instead, delicately started inspecting the enchantments on the plate. It had an unbreakable charm, a fading warming charm, and a levitation charm with a trigger. Michael contemplated casting some advanced diagnostics, and decided on balance that that might be a bit much for in a coffee shop, and tapped the plate. Which did a nice impression of being gently banished back to, presumably the kitchen. And Michael immediately wished he'd cast a periscopus revelio on it and had a really good look. That was quite neat work. He looked around the room, and there were a number of witches chatting, and … he realised precious few wizards. Most of whom looked like bored husbands.
Michael checked his watch. It was half twelve already. So punctuality wasn't one of her virtues then. But she was pretty.
The door-bell tinged and Michael looked up. A man in a cable-knit jersey and chinos, with an open anorak, holding the hand of a little girl in a puffle coat with brown pigtails. His other hand held a net shopping bag filled with parcels. And Michael put two and two together – the girl was nearly eleven, and the man a muggle or squib. No wizard would carry parcels when they could shrink them.
The man took his daughter to the counter. "Can I get some tea, and something to eat?" he asked.
"What do you want?" asked Helen, tilting her head. "You hungry love?" she asked the girl.
The girl nodded "Are you a witch?"
Helen nodded. "Most people are in Diagon alley. 'less they're wizards."
"Er. Right" said the man "Susannah? What would you like?"
"There's not sign," said the small girl.
"How about a toasted cheese sandwich?" asked Helen. "We've got onion, bacon, pineapple, mince stew, tomato and leeks."
"Oh" said Susannah "Cheese toast."
"Two cheese toasts and a pot of tea?" asked the man.
Helen pressed buttons on the till which at the end tinged and displayed 9-4 on little flags behind the window at the top. "That'll be nine sickles and four knuts" she said.
Michael saw the man freeze up. He stood up and walked over "Helen, I'll pay." and he handed over ten sickles, and turned to the man.
"So your daughter's a witch, and you're doing her shopping?" he asked.
"You um… you can't just pay for chap's tea and toast!" said the man.
"Well, it came to about three pounds " said Michael. "Michael Corner. I'm a wizard, my father is, like your Susannah, a muggleborn. One foot in both worlds. Well, some toes in London still."
"That's awfully cheap. Is that the real exchange rate?"
"Gringotts charge about five pounds a galleon, and there are seventeen sickles in a galleon, so a smidge more than two, less than three" said Michael.
The man sighed "George Chesterton. I'm in boatbuilding."
"Michael Corner. I work for the ministry of magic." Mr Chesterton frowned. "Ministry?"
"I'm a civil servant on the weekend." explained Michael.
"Magical civil servants?"
Michael saw a middle-aged witch pressing her lips together, and drew the Chesterton's to a table.
"Will she bring it out?" asked Mr Chesterton.
"Magic. Its … well how we do everything. My mum heats up the whole toaster. Makes good toast." said Michael.
Susannah sat on one of the chairs "Can you turn into a cat?" she asked.
"That's a quite tricky spell, and I never learned it" said Michael. "But you can learn it yourself once you finish school."
"You must be only just out of school." said Chesterton.
"Second year at work" said Michael. "We've got some magical laws that we have to enforce, international treaties , mostly the internation statute of wizarding secrecy. That's where you can't tell people Susannah's a witch, unless they're family that live with you."
"Huh. International treaties. You work in that do you?"
"Records." said Michael. "We don't have computers, so we use a lot of parchment. Lots of records. There is one very important law … the decree for the reasonable restriction of underage Sorcery. Basically, Susannah, you can't do magic at home till you're seventeen."
"The cat lady said" said Susannah. Michael tried not to smile. "So are you going to Hogwarts?"
"Well, business is pretty good," said Mr Chesterton "And I thought… well it's no more to go to the best school than the other ones, so… here we are." he paused. "Hogwarts is the best school, isn't it?"
"It's the most prestigious." said Michael "My mum went to The Shoe and my dad went to Hull. My older sister went to Hull, and I went to Hogwarts."
"And have a government job" said Mr Chesterton speculatively.
"That was on my … basically my A-levels." said Michael. "Though they're called N.E.W.T's, and the GCSE equivalent is your O.W.L.s"
Mr Chesterton smirked slightly.
"Ordinary Wizarding Levels and Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Trials" said Michael. "The official acronym is National Examination but Nastily Exhausting sums it up."
"So you can't turn into an animal." said Mr Chesterton.
Michael took out his wand and conjured up a vase, then some geraniums.
Susannah poked the vase "It's real" she said.
"Mostly real. Conjured" said Michael "I've turned air into something solid. It's easy enough to turn it back."
"I saw a florist. Can not everyone make flowers?" asked Mr Chesterton.
"Most people can't arrange flowers." said Michael. "And I don't do a very convincing rose."
He made eye contact with Susannah "But the first spell you learn is to make a light from your wand."
"Haven't got it yet. The cat lady said to get it last." said Susannah.
"I was worried she'd be turning things in shops into stuff" said Mr Chesterton.
"That hardly ever happens, and any adult can reverse it" said Michael, and then he saw Mr Chestertons' expression close off.
"Look, if Susannah does something at home, and it's a problem, you can call the Accidental magic reversal squad on the floo, and they'll be right over. For really big problems there's Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, my mum works there. And of course, there's the Obliviators if someone sees something they shouldn't … "
"Floo?"
"Oh dear." said Michael "I hadn't thought of that. He conjured some paper, and summoned a biro. He quickly wrote out a list.
'Get a fireplace on the floo by going to the Ministry of Magic. Floo Network Office."
Obliviators for statute breaches,
Accidental Magic Reversal Squad (AMRS) for accidents with children.
St Mungo's Hospital for medical care. They do Accident and Emergency.
Magical Accidents and Catastrophes for … catastrophes.
Aurors if someone's doing magical crimes.
DRCMC if a magical creature shows up.'
He gave Mr Chesterton the list.
"Where, how?" he asked.
"The Ministry external entrance is the phone box in Maird Street Soho, Dial MAGIC on the buttons and state your business." said Michael. "A Floo connection will cost a few galleons so change a couple of twenties, and ask for the Floo Network Office."
"And then what?"
"The phonebox is an elevator. The Ministry's underground." explained Michael "There are staff entrances, but most people take the floo."
"What's a floo?" asked Susannah.
"It's.. a network of fireplaces lined by the Floo Network." said Michael "With a fire going you throw in floo-powder then once the flames are green, you step in, and you um… end up where you want to go. Takes under a minute, but you've got to keep your elbows in, and say very clearly where you're going."
"We don't have a fireplace" said Mr Chesterton.
"Put one in a shed" said Michael "Even a small brick fire-pit would work."
"That's… very odd" said Mr Chesterton.
"Well, adults who can apparate just apparate" said Michael. "Which is teleportation, there's a noise like… well like a loud crack."
"Thought it was fireworks" said Mr Chesterton. "Like Chinatown."
"Hardly ever in Diagon Alley" said Michael. "I got here from north London in under a second, I suppose. You can't apparate into the ministry proper for security reasons, but there are designated arrival areas."
"And that hospital's on the NHS?"
"They aren't, but they are free, they like donations" said Michael "potions are sold at Apothecaries here in the Alley, and you should get some Pepper-up potion. It cures the common cold… but don't go telling everyone, there's the Statute of secrecy."
"Would it work for … not magical people?" asked Mr Chesterton.
"I've no idea. We didn't cover it in class, and it's legally tricky to do the experiments on my dad's family." said Michael. "Cos they don't live with us."
And at that point, some plates of toasted sandwiches flew over and landed on the table.
"Cool!" said Susannah. Then a teapot and some cups flew out on a tray.
"Oh, thank goodness" said Mr Chesterton. He poured out tea, and Susannah poked her sandwich.
"The sandwiches here are pretty good" said Michael.
After the Chestertons had refuelled Mr Chesterton asked "Are you waiting for someone?"
"Yes" said Michael "She's rather late."
"Well, nice meeting you" said Mr Chesterton, pulling his elbows in, preparing to stand.
"Oh, the easiest way to get to the ministry is to floo there from the Leaky Cauldron. Put a sickle in the cup on the mantelpiece to pay for the trip" offered Michael "Ask old Tom the bartender."
"I'll,… bear that in mind." said Mr Chesterton "I should change more money."
"Fifty quid should cover everything." said Michael.
The Chestertons left, and the used plates and cups flew back to the back room.
Michael waited.
And half an hour later, the witch he'd been expecting for nearly three hours arrived. The door jangled open, and Astoria Malfoy stepped in wearing a tidy camelhair coat that, Michael had to admit set off her hair colouring very well. She dashed over to the counter "Double espresso darling," she said to Helen and strode over to Michael, and sat slumped into a chair.
"Oh Merlins ball's, I'm so late" said Astoria Malfoy "I've had the worst day."
"Really?" asked Michael, unable to contain the irony.
"Well, I couldn't decide what to wear. Then it got to within an hour of lunchtime and Pippin – my house elf, she's such a dear, she simply insisted I had a light lunch before departing." Astoria paused and looked Michael up and down "Are you comfy?" she asked.
"The charms in the chairs are quite good." said Michael.
"I was referring to your very casual muggle clothes. Are you … wearing a t-shirt under the coat?"
"A woolly jumper actually." said Michael.
"Oh." said Astoria "Where was I?"
"Pippin the house elf?"
"Well I said to Pippin that I could just get a toasted cheese sandwich at the shop. Of course, that had her having the vapours about my diet." explained Astoria.
"Uhuh."
"So then I was forced to eat a salad" she added "Without bacon."
"Ouch," said Michael, pondering another toasted sandwich.
"And then my sodding sister turned up," said Astoria.
"She did?" said Michael, surprised by this turn of events.
"I swear she just comes to use my heated pool." said Astoria. "And when I said I was running late for a date she wanted to know what was going on."
"So she asked?"
"She lifted an eyebrow in a very interrogative way."
"Eyebrow?"
"She does this" said Astoria, frowning , then lifting one well groomed dark eyebrow with her index finger. "And I was not saying anything. If he hasn't told her, I'm not going near their communication problems."
"Right" said Michael, feeling that things were getting awkward.
"So I begged off being tortured by swimming laps with Mrs Black, and got into the first warm coat that didn't look too… well you know. Malfoy-ish."
"Malyfoy-ish?"
"Well, all my mother-in-law's clothes are at the manor. She has a dozen coats, and I'm roughly her height."
Michael recollected that Mrs Malfoy senior had been tall – and from the implication, Astoria was just using her mother-in-law's wardrobe. The older Mrs Malfoy had been retried in the wake of Harry's engagement to Mrs Black, and had gone to Azkaban for life. Michael was quite sure Harry Potter had gone to see Kingsley Shacklebolt and withdrawn whatever protection he'd extended to them. For a moment he wondered if Harry had arranged for Malfoy to die in prison, then rejected the idea. Harry wasn't that subtle.
"Well the coat really suits your hair colour" said Michael.
"Thank you" said Astoria Malfoy politely, and she sighed "I've bollixed this up by being late haven't I?"
"Well it's not your fault your house elf wants you to have a healthy lunch." said Michael.
"It's revenge for chocolate pancakes for breakfast, I swear." said Astoria surely.
"Chocolate pancakes?"
"I like chocolate." said Astoria.
"And… pip makes the pancakes?"
"Pippin, of course she does. I can't cook. God. I passed potions thanks to Slughorn taking over, but at home Glinkit cooked everything – mummy does potions not cooking." explained Astoria.
"Not even pancakes?"
"Oh please. Some people might sweet-talk Glinkit into letting them bake inedible biscuits, but I'm not that good a liar."
"So um, Daphne can't cook?"
"Biscuits. But not well." said Astoria. "And then, in third year she started on the crank diets, and no more baking."
"So… who cooks at their house?"
'Mostly their elf. He's very old, but Potter's got him cooking." Astoria paused and looked into the distance, "I think Potter can cook, he bought some cooking stuff when we went shopping at Harrods."
"Harrods?"
"The restaurant's not bad," said Astoria breezily, "The food court is simply divine. They had at least twenty different kinds of cakes." Her eyes lit up.
"He took you both to Harrods?"
"Took Daphne clothes shopping. The sales-muggle was quite helpful actually. They dress muggle at home now. His rules of course."
"Right" said Michael.
"So, tell me about yourself?" asked Astoria "I mean, I know you were in Ravenclaw, and you got a medal."
"Yes" said Michael.
"Well, where do you work?"
"The ministry." said Michael.
"What department, silly?"
"At the ministry." said Michael.
A small of coffee arrived and Astoria sipped it. "Mmm." She lifted her hand "Helen – some chocolate cake?"
Cake arrived and was demolished with the provided cake-fork.
She talked faster as the coffee took effect, and started being louder, more expressive and … Michael found himself entertained by her dramatic pronouncements. She was, he realised, pretty, clever, and amusingly self-centred.
"Oh Potter's obsessed with my sister. It's revolting really."
…
"I don't see what she sees in him. He's very sarcastic."
…
"Every time I'm there for dinner he just ignores me. It's so insulting."
...
"– Excuse me" said Michael "You said tortured by your sister?"
"She comes to use MY swimming pool and expects me to swim laps."
"How… many laps?" he asked.
"Oh – she swims for nearly an hour – I generally beg off after fifteen minutes and lie on a lounger." said Astoria "But the slightest hint of weakness, and she's ready to drag me off to St Mungo's for a checkup."
Astoria hesitated. "It's the legacy of a, er, childhood illness. I don't have it any-more."
"So… that's why Daphne told everyone not to talk to her sister at Hogwarts?" asked Michael.
"Honestly she acted like she was a second mother. The one redeeming feature of her being married off to Harry Potter was that she finally had some drama in her life to complain about, though that degenerated into boring business rubbish."
"The most successful new business in ages?" asked Michael.
"I swear she's doing it just to prove she's soo much better at business than the Malfoy's – which is just me anyway, and I never expected to have to do the financial side of the business – that's what Draco was for. But Harry threw him and Mrs Malfoy into Azkaban for the marriage plot, and then poor Draco died – they say it was just pneumonia, you know. Just a bloody cold."
Michael nodded, feeling like a bystander.
"So I said that was completely unacceptable having no medical care there, and rather oddly, Potter offered to match my contributions. So there's a Draco Malfoy memorial clinic at Azkaban and healers in shifts." said Astoria.
"Said to who?"
"My sister and him, of course." said Astoria "As soon as I knew, well once I had proper mourning clothes on, I flooed over to give him a piece of my mind."
"You did?" asked Michael, thinking, you went and poked a volcano with a pointy-stick.
"He was annoyingly reasonable about it, said he wasn't able to change how Azkaban worked, as if he couldn't just tell 'Shack' what to do."
"Tell… 'Shack what to do'?" asked Michael.
"Well, why do you think the Malfoy's got re-tried? He went to see Shack. I've never heard Daphne complain about what it cost, so he didn't even bribe the poor man. Probably just did that creepy thing he does."
'Where his face freezes in an expressionless mask, and he talks in a very flat tone' thought Michael, feeling like he needed a drink of water.
"Well, everyone knows he can kill with a disarming charm – who knows what he could do with a proper spell?" asked Astoria, lifting both eyebrows. "He can fire stinging hexes from his index finger." she confided.
"How do you know that?" asked Michael.
"Um. I may have annoyed him this one time" said Astoria.
Michael raised one eyebrow (without use of an index finger.)
"Daphne was demonstrating how she could get HIM to be silent rather than… talk just by glaring." said Astoria "And I just said if that's how much under your thumb he is, what sort of um… you know, stuff must she be getting up to."
"And?"
"He pointed his index finger at me, and a yellow spell hit me, and it really stung. " said Astoria.
Michael blinked and considered – wandless, nonverbal spells, though clearly underpowered.
"Then she bragged about how resourceful he was." said Astoria sulkily. "At least they don't snog where I can see. Well, apart from the indecent way he kisses her hand."
Michael was suddenly struck by the indulgent way dad had cut the cord off the toaster after mum had set it on fire by just heating-charming it instead of using it the normal way.
"Indecent?" asked Michael.
"He holds her hand and bends down and kisses her hand so slowly it's just… wrong, Then he looks up at her and smiles." said Astoria rather petulantly.
"Is that some posh pureblood custom?" asked Michael.
"Not in the last century." said Astoria. "Still, could be worse – she doesn't do anything. Which is really the story of her life, apart from marrying him."
"And the hugely successful accounting firm revolutionising finance in Britain?" asked Michael.
"He gave her some pin money – she spent it on hiring the Carrow twins." said Astoria.
"Pin money?"
"He was all 'spend what you think we can afford'" said Astoria, with a scowl "Gave her full access to the Black and Potter vaults."
"As pin money?" asked Michael, suspecting there would be a test about this later. And that he'd have to write it up at work.
"Oh that was from selling the coaches in their old coach house. A hundred and twenty thousand galleons for some frankly moth-eaten old coaches." Astoria explained.
"And… Harry Potter gave your sister that as 'pin money?'" asked Michael.
"She was unbearably smug for weeks. I think honestly that wasn't all he gave her." said Astoria "These days when she talks about him, she hardly complains at all. I miss the complaining really. The sighs and smug smiles are frankly disgusting."
"So… 'under dark magical control' means… what? Love potions?" asked Michael.
Astoria rolled her eyes. "No you idiot. He's apparently very generous in bed. And all robed up for events, well, he looks like the scion of a great and dark house. Someone spent her Hogwarts years reading romance novels, and he looks like the dark hero from them. Course these days the cover illustrations are painted to look more like him anyway." she added.
Michael's brain stalled, and he had to stop and think about that for a bit. The obvious, rather non-department interesting result was that Harry Potter and Daphne Black were now in love and for all their 'communications problems' they got on well. Michael felt envious. He eyed the younger sister – who apart from a chocolate cake problem was, well, tall, good-looking – fascinatingly animated when she got going, and fit enough to swim laps for at least twenty minutes. Unfortunately his brain offered up 'Daphne Black swims an hour a day' and his imagination made him very uncomfortable.
"Are you listening?" she asked.
"Yes" said Michael.
"Good. Now, which department do you work in?" she asked.
"I don't want to say." said Michael.
Brown, expressive eyes narrowed at him. God damn she wore lots of eyeliner. And was that some beauty charm making her eyes tilt up at the ends?
"Spill" she said.
"No. I don't want to say" said Michael. Saying 'records' to someone this… overbearingly self-confident would be disastrous. And he suddenly imagined Astoria Malfoy meeting his big sister, and shivered – his back had gone cold as ice.
He looked at the table – there was his teacup. He accidentally knocked it over into the saucer.
And the leaves formed a…. gallows. He rather hated when he got a premonition. When Astoria Malfoy met his sister, he was going to be excruciatingly embarrassed. And Esme and Astoria would doubtless discover a friendship… Michael summoned and spilled the little jar of toothpicks and eyed the resulting patterns. The chariot wheels… they would, as he suspected, get on like a house on fire. And redoing the fireproofing charms was indicated.
"You're such a klutz" said Astoria Malfoy.
"Beautiful women make me nervous" said Michael, and her nose went up, and a little smug smile graced her lips just like that. And he felt deeply suspicious that he had a crush on this witch.
"You can pay now" said Astoria.
"What?" asked Michael.
"For my coffee and cake" said Astoria Malfoy.
"You pay for your own." said Michael. "You're loaded."
She crossed her arms petulantly and pouted.
"You're still paying for your own." said Michael, frowning.
