The Corner goes around the bend
Ch 5: And very bad things.
The Daily Prophet ran a story from a source inside the DMLE, about Harry Potter's house being attacked. Michael thought that was… a bad choice. Hermione Granger could blow someone across a room, Harry… Harry never cast a knock-back jinx on anyone in sixth year.
And then there was a Wizengamot hearing, and Harry Potter took veritassium, and got off on some pureblood legal technicality… even though the seventeen people who'd attacked his house were all dead.
But the headline of the Daily Prophet the next day was 'HE LOVES HER' and a photo of Harry, standing half-supported by Daphne Black in a fusty old robe. She looked peeved, and he looked semi-conscious. Behind Harry, was probably Hermione Granger. Michael gave in to the temptation and read the story.
He'd been testifying under Veritassium to the Wizengamot, and at the end, Daphne Black has asked 'Do you love your wife?'
And he'd said 'Yes.'
Michael felt that was nowhere near as romantic as the Prophet was portraying it. Also, that Daphne Black was possibly a very clever witch. Harry had joked to the press about asking, in her place, if she wanted the couch under the window. It wasn't till he read to the end, that he understood why she'd asked – she'd been overseeing his interrogation, and had apparently threatened the Auror doing the actual interrogation… that if that wasn't Veritassium, she'd kill the Auror before Harry hit the floor. Michael suspected that she might be an angry, clever person. He was also glad she didn't work at the Department… she would have ended up running it, if he was to be the judge.
Mum just shook her head "That's … the boy looks sick as a dog." she said.
Esme stomped downstairs to the breakfast table and sat down, and started pouring rice-bubbles into her bowl.
"Esme dear?" asked Mum "What are the after-effects of Veritassium questioning?"
Esme frowned, "Never take the stuff. Makes the worst hangover I've ever had look like a slight headache."
"Including the time you drank an entire flagon of fruit wine from Grandma?" asked Dad.
"Yes dad. No dad I won't drink that swill again." said Esme.
Michael's ears perked up – he'd never heard about THAT particular Esme story. Must have happened while he was at Hogwarts. Unlike the time she came home really late, sloshed and half-undressed. Some poor fool.
-==0==-
Some months later, Michael, as part of the morning post, got a letter by rental owl. Addressed to him, but he didn't recognise the handwriting. It was somewhat loopy, and might, him imagined, be that of Astoria Malfoy. He picked it up and felt nothing special about it. Mum looked at him over cornflakes.
"Something interesting?" she asked.
"I dunno" he said, and opened the letter. It was an invitation, a printed one...addressed to 'Dumbledore's Army' one to … he swallowed and stared. Ron Weasley's funeral. ex-Auror Ron Weasley. Michael felt light-headed. Ron, don't mind me I'm just the most dangerous Auror alive Weasley. A bloke who had once had an encounter with what 'Patches' referred to as 'things best left well alone' in the Department. Who'd fought in the war, and gone on to make the front page of the Daily Prophet, smiling slightly, posed in front of captured Death Eater groups over and over again. He held out a hand "Dad, I need the Prophet… now" he asked.
Dad folded it and handed it over. In the DEATHS column on the back page, he saw 'WEASLEY, RONALD B. OM(1st Class). 1980-2000. Mr Ronald Weasley, decorated Auror and war hero has died of a potions accident. A private service and burial will take place on the family estate. Cards and flowers to the Daily Prophet celebrity counter.'
Michael looked at the invite. He, well the entire remaining DA was invited. It was going to be on Saturday, at ten am. The Floo address was 'The Burrow,' and the group of apparation coordinates looked, from the runes, like Dorset somewhere. But the invitation felt of nothing. It wasn't hand-written, he supposed, and was part of a mass-mailout. Which accounted for the rental owl. Weasley had been a bloody good quidditch keeper, once he got over his obvious nerves. And Weasley… how did the song go? Weasley is our king, he will not let the quaffle in...
"Are you Singing?" asked Mum, startling him.
He looked up from the invitation. "Ron Weasley… THE Ron Weasley from the war, he's died. I'm invited to the funeral." he said.
"He was terribly young," said Mum, and she frowned.
"Didn't think you knew him?" asked Dad.
"Dumbledore's army," said Michael, his throat tightening, his eyes watering.
"So he finally got caught out by some Death Eater remnant?" asked Dad.
"No," said Michael, and he had a sudden sinking feeling… "Potions accident. He'd retired."
"I'm convinced Hogwarts didn't teach potions worth a knut," said Mum sharply. "What with Michael only getting an Outstanding."
Michael thought of Professor Snape for a moment – murderous, yet also somehow determined to rein in the Carrows all seventh year. He'd been a horrible teacher, Michael thought. "Maybe" he said. He resolved not to touch a tarot pack for a few months in case it said something he didn't want to hear. After Oliver's 'accident' the Hanged man came up so often that Michael had almost thrown the whole pack away.
The Funeral featured Harry Potter and his wife. Who was wearing black today and looking like posh totty at a funeral. Harry Potter though… Michael's eyes hurt just looking at him – his robes sucked in all the light and his face was, well he was crying and had a bluish haze on his jaw.
Hermione Granger, obviously, was crying. The order of service had an outline of what was going to happen, and a song to sing at the end.
The Weasley family – Ginny included were bleary-eyed. Ginny looked really pretty, and super fit in her black funeral robe… but Michael glanced over at Daphne Black… cor; now that was serious totty.
One of Ron's brothers gave a speech, then Harry Potter came and gave one, sounding oddly clear-nosed, then he invited Hermione up and two of the famous three finished a speech, which featured 'loved her till the day he died'. Hermione Granger looked like she was going to cry for an extended period – and she sniffled loudly and often. Michael wondered where Harry Potter got those glasses.
It wasn't till the end of the service, when the singing started, that Michael realised they were singing the Chudley Cannon's supporters victory song. Which probably explained the orange sash over the coffin, he realized. Daphne Black's voice soared high over everyone else's, in some complicated variation on the song.
Michael went home, opened the bottle of port dad kept in the sitting room cabinet, and drank a few glasses, then went to bed with his clothes on. It felt horribly like Oliver's funeral, and that was just… it all made no sense.
-==0==-
Time passed, most of it at work, to fill search requests from the Trace office. Michael found out one day at work about 'worse things than death' when he got loaned to the 'Memory research'…. And they had brains in aquariums.
"Do not bump the tanks. The brains will attack, and it is unlikely you will escape unscarred." said the head researcher, codenamed 'Think about it.'
"What am I here to do?" asked Michael.
"Feed them this week. " said 'Think About It', "It's basically goldfish food with some additives."
"They're brains in jars… how do they eat?" asked Michael.
"Well. That is rather clever…." said 'Think about it' and they explained. Michael felt sick.
It was a nerve-wracking task that week. They'd grafted modified Portuguese man-o-war's onto brains. Michael made sure to wear two pairs of gloves. There was no way he wanted to feel anything inside that room.
-==0==-
Time passed, and somehow Harry Potter and Daphne Black had children. Twins. Michael was quite aware of the 'hows' but … still. The Prophet had no pictures, except one taken the day they left St Mungo's, of them both carrying a crib-sized basket and heading for the fireplaces. Harry look tired, and Daphne Gree- Black looked exhausted.
Mum had exclaimed "Oh the poor girl!"
Which, as Black Books had cash registers in every shop, and Gringotts, was not … she wasn't poor. She did look exhausted.
-==0==-
Michael got loaned to 'Toothpick' who was tall and broad, and the only Unspeakable who still studied the Veil of Death.
"Do not go nearer than ten feet. Do not step onto the dais. Do not listen to the voices you faintly hear. That way lies madness, and death, and we will have no body to give your next of kin." said Toothpick.
The rest of the week oddly, included cleaning the underground amphitheatre the arch was set at the centre of, and then, some horrific experiments with stray animals strapped onto wooden planks that slid into the arch on little wheels.
"Haven't you done this before?" asked Michael.
"Yes but we re-test the arch quarterly, in case the DMLE need to use it for executions." said 'Toothpick.'
"Does that happen… often?"
"No. Death is so permanent, Azkaban is seen as a better choice."
"So they just go mad." said Michael.
"well, during the recent unpleasantness, we were given funding to investigate rehabilitation of long-term Azkaban prisoners" said 'Toothpick.'
'Because a lot of the Death Eaters had been there for a decade or more,' thought Michael.
"Did you, we, discover anything?"
"Potions, and some totally ineffective work on memory transplantation," said 'Toothpick.' "Memory Research found the implanted memories tended to cause worse problems than the memory loss from Dementors."
Michael celebrated when he finished up with 'Toothpick' and got back to just doing Scrying, that could only give him a stroke.
-==0==-
Time passed.
Then, abruptly, at breakfast one morning, the reclusive Harry Potter was in the paper again –
'QUINTUPLETS!' Michael could not… conceive of that.
Dad read the article, and simply said "Poor girl. Twins, and now Quintuplets."
Mum sighed and shook her head.
"Bet he's getting the snip" said Esme.
"Poor girl," said Dad, "They'll get no sleep."
"They're rich." said Esme. "Probably have loads of nannies. That pureblood bollocks."
"Esme, language" said Mum. "But she'll have to have one nanny at a minimum, yes."
"Well" said Dad "He definitely loves her."
Michael looked over at Dad, who was smiling at mum.
"Gerald!" said Mum sternly.
-==0==-
Michael got a letter from Harry Potter, again. It was handwritten and… felt of tiredness. Michael opened the letter anyway. Hopefully this wasn't another 'Date someone' task. Why couldn't it be something simple?
Asking him
'
Hi Michael.
Thanks for taking Astoria out for coffee.
You're officially mysterious, according to her.
I couldn't comment, obviously.
(Daphne had some quite snide things to say to Astoria about all that.)
I know I've already asked you for a favour, but for the love of god,
Please take her to a quidditch game?
She's ALWAYS visiting unexpectedly, my twins are getting spoiled and I'm going insane.
Harry.
Potter-Black, order of merlin and all that.'
Michael sent her another letter, ( and chose a Tornadoes game because they were, to his somewhat casual perusal of the results in the Prophet, playing really well this season.)
Maybe she'd grown up a little.
-==0==-
He found Astoria Malfoy waiting in an elegant brown dress at the Tutshill stadium, with a broad-brimmed brown hat on. Only she was significantly taller. And as he got closer, the dress hinted that she had.. well a pretty decent figure. He got a look at a couple of elegant ankles and a pair of high heels once they took their seats. Because she crossed her legs elegantly. Oh – high heels.
"He's unreasonable," she said, by way of introduction. "They insisted I come to a game with you."
"They?"
"Sometimes I think he doesn't like me." said Astoria. "I'm just being an aunt looking after their poor twins, – they're both sleeping in till eight these days… still the quints do keep them up all night."
"Uhuh" he said. He suspected she meant the parents not the twins.
He watched the pre-game advertisement on the pitch for broom polish.
"Is that a good brand of broom polish?" asked Astoria "I don't have a damn broom at the manor, but I wouldn't mind getting some time on a broom."
"I dunno," said Michael, "It can't be bad if the Tornadoes endorse it."
"Our family are Arrows supporters," said Astoria, "In case you wonder why I'm not screaming my lungs out later."
"Arrows?" said Michael… now he knew her team anyway.
"We're from just outside Appleby." said Astoria.
"Oh right. That makes sense." said Michael.
"Are all you tall, dark Hogwarts boys Tutshill fans?" asked Astoria "He was till he gave in and started supporting Appleby."
And in what had to be the last moments of the game, the Tornadoes seeker and the Catapults seeker ended up in a classic Seeker battle – weaving dangerously through the chasers as the snitch went completely mental.
Everyone stood to yell… Michael was caught up and stood… and so did Astoria.
It wasn't till they were standing that he glanced over and saw, under the hat, a bit of… cleavage. And he could hardly be blamed if he leant back a little and… he got a look at a pretty nice backside in the brown dress. She hadn't given in to fashion and worn some horrid corset, but… he looked back at the seekers … still looked elegant, and had some curves to her.
The snitch went missing ,and the crowd surged to the concession stands.
"Could you get me something?" asked Astoria "I could go fish and chips?"
By the time Michael got back, he expected the match to be over, but instead both team's beaters had exacted a clearly painful toll on the chasers, and the seekers were circling like buzzards.
Astoria rattled off a quick summary of the match he'd missed, then said,
"Dawson's got an actual broken arm. How he expects to pass like that."
"Ouch," said Michael, "Still, bludgers."
"Bat – they missed the penalty," said Astoria. "Someone's manager's going to be tearing strips off them."
"Oh double ouch," said Michael.
"Exactly. I figure of he scores a few, he'll only get benched for a match."
"But Landerly's got a track record of benching players for ages" said Michael.
"Well yes, but Dawson's got a season average of four point three so far, which is upper echelon." said Astoria.
"You do like your Quidditch" said Michael.
"Says the stats nerd." countered Astoria. Who could bloody talk. And three point four was good ,but Cheeseman on the same team had three point nine, and last season had almost cracked four. Till he broke both collarbones in a failed pinch shoot-through that hadn't.Shot through, that was.
They went off for dessert after the match. Dawson hadn't made man of the match.
Michael had an ice-cream sundae – Astoria ordered a Choc bombe. and he had to use a hastily grabbed fork to defend his sundae from a witch with a spoon, who had her own bally dessert!
She was actually quite nice to kiss. She smelt of something floral. Well, and tasted of chocolate. Michael didn't feel a hand on the small of her back was too forward…. But she felt pleasantly taunt under her dress.
-==0==-
He invited her to the Saturday Montrose-Cannons match next week.
It was a good game, and the view of Astoria's figure was, well she was one of the prettier girls in the stands near him – and would probably snog him later.
Afterwards she said: "Well I happen to have loads of dessert at home… let me take your arm."
And that was a bit … well it was her house, technically.
Legions of Malfoy portraits glared down at them.
Then she ate dessert in a parlour, and asked "What does a girl have to do to get more than a kiss?"
"Well, start kissing?" asked Michael.
She had a very large bed, and was a little hesitant… but after she cast and recast a few charms, she sat on his lap and smiled down at him "Hellooo" she purred.
And was, apparently fond of personal grooming.
"Like it?" she asked. "I was hoping it would encourage you to… do things."
So they did, and it was warm and, well everything went rather well indeed.
Michael had (ridiculously luxurious) shower before going home. From his girlfriend's house. Well, Manor. He resisted the urge to whistle.
Esme interrupted his preparations to go clean his teeth, leaning in his door-jamb.
"Had a good day out with the girlfriend then?" she asked, lifting both eyebrows.
Michael felt his cheeks heating a little. "Yes, actually" he said.
"Thank god for that, I was worried you'd gone weird from the war." she said "She had a good time?"
Michael fixed his sister with a firm, stare "Not my first serious girlfriend, Esme. Yes, she had a good time."
Esme snorted "Thank god for that – my mate Pip was sniffing round, heard my little brother was a tall, dark, handsome adult and was interested in ruining your life."
"Ruining my life?"
"Pip's got problems Mikey. Serious," Esme made a tipping a potion vial gesture, "problems."
"You brewing for her?" asked Michael.
"I'm not a bloody pusher, Mikey. Pip works on stuff, but she skims ingredients and self-medicates, if you know what I mean." said Esme. "But she is funny as hell. We got utterly ceilinged Friday night, I nearly wet myself laughing."
Michael filed that under 'ignore use of illegal drugs by sister.'
-==0==-
Strangely, and a little worryingly, dating Astoria resulted, eventually in being invited to be Astoria's 'plus one' at Harry Potter's quintuplet's birthday.
At a rather nice Manor house in the country on a small hill, surrounded by a gravel drive,well manicured lawns and neat trees, and rose-bushes.
And somehow Daphne Greengrass was now just a harried mum with five one-year-olds; Harry Potter was 'being a dad' and legions of Greengrass relations were begin pacified with small children.
His oldest daughter asked him who he was, so he explained.
"Oh. Aunt Astoria's boyfreind. You're why she's not visiting." said the eight-year-old. "I suppose you two are snogging and generally being gross."
Michael smiled at the little blonde menace. "We go to quidditch matches" he said.
"Really? Who's your team?" asked mini-Daphne with Harry Potter's eyes.
"Tutshill." said Michael.
"Well, they're good, I suppose." she said, and wandered off.
Harry Potter even talked 'casually' to him at one point.
It was all a bit weird. And he bloody well knew where Michael worked, and then teased him about it.
It wasn't till he went to bed that night that he considered that Harry Potter-Black OM might… one day be his brother-in-law. And there was no way they were ever sharing Ginny Weasley stories.
But seeing Theo Nott making eyes at Hermione Granger was… that was just bloody weird.
And they'd come out of the ballroom a lot later than everyone else.