Dudley's Road Trip (Part 7): Lughnasadh Evening
[Content warning: irreverent, teenager-orchestrated, group, 'ritual' sex. Discussions about it. Cynical analysis of all of the above by Snape.]
After Tea, and some party games, people suddenly started making excuses about 'going to bed early,' or 'getting a shower sooner rather than later,' and things like that.
Dudley decided he did want an early shower.
When he came back down he found the downstairs quiet and dark except for a supperish/dessertish-looking spread laid out in the kitchen, but still covered, not just with lids or towels but also with magic. After a few seconds of thought, Dudley decided he didn't feel like experimenting with whether they were cooling charms or burglar alarms.
He went outside. Hermione, Tracy, and the girl with super-long blond hair were sitting and talking in low tones. And the boy with long super-blond hair was at the corner staring out into the evening.
"I'm not sure I want to participate," he was saying.
"Astoria will keep Katherine inside," said the blond girl.
"If we don't all enjoy ourselves," said Hermione, "We can do something different next year."
"Oh," said the blond boy, "is that still an option?"
"Yes," said Hermione, "there's no reason we can't use the old rituals where they please us and the new where they don't, and the ecumenical eclectic sanitised version where nothing else will do. I have the feeling that what we're going to see tonight is the version most meaningful to Theo and Pansy, and if knowing that, and knowing that about them, doesn't mean anything to the rest of us, it will be someone else's turn next time."
The blond boy sighed and turned around, which is when Dudley's brain caught up to the fact that he was in a nightgown.
"What are you doing here?"
"Waiting for Melantha."
"Really?" said Tracy, "Why?"
"Pansy invited her and me," said Dudley.
"That does not make sense," said the blond boy.
"Lay off him, Draco. It probably makes perfect sense," said the blond girl, "but we won't understand for weeks."
The blond boy glared at everyone once, then shrugged and looked away.
"Cousin Luna," he said, "good evening."
"Good evening, cousin Draco," she said and danced up close so she could kiss him on the cheek. She was wearing a nightgown too. So were the other girls, kind of. Though Hermione seemed to also be wearing a size-huge extra-thin picnic quilt rolled up across her shoulders like the biggest beach towel ever.
Luna was wearing a different skull cap, which seemed to be knit from orange rope and ribbons.
"I think that was our signal," said Luna.
Hermione got up and led the way to the end of the porch and down into the woods.
It wasn't so dark under the trees that they needed torches, but … it did get fairly dim before they got to a clearing, where there was more light again. This clearing seemed to have grass instead of bilberry bushes.
If they'd waited much later, they'd have needed a bonfire.
Melantha took his arm.
He looked back.
There was only one person behind them.
A middle-aged man in robes, wearing just about the most off-putting sneer imaginable.
Was he the MC?
He caught Dudley's eye and rolled his eyes to the side in a way that took Dudley almost an instant too long to realise was a silent instruction to watch the path ahead.
He stumbled but he didn't fall.
After that Dudley watched the path ahead.
.
Hermione's blanket was large enough to need four people to spread out. With the widest side facing the clearing, They sat down, the confident people sat to the front, Melantha and Dudley to the rear.
And then they got quiet.
Gregory sat up, lit his wand, (That's a spell I know!) and read a quick introduction from a scrap of paper. "We're gathered to celebrate King Lugh the three-faced god. Please forgive our poor performance, use your imagination, etc. Scene one. The natural order of things, e.g. spring."
He dimmed his wand.
And there was silence.
Except … snoring.
"Behold," said Gregory, "Dark and crooked, the fertile hill. Lumos maxima."
A spotlight speared across the clearing.
A really fat shape sat on a somewhat pyramidal box.
Had they made a mud automaton/puppet thing for their play? Was that even possible? Golem, the superhero of Prague, was to have been made from mud but, was that a one-off thing as superheroes often were, or was there a general technique?
More snoring.
"Behold," said Gregory, "Logh, the three-faced god." He swung the beam around to Theo in bright but dented armour and a wooden sword. Apparently, in all the work to get Theo's armour wearable they hadn't bothered with a mask that had three faces on it like was in the books.
Theo advanced. Tried to open the box under the fat thing. The fat thing woke up and fought back, eventually climbing down and giving chase. They fought around and around until Theo left it 'dead' on its back with the sword stuck into the ground just on the far side of it.
Theo returned to the box and opened it. Or rather, made it collapse, revealing Pansy looking even less human and more like a sheaf of grain than before.
Or … more like, a doll made mostly from grain stalks, and bound half in twine and half in heavy copper straps.
Theo tried to help her to her feet. Then muttered loud enough that they could hear from the other side of the clearing, "I wasn't expecting you to be tied up."
"What kind of sheaf would I be if I wasn't tied up?" said Pansy.
"The kind that could walk," said Theo, "Alohomora."
"I was expecting featherweight," Pansy stood up.
"Maybe we can try that, next year," suggested Theo, then bowed, "Lady, may I have this dance, err I mean, this graceful escape?"
"Humph," she muttered, "get your sword."
Theo got his sword, they danced their 'graceful escape' until confronted with an impossibly thin version of Vincent, now armed with a scythe and a dark rain cloud, complete with a dangling yellow lightning bolt.
Where they stared menacingly at each other for an awkward pause.
"Oh, um," said Gregory, "Behold, Blight!"
They fought. Unlike the previous fight, Vincent wasn't going after Theo he was trying to go around Theo to get to Pansy. Also unlike the previous fight, Theo's sword seemed to pass through him half the time, and only really ever got caught on the scythe.
Dudley looked over to verify. Yes, Melantha shaking hard with uproarious giggling, but somehow was managing not to make any noise.
He looked farther back. The man in dark green robes with way too many pearl buttons had his mouth closed in a thin line. But his temples had laugh lines now.
Dudley turned back in time to see Blight disarmed of his scythe, and lose his temper and start swinging his storm cloud pillow around by its yellow ribbon lightning bolt, which crossed the line from a little bit ridiculous to breaking records of some kind.
Most everyone was either laughing or giggling or, in at least one case, too appalled to move or speak.
Another lucky swing and Theo had the lightning bolt wrapped around his wooden sword, and Blight was disarmed, his fluffy grey pillow tossed unceremoniously into the dark woods. Blight went running after it.
Everyone was standing up and cheering. So Dudley stood up as well. Partly just so he could see whatever came next.
Theo 'caught' Pansy again and led her around to the left end of the blanket which by now had the mass of the audience rushing to meet them, but staying on the blanket. Oh, because they'd taken their shoes off earlier to sit more comfortably.
"Behold us," said Gregory, "The hungry townsfolk, behold mankind." He did something and when he tipped his wand up into the trees, there was a mirror there and it reflected the light back down, spotlighting the audience.
Theo led Pansy onto the blanket, and no sooner had she set foot on it than Gregory and Vincent grabbed hold of her.
There was a tugging contest, and then Theo grabbed her more firmly around the middle and led her the rest of the way to Hermione.
Except somehow Pansy, The Wheat Sheave doll, was now missing arms and legs.
Tracy stepped forward and helped carry her the rest of the way. And when Theo had gotten to Hermione, all he had left was a head, which he presented directly into Hermione's hands with a very low bow. Then he passed by her off the end of the blanket and wandered into the dark.
"Do you know what the hell is happening?" said Melantha clutching Dudley's elbow.
Dudley looked around, "I have a vague idea."
Pieces of Pansy were everywhere, everyone seemed to have one or two pieces.
Gregory was pressing an arm at Dudley and Melantha.
Dudley held on and said, "Thanks," in a depressing sort of way that thankfully sent Gregory away again.
All of the pieces of limb ended in a copper circle, seemingly half as thick as all her heavy copper bracelets had been. He turned to look for Pansy's head again.
The eyes were closed but the jaw was working, because Hermione was snogging her.
He turned back to Melantha.
"Mage portals," said Dudley, "She's wearing enough of them to be in as many pieces as she estimated there would be audience members."
"What are they?"
"Space tied in magical knots, They're kind of hard to get used to," said Dudley, "easiest to think of them like doors that go between different places instead of through walls, but … when you come across them not tied down, they get confusing and disturbing."
"Humph?" said Melantha.
"See here," said Dudley and held up the arm they'd been given.
"There's one around her wrist." He stuck his finger along her wrist under the bracelet, "Looks like a normal bracelet because when you have both halves back to back, it is a normal bracelet."
"But if you get the magnets to let go," he pried the two halves of the bracelet apart, separating the hand from the forearm.
"Her arm is still in one piece," said Dudley, "just in two places at once." He stuck his finger through again.
"Huh, weird."
"Basically," said Dudley.
Melantha took the pieces and put them back together. A hundred and eighty degrees off from starting position.
Now Pansy's hand appeared to be on backwards.
Melantha stuck her own finger in one side and examined where it exited the other side.
"Fine," she handed it back to Dudley.
Pansy's hand clenched into a fist.
He glanced up.
Most of the pieces of Pansy had had their veneer of wheat stalks and canvas peeled back. And most everyone who had them was licking them or sucking them or kissing them.
Except Gregory had that piece and had his nightgown pulled up, and his drawers pulled down, and Dudley couldn't seem to look away.
"Melantha," he whispered, "I'm … not sure if I'm old enough to be here."
She looked where he was looking, then stepped in front of him and turned to face him.
He looked down, at the forearm in his hand, alternately tensing and relaxing. Not exactly in time with what Gregory was doing.
Dudley glanced over at Hermione.
Hermione had traded with someone, head for a hand, and was sucking on two fingers instead, and massaging the rest. Almost as if to keep them relaxed so Pansy wouldn't claw her tongue by accident.
Tracy was now the one snogging Pansy.
The blond girl was sitting very still, holding Pansy's torso, carefully biting the stitches along the shoulder seam.
Maybe she'd purposely gotten the piece least quick to strip naked. She didn't seem to be in the frenzied hurry that everyone else was in.
Dudley turned back to Melantha.
"What do you see?" said Melantha.
"She doesn't mind," said Dudley, "She could be telling them 'no,' or calling any of us to help her against any of the others."
"True," whispered Melantha.
"What do you see?" whispered Dudley.
"You said she made the costume herself?"
"I think she made the portal parts. And had Luna's help with the wheat part of the costume. There were going to be bilberries, but somehow they seem to have gotten skipped. I think simplifying the theme worked alright."
Melantha nodded. She held up the hand and laced her fingers with it, it grasped and held on. Melantha held her hand up and out to Dudley, "I think she's exactly where she wants to be."
Dudley nodded, he glanced around Melantha to check on … Theo was taking a turn now, he was also now dressed in only a nightgown, Vincent now had a lower leg, cradled along his knee, stroking her muscle with his left hand, while he did something to Pansy's toes with his wand.
Getting them clean enough to lick, probably.
Dudley shivered and returned his eyes to Melantha.
She held out her hand again.
After a moment she reached out with her other hand, grabbed Dudley's hand and interlaced his fingers with her own, on top of/around Pansy's fingers.
"Shall we go somewhere else?" she said, "if you're not old enough to be here, and I've always been too old?"
"Maybe," said Dudley.
They turned away and started to hike back to the house.
Just into the darkness of the trees they found the middle-aged man in green, though it looked black when there wasn't a spotlight spell reflecting onto it. Holding the blond-haired boy, who was trembling.
Dudley opened his mouth.
The man's glare intensified.
Dudley closed his mouth. Then they were past them.
No one was on the porch, which meant they had the choice of the best seats.
Melantha pushed two chairs close enough together so that they could sit, and still snuggle Pansy's arm between them. Still squirming gently from time to time.
"Are you alright now?" said Melantha.
"Yes," said Dudley, "But I still don't understand."
"She's a dog animagus, right?" said Melantha.
"Jack Russel or something with two tails," said Dudley.
"So crup," she said, "she's a crup animagus."
Dudley shrugged.
"Those are known for two things: taking a lot of acculturation to be sane around muggles, and well … being kind of the opposite of pigs."
"I don't know what that means."
"She wants to keep her whole family safe and satisfied, she's usually seen taking sword lessons or trailing close to bodyguard Hermione, or whoever Hermione has set her to watch. Tonight she's taking on a more figurative aspect of 'satisfied'."
"Ok," said Dudley, "But … why were we there?"
"Luna was there too," said Melantha, "I expect she invited her, … invited all of Hermione's House, and all of Harry's Houses. And it was only you and I who came without knowing what kind of feast was really going to be at the end."
"Maybe," said Dudley.
"Hello," said Luna and wandered up and sat in Melantha's lap.
"Hello Luna," said Melantha, "already eat your fill of Grain?"
"Maybe," said Luna, "I hear there are bilberries and cream."
"Ah," said Melantha.
Luna stared down at the extra forearm nestled between Dudley's and Melantha's forearms.
After a moment she frowned, grabbed at the bracelet, split it apart and rotated it back to its original position and let it snap back together.
"Does that make you feel better?" said Melantha.
"A little," said Luna. Then she grabbed the bracelet and split it apart again, but this time she flipped the forearm end for end and let it connect, the elbow plate to the wrist plate. "There," she said, "Now I'm satisfied, someone will need something to puzzle over tomorrow."
"If you're sure," said Melantha.
"Yes," said Luna, then twisted and lay back, to put her head on Melantha's shoulder, and lay her own forearm along on top of Pansy's.
"Are you under the illusion that I am a chair," said Melantha.
"You should at all possible strive to be, a great pillar of society," intoned Luna, which seemed like it might be a quote, "Unless you can be a great pillow of society, in which case you should of course be a great pillow of society."
"Are you sure about that?" Melantha deadpanned.
"Animate," insisted Luna.
Dudley giggled.
Luna opened one eye and looked at him.
"Have you shown Dudley your animagus form?" said Melantha.
"Yes," said Luna, "He's not seen it several times by now."
"What?" Oh, yes, I remember, special magical camouflage or something.
Luna disappeared.
Though Dudley could still feel her arm along his. Except now it had fur.
The arm moved a little, then she faded into view.
She was mostly white, with a vaguely cat-shaped nose.
"Hello Hunter," said Dudley, "You're very fluffy."
She nodded and turned around and curled up in Melantha's lap.
Much smaller than Dudley would have expected.
Then she reached a hand and placed it along the edge of Pansy's wrist, and wrapped her fingers around Pansy and Dudley's thumbs. And she lay still.
Dudley had the vague idea that her grip strength was very very high.
"There, that's better," said Melantha.
They were very quiet for several minutes, watching the darkness fall.
And then watch the moon rise.
And then Pansy's arm got very very tense. And started to tremble.
Melantha sat up, let go of the arm, and stood, scooping Hunter up as she went.
Dudley kept hold of the arm as he stood up also and followed her back around the house, toward whatever the danger, or bullying, might be most likely to be found.
But the crowd was coming this way, with wands drawn and light charms flashing back and forth along the path.
Pansy was basically naked by this point, except for copper bands and the straps and ribbons holding them in place. And she was put back together except for the arm Dudley held. But she was moving like she was drunk. And her eyes were wide and terrified. And Vincent and Theo were helping hold her up. And Gregory was behind wringing his hands almost as much as the blond boy.
The man in dark green with too many buttons was irritated. But all he seemed to be doing was holding his light over her shoulder very very steady.
So steady that, as he paced forward, Dudley thought of a panther or an S.F.O. from movies.
"What's wrong with her?" whispered Melantha. Luna jumped out of her arms to the railing and back down onto the porch, while also becoming human.
"They put her back together wrong, to see if she could still walk," said Luna.
"Luna!" Pansy shouted, "You started this."
"I did," said Luna, "But I didn't say you should walk like that."
"Humph," said Pansy.
"That's not permanent is it?" muttered Melantha.
"Not any more than putting on your shoes backwards is permanent," Dudley muttered back, "doesn't make it comfortable or easy to correct."
"Bloody hell," said Melantha.
Instead of to the front of the house, the way Dudley normally thought of going, the crowd made their way along the back of the house and in by the ballroom door, then into the dining room.
Melantha and Dudley followed.
And then suddenly they were being directed to the servant's dining room, where the chairs were less comfy but the floors were stone, and nice and cool underfoot. Someone brought out the bilberries and cream and milk, to go with the biscuits already set out, and everyone got what they wanted, except Pansy who stood very very still and looked on.
Dudley put her arm and wrist back the right way and took it to her. The space open for it was on the correct side, but that was the wrong elbow.
"Do you want me to fix—?"
"Not yet," she said, She took her arm from him and after several clumsy attempts got it reattached. "Just get me a chair, and as soon as they finish blessing, help me sit down."
"Alright," said Dudley and brought over the most appropriate chair he could see.
One with arms would have been better, but he wasn't sure if there was one closer than the second dining room or the front face of the porch.
Blessings and toasts were made.
"Ready?" said Dudley.
"Sit down, Dudley," said Pansy. An imperious gesture to the chair.
"Sure?"
"Sit," she said.
He sat.
"Hold my hips," she said.
He did.
She sat.
Trembling hesitantly like it was her first time ever trying to do that.
As soon as she was secure she breathed hard several times.
"Were you holding your breath to not fall over?" he asked.
"Breathing slow, not to fall over," she said.
"Now do you want to start fixing…"
"Why bother? Just start unbuckling the garters that hold them close to my joints. I'll sort them out tomorrow."
"Oh," said Dudley, He reached for one at her elbow.
"Don't," she said, "your job is to keep me from falling over, and some of them need to come off in a specific order."
"Oh," said Dudley.
She reached behind her and unlaced a ribbon from her braid and let it fall, then lifted her neck ring from over her head.
Which was now backward. And Dudley finally recognised that what was facing him was not shoulder blades but boobs.
She glared in the general direction of his ear for a second, "Sorry," she said, "I was wrong, elbows next is a very good idea."
He helped her unlace those, now that she couldn't quite get them in front of her face.
The blond boy came up, with a bowl of fruit swimming in cream.
"Why's he the one holding you?" he said. He held out a spoonful of cream and bilberries.
"Not now, Draco," she said.
After he'd put the spoon back in the bowl, she sighed, "Mostly because he's the only one here who doesn't want to," she said, "And right now I don't want to be touched, and I do want someone undistractable keeping me from landing on the floor."
"And he's undistractable?" said the blond boy, putting the spoon back in the bowl and the bowl on the nearest point of the table.
She shrugged, "As close as can be managed, until or unless Mr. I-can't-see-veela could be cajoled down from upstairs."
"I wouldn't count on that."
"And I'm not in a patient mood," said Pansy.
"And since when exactly have you wanted not to be touched?"
"Since they put my neck and chest together backwards? And my elbows on the wrong sides, they meant to switch my knees also but got themselves too confused to manage."
"Ah," said Draco, "Would you like additional help?"
"Knees," she said, "It's just a garter strap then let it slide down."
"Are these safe to slide through each other?"
"If they weren't stable enough to slide through space they wouldn't be safe to slide through space, and they'd fall apart just from planetary and galactic motion."
"Ah," said Draco, "alright." He crouched to work on her knees and ankles.
By that time she and Dudley had gotten both her elbows loose enough to push down. When it came time to wiggle the bracelets off over her thumb knuckles, Dudley had to do most of it.
"Good," she said, "Now undo this," she pointed to the buckle at her chest. The one that held up the two at her armpits and the one around her middle.
Dudley unbuckled that, and she wiggled that band down her arm until it slipped free, dropping one arm on the floor and leaving her other arm in its place.
"Ouch," she muttered, but reached across and wiggled the other one down, without the weight of an arm pulling it down, it didn't drop free the same way just slid down and down, pulling her arm through the floor end of that circle, leaving it on her side where it belonged.
Sometimes, Dudley could make a tiny bit more sense of these things than the rest of the time.
"Did that one want to fall up?"
"Maybe a little," she said, "Why?"
"Because … pushing it down was actually lifting your arm? So it should have weighed, negative."
"Right," she said, "But it was only lifting a little of it at a time, and the copper plates also weigh something."
"Ah," said Dudley.
.
They set about her middle next. She had to stand up for that, and Draco had to disconnect one of her thigh plates, so she could wiggle the stomach plate down far enough to slip over the corner of the thigh plate, then it slid down and off just fine. Which also had the effect of turning her bum around to match the direction the rest of her was facing.
Taking the thigh bands down was much more sensible while she was standing than it would have been otherwise, and then she was back to normal. She grabbed her bowl of berries, thanked Draco and Dudley, and wandered away.
Draco sighed.
Dudley sighed, "Who's idea was it to keep torturing her after she objected the first time?"
"I'm not sure," said Draco, "My first guess is Vincent or Tracy, but … Theo … can get peer-pressure-stupid under the right circumstances."
"And with the circumstances that he … already accepted the need to make a fool of himself for everyone's entertainment?"
"Precisely," said Draco, "I notice that no one just left her alone in the forest, and conversely that no one helped her get free until she was already helping herself."
I started to, Dudley thought but didn't say, instead he just agreed, "Something like that. I noticed that no one helped her find her shoes and put them on."
Draco growled and walked over to Pansy, they talked for a few moments, she shook her head, wrapped an arm around his middle, and returned to her previous conversation.
"So what happened there?" said Melantha.
"Which part?" said Dudley.
"Pillow of society?"
"More like: an intelligent, self-balancing chair with an optional seat-belt, of society," said Dudley, "But yes."
"And how do you feel now?"
"About what?"
"Pansy?" said Melantha.
Dudley shrugged.
"About tonight's play?"
Dudley shrugged, "she was fine as long as they stuck close to her script. When they stopped following it," Dudley shook his head, "she either didn't ask for help, or she asked but didn't receive any. I don't like that."
"Explain?"
"Harry stopped asking for help," said Dudley, "It took until I saw Hermione giving it to him anyway that I woke up and … I probably still don't pay enough attention."
Melantha nodded, "I'd stopped asking for help," said Melantha, "Padma … doesn't give me help, but she does stop by sometimes and make me talk about all the help I need. Sometimes she sends someone else to help."
"Hmm," said Dudley,
"I still have cream left," she said, "I'm going to go get a refill on berries and biscuits. Do you want anything?"
"Not yet," said Dudley.
She wandered away.
Dudley looked around, the middle-aged man in dark green was standing close enough to have heard everything.
Dudley even remembered noticing Draco glancing in that direction.
"Hello," said Dudley, "I'm Dudley. Who—"
"I know who you are Mr. Dursley."
"I haven't seen you around before today," said Dudley.
"And you probably won't often see me in future," he said.
So maybe he doesn't want to give his name. But …
"Tell your mother that Mr. Snape sends his regards."
"Alright, Mr. Snape," said Dudley, "So … what are you doing here, tonight?"
"I'm Draco's godfather."
"Oh."
"I think we're both somewhat appalled to see a Lughnasadh village festival re-purposed as if it were a Beltane family rite."
"Is that what …
"The private nature of the contents of that are not uncommon to find in closed family rituals in theory, or in some cases cults that attempt to supplant family ties with religious ties, rather than give each its proper place, to balance and support the other."
"Alright," said Dudley.
"Also," he said, "Lughnasadh traditionally does have implicit capitalist and socialist elements, baked in, shall we say. What we witnessed tonight, was … I'm at a loss to call it anything other than communist."
"But?" said Dudley.
"Not as in Marxian political and economic theories, but as in the original word: of or like a commune."
"Oh, hum."
Dudley looked around again.
Tracy and the blond girl were snogging.
Hermione was sitting with her forehead on the table while Theo rubbed her back. Gregory and Vincent were hovering near the biscuits talking and admiring the view, Luna had taken off her shirt to give Pansy and Draco a tour of the tattoos down her back. Pansy still hadn't seemed to notice that she was still naked, she had her elbow draped through Draco's elbow. He didn't seem to mind. But he did seem to prefer looking at Luna's back to Pansy's front.
"Does that mean that Pansy wants there to be a commune?" said Dudley.
"Ah," said Mr. Snape, "Or perhaps that there is a commune, and Pansy was irritated that it did not yet include all of Hermione's House."
"Oh," said Dudley, "What about Draco?"
"Draco was born the heir to the House that Pansy was born a member. I interpret that he's grown accustomed to the role of her big brother, and intermittently her commander, and has not yet managed to internalise the changes in both their situations. It might be tempting to interpret this as merely her latest bid to convince him to see her as a potential lover. It might further be tempting to interpret Theo and Hermione joining in as meaningful in some way."
"They're a couple?"
Mr. Snape shook his head, "I have no idea if that was Master Nott's virgin experience, but from the surprise I saw from everyone except Hermione … I suspect, he signalled something important by it, though I may not be privy to what that was. Hermione … embraces all her subjects at their need and at her whim, it is not clear from the outside how many of them are her lovers.
"Tonight, she did not copulate like her boys, she did not uncover and let Pansy please her with her tongue the way Tracy did, she picked up Pansy, and pleased her with her own lips."
Dudley glanced at the man and felt himself blush, he turned his gaze to the floor.
"It would be hard not to interpret that as both a blessing of the communal nature of the play and a reprimand for the others not appreciating Pansy's sacrifice properly."
"Oh, um," said Dudley. He glanced toward Pansy. She was leading Draco and Luna over to the refreshments. Luna was holding forth on something or other. They seemed to be having a grand time. Luna had not donned her shirt, merely draped it across her shoulder.
"But I, with the distance of age, and while holding Draco, can only interpret that between the three of them, they may have finally chased Draco away, rather than bring him fully into their house, or commune, whichever. I couldn't quite tell if Daphne was put off, or merely reluctant."
Dudley shrugged.
Pansy looked up from refilling her bowl to meet his gaze.
That expression might have been a reprimand. But about what?
She stalked around the end of the table and right up to arm's reach, her eyes seemed to ask if he'd been looking at her, or at the food. Neither, I was looking at Mr. Snape's object lesson about politics.
Before he could figure out how whether or how to say that, Pansy spoke: "I notice you haven't partaken of the Lughnasadh feast yet."
"I'm on a diet," said Dudley, "I was going to … be sparing about it."
"Keeping the feasts isn't the time to be dieting," muttered Draco.
"As if you're one to talk," she said.
She held up her bowl, drew out two of the smaller biscuits and crushed several berries between them.
"Is this sparing enough?" she said and held it out.
"Sure," Dudley reached for it, but she reached closer and held it under his nose.
He opened his mouth to accept it.
Someone around here really knew how to make biscuits. All the more-so dipped in cream.
She stood waiting expectantly with her hand still hovering near his face.
"Thank you," he said when he could talk again.
"You're welcome," she said, "come on, lick your crumbs?" she held up her fingers so he could see what crumbs she was talking about, and a drip each of cream and berry juice.
He took her hand and licked her thumb and fingers clean.
And then he understood, and he had goose-flesh everywhere.
She hadn't just been talking about skipping dessert, she'd been talking about him abstaining from kissing her hand earlier, though he and Melantha had held it gently through her ordeal.
Except apparently that part hadn't been an ordeal for her. The ordeal for her was her friends turning on her when she was most helpless, by assembling her wrong, rather than just disconnecting the straps and letting her pull herself back through all the portals.
"Thank Lugh for Grain and berries and friends to share them with," said Dudley.
She grinned, and he had another wave of goose-flesh.
"Are you going to do things differently next year?" said Dudley.
"Huh?"
Draco tensed.
"Will it be someone else's turn?" said Dudley, "How are things like that arranged?"
Pansy shrugged, "no idea, but next time there won't be magnets on the portal plates, floss only."
"Ah," said Dudley and nodded, "I admired how you had the magnets arranged to limit how many ways they could be attached. When I used Velcro, I had trouble with ever getting it to align properly."
But my costume was a zombie so being put together a little wrong was acceptable.
Everyone was staring at him.
Oh, and I wasn't supposed to have that portal out and about in front of muggles, not that I've admitted to that yet.
"What are you talking about?"
"Putting costume parts together so that they can come apart easily when needed," said Dudley, "Zippers are very secure, and can be undone fast, perfect for regular clothes, but sometimes for costumes, they're not fast enough, so Velcro." He shrugged, "But you're talking about coming apart, and not going back together again. So, yeah, a few stitches of floss sounds right."
"Hmm," said Pansy, "is Melantha still around?"
Dudley shrugged.
She wandered off, Draco with her, seemingly in the direction of the outdoors, maybe to find Melantha, or retrieve Pansy's shoes and clothes.
Dudley sighed.
"I gave you my thoughts on tonight's revels, I'm still waiting for yours."
Dudley looked up at Mr. Snape, then back across the room. Blond-haired girl, Daphne? Was sitting next to Hermione eating just berries. Tracy was standing in a loose embrace with Theo so that only their arms, shoulders, and foreheads touched. Not like they were ever going to kiss, but like they were waiting for the slow-dance music to start again and got distracted with talking.
Dudley shrugged and looked away, "It was the first pagan thingy I've been to, and I didn't have the feeling there was … much um, reverence for any um … actual gods?" Which I suspect counts as cultural appropriation, but I'm not going to say so since I don't know where anyone here comes from.
Mr. Snape snorted, "and Lugh, if he ever existed seems to have been a muggle chieftain or king, not a god."
Dudley shrugged, "Then what's the point?"
"He can still be an exemplar or archetype of a desirable group of virtues."
"So it's back to psychology again?" said Dudley, "That was probably my second point. I didn't see a god worshipped. But I did see a sacrifice."
"Hmm,"
"Maybe two sacrifices," said Dudley, "One willing, and one unwilling, and I don't know, several … aborted variations of rescues about that."
"One of which was yours."
"True."
"Tell me more?"
"Um," said Dudley, "I read somewhere that: A sacrifice is trading an innocent, pure, or simple thing for the advantage, advancement, or convenience of a more complex or nuanced goal or being, with the power to offer or force that sacrifice to take place."
"I suppose, it is a rather broad term in some ways, yes."
"And I notice or theorise that a rescue," said Dudley, "is one possible inverse of that, the being with the power spends some advantage or convenience to save, protect, or move out of harm's way, the simple, pure, or innocent thing."
"Does it need to be innocent?"
"Not really," said Dudley, "I guess it just needs to be in danger, and not directly have the power, or even just the knowledge, how to get out."
"Ah, using an alternate meaning for the word 'innocence'."
… "Sure."
"You might have just described two fractions of the whole, that is the ethical economics of being a potions master," said Mr. Snape, "Not that I have any hope that you will fully internalise what you've just said for several years."
Whatever that meant, "Does that mean, go write it down and look at it monthly for a while?"
"Yes," said Mr. Snape, "and while you're writing them down, consider writing down that you need to understand that and three-quarters more to earn a living as a potions maker, but you need to understand twice as much as that even, and commit to an oath about living by that knowledge to be 'a useful citizen'."
Ah, Useful citizen was probably a more practical ambition than 'potions maker'
"I'll try," said Dudley.
He pulled his calendar out of his back pocket and wrote that down.
He suspected that the 'two parts out of an unknown number around 4 times greater' was just an off-the-cuff estimate, but … Should I ask for the other 6 or 14 proverbs or whatever they are also?
He let his calendar fall closed.
"So, what have you been researching that you're meditating on the nature of sacrifice and rescue?"
"Lughnasadh, for one," said Dudley, "also … I overheard someone yesterday talking about how Harry has a thing for 'rescuing people' and someone else talking about … Melantha not getting into school at the appropriate time because missing paperwork or something, and Hermione and Theo … um?" I don't understand the details of most of everyone's problems, just a fraction of the emotions they chose to vent in my hearing.
But the man nodded and seemed to understand far more than Dudley knew how to say, or he just had memorised the right facial expression that hinted he knew just about everything, so you hadn't impressed him yet. After he stared Dudley down for several seconds he nodded, "The House and Family of Potter have long had a carefully nurtured reputation for being of the light but being able to see the dark.—"
"Huh?"
A raised eyebrow.
"Which is which?"
"If you ask a traditional family, they mean things about the prevailing moods of magic through the ebb and flow of the different natural energies throughout the seasons. If you ask anyone who isn't a history or linguistic scholar and was born within the last 25 years, half will tell you, 'of the dark' means a political supporter of Grindelwald or Riddle in either of the last two wars. And 'of the light' merely means any of their opponents. (Without discussing the fact that the politics of those two dark lords completely contradicted each other, and 'the light' does not cleave at all close to the balance point between them.) And half will tell you they mean things about your own prevailing emotional connection with, and motivation to use, magic. Rather than anything about the seasons."
"And you, sir?"
"I'm one of those scholars, though you'll notice that I'm aware of the current political climate as well."
Dudley nodded.
"May I continue?"
Dudley nodded.
"The Potter Family has a reputation for knowing the darkness without becoming it. If you look at only their voting record, you might mistake them for just another cog in the light block political machine."
Dudley blinked, "Why would politics have anything to do with either emotional connection to magic or connection to seasonal magic?"
The man sneered, "It depends on a number of factors, but the short answer is: It shouldn't need to, but often does. And that's an intelligence problem of the population, not something inherent in the magic, or the politics, or the economics, or the emotions."
Dudley shrugged.
"Right now the light side is in control, but that has a lot more to do with city-living mages currently voting and lobbying for the light block, rather than either block better representing their interests or politics. Though a portion of the current neutral block is actually light-aligned mages, who can't stand city life. Whereas members of the dark bloc might be a lot more able to see eye-to-eye with the problems faced by city-dwellers if either could see past the language barrier to understand the economic and magical problems associated with living away from native soil, or away from opportunities to experience tribal cohesion and teamwork."
Dudley blinked, Why is he telling me this? Warning me not to run away from home to live with Harry? Why does he care? Or is he trying to make excuses for … any of the many cultural things I didn't understand and had mostly given up trying to understand.
"What's your point?"
He shrugged and looked away, Dudley followed his gaze to the medium-sized snake, flowing across the floor toward them.
At two meters away it reared up to chest height and looked between them, then lowered and continued forward to climb up Dudley, same as last time, except then it slid off Dudley's shoulders onto Mr. Snape's.
"Humph," said Mr. Snape, "To what do I owe this … intimacy?"
The snake lifted a coil and patted him hard on the cheekbone, then slumped and buried its head under his hair.
Mr. Snape grunted in annoyance, then turned his attention to Dudley, "My point was that Harry, while he hasn't been caught practising dark magic, does have a reputation for depression, anger, and violence; which may be … either symptoms, or risk factors, not for the traditional definition of The Dark (the winter seasons), but they are the negative emotions most associated with the dark path, for the emotional definition of the dark."
"Ah," said Padma from right behind Dudley's shoulder, "But aren't depression and anger the same thing, only one is without the energy to effect the change, or right the wrong, that the anger demands, … or supplies."
"Perhaps," said Mr. Snape, "I wouldn't say that they are the same, merely that yes, anger without hope, energy, or outlet might become depression."
"Second," said Padma, "I thought anger was the path of the blue mage, especially the humble, patient anger that Harry is known for. And that it is pride and indifference that is the path of the black mage."
Mr. Snape smiled.
It wasn't a positive sort of smile. More like an ambush already in progress.
But he shrugged, and she noticed the snake and frowned.
"Come on, Margaid," she said and took hold of one of the snake's coils, "this is a relatively vegetarian feast, would you like to come with me and find something more to your tastes?"
The snake unburied its head and stared. Then hissed.
Padma stared back and twitched her neck to the side, then hissed back.
Long and complex, and not exactly rhythmic.
The snake nodded and uncoiled into her hands and arms, and she carried it away towards the pantries.
Mr. Snape looked after her. "Alright, that's … very concerning."
"What is?"
"I was under the impression she couldn't do that," he said, "that she can, either implies my intelligence was wrong in one aspect, or that Harry has already started with much darker magic than I expected."
"Do what?"
"Talk to snakes, without being able to turn into one herself."
"Oh," said Dudley, "It's not a normal mage thing?"
Mr. Snape shook his head, "You'll find that Harry is not particularly average. And talking to snakes is a skill that should pass only via heredity or dark magic."
"What makes it light or dark? Or why is it called either of those things?"
"Depends on which 'light' and which 'dark' you mean."
"Tell me each?"
Mr. Snape rolled his eyes, "Traditionally, light magic is for summer but also for spring, dark magic is for winter, but also for autumn."
Dudley blinked, "alright?"
"Light magic is doing big things while you have optimal resources available, and easy hospitality, and small things at a moment's notice because whimsy dictates, and the budget does not constrain. Dark magic is the magic done in the dark and cold, planned meticulously because there is no extra budget, of re-using every scrap, and also the magic of harvesting everything that can further your goals, even if your only goal is for your family and friends to survive the winter."
"Hmm," said Dudley.
"You notice that 'planning ahead' is not the exclusive domain of either one, but one plans ahead because 'the budget demands,' and the other one plans ahead because: if one is going to build the huge edifice, even if it is only on a whim, ideally one should build that huge edifice such that it will serve its purpose for decades and centuries to come."
"Alright," said Dudley.
"There's much more to it, but let's see, the emotional school … Yes, as Mrs. Patil said, pride and indifference are the domain of those who have budgeted perfectly for themselves, and leave no slack for welcoming others to their table, nor any intention of changing that in the future. The light mage, of course, either has means beyond their budget and has plenty to share, or is lacking and begging for others to share. But they don't see it or say it that way, they talk about 'brotherly love', and 'loyalty', and 'care' or 'respect' for all beings or whatever."
"And you don't approve of that?"
"I don't approve of overdrawn budgets," said Mr. Snape, "I do approve of hospitality willingly offered and respectfully accepted. And I point out that sometimes a kind ear can be of more worth than an over-generous handout."
"Yeah."
Mr. Snape shrugged, "Political propaganda will tell you that the light represents equality for all beings, or protecting muggles, or state-level socialism because excess prosperity implies it. The greys or neutrals represent normal businesses and industries. And the dark represents farmers and land owners: Hidebound country folks who haven't met a muggle or a commoner in years. The truth is that 70% to 90% of the Wizengamot is made up of the Heads of Houses, many of which own land and businesses, and either run those farms and businesses or help run them or are continually lobbying the leadership to employ more of their dependants. Which either amounts to socialism or nepotism, depending on whether you can see a small corporate empire as a tiny country, and the family that owns it as either that country's royalty or as the destitute which must be provided for somehow, even if it is by being stuffed into a job position that barely suits them so that they can draw any paycheck at all."
"Ugh," said Dudley.
"I've heard interesting echos about Harry encouraging people to 'find their own work', and 'accept training', and 'not being afraid to ask for employment-related resources', and not 'encouraging his business officers to hire on anything other than merit'. This gives me hope that he also is neither 'dark' nor 'light' but just … properly sensible. And in a few years, will take up the role often reserved for Potters: providing a moderate voice in the Wizengamot, such that the Light and Dark and Neutrals can see past their differences in rhetoric and accomplish their shared goals in a reasonably timely manner."
Dudley shrugged, "I don't have any idea, I only know I haven't seen nearly as much of him this summer as I expected."
Mr. Snape nodded and gave Dudley an odd look.
But then, most of his expressions were odd, Dudley wondered what his animagus form might be, and whether knowing that would make him any easier to read.
"Do you feel cheated?"
"Not exactly," said Dudley.
"Receiving less attention than you feel you are entitled?"
"Not quite that."
"Did you know that the House of Potter has been one of three Families in British mage culture with a reputation for providing sanctuary for squibs and orphan mages?"
"No," said Dudley, "Should I be aware of the other two?"
"Selwyn which is to say Black, and Prewett which is to say Urquhart," a raised eyebrow, "No? those mean nothing to you?"
"No," said Dudley, "Only I knew that Padma's sister's engagement name is Black rather than Potter or Patil."
He nodded, "and Miss Weasley's mother's maiden name is Prewett. In all three cases, the families tended toward a … reputation for … keeping those with strong magic or strong minds in the breed-stock, and those with weakness, in either case, alive and productive, but not necessarily encouraged to prosper at the expense of the house."
"Sounds like eugenics."
Mr. Snape nodded, "Perhaps. But remember, the more popular strategy was to just disown or abandon those who couldn't live up to the family ideal, and who cares whether they even survive?"
Dudley shook his head, "That's not right."
Mr. Snape nodded, "No, it is not, but in times of war, pestilence, or famine, budgets tend to be tight."
Dudley shrugged, "I'm not sure whether that's a sufficient excuse."
Mr. Snape shrugged, "Remember that throughout history, pestilence and famine have been the rule in Europe. In other places and other times, it was war and famine or war and pestilence. It's only since muggle science turned its eyes on agricultural techniques that famine has been pushed so far away. And only since it has become popular for their philosophers to study trade rather than war that it has gained the upper hand in the imagination of the populace. With rich benefits to everyone newly allowed to participate."
"I'm not sure that I believe that…" said Dudley.
"Then you've heard the propaganda toward further change, rather than noticed the history of the change already achieved."
"What?"
"How much more of Africa and Asia are now allowed to participate in intercontinental trade?" said Mr. Snape, "granted there's not nearly enough difference between dying in war and dying of starvation, nor between dying of plague before you can enter school or dying of starvation directly, or the complications of malnutrition because puberty cannot progress properly without a sufficient budget of calories and minerals." Mr. Snape tilted his head to the side. "Keep your eyes open, the muggle world is a much better place than it used to be. I'm not saying that it is better than the mage world, only that it is progressing faster, and catching up to the mage world. Not that the mage world has noticed in any way other than the falling cost of imported food."
Dudley blinked, "What's your point?"
"My point is not that the world is 'perfect'," said Mr. Snape, "My point is that anyone who tells you it is an 'unutterably terrible place' and 'getting worse and ought to be destroyed,' is selling you dung, and that's true no matter which side of the statute of secrecy they are from."
Dudley nodded, "Sure, but…"
Mr. Snape shrugged, "Before that, I was trying to explain that a lot of wizarding Britain would find it dreadfully ironic, or a complete and utter shame and farce that: When Harry Potter, the heir of the House of Potter became an orphan, he wasn't placed in the care of his own orphanage."
Dudley blinked, "Oh, yeah I suppose."
"Or, if that was too much of a conflict of interests, into the keeping of one of the other two. Perhaps most believe that is what happened, but few enough people had an in with more than one of those families, and none had sufficient connection with all three to realise that he was with none of them."
Dudley frowned, "You're saying that the mage world didn't kick Harry out on purpose? And didn't realise that he was gone?"
Mr. Snape nodded.
"I guess that makes sense," said Dudley.
"In the general case at least. Obviously, someone knew."
I'm still not sure why you're telling me all that. Unless you're … trying to let me down easy that Harry is a Lord and will be busy forever even without anything resembling 'a job.' Everyone wants a piece of his time, and I shouldn't be mad that he doesn't have much time or attention to give me.
There was a clatter and a rush, and Harry, Mrs. Potter, and Padma's sister all stumbled in from outside. They were all wearing nothing but sandals and leather night clothes. And Harry at least had sweaty cheeks and neck.
And it hadn't been all that hot since … an hour after the sun dipped behind the trees.
Mr. Snape gave a derisive snort.
"What?"
Mr. Snape leaned close to murmur, "'Mrs. Potter,' you called her, her animagus form has feathers along with hooves and hair."
"So?"
"So Mrs. Black and Lord Potter each have a speckled blue and green feather trailing from their braids."
With all three crowding around the desserts, it was easy to find the feathers.
"Oh," said Dudley.
"And if I don't miss my guess, the new stripe of black in Mrs. Potter's braid is horse hair from Mrs. Black's animagus form. I will not deign to guess mane-hair or tail-hair, I'm not sure I want to know."
"Umm," said Dudley, "Does getting a haircut or a feather removed from your animagus form, cause problems when you change back?"
"Depends on how you achieve your form," said Mr. Snape, "At least two of the methods that would eventually be safe. I have no idea what methods any of them use."
Dudley shrugged, "It's kind of weird."
"What is?"
"Just, I haven't seen either of them with their braids down for a long time, or ever."
"Oh," said Mr. Snape, then nodded, "it might be related to the dessert being served without them, and then them being in a rush to get here. Or it might merely be connected to the fact that tonight's dress code seems to be night clothes."
"Oh," said Dudley, "I hadn't considered that."
The newcomers were permitted a bite or three, then Draco took Harry's bowl away and put it on the table, before giving him a firm hug, which Harry returned with only the slightest hint of hesitation. Then Draco pulled away and gave his dessert back.
They spoke a few more words, and Draco went out.
Mr. Snape hummed for several seconds, then nodded, "Well Mr. Dursley, at this juncture, I believe I must bid you goodnight."
"Ah," said Dudley, "Goodnight."
They exchanged nods that were too slow to be anything other than bows and then he stalked away in the direction that Draco had left.
Dudley sighed.
So, serve myself an actual helping of dessert, or not? Now that it looks like everyone will be starting seconds soon. Or staying true to his intention to not eat too much supper?
Maybe he'd wait for Harry to finish his firsts.
.
Before that happened Tracy, Theo, and Draco returned, with the serious blond girl that seemed intermittently to be Tracy's girlfriend or Hermione's. And two younger girls, one was Theo's little sister Katherine, and the other seemed to be … twelve or thirteen and really irritated right now, possibly for not being allowed to the big kid's party, or just as likely for being cooped up taking care of Katherine… Though why that should be a problem… Katherine had always struck Dudley as one of the quiet ones.
But then, maybe that was just in the context of library etiquette and Padma to enforce it.
The noise level rose drastically with both of them here, and Luna and Padma returned from wherever they'd gone. Luckily Luna had her leather nightshirt on again. Also now she was the one wearing the snake.
Oh, and Draco was in day clothes. And this time that meant most of a suit, instead of the exercise clothes that he'd been in the other times Dudley had seen him, but that was for farm work and sword practice.
Dudley glanced to check on Harry, but he was already making his way to the back of the line for seconds. Oh, and to greet Mr. Snape and Draco as they made their way through to leave by a different door this time.
From Harry's expression, that would be the last of them for the night.
Imagine being at a pyjama party for hours, then getting dressed again to go home.
Dudley hadn't known it was going to be a pyjama party … but also he didn't have to travel home tonight.
"Wotcher, has Melantha gone home?"
[No, she's on the front porch.]
Dudley went out, she was in her favourite chair, and the girl with super-long blond hair was near her, though neither of them was talking.
As he approached he had the whimsical urge to plop down in Melantha's lap, like several people around here seemed to think was normal.
But he was aware that he was somewhat above the average weight, and both the girls that he'd seen do that were below normal weight.
So he just stood in front of her, but far enough away to not be getting in her moonlight.
"Melantha," he said.
"Dudley," she said.
"Thank you for … keeping me company in a very weird crowd and circumstance."
The girl with super-long blond hair snorted.
"Ah," said Melantha, "is that how you saw it?"
Dudley shrugged, "That's … what I wanted and asked for, that you gave me. The part that I needed but couldn't ask for …" said Dudley, "Thank you for helping me leave when I couldn't … couldn't explain."
"I thought you explained very well, actually," said Melantha.
Dudley shrugged, "I couldn't say what I wanted and I didn't say, 'please'."
"Ah, I see," said Melantha, "That lapse from clear and strictly correct manners is forgiven."
"Thank you," said Dudley and moved to the side and sat down.
There was quiet and moonlight for most of two minutes.
"I think," sighed Dudley, "that counted as a rescue."
"What?" said Melantha.
"Sounds like it," said the blond girl.
"What?" said Melantha.
"Needing to leave and needing help to leave and not being capable of asking for it, and you providing the needed help. Sounds like a rescue," said the blond girl.
"Ah," said Melantha, "Humph."
"You have a different interpretation you want to give?"
"No, I want to hear where Dudley was coming from with that, or where he was going with it."
"She said part of what I meant, better than I could," said Dudley, "But where I was coming from was: Mr. Snape and I had just been discussing … them … sacrificing more than Pansy had meant to be offering, and how many of them had … helped her in the way they were willing instead of in the way that she needed, or wanted or whatever. I'm still kind of angry about that, but I wasn't there to see who started it or how well anyone communicated or anything, so I'm feeling guilty about how judgemental I'm feeling."
The blond girl sighed, "Probably it was not very different than you expect. In isolation, every detail could have been innocent teasing, but all of them together put her in a position of helplessness. … A different position of helplessness than she had expected, therefore a breach of the trust she'd already shared with us to have entered into the first position of helplessness in our care."
"Ah," said Melantha, "and did finding out that her friends weren't quite as trustworthy as she hoped…"
"Hmm?"
"Did those people proving that they weren't the friends she thought she could trust, I don't know, retroactively … cancel her consent and change her experience … into rape?"
The blond girl shuddered, "No, I don't think so, she acted fine once she was … out of costume, but … now that you mention that risk, I'll keep an eye on her, and make sure she … remains ok."
"Thank you," said Melantha.
"Thank you," said Dudley.
There was silence.
"I'm done," said Dudley, "you can go back to your previous topics."
The blond girl snorted, "Like we need your permission."
"Obviously," smiled Dudley, "Unless it's girl stuff, and we'd all rather you tell me to go away for a while."
Melantha bit her lip.
"Nah," said the blond girl, "it was about how my sister reacted earlier, when she heard that there was a muggle around. It seems like in her cohort, she isn't one with influence but one influenced."
"That's not all that uncommon in … non-oldest siblings, right?" said Dudley.
"No idea," said Melantha.
The blond girl shrugged.
"So how did she react?" said Dudley.
"I don't really have a word for it," said the blond girl.
"Racist paranoia," said Melantha.
"What?" said Dudley.
"Apparently it's somewhat common among mages whose parents have isolated them from the rest of society," said Melantha, "Racist against non-mages, anti-immigrant against first-generation mages."
Dudley blinked several times, He'd known those things, but he'd never thought to use those words for them. Or seeing them in a way that yanked the similarities and inevitability into stark relief, "Oh, yeah. That sounds depressingly predictably normal," said Dudley.
"What?" said the blond girl.
Dudley shrugged, "we talked about it in history," said Dudley, "one generation buys houses segregated by race or economic class, or work caste, or whatever, because it's more comfortable, or more convenient, or the shortest distance to work or whatever, and the next generation grows up with fewer friends and acquaintances across the divide, whatever kind of divide it is, and if nothing happens to convince them to mix up again, by the time grand-kids come around, they don't know that the original reason was convenience, nor that the reason it continued was ignorance, and assume that a tradition with no obvious explanation must be guided by moral principles so strong that we don't even talk about that."
Melantha snorted, "Alright, … so it runs deeper than just idiots not knowing any better?"
Dudley shrugged, "Human development man: predictable, repeatable, but the results are trippy."
Melantha laughed out loud.
"It's not a laughing matter," said the blond girl, "Wars have been fought about this."
Dudley nodded, "Haven't most wars been about this, at the foundation? Humans' only natural predator is other humans. But unlike other monkeys, we usually don't fight, if there's economic incentive otherwise, or we can keep from lowering our inhibition to violence through spite, fear, and hatred."
Melantha nodded, "You think a lot about this stuff?"
"Had to," said Dudley, "for one semester at least."
"So what's the advice about Astoria?"
"Give her the chance to meet muggles near her own age and temperament," said Melantha, "and maybe take her to more TV mornings at Tracy's?"
"Yes, well," sighed the blond girl, "I guess I'd better go check on her and Pansy. Good night you two."
"Good night, Miss Greengrass," said Melantha.
"Good night," said Miss Greengrass.
Then she went inside.
.
Melantha sighed.
"Are you alright?"
"I try to remember she's just a normal girl, just really busy, and working hard to be responsible for some of her friends."
"What?"
"About a month ago, her father was elected Minister of Magic, which is kind of like prime minister, and kind of also like, just the head of the Department of Magic under the real prime minister. Or maybe that's a separate thing."
"Oh, wow," said Dudley.
They sat in silence for a while.
"Dudley? Are you alright?"
"Harry told me he was a peer, but I didn't really believe him. Then I come to visit and he has a fancy house with a fancy magical butler that keeps track of a huge amount of land he owns like … kind of like an old lord, and kind of like just a CEO that owns a couple of farm corporations."
"Pretty much, except being the owner and being the CEO are different things. And there are persistent rumours about how few years it is until one of his wineries owns a controlling interest in itself, via its own pension fund rather than trying to muddle along as best it can with no board of governors legally able to give orders rather than mere advice to its CEO, because AHEM absent senior partner."
Because Harry hadn't known he needed to be voting his stocks or whatever.
"Whatever, And then you tell me that he has the prime minister's daughter over for Lughnasadh."
"Actually, Pansy had her over for Lughnasadh."
"Oh, how does that work?"
Melantha shrugged, "How do you think, you write or call (or sit on) your friend or acquaintance, and say I'm having a party, you're invited."
"It's just weird having your party at someone else's house."
"Especially when it's a sex party?"
"Especially when it's a pseudo-religious sex party," said Dudley.
"No doubt," said Melantha.
"I knew it was going to be pseudo-religious," said Dudley, "I wonder if I should have guessed that it might be sexual, from the fact that she decided to sit on me while she offered the invitation."
"I have no idea," said Melantha, "Pansy is weird in ways all her own."
"I'm feeling … kind of bad about … not knowing whether to yell at them for being irreverent, since it's not my religion, or cultural appropriation, which I think is basically the same crime except I'd get to yell at them even when it's not my religion, except in the case of, if it is their religion, but I think it's not most of their religion."
"Hmm," said Melantha, "I'd wondered what cultural appropriation meant, just another term for irreverence?"
"Oh, umm, I think so. Except the implication is less about disrespecting gods or whatever and more disrespecting the people who believe in them, by disrespecting anything … what's the word … umm sacred umm to whatever religion or culture."
"Ah," said Melantha, "and irreverence in general feels like a fun rebellion. And we both gave into the temptation to go and laugh at their antics."
"Yeah," said Dudley, "and now I feel like the only one who … ones who weren't guilty of disrespect were … the ones who didn't laugh."
"How many was that?"
"Maybe only Pansy. I'm not sure about Theo and Daphne and Hermione and Mr. Snape. And some of them, I'm not sure if they didn't laugh out of respect for … anything sacred, or only out of respect for … the actors or stage production in general."
Melantha snorted. Then sighed, "I have no wisdom to offer you, it happened, it was utterly ridiculous, we both laughed, it got … is 'vulgar' the right word? And we left. I …" she sighed again, "have no wisdom."
"Mr. Snape said something that made me think it was all fine until the sex. I'm not sure if that means utterly ridiculous was ok for that particular play. Or if he was discounting that to reassure me boycotting the err sex part was a commendable choice."
"Or reassuring you that he was sane, and could be trusted to take care of Draco."
"Or that."
.
They sat in silence for a while longer.
"I guess I should be going soon," said Melantha.
"It doesn't seem like it's that late," said Dudley.
"Huh?"
"Most everyone's gone to bed already," said Dudley, "But between summer sunlight, and the night after the full moon, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that my estimation is off."
"Oh, I see," she said.
"And um,"
"Yes?"
"Thanks for waiting for me to finish helping Pansy rescue herself so that I could say thanks and goodbye and sorry, and all that."
"Ah," said Melantha, "was there anything you wanted to tell me about that part?"
"I think I already said it," said Dudley, "I'm angry she needed help, I'm angry that it had to be me that gave it to her, I'm confused about … well, she's sat on me twice and neither time really seemed like flirting."
"They didn't?"
"No, not really," said Dudley. "Susan was flirting the day before yesterday, Pansy … I'm not sure what she wants."
"What did you tell Susan?"
"That I didn't let girls who hadn't told me their name yet, take off my pants."
Melantha blinked, "I don't think I've seen her flirt with anyone except Harry and Luna."
"She … well anyway, eventually she came to her senses and decided that … something about me was letting her confuse me for Harry, and said sorry for scaring me, and left."
"Has Pansy told you her name yet?"
"No, I picked it up from context."
"Alright," she said.
"And the last thing about helping Pansy that I already … well almost told you, was that I was really happy to see you hadn't left during that and I'd have a chance to say thank you for company and sorry that I needed help."
"Everyone needs help from time to time," said Melantha, "I'd rather you didn't feel guilty about it being your turn tonight."
Dudley nodded, then shrugged, "Anyway, thank you for waiting."
"You're welcome," said Melantha, "Thank you for keeping me company tonight."
"You're welcome," said Dudley.
"Thank you for your part in instigating me … not spending the last two days sulking."
"You're welcome," said Dudley, "Why would you be doing that?"
"Because Ginny and Harry are too busy to talk to me," said Melantha.
"Sheesh," said Dudley, "Yeah, me too."
"And they keep me too busy to meet their friends properly," said Melantha.
"Do they pay you?"
"Of course they pay me."
"Alright," said Dudley.
"Why?"
"They're not paying anyone else, I think, it's just honour system rent or something."
"Right," said Melantha, "It may not be that dissimilar a time commitment to the farm chores they ought to be doing at home if they even lived on farms."
"Oh," said Dudley.
"Now it really is time for me to be going home, I'll almost certainly have work tomorrow," said Melantha, standing up, "Goodbye, Dudley."
"Goodbye, Melantha," said Dudley standing also.
She held out her hand.
Dudley shook it.
"And if I don't see you tomorrow before I have to go," said Dudley.
He hugged her.
"Thank you," she said and hugged him back, "Until we meet again, Dudley."
"Until we meet again," said Dudley.
She let go and climbed down the steps and portkeyed away.
.
As he lay alone in Susan's bed, smelling Susan's shirt and his own. His mind slid around to trying to explain the last week to Susan. Or Mr. Snape things to Melantha, or Melantha things to Wotcher or … his entire week to Susan.
Or that he was fairly sure that he'd just had a religious experience with a bunch of atheists.
Because he didn't believe there was a god named Lugh, and he didn't have any reason to believe there existed a real goddess named Grain or Persephone or Gaia. But he did believe in the realness of the concepts of food in general, and farming in general, and we-the-guests-at Harry's Manor in general, and the farming that they'd done together specifically, even if they'd rarely all done the same work on the same day.
And somehow he couldn't help noticing a concept of we-the-guests-of Pansy's ritual specifically, which very definitely included him, even though he'd never have gone out of his way to build such a concept, and they definitely had each chosen different levels of participation in that ritual.
But they'd all eaten Mrs. Potter's biscuits, (which probably were made fresh today from this morning's harvest of first-grain), and Dudley and Melantha's harvest of first-bilberries, and all kissed Pansy, standing in symbolically for both those things and for the camaraderie of working on those things together, just as: first-grain and first-bilberries stood in symbolically for all the farming that had been done already this summer and all the harvesting that was left to do later, and … probably the camaraderie of working together to feed we-the-guests-at Harry's Manor stood in for all the hard work of farmers everywhere to feed … we-the-people-of … planet earth?
That seemed way too communist.
So at the very least, or err, the most conservative versions of those groups would be, we-the-people-that … contribute to the economy, supporting we-the-animals-that are supported by the economy.
And while Dudley had always been in the second group, (even if he'd never noticed it was a group nor ever needed to reason about it before), He had only barely started qualifying as part of the first group this summer, when Dad bought him a used car and told him that he was responsible to buy his own fuel, and he had started taking odd jobs to earn that money.
It was a strange thought, half uncomfortable, half exhilarating, more than half daunting, but he was still only a teenager … he could put off worrying about 'real' jobs for when he was an adult.
But still, those groups were real, did that mean that the ceremony was real? Even if no one else noticed? Or had already seen it enough times to have lost touch with any reverence.
Or had their parents lost touch with any reverence, and not tried to teach anything else about it?
Maybe the reason I can't make sense of it, is because they left out important parts?
Or maybe it never did mean anything. No that didn't seem likely.
Or maybe the only thing it meant was, the thing Gregory kept saying, 'behold,' which means 'look,' or 'see.'
But the only thing he pointed out was the symbols and categories.
Maybe that was all it meant, 'Look at this category, you are part of it,' and 'Look at that category, are you part of that?'
I am part of 'mankind.' Sometimes I'm a farmer. I am not food or the field or rot. Unless rot includes things like … being a bully? Not exactly. Or maybe specifically destroying things to keep other people from getting to enjoy them.
Yeah, ok. I probably need to be more careful about getting into that mood.
Eventually, Dudley drifted off.
...-...
{End chapter 5}
