Chapter 2 – There is Always a Ball

25 March 2010

Dagworth-Granger Manor Library

Sussex

Harry Potter

I watch as Malfoy fled the library. It was quite hard not to enjoy the look on his face while the will was being read. I've never seen Malfoy so…unhinged. Malfoy has been sort of a friend the last seven years. It started simply enough with Quidditch. A few of the guys around the office missed playing, so Ron and I made the decision to start an amateur league. I discovered I owned a fair bit of land near Godric's Hollow, so I contracted Dean Thomas to build us a Quidditch field. He was so excited about the league he only charged for supplies. The stadium was built in a week. I put an advertisement in the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler. We had a huge response from everyone ranging in age from 18 to 35. We were able to form 12 teams, and I put Malfoy on my team because I wasn't about to deal with his shite if my team lost to him. He requested to be a Chaser and I'll never admit it to him, but he's the best on the league.

He keeps to himself. He works hard and stays out of the press. When Malfoy took over as Head of the House in 2000, no one heard from him for a couple of years. He sold almost all of the Malfoy businesses. I thought at the time maybe…..anyway, come to find out he just was working with Mrs. Dagworth-Granger.

I owe the prat. Malfoy introduced me to my wife, Daphne, in the summer of '03 after our first quidditch game. She was the most beautiful woman I ever laid eyes on. She oozed sophistication. I knew I'd never have a chance with her. That night at the Leaky after one too many butterbeers, I awkwardly asked her out, she had mercy on me and accepted. Our first date was a huge fail, but she said she would give me one more chance. Turns out she had a wonderful sense of humor. Our second date, she looked at me and said, "Harry Potter if you don't stop treating me like I'm made of glass, I will hex your arse off!" We were married a year later. I have two amazing sons James 3, named after my father and Hy (Hyperion) 6 months old, named after hers. Although it was Daphne's devotion and love that gave me a beautiful life, I can't help to count my blessings every day and that includes Malfoy.

I only met Madame Dagworth-Granger a couple of times. I was surprised I received an owl about being in her will. I understand it now. This was about Hermione. Hermione is going to go apocalyptic. She made me her Limited Power of Attorney years ago so I could handle anything that could come up in England. She will not be pleased Madame Dagworth-Granger found a way around that. The Will said she asked me a favor. That's a laugh. The woman couldn't possibly know how to ask for anything. She makes demands.

11 August 2004

Department of Magical Law Enforcement

Harry's Office

Harry

I was just coming back from lunch with Ron and the guys when I was stopped by an admin, Tracey.

"Oh Potter! A woman came to the department about 20 minutes ago. She asked where your office was and said she would wait there. I wasn't about to argue with her. The woman is terrifying. Sorry."

"Thank you, Tracey. Can you tell me how terrifying before I die?" I smirk.

She cringes. "Oh, you'll see. Haha. She came with a bodyguard and…..she….she is wearing a tiara."

I laugh. "Sounds like you'll need a round with the department mind healer."

"Definitely! "

I snicker and head to my office. Outside my door, stands a man at least 7'6" feet tall, dressed in all black. He's all muscle and is larger than the width of the door frame. I didn't know they made suits that big. The man looks like he could pick me up and tear me in half and not break a sweat.

I don't know what is going on. I look up at the man, Uhh…hi. This is my office."

From inside my office, I hear a voice, "Let him in, Joe."

The man Joe, I guessing, opens the door and mumbles, "Name's not Joe, lady."

I laugh while entering my office, and sitting at my desk like she owned it, sat a tiny woman that was only about 5 feet tall. She is elderly, but I can't tell her age. She is in a purple ball gown, her hair is in a complicated updo the color of purest white, and indeed, an amethyst tiara. She's covered in jewels, diamond and amethyst necklace, diamond bracelets, and a ring on every finger. She had a sharp stare and was holding a framed photo of the Golden Trio at King's Cross from the first day of Eighth Year I kept on my desk. "Uhh….he says his name isn't Joe."

She squints her honey brown eyes at me and lifts her chin. In the most clear and haughty voice, she exclaims, "I have been the last of my generation since Aberforth Dumbeldore died 2 years ago. I stopped learning names decades ago. They are all named, Joe, but he helps me apparate where I need to go, and he's just scary enough people leave me alone.."

Everything about her was like watching an old movie. The black and white Victorian movies Aunt Petunia used to force me to watch with her when she was in a good mood. Even her ball gown looked to be as if it stepped out of a time capsule. If I had to guess I would think she was only about 80, but if she is as old as Abe, then she is at least 110. Glamour….maybe?

She eyes me up and down while I tried to think of a response. She says, "Mr. Harry Potter, have you not been taught the King's English? In less than two minutes of our acquaintance I have heard you utter 'uhh' twice. You are a Lord, Mr. Potter, not a plebian!"

Who is she? "I apologize, Madame. How may I assist you?"

She makes eye contact, "You are slouching. I am finding it rather difficult talking to you when you are unable to stand up straight. Please have a seat."

I sit down on the edge of the closest chair, a bit terrified to not sit up straight. I feel every muscle in my body tense. She appears to have noticed. Her eyes are knowing. She looks as if she can read my every thought. I try to occlude, but the skill still evades me.

She's smirks, like Malfoy level smirks. What the hell? "Violetta Black would have straightened you out in no time."

I close my eyes. Black?! Sirius. A flash of my godfather falling through the Veil enters my mind. I close my eyes for a few seconds, and when I open them, it's as if her entire face softened. Then I ask, "Who is Violetta Black?"

Immediately I sense I made a horrific error. Whatever softness she felt changed in a flash of what appears to be anger. She sank into the chair slightly, pursed her lips together, and seemed to recover from the impulse she appeared to have, but her eyes are distant. "Violetta Black (née Bulstrode) was your great-grandmother. She was my dear friend and we lost her much too soon. She was on a shopping trip with Cordelia Malfoy, Euphemia Potter, and Lilith Nott in Muggle London when the Germans struck London on 7 September 1940. It took the lives of all four of them. It was the start of The Blitz and known as Black Saturday. The Germans killed 430 people that day and injured thousands. That day changed so much for the wizarding world." She seems to refocus. "How do you not know your family tree?" Her eyes soften slightly, again. "No mind. I will find a way to teach you. Since we have established you have been raised by plebeians, I must take it upon myself for introductions. I am Madame Ophelia Dagworth-Granger. Pleasure."

I nod at her, "Pleasure to meet you, Madame."

She squints her eyes, "There are rules in this society! When a gentleman meets a lady he should gently offer his hand so the lady may gently shake it." She pauses for a few seconds, "I'll get you a book on proper etiquette as well. Didn't you just marry the eldest Greengrass girl? She should fix you, Greengrasses are very good at teaching their daughters etiquette. Let's carry on, shall we? I have come here today to offer you a gift." She reached into her purse and handed me a piece of very fine parchment.

I read it and it's an address in the city of Cambridge, Massachusetts in America. "What is this?"

She lifts her chin, "Young man, that is an address I have painstakingly taken the effort to find since you have miserably failed to do so. I have spoken with Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, and you will have one week of leave time to investigate. I suggest you don't disappoint me. I shall contact you next week for a full report." Then she stood up with a flourish and started to leave my office with as much grace as a queen.

I stopped her at the door and inquired, "Madame, since we have established I have no manners may I inquire why you are dressed for a ball on a Wednesday afternoon?"

She straightens her shoulders remarkably so, and lifts a very determined chin and proclaims, "You really do not possess any manners to speak of, Mr. Potter. I have learned through my extensive life, I sometimes do not either. Therefore, I will answer your question no matter how ill received it may be. I was tasked to continue my late husband's potions company for the last 30 years. I had to live in a man's world and live by man's rules I never intended to do. I learned quickly, but it took 30 years of my life that I will not gain back. Recently, my godson has taken over the reins of my beloved's business, and I intend to spend the rest of my life living by my rules, not a man's rules. In my world, there is always a ball. Good day."

The following week, I received an owl with invite to tea, one book on etiquette, one book on Occlumency, and a Potter family tapestry. That piece of parchment she handed me was the greatest gift I received for a long time.