Chapter 5: On the force of gravity

Lockhart's presence at the school soon became one of the factors that needed to be constantly taken into account. This golden-haired idiot apparently did not trouble himself with preparations for the fast-approaching start of the school year, thus the man aimlessly wandered around the castle, jumping on the staff members from around corners like jack-in-the-box at the most inopportune moments. He lectured Sprout on transplanting dittany, tried to explain the correct way of turning into a cat to Minerva, and advised Flitwick on finer points of the duelling etiquette. He badgered Sinistra with a proposition to create a horoscope for her (for some reason, he was under the impression that it was the subject of Astronomy), mixing up zodiacal constellations and seasons terribly. The rubbish he spewed about children's diseases made Madame Pomfrey's eye twitch. Hagrid, despite all his good nature, stopped eating dinner at the Great Hall altogether. Even Trelawney, who often made her own predictions on the fly, gave him a wide berth in the corridors when he started reflecting on the influence of coffee ground types on Divination accuracy. Vector was the only one to patiently endure his attempts at conversation, most probably because for the last three days she had been reading a new big study on the calculation methods of magical expectation value for certain delta-unstable variables and did not hear a word of the pseudo-Arithmancy gibberish this drone spread around.

After two days of suffering, Severus simply jinxed the entrance to the Slytherin part of the dungeons in such a way that the newly-appointed DADA professor could not go further than the first hall: as soon as Lockhart made a dozen steps down the main corridor, he suddenly experienced headache, nausea and breathlessness urging him to retreat as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, Severus could not spend all his days in the dungeons, but this way he made sure he could work uninterrupted, as well as have breakfast and dinner in the safety of his own rooms.

However, on Friday, August 21st, he received a sudden invitation from Albus to dine and talk in the Headmaster's study. It would not occur to him to decline anyway, and after several days of reclusion in the evenings the chance to talk with a sane companion during dinner seemed in fact rather appealing. On top of that, Albus's eyes twinkled hard, promising something very, very interesting.

Having finished their lamb with peas and berry pudding, they moved on to tea. The merry twinkle in the old wizard's eyes had almost reached the intensity of the Bonfire Night fireworks, so Severus decided to indulge Albus and displayed due impatience.

"Well?" he said, sitting back in his armchair and raising his eyebrow for greater effect.

"Well what?"

"Albus," Severus said reproachfully. "You are going to burst right now. Please do tell what happened to you, I am all ears."

"Not to me, but to you," Albus replied, quite pleased with himself.

"To me?" Severus was astonished.

"Almost. To Lucius, to be precise."

"It cannot be," Severus declared categorically, knowing full well that if anything serious happened to Lucius he would have known about it already. "Lucius is fine."

"I did not state the opposite," Albus retorted.

They stared at each other for a while. At last Severus decided that he held out long enough for the surrender not to look like a defeat. And it was ridiculous to drag it out further.

"Alright, I give up," he said. "What exactly happened to Lucius?"

"A search happened. Yesterday night," Albus announced, staring at Severus.

"A search?" Severus tried as best as he could to look genuinely amazed. "Why?"

Albus shrugged his shoulders.

"It seems someone wrote another anonymous report to the authorities. It looked conclusive enough so the Ministry could not ignore it. What I do not understand is how you knew about it beforehand."

"Albus, please, stop speaking in riddles," Severus sighed. "Who knew about what? I am at a loss."

The Headmaster looked at him merrily.

"Surely you can drop your act with," he said. "Arthur and Alastor visited me in the morning today, and Alastor even left me his memories in the Pensieve. I have not laughed so heartily quite in a while. Do you wish to see for yourself?"

"Maybe I do," Severus said carefully. "Is it a long memory?"

"I cannot say it is a short one," Albus chuckled. "Lucius harassed them for almost six hours in a row, so I did not look through all of it. I think your friend might show everything to you himself if you ask. I might as well show you the way Alastor told me about it."

The Headmaster took out a heavy stone Pensieve from a low cabinet and put it on the table. He touched his temple with his wand and extracted several long silver threads that landed gently at the bottom of the chalice.

"Please." He waved his hand in an invitation. "Enjoy."

"Do you not want to see it too?" Severus was surprised.

"I am sorry, my boy, but I cannot laugh that much." His 'eyes twinkled again. "This pleasure is all yours."

Severus sighed, bent down and sank into his 'memories.

The Headmaster's study, where he ended up, was lit by the morning sun. Judging by the shadows, it was early, but Albus was already sitting at his table, drinking tea and studying some notes on several parchments when the fireplace flared green, and Alastor Moody entered the room, followed by Arthur Weasley. Both looked visibly worn-out.

"I will never forgive you for this, Albus," Alastor grumbled, sitting down across from Albus and shoving away a stack of parchments in irritation. "Why did you send me there? I have not spent time so pointlessly in a long while. And the only result we have achieved is predictable: I did not get enough sleep, and thus will not be able to work efficiently for another twenty four hours at least. There is nothing worse than imitating frenzied activity for several hours in a row, and all this Malfoy family magic gives me a terrible headache, to boot. And what they had prepared for us! I have no words. Children's toys, a talking scarf and a toaster, spewing socks! I have not been a butt of such a joke for a very long time. So, tell me, Albus, did you really have to do this and whatever for?!"

Arthur, who reached an armchair at the beginning of this tirade and sank into it with a sigh (he looked completely drained, too), now sat straighter in surprise and stared at them perplexed.

"What do you mean, Alastor?" he asked, frowning.

"Pfft," he grumbled. "It was obvious from the start that there would be nothing there to find. Arthur, you know it too: Shacklebolt comes and goes there like he lives in that house. Well, maybe not like that, but he shows up there from time to time often enough. No one sane would keep anything even slightly suspicious, apart from the books on the Dark Arts List carefully sanctioned by the Ministry, in the house where Harry Potter lives. The most questionable items they surely keep in their Gringotts vaults where we cannot go, of course. Not to put a fine point on it, but I must admit that I do not keep questionable items at my place either," he snorted and took a cup of tea from the Headmaster's hand. "Thank you, Albus. Anyway, it was a waste of time. You could have sent someone else there, much less careful or competent. They could have accidentally smashed a couple of antique vases. That would have been profit, at least."

Now Arthur stared at Albus.

"Now you have definitely lost me," he admitted. "I did not expect to find much, but all the previous, erm, alerts were reasonably accurate. And if you knew beforehand… No, wait, this is a wrong question." He rubbed his forehead wearily. "Why is Alastor saying that it was you who sent him there? I thought that was the Aurors' case, wasn't it?"

Severus wanted to know that too. He wanted to know even more what happened to Alastor Moody's well-known manner of looking around suspiciously, turning his magical eye left and right and using other ways of displaying pathological distrust of the whole world.

"I am sorry, Arthur," Albus said. "I am afraid I have used the situation to my advantage a little in order to… push it in the right direction. You see, there has been a lot of talk about the Malfoys at the Ministry lately. A lot of unpleasant talk, even if in a whisper."

"I know," Arthur replied, still frowning. "But why is Alastor so sure that these rumours are baseless? And what exactly did you want to achieve?"

Albus sighed a little. Severus understood him perfectly well: he, too, terribly disliked explaining his actions and disclosing information without it being strictly necessary. Just on principle. Right now, though, it was not the time for keeping secrets. Moreover, now he understood why Albus offered him to see these memories: the Headmaster simply did not want to repeat himself.

"Arthur," Albus said at last in a very serious manner. "I have regularly communicated with Lucius Malfoy over the past year, and I strongly believe that an attempt to discredit him as Harry Potter's guardian will lead to catastrophic consequences. Catastrophic for us, first and foremost. Someone unknown is working towards it right now, spreading strange rumours about the Malfoys. Alastor is right: everyone in the know has no doubt that the Malfoys are not entangled in any anti-Muggle activities. The general public needs to be convinced of that, though. That is why as soon as I realized where things were heading I immediately asked Amelia and Kingsley to arrange everything in such a way that in case of a report on Lucius (I had no doubt it would come) the results of the search were impeccable. The Ministry knows what Alastor and you think about him. You two cannot be suspected of having tender feelings for the tradition-bound families."

"And Dawlish can be trusted to arrest his own grandmother if anything suspicious was found on her," Alastor chuckled. "That's right, we were a perfect team of honest fools… that is, crime crusaders, sorry. And yet, couldn't you save us from becoming their laughing stock?"

Albus made a helpless gesture, even though the expression of his face was anything but apologetic.

"I am sorry," he said contritely. "Honest to heart, I had no idea about the toaster."

Alastor gave up and guffawed. Albus laughed too, and even Severus had a hard time keeping a straight face. He made a note to himself about asking Lucius if not for the memories, then at least for a detailed account of all the shenanigans.

"But if they really knew in advance, such a leak could be detrimental…" Poor Arthur objected half-heartedly, but it was obvious that he did not believe it himself.

"Come on," Alastor said. "Obviously Malfoy has handy contacts in the Ministry. Among the Aurors, too, and I do not mean Shacklebolt. Some sympathiser told him about the rumours, and from that it was easy to figure out what would come next. Alright, Albus, let's agree you owe me a small favour after all that inconvenience." He emptied his cup and put it on the table. "It would be even better if you managed to convince Mrs. Malfoy to render us small magical services from time to time. Judging by the things they showcased last night, she is exceptionally talented in Charms, apart from everything else. I have seen some truly amazing spellwork that was obviously her doing. Lucius is a warlock; such intricacies are not his strongest suit. Anyway, you owe me, and I am off to get some sleep. See you later, Arthur."

And he disappeared in the fireplace. Severus shook his head puzzled: it looked like Alastor's infamous paranoia, at least partially, was a result of a regularly scheduled performance. That was a very valuable and clearly well-kept secret. It was curious that Albus decided to share it. Why now?

Meanwhile, Arthur finished his tea, too, but did not put it away. He pensively stared at the tea leaves at the bottom of his cup.

"This is a very interesting story," he said slowly to Albus. "In short, I, too, wanted to tell you that I changed my opinion on Lucius after last night. Or… let's say, I am ready to change it. I am afraid this has very little logic and a lot of personal impressions under it, though."

"Arthur," Albus turned very serious again. "You know how much I value your personal impressions. Unlike me, you rarely make mistakes in such matters."

"You see," Arthur Weasley said, "there are many things Lucius dislikes that he will still do in order to reach his goal if said goal is important enough for him. It can include tolerating the company of Muggles and a Muggle-born witch if it improves his image and increases Harry's trust. Even if that seems almost impossible already. But the Lucius I remember would have never spent his time on such silly things as jinxing toasters to have a good laugh out of it."

"I see," Albus nodded, smiling.

"Moreover, it would have never occurred to him." Arthur continued. "And last night I saw a man who sincerely enjoyed shoving flying clothespins and talking toys in our faces purely out of fun. I think he will still spring an unpleasant surprise on us more than once because Lucius will always secure advantages for himself and his closest circle. But if You Know Who returns I doubt Lucius will support him."

Well, well! Severus thought sarcastically that he did not even know what amazed him more: flying clothespins (whose idea was that? Not his, that's for sure) or Arthur Weasley's unexpected insight. Personally, he would not have put much credit into the theoretical link between Luc's shenanigans and his political preferences. Luc's sense of humour has always been excellent. However, as they spent the most part of the First War frightened out of their minds for one reason or another, they had no time for flying clothespins whatsoever.

Arthur and Albus said their goodbyes, and Severus was about to leave the memory when he noticed a parchment left on the table by the Headmaster. A strange symbol on the margins caught his eye: a triangle with a circle inside, divided in half by a straight line. He wanted to lean in closer and see it more clearly, but the memory ended, and he was again in the company of Albus Dumbledore.

"Well, did you like it?" he asked merrily.

"You have no idea," Severus replied. "Thank you for the entertainment."

"You are welcome," Albus said and grinned. "In all fairness, Lucius is to thank, though. He has put so much effort for everyone to have fun, it is mind-boggling. You know, something occurred to me."

"What?" Severus asked suspiciously.

"If not for… some technical difficulties he would have become a perfect DADA professor."

"Maybe," Severus replied doubtfully. "I think the school routine would have bored him soon, and he would have tried to make our life an unforgettable adventure."

"Wouldn't that have been wonderful?"

Severus looked at the Headmaster's smiling face and just shrugged, deciding not to argue. Just in case.

After the Friday night search, the Malfoy manor was quiet and peaceful until about noon. Fortunately, the boys had enough tact not to bother their parents over trifles, so, with some help from the house elves, they found food and entertainment on their own. By the time when Lucius and Narcissa finally got enough sleep and went down to the dining room, the house elves informed them, 'Master Draco and Master Harry left for the oak grove for a ride and to gather some mistletoe, took lunch with them and will be back in time for dinner'.

"Well, at least they are not worshiping Cernunnos," Lucius chuckled. "And to think, Sev says his family's heirloom sickle is of no use! Yet, he seems to have secretly nurtured his disciples. Are they trying to bribe him or to poison someone, I wonder?"

"What sickle?" Narcissa was surprised. "You have never told me anything about it. The moon is in the third quarter now, so the mistletoe is most appropriate for making poison. I hope they did not forget their gloves. By the way, maybe it is Severus who dreams of poisoning someone, don't you think?"

"They would not have survived a full year of Potions under his capable guidance without learning to work in gloves," Lucius remarked. "I would not worry about that too much. I will tell you about the sickle right now."

And he did share details — with some delicate censorship — about Severus' grandfather's terms on his return to the family.

"Actually," he concluded thoughtfully, "if Great Aunt Cassandra is as good as Cousin Gerard says, Sev has a decent chance."

Narcissa shook her head mildly.

"You might be quite right. I have my own premonitions sometimes, you know, and now I have a feeling that it is better to allow the situation to develop naturally. A piece of advice, darling: do not interfere."

"When was the last time I interfered into someone else's private life? Indeed!" Lucius said indignantly. "I have enough to worry about without it. Match-making is not an activity I partake in. It does not mean, however, that I must deny myself the pleasure of taunting Severus if an opportunity presents itself. Whatever the younger family members are for, otherwise?"

"As the youngest of three I beg to differ, you know," Narcissa retorted, but her eyes were laughing.

They enjoyed the banter for some time, and Narcissa even managed to forget her worries for a while when closer to their late breakfast an unfamiliar barn owl appeared with a short note. Narcissa hastily opened and read it quickly. Then she read it again and sighed, seized by relief and excitement at the same time.

"Luc," she said.

"Yes?"

"I have a date today."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. Bet you will not guess where it is."

"Indeed?"

"At the feet of the boy raised by fairies."

Lucius stared at his wife.

"If it is an allusion I do not recognize it. I hope you do not have to urgently search for the lost grave of Thomas the Rhymer. His adventures could not be considered an upbringing, though."

Narcissa laughed.

"Of course not. It is Peter Pan, Luc."

"Pan?" Lucius frowned. "He is hardly a boy."

"Peter Pan. He is a character in a children's book, Luc. Quite a contemporary one. At least, it is less than a hundred years old."

"A Muggle book?" he finally connected the dots.

"Yes. Andy learned about it from her friends and persuaded me to read it, too. It was one of our secrets."

"Ah. And where are these feet?"

"In a famous London park," Narcissa smiled. "It is a monument. We passed it once during one of our walks with Constance, but I do not remember if you were there."

Lucius shook his head.

"Andromeda is testing you."

"No wonder. She has a right to."

"Maybe," he said doubtfully. "But I do not want you to try to please her too much."

"Not too much, Luc. Just enough."

Ten minutes before five, Narcissa walked briskly along the Serpentine, trying to stay calm. The last thing she needed was scaring Muggles (mainly young moms or nannies with small children and gaping tourists) walking through the Kensington Gardens with her appearance. Not for the first time, she thanked her fate for the fact that Lucius had reconnected with his French cousin, and that Constance had become a part of their lives as a result. After so many long walks of this summer, Narcissa did not have to invent a new outfit that would not draw the attention of passers-by now. If her long light-blue dress and her sun hat drew any attention it was only of the mildly flattering kind.

As soon as the monument appeared in sight, Narcissa noticed her sister: a tall slim dark-haired figure standing still a little apart from a group of Asian tourists was hard to miss. She saw Narcissa too and immediately started walking towards her.

Narcissa's heart leaped, but she forced herself not to run, not to quicken her pace. Andromeda disliked public scenes of any kind. They will meet and talk like civilized people. And then, one could hope, all will be well.

Andromeda was walking briskly too, her brown hair flying, her long legs in casual Muggle jeans were quickly reducing the distance between them. They finally met and stopped right in the middle of the pathway and stared each other in the eye. Both froze for a moment, and Narcissa opened her mouth to greet her sister when Andromeda stepped forward and hugged her tightly.

"I have missed you so much, Cissy!" she said simply. "I am so glad you wrote me. And so glad you have come."

"I could not stay away anymore," Narcissa replied quietly. "I simply had to write to you. I… I was terribly afraid that you would not reply."

And Andromeda — her Andy, her wonderful and ever brave sister — just hugged her tighter, exactly like she did long ago when a little Narcissa was scared of something whether t was a horror story or their Mother's wraith.

"Have you gone mad?" she snorted. "I am so glad you cannot even imagine. I was right about to do something about it myself, but Ted persuaded me to wait for a while more. I am sorry to say he is still quite angry with you. No matter how much I explained that Lucius and you were not the same person and that the circumstances were unfavourable…" Andromeda shook her head. The sisters finally parted, took each other's hands and walked slowly along the Serpentine towards the Italian Gardens.

"He is right," Narcissa sighed. "I should have written to you at least a year ago. If not seven years ago. Maybe even before that. However… You see, Luc… He is…"

"Yes?" Andromeda asked curiously.

"He has changed a lot in the last year. As have I. We… we are tired of being afraid, maybe. We cannot afford that luxury now."

Andromeda chuckled.

"Welcome to the club. Better late than never, little sister," she teased. "By the way, Dora is thrilled to bits with you all."

Narcissa laughed.

"We adore her too. And hope to get to know her better in less… extraordinary circumstances."

A minute or two they walked in silence before Andromeda said quietly, "Harry Potter, eh? And… more than that. I have seen the pictures in The Prophet. There was a lot of shameless promotion of that Lockhart fellow, but I noticed a bunch of Weasleys, Luc and you… in the company of some Muggles in the background. Was I wrong?"

"No, you were not."

"Ah. How curious," Andromeda noted dryly.

"Andy?" Narcissa asked cautiously. "Are you… very upset?"

Andromeda chuckled again.

"It is such a foolish word," she clipped. "I do not care for it. But I care for you. And if you want to clear the air, we can discuss everything in great detail later. We can fight a plenty, and then cry and hug to our hearts' content like we did as children. Here and now, it's not the place or the time for it, I think. Don't you agree?"

"I guess I do."

Narcissa realized in surprise that during the years of separation she had forgotten how Andy could be this determined, straightforward and downright blunt — not because she could not behave differently, but because she chose not to. Experience and age made this trait of hers even more pronounced. How will she get along with Luc? Was that even possible?

"Back to business, Cissy." Her sister's voice awoke her from her reverie. "So, Harry Potter. And Muggles. Is Lucius aiming for the Minister for Magic?" she asked with an obvious curiosity and a slight sarcasm. "I remember that he did not like half-measures, but if my memory serves me right he used to prefer more straightforward methods."

"He still does," Narcissa replied. "What you saw in The Prophet is… let's say, a side effect."

"How curious," Andromeda repeated. "And is that thing you did last Halloween also a side effect? Or was it something more important?"

Narcissa almost tripped, caught unaware.

"Did you… feel it?" she asked in amazed half-whisper.

"Of course I did. It would be really hard not to. What are you up to, Cissy? I assume as a Black I have a right to know. Or is it a terrible secret?"

"Of course, it is a terrible secret," Narcissa retorted, getting some control of herself at last. "But you have the right to know, absolutely. Just not right this minute. Actually, you do not simply have a right to know, you must learn certain things. However, it might be better for you to come to the manor in about two weeks after the boys have left for Hogwarts, so we could discuss everything without interruptions."

"Is it only me you are inviting?" Andromeda asked. "Or Ted and me both?"

"I do not know," Narcissa admitted. "It probably depends on Ted."

"And on Lucius," her sister added shrewdly.

"Luc thinks — and I quote — that the wider the circle of the stakeholders, the better."

"And what exactly are we supposed to have a stake in?" Andromeda raised her eyebrow. "You do realize that without that information I have nothing to tell Ted."

"We probably need to talk first, just the two of us," Narcissa sighed. "It's not that easy to explain. But you can definitely tell Ted that… we cannot turn back."

"Because of Harry?" Andromeda asked. "It is… that serious?"

Narcissa blushed scarlet.

"What do you take me for, Andy? He is my son."

Andromeda stopped and hugged her tight.

"Sorry, Cissy," she whispered. "Maybe I am still angrier than I thought. Sorry. Of course you would never choose differently. I do not doubt you."

"When you see Luc and talk to him you will stop doubting him too," Narcissa said with conviction. "He… has changed a lot. Even if he does not think so."

"Men," Andromeda snorted. "Alright, I understand. Maybe it is better for me to come alone first. Ted will understand. Now, enough serious talk. Tell me, Cissy, do you still love ice cream? Let's go then, there is a nice little place nearby."

And she dragged Narcissa to a fancy Muggle cafe with the same determined energy.

Later that night after telling everything to her husband, Narcissa mused, "Sometimes it seems we can return to the past, but it is an illusion, isn't it?"

"Mmm. We can only resurrect for a short while the way everything was before. To feel the way we did then. It is also an illusion, though. Which is a good thing, I think."

"Why?"

"Because one would hope that with time we get wiser, not the other way around."

"Well, I do not know about that," Narcissa drawled. "Your toaster idea was not the brightest."

"It was a genius idea!" Lucius was indignant. "Just remember Arthur's face! And Dawlish? I finally feel vindicated!"

Narcissa laughed.

"Does that mean you are happy?"

"Of course I am."

"You need very little to be happy."

Lucius looked her in the eye very seriously.

"Quite the opposite. I need a lot to be happy, but I have all of it already."

And for the rest of that night, they did not talk anymore.

Narcissa rarely had a chance to visit Ottery St. Catchpole, and her last visit had happened a long time ago, but she still vividly remembered the place. Saturday morning, equipped with a basket of treats (Remember, darlings, if you are not invited to a lunch or dinner party, visiting someone empty-handed is quite impolite!), she told the boys to dress for a good country-walk.

"I am sure Luna will have a whole lot of curious things to show you," she remarked. "That part of the country is very interesting."

After saying goodbye to Luc, she took her sons' hands, closed her eyes for a moment, recollecting the image of the Lovegood tower's surroundings, and Apparated the three of them to the top of a small hill close to the one where Xenophilius' house was located.

"Wow," Harry said with a tinge of envy.

Narcissa smiled. When one is twelve, the reconstructed ruins of a once proud tower dating back to the Hundred Years' War made a greater impression than one's own manor, even with a thousand-year history.

"Yes, they have an extraordinary house," she agreed. "It is even more obvious inside. I hope you will be impeccably polite," she looked pointedly at Draco.

He nodded.

"I wouldn't ever criticize your acquaintances, Mom, I'm not that dumb," he replied, looking slightly hurt.

"You are not dumb at all, darling," Narcissa amended. "Quite the opposite. But sometimes, I am sorry to say, you can be a little indiscreet. Let's go."

They went down the hill to the road; Narcissa took the pathway, walking with dignity befitting a well-bred witch keen on making a good impression, while Draco and Harry tumbled down the grass as was fitting twelve-year-old boys. Narcissa thought with some regret that soon they would probably stop behaving so childishly or at least would be shy to show it in front of adults.

The fence around the tower was made of stone and looked old. The stonework, overgrown with creeping thyme, was crumbling in places, and the wrought iron gate was rusted and askew. A handmade sign said, X. Lovegood, the editor of The Quibbler. A winding pathway led up the hill to the front door through the overgrown garden. Narcissa thought sadly that it was probably Pandora's, and now there was no one to tend to it.

The door opened, and Xenophilius appeared on the doorstep. He looked a little more cordial than in Diagon Alley, but his clothes were even more peculiar: he wore a light-yellow housecoat, thrown over old dark-blue velvet robes, canvas slippers with pointed toes and a weird cap, decorated with stitched figures of strange animals. It was so threadbare it was impossible to tell if the animals were real or imaginary ones.

"Erm, good morning," he said somewhat absent-mindedly, as if he was not sure what to do next. Narcissa would not have been surprised if it turned out that he did not only forget about their arrangement, but also did not remember the day of the week. "I… erm… I think I have lost the track of time. You see, I am in the middle of preparing the next issue for release. Please, come in."

He turned around and went inside.

Draco and Harry looked questioningly at Narcissa, and she nodded, "Follow me, please."

They ended up in the kitchen that took up the greater part of the ground floor, apart from several closets and cupboards. Narcissa vividly remembered how tidy everything had been before and barely restrained herself from shaking her head. Out of the corner of her eye she saw boys staring in wonder at the round room full of knacks. Bright pictures of exotic animals, birds and plants were placed here and there on the whitewashed walls, some of them were quite new, and a couple were still unfinished. Narcissa thought it was probably Luna's handywork.

Xenophilius stopped in the middle of the room by the cast-iron staircase running from top to bottom of the house and looked at his own kitchen as though he saw it for the first time.

"I… erm…" he said slowly. "I probably should offer you something to eat. I think I am not a very good host," he concluded helplessly.

"Please do not worry," Narcissa assured him. "If you do not find it rude on my part to offer, I have brought something. Small treats, nothing fancy, but if you permit, I can play the housewife for a while here."

Now Xenophilius stared at her as if not believing what he was hearing. Then he looked at the boys, who tried not to stare at the surroundings too much.

"You are very kind, indeed," he finally said as if waking up. "I will be very much obliged, Mrs. Malfoy. Do whatever you think necessary. Meanwhile, I can show the boys my study and Luna's room upstairs. They might find it interesting. And after that, they could…" he fell silent again as if he was not sure what the guests could entertain themselves with in his house.

"After that, we could drink some tea, and then maybe the children can go for a walk. I seem to recall the surrounding countryside is very picturesque."

"Yes, of course," Xenophilius agreed. "Please, follow me, boys."

He led Draco and Harry upstairs, and Narcissa put her basket down on a chair, took out her wand and got to business. She was itching to clean the whole place up, but taking such a liberty would the height of bad manners, of course. So, she just put the kettle on, cleared the big round table enough for a tea party of five and found dinnerware in a cabinet. While the water was heating, she laid out the treats she had brought: cucumber sandwiches and egg and cress ones, scones, strawberry jam and a treacle tart. She found the tin with the tea leaves and made tea, and put the cups on the table…

The children came downstairs herded by their host. For a moment, Luna assessed the kitchen with a quick glance of a housewife surprised by unexpected guest, but seemed to relax as soon as she saw that everything had been taken care of.

"Good morning, Aunt Cissy!" she smiled. "Ah, you brought so many nice things!"

Xenophilius stared at the table in silent wonder, and looked at Narcissa as if expecting her to perform another parlour trick, for example, spreading wings and flying.

"Do not even think of complimenting me," she laughed. "I am no Molly Weasley. All of this is the result of our house elves' hard work. I am capable of making sandwiches, of course, but they would not look nearly so nice."

It seemed she chose the right tone because Xenophilius finally smiled.

"Thank Merlin, I almost decided that I do not understand people at all. Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Just Narcissa," she corrected mildly.

He nodded and said with awkward ceremony, "In such a case, I will consider it an honour if you also call me by my first name."

It was a very formal and weird lunch. Xenophilius gradually grew more animated and told stories of finer points and difficulties of releasing a magazine issue, of his correspondence with a Canadian colleague who had informed him about sightings of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack in the Toronto area, and similar topics. It looked like he got carried away and had forgotten who he was talking to. Narcissa nodded, poured more tea and listened. Luna examined the guests quietly. She seemed to prefer listening and thinking to talking. The boys were quiet, too. At last, everyone was full, Draco and Harry gave signs of feeling restless, and Narcissa once again offered them to go for a walk.

"If you do not object, Luna."

"Of course not, Aunt Cissy. I love good walks. Have a good time, Dad!"

The children left without further ado, and the adults were left alone. Xenophilius' liveliness dissipated at once, as if Luna took his high spirits with her. He looked at Narcissa gloomily, but his eyes stopped wondering, becoming sharp and focussed.

"You wanted to talk about Pandora, didn't you?" he asked.

"Yes. If you are willing."

He frowned.

"Can I ask you some questions first?"

Narcissa did not pretend that she did not understand what that was about or that it was simply a matter of politeness.

"I cannot promise to disclose family secrets, but I can give you the word of a Black that you will not hear a lie."

Xenophilius smiled wryly.

"You definitely do not like to waste time and have a certain way of articulating your promises. Well, it is more than I expected. I will not beat about the bush, then. What is the current relationship between Lucius Malfoy and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

Narcissa wanted to smile, but refrained from it, feeling that her companion was not in the mood for jokes. Flippancy could ruin everything now.

"There is no relationship between them at the moment since Voldemort is disembodied. Lucius has no intention of renewing contact in the future, whatever it may bring," she replied calmly. Noticing Xenophilius' make a warding off evil gesture, she added, "I am sorry, but I did not want my words to be misinterpreted."

"Any words can be misinterpreted, take it from a magazine editor," Xenophilius chuckled. It seemed his moods changed faster than the weather at the coast of the North Sea. "I appreciate your frankness, though. Can I also ask what caused such a change? Or is it too personal a question?"

"Of course it is too personal. But we met today to discuss some personal matters, didn't we?"

Xenophilius slowly nodded.

"Yes."

"In this case, I am glad to inform you that there are a lot of reasons for it. I think you as a father can understand many of them. No parent worth a Knut wants their children to grow up in a world ruled by that madman."

"Is he a madman?" Xenophilius asked, raising his eyebrow.

"He is mad, maybe not in the literal sense, even though I have doubts about it, too. It may be more appropriate to say he is possessed. He is possessed by fear of death and by hatred toward those who refuse to serve him." After a pause, Narcissa added reluctantly, "I saw him with my own eyes only several times, and it was many years ago. Even then, I got the impression that he hates Wizards almost as much as he hates Muggles. Now, that I know he is a half-blood…"

"What?" Xenophilius exclaimed.

"He is a half-blood. He was an orphan, raised in the Muggle London during the latest World War," Narcissa explained. "Of course, he hates Muggles because they were the source of his fears and suffering for a long time, but I think he also hates Wizards who could have saved him and chose not to."

"How do you know that?" Xenophilius asked quickly.

It was Narcissa's turn to raise her eyebrow.

"I have reliable sources."

Xenophilius sighed and frowned.

"During the World War? Wait. Albus Dumbledore was Deputy Headmaster at that time, as far as I know…" A shadow crossed his face. It was obvious he already connected the dots. "It explains a lot."

"Unfortunately. Regardless, it leads us to the second reason. This man's intention — if he can still be called that — to change our world to suit his tastes will lead to disaster because he does not understand us. His ideas are no less destructive than ideas of those who wish Wizards to unite with Muggles."

Xenophilius looked at her with interest.

"I have heard that you are close friends with some of them."

"Information from reliable sources?" Narcissa smiled politely.

Xenophilius laughed.

"Precisely."

"Neighbourly relationships with individual Muggles, as well as the fine skills of using the telephone or the Underground, do not change the fact that too close and irresponsible contacts with their world can be dangerous for ours. I do not even mean the direct threat of our world being discovered by their public, even though it does exist. Wizards who blindly borrow Muggle inventions become lazy. How many new spells were invented in the last few years? How many breakthrough potions were created if one does not count the latest attempt to restrain the werewolves?" Narcissa shook her head. "No, peaceful parallel existence and keeping our own cultural development is a better way."

"Well, you do have a point. Thank you, you gave me a lot of food for thought. Now," he sighed, "you would want to ask me about Pandora."

"I would only like to hear what you are willing to tell me," Narcissa said gently.

"It is difficult to talk about," Xenophilius said slowly. "But I suppose you have a right to know. Pandora's family… Did she tell you anything about them?"

Narcissa nodded pensively.

"Yes, a little. Mainly because Strange is a last name unusual enough for a Wizarding family. Some of her ancestors had weird abilities even by Wizarding standards. As far as I understand, a family legend claims that they have some Fay blood, whatever it is supposed to mean."

"Exactly. Pandora was fascinated by this part of the family history. She dreamed of reviving some of those weird abilities."

"Did she? What… was she interested in?"

Xenophilius' face darkened.

"According to some sources, the Stranges could wield some power over time. Pandora thought this ability was a complicated combination of the Metamorphmagus magic and Apparition. Allegedly, if a Metamorphmagus restructures their body on material level, and Apparition implies moving the body in space, sort of deconstructing it in one place and putting it back together almost immediately in a different location, then the descendants of the Fay Folk can stay in that in-between state and travel to the future."

"I see," Narcissa said slowly. "So, what happened?"

"She was searching for a spell," Xenophilius said sombrely. "She tested different combinations on objects without much success, but… as you can guess, she thought that the blood of the Stranges was the crucial ingredient. In a nutshell, the day came when Pandora decided to experiment on herself." His face became chalk-pale. "Luna saw her… disembody herself. I was not at home, and I can only repeat what I have heard later from Luna. She says Pandora… shone very brightly and started fading, becoming more transparent until…" his breath caught. "Until she disappeared." He covered his face with his hands.

Narcissa stayed silent, giving him an opportunity to gather himself. When he finally lowered his hands Narcissa filled his cup without saying a word. He drank all of it, nodded gratefully and continued, staring at the pattern of the tablecloth, "Thank you. I think you understand how hard it is for me to remember all that, but still… I probably needed someone to listen. You… You know, the worst thing is that Luna does not quite believe that Pandora is dead. I did not, too, at first. We knew what she was trying to achieve and for the first few weeks just waited for her to reappear. We hoped that she just made some mistake in her calculations. It gradually became clear, though, that it was not the case."

"I understand. Can I help you somehow? You and Luna?"

Xenophilius looked up and stared at Narcissa. She met his eyes with quiet sympathy. It would be the height of faux pas to act terrified and distressed when this man was trying his best to preserve his dignity.

"You are already helping," he replied just as composedly. "If your boys will become her friends, if you will invite her to your home, it is already a lot. I… regret that I avoided you earlier."

"I am grateful for your trust," Narcissa said gently. "And I regret that I did not offer help earlier."

"I would have probably refused it," Xenophilius admitted. "That's just the way the things were. Now, while the children are out, do you want to see the proofs of the latest issue? There is a very interesting piece on encounters with unidentified creatures in Southeast Asia. Luna has even made the illustrations to do with it. She draws really well, you know…"

Narcissa smiled and nodded, getting ready to bravely meet another share of Snorkacks and their mates.

After leaving the tower, Harry sighed with relief. Even though Luna's house was terribly interesting, Mr. Lovegood did not exactly inspire the wish to know him better. Apart from that, he felt that Narcissa wanted to talk to the man about something she deemed unsuitable for children — or, at least, for Luna.

For a minute, the three of them just stood on the path in the overgrown garden. Harry could not figure out what to talk about. Draco, judging by his tense pose, could not either. Luna cocked her blonde head to the side and just studied them unabashedly. At last she said, "Where shall we go? I could have shown you Dad's printing press or our collection of Wizarding curiosities, but my Dad and your Mom clearly want to talk about my Mom. They think it is better to do it without us. Well, at least, without me. So, I'd like to go to the hills. Or to the grove that is up the brook. There're Bowtruckles there."

The boys looked at each other. Draco shrugged.

"Let's go somewhere. Wherever you want."

Luna nodded and led them through the back gate that was even more crooked than the front one to the path running down the hill to the brook at the bottom. The banks were covered with tall hard grasses cut apart by the path. It was like walking through a green labyrinth, as the grass was taller than them. A little later the path led them back to the edge of water: the brook spilled over there, forming a tiny narrow sandy beach.

"We can walk barefoot in there!" Luna said. "I often play here. If we're lucky we can find a shell in the water. Would you like to?"

Without waiting for an answer, she took off her shoes and waded in the water, inspecting the brook bed. After a little hesitation, Harry got rid of his socks and shoes too, rolled up his pants and followed her. The water was rather warm, especially for the end of August, the bed felt nice to walk on, even if a bit silty.

"Hey, look," Luna bent down and plucked out something light-coloured out of the silt, cleaned it in the water and stretched her hand to him to show her find. "It's a Rockbreaker's egg. You can take it if you want. I have one already."

It looked like a greenish grey roundish stone vaguely resembling an egg. Harry cautiously rolled it in his hands.

"What's a Rockbreaker?" Draco asked, approaching them. After some hesitation, he took his shoes and socks off too, but did not go into water, standing on the sand near the water edge.

"It's a creature," Luna replied confidently. "It's somewhat like a shrew, but smaller. It gnaws through stone and builds a nest in there."

"Is it real?" Draco obviously questioned the idea but still tried to be polite. "It should have a lot of teeth. And do animals even lay eggs? Well, apart from echidnas and such."

"Ordinary animals probably don't, but Rockbreakers do. Anyway, Doxies are oviparous, too."

"Well, they are like insects," Draco objected.

"Magical creatures are often built with no logic," Luna stated very seriously. "This often points to their artificial origins."

"Well, maybe," Draco drawled doubtfully.

"Thank you, Luna!" Harry said, putting 'the egg' into his pocket. He could not tell if Luna truly believed in Rockbreakers, pretended to or just fooled around a bit, but he liked the girl and did not want to hurt her feelings. Besides, she could know something they did not.

"You're welcome!" she smiled and suddenly got a small glass jar out of her skirt pocket. "Let's go, Harry, you'll help me to catch some woodlice. Otherwise the Bowtruckles will be angry if I come without treats."

Hearing the word 'woodlice', Draco hastily retreated onto the upper bank and put on his shoes back for good measure.

"My feet are freezing!" he shouted from there. "I'll wait for you up here!"

Harry snorted, but did not call him out for a lie and valiantly started gathering woodlice. Luna had clearly done it many times before, as she knew where to look. Harry obediently plashed through the water to a big half-submerged rock, then to a log lying just at the edge of the brook, then to a rotten tree stub… Soon the jar was half full. Luna skilfully grabbed the repugnant insects with her bare hands without a reel or a stagger.

"You'll probably be awesome at Potions," Harry noted. "You're really brave."

Luna stared at him.

"What do Potions have to do with it?"

"There're a lot of things needed for making Potions. Sometimes it's something not really pleasant, like slugs. If you don't like touching nasty things, it might become difficult."

"And you don't like it, do you?"

"My… our godfather is a Potions Master," Harry laughed. "I'm used to it."

"Sounds fun," Luna said. "Dad and I sometimes travel in search of amazing creatures, and he writes about them in his magazine."

"Have you found any?"

Luna shrugged.

"Some. It's too early to talk about it. Let's go back to shore, your brother's waiting."

They reached the grass, Harry brushed sand and water off his feet, put on his socks and shoes, and they walked on. Luna did not talk, walking confidently along the path, and the boys followed her. Soon the shore became higher; the path turned away from the brook and went up the side of a small hill, covered by trees. There was sparse forest on the right with other hills visible in the middle. Their grass-covered tops appeared here and there over the trees.

"It used to be a dangerous place," Luna said, noticing Harry's curious look. "But now most of them are gone."

"Them?" Draco asked. "Who are they?"

"The hill dwellers. The Fay Folk," Luna replied. "There were a lot of them here in ancient times, and only mighty Wizards dared to walk here even during the day, never mind at night."

"That's bedtime stories," Draco waved it away. "Muggle ones, at that. Muggles have seen enough of pixies and other small faeries and created their own fairies and elves."

"The Fay Folk and the Sidhe are not bedtime stories," Luna retorted. "But they, of course, are not related to the ordinary faerie. Some think the Fay Folk are related to the Veelas, others are of the opinion they are actually ancient Wizarding clans who possessed special secrets."

"Where did they go to, then?" Draco went on.

"They mixed with humans, mostly," Luna shrugged. "Some stayed, so I think that either can be the truth. Some say that there are places in Scotland and Ireland where the Sidhe live even now, staying away from us like we stay away from Muggles. But those of the Fay Folk, who lived here, became really wild. There are only a handful of them now, but it's still dangerous to wander in the hills at night." They have almost reached the top of the hill, and the path dove between two large boulders. "Dad told me that at the place where our tower stands now there used to be a Roman one. And it supposedly stood on the border between the land of the humans and the domain of the hill dwellers."

After that Luna disappeared between the boulders. Harry looked at them doubtfully. They resembled hanging stones too much for his taste, and two hanging stones could be easily cursed or otherwise spelled. Still, after a moment of hesitation, he decided that Luna would not lead them to a really dangerous place and followed her. Draco was the last to step between the stones, carefully keeping his hands in his pockets.

On the top of the hill, there was a hazel grove, surrounded by gorse thickets. It seemed to Harry, though, that he saw more large stones here and there, half-hidden by leaves and blossoms. It looked like long ago there had really been a stone circle surrounding the top of the hill where the path led. There was a glade in the middle of the grove neighboured by several very old hazel trees. Luna sat down under one of them and took her jar out of her pocket.

"Hi there!" she said, looking up at the tree. "It's me."

There was movement among the leaves; several hazel nuts fell on her head.

"Thank you!" Luna laughed. "Come here, I want to give you a treat." She looked back at Harry and Draco who stood frozen in the middle of the glade, and added, "Don't be afraid, they're my friends."

It was unclear who she was talking to and whom she meant, but the boys came closer and sat down, trying not to make too much noise. Luna looked up again.

"Don't be afraid!" she repeated. "Look what I've brought!" And she waved her jar in the air above her head.

Something moved between the leaves, and a twig-like creature climbed down the thin tree trunk. It cautiously looked over the boys, then over Luna, and apparently decided that they were no threat. The creature moved to the grass, and Luna started unscrewing the top of the jar.

The Bowtruckle carefully took the treat and screeched quietly. Soon two more creatures climbed down the hazel tree, and Luna started feeding them. Draco and Harry stared, but decided not to participate. Just in case.

When Luna's woodlice was gone, the Bowtruckles stayed for a while, but realizing that there would be no more treats and their precious trees were in no danger slipped back up into the leaves.

"Wow," Harry said. "Thanks, Luna."

"What for?" she raised her eyebrow.

"For everything. It's a good place," Draco replied suddenly. He was sitting in the grass, leaning against a thick overgrown hazel tree and staring dreamily into the leaves above. At that moment, he looked a little like the Fay Folk as they are described in Muggle books.

"Yes," Luna agreed. "It is. We should not stay here for too long, though. It's an ancient place, full of ancient magic. It draws not only humans. Let's go back, shall we?"

She rose, and the boys followed.

"There is one thing… Could you go ahead on your own?" she asked. "Wait for me on the other side, alright?"

"On the other side of what?" Draco asked, frowning.

"Of the stones. I'll be right behind you, I promise."

Harry and Draco looked at each other and obediently went back along the path. They passed the two large stones and stopped.

"This is weird. If we were in a Muggle fairy tale it would have turned out to be a door to another world," Harry said. "And Luna would have actually been a daughter of some faerie king."

"If this is a fairy tale than it's not a really old one," Draco chuckled. "In a really ancient story, we would have been dragged into the hills and eaten already."

Harry shivered.

"I suspect Luna believes in both possibilities. And, you know, I have no wish to find out which one is true."

Draco looked sideways at the top of the hill and the grove there.

"You know," he admitted quietly, "I have none either."

At that moment Luna nonchalantly slipped through the 'guarding' stones and joined them.

"Thank you for waiting. Let's go."

The three of them went back down to the brook.

"What do you think of the Fay Folk, Mom?" Draco asked when the three of them were slowly walking down the hill where the Lovegood Tower stood.

Narcissa winced.

"Why are you asking?"

Draco frowned a little as if trying to find the right words.

"Luna seems to really believe in them. I'd have thought she's just, well… little, but, you know… she showed us that weird place on the top of a hill. And at one moment, she asked us to leave her alone up there."

Narcissa raised her eyebrow a little, but decided not to remind her sons that there was a simpler and more rational explanation for it than a desire to communicate with faeries.

"There are a lot of places in the world where the ancient magic can still be felt," she remarked. "The existence of the Fay Folk is not a requirement for that, though. I hope you realize that one should be very careful when dealing with such matters. If you wish to know whether I believe in the Fay Folk, however…"

"Yes?"

"...then I must confess that I know too little about them to have an opinion. And what is more, even if the Fay Folk exists, their lives are not our business. I would not pry into it without great need. On the other hand, I would like to know what you think about Luna herself."

The boys looked at each other, and Draco shrugged his shoulders.

"She's tranquil. And discreet. I think she's used to being alone. She's a little weird, but considering everything you've told us about her mother… there's nothing to it."

"She's no coward," Harry added. "She does what she thinks is necessary. She's absentminded, but not like Neville, more like Severus when he ponders over a new potion. Why?"

Narcissa sighed.

"As you have probably guessed, Xenophilius wants you and your friends to look after her. Judging by your impressions, though, she will not end up in Slytherin or even in Gryffindor where Miss Granger could take care of her."

"One of the Patil twins from our year is in Ravenclaw," Harry said. "As is Lisa Turpin."

"We could ask Pansy, and she'll make it work," Draco added. "These girls know everything about each other and always stick by each other as if glued together."

"Yes," Narcissa laughed. "We, girls, are exactly like that."

And she Side-Apparated both her sons home.