HP Morgendorffer The Potter Estate
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter is the creation of JK Rowling and is the property of JK Rowling, Warner Brothers, and Wizarding World. Daria is the creation of Glen Eichler and is the property of MTV Viacom. I own neither franchise. I also don't own the rights to the lyrics or melody of Magical Mystery Tour, either. I neither expect or deserve any financial reward for this work; I am writing for my own amusement and ego gratification.
I would like a little ego gratification. How about writing and posting a positive review?
Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer*Harry Potter Morgendorffer
Helen and HJ got a surprise when they stepped outside their hotel the next morning: it was cold and windy. "We'd better dress warmly," said Helen. "It's likely to be chilly where we're going." They went back to their hotel room and put on warm clothing. Both Harry and Helen put on knitted caps; it was a little too cold for baseball caps and the knitted cap covered his scar.
They walked over to the Leaky Cauldron after a hot breakfast at their hotel. HJ had decided that the Cauldron was cool. He made a note to himself that when he came back to Britain to go to Hogwarts, he was going to have at least one breakfast over there.
The Cauldron already had the morning crowd Helen had gotten used to, but also a clutch of loud, noisy American tourists. Helen guessed that they had to be wizards and witches; she couldn't imagine a crowd of No-Maj tourists finding their way through the Cauldron's doorway, even if the tour guide had been a witch or squib. Helen was amused to see that the tour group looked and acted like American tour groups anywhere: loud, noisy, occasionally rude. The similarity was underlined by their choice of clothing. Most of them eschewed traditional English wizarding wear; instead they dressed in cold-weather gear that looked like it came right off the shelf from Eddie Bauer or LL Bean. Studying them more carefully, Helen noticed one difference from their No-Maj counterparts: most of them had wand-holsters.
HJ was as amused as Helen. "These guys are more fun than the Dursleys," he said, grinning.
Helen said nothing but smirked in agreement.
A woman tugged on Helen's sleeve. "Excuse me," she said. "But what's your shoe size?"
"I'm a size nine," said Helen.
"Oh, thank God!" said the woman. The woman had a mid-Atlantic accent, probably from New Jersey or one of New York's other suburbs.
"Can I ask you a big favor? Like we flew in last night and I opened my suitcase and realized that I'd forgotten my hiking boots. I feel really dumb. All I've got are these city shoes. Could I copy yours?"
"If you think they'll fit," said Helen.
"I'm desperate," said the American witch. "We're supposed to move on in a coup of minutes. Are these still new or have you broken them in?"
"I'm still breaking them in," said Helen. She'd bought them at an outdoor supply store in Austin a week ago and this was the first time she wore them. She took off her boots and placed them on the floor. She watched with amusement as the witch used a Gemino spell to make a duplicate pair. The witch then reholstered her wand. Helen reached for her originals, the witch reached for the copied pair and both women began putting on their boots.
"Thanks, sweetie! You're a doll!" said the witch. "What's your name?"
"I'm Helen," said Helen.
"What a coincidence!" said the witch. "I'm Helen, too!"
"Cute kid!" said Helen-the-witch, noticing HJ. "What's his name?"
"I'm HJ," said HJ.
"Nice to meet cha," said Helen-the-witch, extending her hand.
She might have said more but then a man with a British accent, presumably the tour guide, raised his voice and asked members of the Magical Mystery Tour Group to gather around so they could depart for their first destination.
A couple of bar keeps moved some of the benches and tables away and the American tourists gathered around what Helen guessed had to be a port-key.
"All right, everyone gather around the port-key and we'll begin the count-down!" said the tour guide. The Americans all gathered around the port-key, trying to make sure that they all had a grip when it would vanish. The tour guide began the count down and the tour group enthusiastically joined in.
"TEN!"
"NINE!"
"EIGHT!"
"SEVEN!"
"SIX!"
"FIVE!
"FOUR!"
HJ enthusiastically joined in the count down, but Helen pulled him back. "You're not going with them!" she admonished.
"THREE!"
"TWO!"
"ONE!"
The tour group and port-key began spinning around and then vanished, leaving a clear space in the Cauldron. Helen checked her wrist watch; it was time for her and HJ to go over to Gringott's to meet their escorts.
Still in a good mood, Helen and HJ walked towards the back wall to wait for someone to open the entryway to Diagon Alley. They didn't have to wait long. A large woman with a couple of crates of live chickens joined them, pulled out her wand, then tapped the correct bricks in the right pattern. HJ and Helen picked up a crate of the woman's chickens and carried it to the other side of the barrier.
"Thanks, Love," said the woman.
It took little time to walk to Gringotts. Griphook was waiting for them in the lobby, along with two wizards and a witch.
"Greetings, Master Griphook," said Helen, greeting the Goblin. "May your gold increase and your enemies tremble."
"Greetings, Madam Morgendorffer," said Griphook, "and Master Potter."
The magical humans' eyebrows raised as they realized just who was with the American woman.
"You're two minutes late, but far more timely than most of our clientele."
"Sir," Helen said neutrally. Let the guy make of it what he would.
"Your—expedition," said Griphook with a bit of amusement. "I have three very trustworthy people. They're reliable and have been vetted." A witch and two wizards stood not far from Griphook, as if waiting for something.
"How do you do, Madam? I'm Dylan Jones," said the wizard Helen guessed was the leader of her security detachment. "This is Maria Reed, and this bloke is Don Williamson; he'll be our curse-breaker in case one is needed."
"How do you do, Mr. Jones?" said Helen. "Call me Helen." Helen greeted the other magicals, then introduced Harry. The Magicals' eyebrows rose when Helen gave them HJ's real name, and they all made it a point to shake his hand.
"Excuse me, Madam, but where's your wand?" asked Jones.
"I don't have one," said Helen. "I'm a Squib. I do work for Gringotts, but I don't need a wand for my line of work."
"I see," said Jones, who probably didn't see. Helen didn't feel like enlightening him.
"So where do you wish to go?" asked Mr. Jones. Helen wondered if he thought she wanted to see giants or dragons.
"We're heading for the Potter Estate," said Helen.
"The safe house?" Jones asked. "If that's where you're going, you don't really need us to go there. That's a famous and well-trafficked site."
"No," said Helen. "The Potter Estate, not the safe house. Harry owns the property and I think we both ought to see it."
"Oh," said Jones. He looked thoughtful. "Still, I wouldn't expect any problems if we go there."
"I don't expect trouble," said Helen. "But I want to be prepared, just in case."
"I don't expect any trouble either," said Jones, "so if you don't object, I'd like to add a fourth member to my team: Lisa Goodwin. She's a recent hire just starting our training program. This would be good experience for her. You wouldn't mind, would you?"
"Not at all," said Helen. "As long as she can take care of herself."
"So what do you want from us?" asked Jones.
"I'd like you all to form a sort of security perimeter to see if there are any unfriendly people hanging around," said Helen. "I'd like Mr. Williamson to scout out any paths Harry and I might want to take."
"To search out any jinxes or curses that might be on the house and grounds," said Jones.
"Well, yes," said Helen.
"I didn't think any Muggle-borns would know of such things," said Jones.
"Well, even Muggles have heard of booby-traps," said Helen.
Upon hearing the term, Ms. Goodwin's expression changed to one of alarm and she protectively covered her chest with her left arm.
Mr. Williamson took in Ms. Goodwin's reaction and sighed. "New trainee," he said.
The party stepped outside onto the street. Helen took Mr. Jones's hand, HJ took Ms. Reed's. They apparated directly to an overgrown area which might have been a well-tended lawn at one time, but was now overgrown with weeds. There was a bare area with a few steps and ruined stonework, but no living trees nearby. A few trees still stood near a tumbled-down stone gate.
"The Potter Estate," said Mr. Jones, letting go of Helen's hand. He and Ms. Reed started scanning the perimeter, then began to move forward. Mr. Williamson and Ms. Goodwin started forward. Harry moved to join them.
"HJ Morgendorffer, what did I tell you about fools and angels?" said Helen.
"Fools rush in where angels fear to tread," HJ replied irritably.
"Is it safe?" Helen called out.
"It's safe," said Mr. Williamson.
Helen and HJ began to move forward.
Helen frowned. She could already tell that this was a ruin and she and HJ hadn't even reached the Mansion. This must have been a pleasant place once. Glancing around, Helen was reminded of her parents' place in Virginia. They'd lived in what had been a stately house and grounds for what had been a large farm in antebellum Virginia. It hadn't been as large as the Barksdale plantation house in Mississippi that had been burned by Union troops, but it had been a large house, much larger than many of her friends lived.
As she and HJ drew closer, Helen could see that the Potter mansion had been given the same treatment as the Barksdale plantation house back in Mississippi. There was nothing standing of the mansion itself except some stone steps and some fire-blackened stone walls. There were no trees growing near what must have been the house itself, although a few shrubs now grew in what might have been hedges or pathway. The latter looked like they must have sprouted after the house had burned.
Helen scowled as she walked around the ruined house. Bastards, she thought. Bastards. Old feelings bubbled to the surface. She thought she'd dealt with the feelings she'd had when she'd learned that Union troops had burned the Barksdale mansion in Mississippi during the Civil War: she'd told herself that her ancestors had not only been secessionists, but slave-owners, too, but she again felt the old anger. The Potters had been good guys; they hadn't deserved this. The people who'd torched the Potter Mansion hadn't been Union troops acting to crush the Confederacy, but vicious murderers and terrorists.
"Mind your step," said Mr. Williamson. "You don't want to fall in. Helen and HJ walked past what had been the house's exterior walls to the edge of what had been the cellar. They looked down; there was nothing there except a large pool of stagnant water and some debris poking just above the surface.
Helen and HJ looked at it a long time. "Bastards," muttered HJ. He looked nervously at Helen, thinking that his step-mother might call him out for using bad language, but she only squeezed his shoulder.
Both of them turned away from the ruined cellar. "I'd like to see some of the grounds and gardens, if there's anything left of them," said Helen.
"That should be safe," said Mrs. Reed. Together they set down what looked like an overgrown pathway leading to a cleared area.
HJ spotted something carved into one of the paving stones along the path to what looked like a sunken garden: a poisonous snake slithering out of the mouth of a human skull. "What's that?" said HJ.
"That's the mark of the Death Eaters," said Mrs. Reed. "That's His mark." No doubt who the "he" was, thought HJ. It was the guy who killed his parents.
Bastards, he thought.
"The people who burned the house and destroyed some of the trees didn't bother with the garden," said Mr. Jones. "Some of the plants could be whipped into shape."
"Anything like Mandrakes?" asked Helen.
"Fortunately no," said Mr. Jones. "America is lucky that you chose the path of the light, Madam. You have an evil imagination."
HJ looked thoughtful as he scanned the grounds of his inheritance.
"Now that Mister Dumbledore no longer controls my estate, what are you going to do with it?" said HJ. "Are you going to sell it?"
"No, HJ," said Helen. "I'm going to keep it for you and then when you're a man, you can decide whether to rebuild or not."
"Oh," said HJ. Helen saw that he had tears in his eyes. She put his arm on his shoulder for support.
They stood there a long time; Mr. Jones and Ms. Reed occasionally glancing around to see if the grounds had any other visitors. Finally, HJ blinked and then sighed.
"I wanna go home," he said.
-(((O-O)))-