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Chapter 4

Planning

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I decided that I would write out everything, absolutely everything, that I could remember from the young woman's memories about the magical world. Every person, every event, every possibility no matter how vague or potentially contradictory was written out. My hand was sore and I had gone through a whole stash of pens before I thought I should take a break for something to eat. Taking a look around the house once more I realized that the home might be perfect for creating the old lady facade, but it was not one that I was comfortable actually living in now. The number of cats was also an issue as there was no way that I would be able to continue to take care of so many and do all the things I was thinking of doing.

I set about making myself a sandwich and popping on the kettle, before starting in on a new list with lovely little bullet points. I needed to go about getting the potions and such to help heal up my body first. It would probably take the most time. Then I was going to have to find some way to block legilimency as I hadn't the magical strength for occlumency. After that I would need to set about directly saving Harry Potter right under the nose of the most politically, socially, and magically powerful wizard in Britain.

A sip of tea and a few bites of sandwich and I went back to plotting. I would need allies to combat the power that Albus Dumbledore wielded over the magical population. When he spoke people listened, when he asked for something, most people agreed to do it. I should know, I used to be one of those people. I needed someone that was powerful in their own right, but outside of his influence. That left a whole cast of dark characters that would never listen to a squib, let alone help me with protecting and raising the Boy Who Lived. I remembered something though. Something was stuck in my memories trying to work its way through, but my mind felt sluggish still. I began to think that some of my symptoms might just be from old age, the mind slows down after thirty after all.

It was while I was making a list of things that needed doing on the legal side that enough of the thought worked its way to the forefront of my mind. With a bit of dumbfounded blinking and a scraping of my chair, I went back to my expanded closet. I suppose it couldn't really be called a closet with how expanded it had been, it was the size of a large office or small bedroom. But I had used it these past few years for storage and always thought of it as a closet before now. My finger skimmed the titles of the books on my shelves before finding the tome in question. I hefted it out of the room with me and it thunked down on the kitchen table. It was the type of book Hermione Granger might one day call "light reading" and it took some time to find what I was looking for, particularly given that the information was only half remembered from school days long past.

I read the relevant passage several times. It wasn't very long and it wasn't very informative. Eventually, I read it out loud as though that would help give me further information, "The Queen of England has a Court Sorcerer who keeps her abreast of all magical activities both in her kingdom and abroad. The Court Sorcerer is also charged with teaching the royal family about magic itself and acting as a bridge for the crown between the two worlds since the enactment of the International Statute of Secrecy that was officially established in 1692. The witch or wizard who fills the position is appointed by the crown and can act as an ambassador on behalf of the crown in the magical world. See Merlin, page 1397."

Next to the entry was a moving photograph of a man with a long oval face and thinning hair. He would look around a bit and then back at the reader before the loop would start again. The picture declared him to be, "Clarence Holcomb, Court Sorcerer. 1982 - Present" which at least gave me some information on who was Court Sorcerer.

But I felt like slamming the book closed. Even if the Court Sorcerer was beyond the sphere of his influence there was no way that I could covertly contact an unknown entity without the possibility of the act leaking to others. Albus might not pay much mind to the muggle government, except to treat their minister with condescending kindness and small words, but he would have others that listen and report even if they were never quite on my level. Without a way to make direct contact there would be no help from this quarter, it was just a useless factoid that most of magical Britain had forgotten after their first history lessons were through. The time for stong allies was perhaps a year or two away, however, and I might be able to find one within that timeframe. For now I needed to concentrate a little closer to home.

Some time after dinner I had finished writing up letters and orders, wrapping presents and signing cards, and started sorting everything into a large shopping bag. The bag looked like an ordinary shopping bag that would fit with my persona of an old cat lady, but it had added enchantments to make it light and to allow it to carry more. All people on the spectrum of magic could interact with such enchantments, so I had to always make sure that the bag was properly hidden away when not in use. After I finished readying it for the day tomorrow, I put it back in the closet and made my way to a shower.

Since it was Boxing Day, there was very little else I could do except what had already been done. I would get up bright and early tomorrow and go into town. I had things that needed to be done in both worlds, if this was to truly work I would need to coordinate things in both the muggle and magical world. I did my nightly routine with the kneazles, making sure they were fed and watered, and then made my own way to bed. Tomorrow was going to be a very long day.

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27 December 1984

The next morning I put on my overcoat and tied a scarf around my hair as I walked up to the front door, petting each kneazle a short farewell. When I put my hand on the doorknob I had to remind myself that I was not me, I needed to be what I had previously acted as being. A slouch of my shoulders and a shuffle in my slow gait is all it took for people to see me as many years older. If I stopped to speak to someone, there would be an added wavering shake to my voice that people acquired as they get older.

I shuffled a few streets over from my house, careful to avoid any ice, and then pulled a thick gold medallion from beneath my blouse. It was round in shape, larger than a pound coin and thicker too, around the sides were thick swirls like cascading waves that went round and round without ever stopping. It hung from a thin gold chain around my neck and I had not taken it off in the more than ten years since I had received it. Before the medallion I had a small coin that fit the function, but the ministry fashioned and provided talisman was not as strong as my medallion. It was this that allowed me to perform activities in the magical world that would require a wand for no good reason.

I pulled it up and held it out in front of me, the chain becoming magically longer as I pulled it up and out, as though hailing a cab. A sharp sound ripped through the air as a large, violently purple triple-decker bus appeared out of nowhere. Climbing aboard the bus and handing over my fare for the trip to Diagon, I settled as well as I could into a chair. The conductor, Stan Shunpike, that was mentioned in the books probably hadn't even started at Hogwarts yet. As such the conductor I was used to, Danny Brown, made the ride less of a chaotic nightmare than was portrayed during Harry's ride. There were obviously charms and enchantments for that sort of thing and it was the conductor's job to use them, Stan was just still too wet behind the ears to be any good at his job.

I had decided to use the Knight Bus instead of the floo network for a few reasons. With the holidays just over, there was likely a larger number of people at the shops spending their Christmas money. That meant the floos at major points, like the Leaky Cauldron, would be backed up.

When floos had congestion you could get spat out at any floo closest to your intended destination. That was not something I wanted to experience again, especially not when the nearest clear floo might be down Knockturn Alley. The other reason for using the Knight Bus instead of the floo was because it could be a convenient meeting place for me and anyone I was looking to get information from. It wouldn't look odd for the little old squib to chat with someone else on the Knight Bus as she went to do some shopping or head out to Gringotts.

In fact, I had made sure to sit on every level of the bus and often chat with people even if they weren't a contact in order to make it look quite normal for me to do so when I did meet an agent. Good spycraft was built on looking like everything was normal while information was passed back and forth. Signaling that it was safe to speak by wearing a certain scarf a certain way or that they suspected tracking or other charms with the way they held their paper. Goodness knows what I'll do when Stan becomes the conductor, I won't be able to speak to anyone without being hurled towards the side of the bus. Not exactly conducive for subtle covert meetings.

There were three popular ways into the largest part of the magical shopping district, Diagon Alley, the most famous of which was behind the Leaky Cauldron. The second was behind Flourish and Blotts. The bookstore was located on the north side of the alley and was around even before the Statute of Secrecy. The hiding place for it was a brick wall in a seemingly deadend alleyway on the muggle side, nearly the same way as how one entered via the Leaky. The third way, which was not often used, was to enter through a small seemingly vacant shop that let out into the Museum of Muggle Curiosities on the side street called Carkitt Market right near where it met Diagon Alley. When taking the Knight Bus, however, one was always dropped at the Leaky when asking for Diagon as it made picking anyone up easier on the bus and its driver.

I slowly climbed down the stairs and made my way through the pub and out towards the back. Taking out my medallion I tapped it on the proper brick and was able to step into Diagon Alley. I breathed in the magic for a moment. Memories of wishing to see Diagon Alley as a child in a world where magic didn't exist nearly overwhelmed me. The bright colors, the obvious use of magic, gave me a heady feeling and a flush crept up my cheeks. This was the way to introduce someone to magic. Much better than chunky potions. Once I had gotten a better hold over myself I shuffled down the alley towards the post office.

The post building was a large red painted box building that leaned ever so slightly to the left. Its two stories were covered in little charmed owls that sparkled in the snowy morning sun. The windows on the ground floor were nearly opaque with advertisements for special holiday pricing, but a bit of the shop and a few owls could be seen between the large flashing promotions. I walked over to the door and faked a bit of trouble at its heaviness. Though, not as much of that was as fake as I would have liked. I ambled up to the counter, my gait a little crooked, and placed my bag on its surface before smiling at the clerk.

"Hello again dear," I said softly, smiling my most grandmotherly smile. "I've a few packages and letters to go out as well as my usual pickup."

We made the customary small talk as the clerk went over the packages and counted up the letters. There were quite a few letters, some were Christmas cards, but many were to acquire potions and healing services as recommended by St Mungo's. Others were to set up appointments to further my plans to help Harry and the magical world. All in all it was nearly twelve packages and eighteen letters. I also arranged to get a post box set up at home. My kneazle business already had one set up here in the office, the clerk had already put the post for it on the counter by the time I reached them, but I decided I wanted one for my personal correspondence. At least, that's how I explained it to the clerk who gladly showed me the latest post box with all sorts of enchantments on it.

As I left with my purse a good bit lighter, I made my way down towards Gringotts. There was something that I had never tried to do with the goblins that I believed I should give a try. In many ways Gringotts was a bank, but in others they were a company built from a single country. Banking was simply the most commonly utilized and advertised service of Gringotts, they liked encouraging the economy in most of the magical world, the better the economy the more the gold flowed after all. Making my way slowly up the stairs, I found myself overcome with emotion. In the young life I had lived before, this was a huge landmark and I momentarily had trouble believing that I was truly here even though in my older life I had made this journey many times before. It was a disconcerting feeling, to feel two different ways about the same place. My memories of both lives were mixed, but the emotional resonance of them did not always seem to be in harmony.

I dropped further into my persona to make up for the disharmony and timidly made my way through to Gringotts proper, eventually up to a teller. I explained that I wanted the book of services and the teller attempted to get me to pay a whole galleon for it. I talked him down to fifteen sickles and he gave me a toothy smile before handing me my own copy of Gringotts Offered Services. I carefully placed the thick volume in my bag and made my way back out.

I walked a while before using the exit at Carkitt Market to wander into the sleepy muggle world. It was the day after Boxing Day and many were still not up and about, but that would be alright. This was mostly about information gathering and I was more than capable of a little bit of that without calling attention to myself. I spent several hours in London going through various resources before breaking for tea. I had a plethora of choices and would need to whittle it down to a more manageable number somehow. I went through it all while nibbling at a dry sandwich and sipping some watery tea.

I returned to Diagon Alley for my pick up with the Knight Bus. The ride home was more or less the same, but I chatted with a young man that looked like he was on his way to the office. There was no reason to suddenly stop the activities I had done before, in fact suddenly stopping might lead to questions that I was not ready to answer. Finally arriving just a short bit away from where I had been picked up earlier, I shuffled back to my house with a nod or two in the directions of others who were just making their way out for the day.

At home once more, I made myself comfortable and set the kettle on for a warming cuppa. The cold of winter was bothering me more than it had a right to and I was thinking longingly of potions that would help me with such issues. Settling in I finished up the correspondence for Karing Kneazles, my kneazle breeding business, before moving on to caring for the kneazles themselves. They did mostly look after themselves, but they needed brushings and training for whomever might purchase them as familiars. In addition, I needed to maintain my bond with the five or so who were my neighborhood spies.

Mr Tibbels was definitely the ringleader amongst my little agents. He and the others made regular rounds of Little Whinging. They had been trained to identify the use of magics and what apparation and disapparition meant. As part kneazles they would blend into their surroundings easily enough that they could both watch and report on Harry's movements as well as any unusual magic in the neighborhood.

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It was late in the evening and I was mapping out my plans, when a chime sounded that startled both me and all of the cats. It was my post box, so charmed to let me know when I had received a letter. Going over to the little wooden box and opening it revealed flowing script in a familiar hand. I had, of course, written to Albus to let him know what had happened the day before Christmas. It would be stupid not to, he would find out eventually and ask even more questions about why I hadn't informed him. Opening the letter with a bit of trepidation I found nothing more than a note wishing me well and to not be too hard on myself. I huffed at the slight condescension in the wording. Did Albus forget that nearly three quarters of the personality I presented to the world was fiction? Or was he so caught up in his own fictions that he had started to forget reality? Or perhaps so worried about mail tampering that he would reply in this fashion? As though I would ever put anything interesting or sensitive in the owl post, honestly.

I hadn't worried about any spells or compulsions that might be placed on the letter as the post office had provided the service of weeding out any letters with such things on them and then, for an additional fee, they would dismantle them. I had acted very caught up in the sales pitch and bought every add on, seeming to think it a bargain for someone like myself. After a letter had been scrutinized by the post office they slipped it into a box that was the twin to the one I was holding and the letter moved from one box to the next like a vanishing cabinet. I could send a letter back the same way without worrying about having an owl myself. It was a convenient, if expensive, method of communicating with the magical world. It also had the added benefit of being fairly private. Owls could be captured, after all, as they left or came from an address. But capturing my specific owl from the dozens of post office owls as they left a place that had a flurry of winged activity all day long? That wasn't quite as easy.

It was late and I had been sitting for a long time going over plans again so I decided that this letter was my cue for a break. I had decided that I would clean out and do up the house. I didn't have to completely do away with the little old lady persona that had influenced the decor, I just didn't want it to be quite so strong. The lingering smells of cat and cabbage had to go as well. I spent some time trying to figure out where the smell of cabbage had come from and found that the crochet covers I had on the furniture had somehow soaked up the smell. I didn't have any sentimental attachment to the covers, so I didn't mind giving them a good wash and then donating them to a second hand shop in town with anything else muggle that I was going to remove in my cleaning. I had a plan to do most of the cleaning myself and then call on the Dursleys to see if they might lend me their nephew to help with the labor of it all. This way I could bring Harry over to my house with the Dursleys believing that he was going to have a horrible time. It really was the only way they allowed the poor child to do anything at all. But that would have to wait until I had built up a few more foundations to my plan. Specifically I needed to heal myself up, get ahold of a potion or two, and find a good muggle solicitor.

Everything was taken out of cupboards and off of shelves before a thorough scrub was done of every flat surface in the lower level of the house. Boxes were brought out and nearly half of the things from the level were put away in them. It was long tedious work, interrupted by kittens wanting attention and the occasional break from tiredness that came on too soon.

In the end my kitchen, sitting room, and dining room/cat room were nearly emptied of a large assortment of things that I had no attachment to and no use for anymore. Since I had already decided to stop breeding cats as a business I would regain the use of my converted dining room, which was currently taken over by cat scratching posts and soft baskets for all of the seventeen cats to enjoy. I considered turning it into a library or an office as I had no real need for a formal dining room when I had a perfectly comfortable kitchen table and no guest over the age of twelve to entertain. The few children I would sit for hardly needed a formal dining experience at the batty old cat lady's house and the few adults I had over were usually there for a quick spot of tea and gone again soon after. The charity boxes piled up high against the wall in my sitting room, too many for an old lady to take by herself. Perhaps there was a service that would come to the house?

After showering off all the sweaty grime and feeding the cats I settled into my bed tired, but content with my work throughout the day. I had finished half the clean out of my house in one day and that was quite the achievement given I kept having to pause to regain my strength. I would certainly feel that in the morning.

Today had been a good planning day with a few things actually getting done. The post was taken care of and many letters had been sent out. My home was looking a great deal better. And I had been able to make more plans for how to help Harry. One of those things I had planned out was how to study up to get my brewer's license and certification. I had nearly had it before, but that was a little over a decade ago. With that I would be able to open up a little home brewery selling common potions and unctions. The plan was to start with pet based products and move out to garden based ones, to give myself a greater variety. This would take up less of my time and still provide me with plenty of spending money before I got my bigger projects underway. Tomorrow would be another big day of planning and cleaning, but hopefully some replies would be coming from the different people I had contacted.

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