CHAPTER SEVENTY: NEW LIVES
TUESDAY, AUGUST 20th, Black House, Charenwell.
Although for Harry his disagreement with Hermione had been two days ago, he knew for her it had been the night before. She had spent the night in his bed with him and Katie, but she may as well have been in another room and she barely spoke to him the morning after. Her father had pulled him aside before the Grangers left to go home and asked him if this was their first "fight." Harry said it was not. Robert then asked was this the first time she had not gotten her way. It was, as far as Harry could recall, certainly on something she felt that strongly about. Usually one of them backed down.
"Arguably, she was about to cross a line," Robert said, "at least that's my impression."
Harry nodded. "You were right about the need to do right by my lineage and Charenwell. I wasn't as good at saying that."
"In the brief time Rose and I have known you, Harry, the one thing we can honestly say is you're not full of yourself and given all you've been through and all you are, that's a huge compliment and we find it very impressive. But there are and will be times, especially as Duke, where you must stand your ground even against Hermione and even if you hurt her feelings. A marriage where one person always wins or both people compromise all the time is not truly healthy in any family. Nobody is right all the time or wrong all the time and there are some things where compromise is the wrong thing to do. Rose and I think you made the right decision on this given all the circumstances. If you want my opinion, I think Hermione's more upset that none of us took her side than anything else."
"I suppose. That bit about Royalty might have been a shock as well. To be honest, even I haven't really thought of it that way."
Harry really did not know what it meant. When he sat down for his Duke work on his first trip through Tuesday and began going over more files, he asked Cissy to bring him any information about how House Potter became Dukes beyond simply saving King John's neck in 1215. It was not until later in the afternoon that Cissy returned to his office.
"Well?" Harry asked.
"It's somewhat complicated and I'm sure I don't understand the details," Cissy replied. "The title 'Duke' was probably derived from a roman title for a military commander of some sort that continued throughout the former empire and even beyond after the empire was overrun by various Germanic tribes. In time it became the title for a high ranking noblemen or the lowest ranking sovereign. Kings are the highest rulers."
"What about emperors?"
"That wasn't a noble position in the western European feudal system. On and off again, there was a Holy Roman Emperor, but that title was bestowed by the Church and was more or less just a title. In that system, it was still just a King. Later, when some European countries expanded with overseas colonies or just because the King felt he deserved it, they became self-proclaimed 'emperors' but again, this did not change what they were in the system. They were no more sovereign over their lands than any King or other independent sovereign.
"Now depending on the source, the next highest independent sovereign is either an independent Prince or a Grand Duke and finally a Duke. All of those can or could be rulers. A few hundred years ago there were independent Dukes, Grand Dukes, Princes as well as Kings ruling countries of various sizes throughout Europe and no, there was no rule as to how large a country must be to have one title or another as ruler. Today, there are far fewer monarchies of any description. Most of the lesser ones, those that were not ruled by Kings or Queens, were gobbled in the wars of the nineteenth century and many of the monarchies destroyed in the wars of this century. Today, the Kingdoms – those countries ruled by a king or queen - are: Great Britain, Norway, Sweden, Denmark, the Netherlands, Belgium and Spain, but these are all constitutional monarchies. There is also the Grand Duchy of Luxembourg ruled by a Grand Duke and the Principality of Monaco ruled by an independent Prince. All of these are hereditary, so there's historical precedent for your position in the Muggle World.
"Now, there seems to be no set rule for how a Duchy becomes independent from a kingdom, although there seems to be some prior association of some kind. Basically, each Duchy has a different origin. The crucial thing back when Europe was ruled by noblemen was that a small, independent state could usually only really come into existence and remain that way so long as it had a larger, powerful but of course there were exceptions.
"Okay. We know Charenwell was once vassal to England as the Earl of Darby was vassal to the King but that the treaty of 1217 changed that. Charenwell became an independent Duchy allied to the Crown. As it grew from the English nobility, and the then Earl was a part of that nobility, we need to know a little about that as well. And as you are aware, the Duke wore two hats as he had before. He was sovereign over his lands here and a vassal of the King over his lands in England.
"In England the lowest ranking nobility – at least today – are the barons, followed by the viscounts, the marquis, the earls and finally the dukes and the dukes are divided into two groups: the non-royal dukes, which are hereditary titles passed through a family and the royal dukes which include the Princes of the Realm and the Queen."
"The Queen's a duke and not a duchess?" Harry asked.
"The reigning monarch is Duke of Lancaster and Duke of Normandy regardless of their gender, or at least that's the case today. The royal duke titles are not hereditary. To be a royal duke you need only be the son or grandson of a king or queen. Aside from her husband and sons, the only other royal duke is Richard, Duke of Gloucester, who is the grandson of King George V and the Queen's First Cousin. He has a son and when he dies, his son, while still part of the nobility, will not be a duke.
"The non-royal dukes are from the nobility, but are not Princes of Realm. I have not found a single instance where a commoner was made a Duke. Noblemen were promoted to Earl or Duke or demoted to that status if their fathers were higher. It's all rather confusing. A commoner elevated to the peerage was a Knight first and then elevated to a lesser nobleman such as a Baron or Viscount. According to the Muggle records, the oldest ducal line is that of the Duke of Norfolk which was established by Richard III for Lord Howard who supported his becoming King in the place of Edward V. However one thing is fairly consistent: most every hereditary duke I've checked can trace their line back to a former King of England, even if it's through a maternal branch. The earliest king with a descended non-royal ducal line is Edward I."
"How could my ancestor become a duke then? He became duke during the regency of Henry III right? That was before Edward I, right? I know he was and Earl, a title the family held since well before William the Conqueror and one which William continued. But as far as I know, he was no relation to any king, was he?"
Cissy gave him a non-committal shrug. "Justin the First became Duke of Charenwell by Letters Patent signed by the Regent John Marshall on behalf of the young Henry III in 1217. Henry would later ratified this elevation as Peer of the Realm. As you may recall, the title was conferred because of what both Justin and his father had done to keep King John on the throne and avoid a bloody succession crisis although Justin's father Edmund died in 1216 before Charenwell became a Duchy. Now, to whom does the Duke of Charenwell, as Duke and magical advisor to the Sovereign of England owe fealty?"
"The King or Queen," Harry said.
"What was the specific oath?"
"My House swore fealty and alliance to the properly recognized King or Queen who can trace their ancestors back to William of Normandy and his wife Matilda – that's William the Conqueror."
"But the oath was made to Henry III," Cissy said. "Why would they choose William I? William was succeeded by two of his sons: William II and Henry I and then Stephen I who was the son of William's daughter Adela. Henry II was the grandson of Henry I by that king's daughter. Then you have Henry II's two sons, or at least the two who lived long enough: Richard I followed by his younger brother John. Henry III was John's son. But, while Henry III is a direct descendent of William I, he's not the direct male descendant and after his time it can be argued that there were other kings who weren't even the closest male descendent such as Henry IV, Edward IV, Richard III, Henry VII and George I. Aside from George I, this was before they allowed a woman to rule. So again, why was the oath to William? How could they have known that every monarch since William would be his descendant? Were they even thinking it?
"Now remember, Harry, House Potter was already part of the nobility. The Heads were Earls before William and remained Earls after. After the Normans came, there were a lot of his followers who became Dukes and such. I think the reason your ancestors were not so elevated at the time despite practically handing England over to William on a silver platter was because your ancestors were not Normans. In the eyes of the Normans they would have been Anglo-Saxons, even though we know even that was not accurate. That Harstig Potter retained his title and lands was an exception and not the rule when the Normans came. And by the time of Edmund and Justin, England was still ruled by Normans. Much of the King's land holdings, if not a clear majority, lay across the Channel in the West of France. In fact the English King ruled more of what is now France than did the French King around that time.
"So, Justin was already part of the nobility, but he would not have been considered Norman unless it was shown he or his ancestors had married into the Norman nobility…"
"And my family had?" Harry asked.
Cissy nodded. "This part is not in the Muggle records for what you will see as obvious reasons. Justin's Great-Grandfather William, Seventh Earl of Darby took as Consort and Wife a witch named Agnes. Her mother was a Muggle Born Witch named Adeliza who began Hogwarts in 1068 and finished in 1075 about five months before her eldest child Agnes was born. Adeliza's parents were Normans. She had actually been born in Normandy in 1057 along with a non-identical twin sister named Cecilia who was not a witch – that can happen, by the way. Adeliza's parents were named William and Matilda…"
"William the Conqueror?"
"The same," Cissy said.
"But how…?"
"Of William and Matilda's nine children who survived infancy, in Muggle Records aside from her name very, very little is known about Adeliza. They don't know when she was born or when she died. All they really have is her name. The more complete biographies from the time tend to agree that when she was young – around eleven years old – she either died or was sent into a convent."
"In other words," Harry said, "she disappeared from their world altogether right around the time a young witch would be sent to Hogwarts."
"Exactly. It was Justin's descent from William I that justified his elevation to Duke, even if most of the Muggle world was and would remain ignorant of that lineage."
"And being descended from that King of England was why we swore fealty to his descendants who sat upon the throne of England and not to the King who made Justin a Duke?"
"Exactly."
"So in theory, I could be in line for the throne?"
"Probably not," Cissy said, "so it's not worth worrying about. First of all, the official line of succession only dates back to King George I. There are almost 2,000 in that line. If you include Catholics – and they currently cannot become King or Queen – the line has almost 5,000. That list does not include any surviving Stuarts, Tutors, Yorks, Lancasters, Plantagenets or those of the House of Normandy which is the one you with your connection to the throne. Secondly, it does not include the descendants of any bastards and there could be thousands of those. Although William himself was a bastard – his father Duke of Normandy and mother were not married when he was born – bastards were not in the line of succession even if their fathers treated them as his children and William IV and the Stuart Kings were very good to their illegitimate children. You're added problem is that six of the Dukes before you had a Concubine as his mother which while perfectly acceptable here would be considered a bastard by those who deal with the line of succession there. Finally, they probably have no record of your lineage due to the fact it is a magical record and would not have been available to them."
"So what's the point then?"
"You asked how it was England could make your ancestor a Duke and how it was that Charenwell could be an independent Duchy. The answer is they could make Justin a Duke because he was already part of the Nobility and Norman to an extent as a decendant of Adeliza, the magical daughter of William and Charenwell was granted its independence because that was within the authority of the King even if it was seldom if ever exercised."
Harry thought for a moment. "Kind of ironic, don't you think?"
"Oh?" Cissy asked.
"William, Duke of Normandy invaded and conquered England in 1066 and since then non-magical England has not been taken by any foreign power. The Queen is his descendant and has effectively asked Charenwell to invade and conquer – I guess – the magical side which also has not happened since 1066 and it will be an invasion led – for lack of a better word – by another of William's descendants. I guess one could say that only William of Normandy could conquer, control and keep England, even if the magical side had to wait over 900 years."
TUESDAY, AUGUST 20th, Potter Manor, Charenwell.
For Harry, dinner had meant that his Tuesday was only a third of the way along. His Duke Day had been spent reading the reports that had piled upon his desk. He still had his advanced ground school, a training flight in a Spitfire, the ceremony for Colonel Granger, and his scheduled meeting with his Aunt and Uncle to deal with before this day was truly at an end. For Hermione, tomorrow would be Wednesday. She was quiet during the early dinner with Harry and the Patils (as Padma and Parvati were scheduled to join Hermione and Luna in one of Harry's beds that night) and during the party for the Coven and Fiona's family that followed for it was Fiona's twenty-third Birthday (she would get a Range Rover and a cat among other presents). It was only afterwards that she said anything more substantial than polite pleasantries or comments about flight training directed towards their guests.
"Harry?" she began. "I'm sorry."
"Um, thanks? That's okay."
"I had a long talk with my parents before I came to dinner."
"About what?"
"Last night. What was said and all of that."
"Oh. It's okay."
"Harry, please! I never really saw this as some sort of Royalty thing or any of that and just thought things would be the same…"
"The same?"
"In the past, if I felt strongly enough about something and did not back down, you … well, you you'd listen. You might ignore me in the end, but you wouldn't have…"
"I still listen, Hermione. And I can't recall a time I ignored you or dismissed what you had to say. If I did something different, it was because … well, because I did and most of the time I was wrong about it and knew it and did it anyway because I was being stubborn or foolishly noble or because I was fool enough to listen to Ron and not because I thought you were wrong."
"And last night?"
"I had spent hours talking with Minerva, Cissy and others about the issue. If things were different, I would have had no issue with your idea about them. But of course my life can't be simple no matter how much I want it to be and I had to decide what was best for all concerned and do it quickly because I knew or was pretty sure what you would think. If we could adopt one of them now without causing more problems than we solve, I would have done it if you or the others wanted to. But I did see problems with the idea even before I spoke to anyone and almost everyone saw even more problems. That's all we need is more problems and we'll probably have them anyway, but I'd rather not invite them in."
Hermione nodded. "My parents said something similar. I was so sure I was right and all and they told me that what is right for all is not always so obvious. They then said I had to accept that you are more than one person in my life. You are my best friend, you are my Husband and the love of my life, but you are also the Duke of Charenwell. When you decide something as the Duke, I should accept it. As the Duke, I and the others are advisors only. Close advisors to be sure, but only advisors. Most everything about our personal lives has nothing to do with you being Duke and everything to do with you being our friend and Husband and I failed to realize that sometimes you have to be the Duke and being the Duke is not personal. I overreacted and I'm sorry."
"Hermione, we're all still trying to sort all of this out and probably will still be trying years from now. You know that most of this should not have landed on me, you or any of the others until we all were grandparents in all probability…"
"You still would probably have had to object to the adoptions."
"That would have been under the Heir Apparent hat to preserve the line of succession and, more important, as Heir Apparent I'd probably have had to run this by the Duke anyway and he would have saved me the trouble of taking the blame for shooting down your idea. We could then have blamed it on the old man even if deep down I agreed with him."
"We all have to get used to this, don't we?" Hermione said.
Harry nodded. "Especially now that I know I really am of royal blood."
"Don't tell me you've learned King Arthur is an ancestor of yours," Hermione began.
Harry shrugged. "Don't think so. He only had one child we know of and … talk about your purebloods. He was seduced by his witch sister to produce his son who so far as I know had no children. But I did learn something; an interesting bit of historical trivia that is really only useful at parties or such." And then Harry began explaining about how he could count William the Conqueror among his ancestors.
TUESDAY, AUGUST 20th, Weasley Industrial, Potions Division, Jamestown, Charenwell.
In Hestia's opinion, the words "efficiency" and "Magical Britain" were mutually exclusive terms especially when it came to anything connected even remotely with the government. She had not even been in Charenwell a day to realize that this place was very different. It wasn't just the fact that this country was mostly magical or that despite the fact that almost everyone over eleven was carrying a wand and could use them publically, but also that this magical place had embraced non-magical technology to such an extent that one almost had to look for magic. But the real shock was just how efficient the government seemed to be.
She was staying at the South Strand Hotel, a place which made any of the inns in Magical Britain seem at best backwards and run down. She spent the morning with a younger woman who was "temporarily" working with the Department of Housing looking at flats in Jamestown and had already signed for a flat she could move into that week as all her things were in a trunk that she had shrunk down and lightened to fit in her travel bag. It was one of the smallest flats available, designed for singles or married couples without children or with only one or two. It had two bedrooms on either side of a large living area each with direct access to a large closet and bathroom. A very modern kitchen opened onto the living area as well. It also had its own laundry room and a large fireplace that could double as a floo access. She had her choice of non-magical or magically enhanced appliances for the laundry and kitchen but what sold her was the view from each of the bedrooms and living area, all of which opened onto a balcony that looked out over the beach and the ocean beyond. The fact that her building was on the main thoroughfare along the coast that was lined with shops, offices and eateries, or would be when they opened, was another selling point.
After a lunch back at her hotel, she took a hack (cab, taxi) to a large, industrial looking building a few miles away and inland from the coast. There was a sign at the entrance that led to a large and mostly empty car park that read (WIPD). She would learn that those who worked there referred to the plant as "whipped" as a result of the sign. Her trip was as a result of a five minute discussion the day before with another young person temporarily working for something called "Job Placement Services" from the Department of Economic Affairs. Less than a day after setting foot in this new land, she was about to have her first job interview. She entered the building and found herself in a nice reception area and also learned from the receptionist that she was already expected.
"It won't be long," the receptionist said. "One of the bosses'll be here in a few. Have a seat. Would you like a cup of tea while you wait?"
"Unless she's really thirsty, Megan, let's not bother," a male voice said. Hestia recognized the red haired young man. She knew he was one of the missing Weasley's but did not know which one. She also knew he had to be a fair bit younger than she was. "Fred Weasley," he said, "Co-creator and proprietor of Weasley Potions, a Division of Weasley Industrial or whatever name we're calling it this week. And unless my lovely wife here was mistaken, you're Hestia Jones but I know she's not because we've met. Order of the Phoenix, correct?"
"Formerly," Hestia said shaking his hand, "and that's formerly of that Order."
"According to your file which I got this morning, it says you're a Potions maker for Fillian's in Diagon Alley. Never used the potions myself although my – er – mother thought they were brilliant. Good place for ingredients though – well for Britain anyway. Been at it over ten years I see. How close are you to a Mastery?"
It was hard to get any word in edgewise until the question. "I could sit for it, I suppose," Hestia replied.
"Well, just so you know that it's not a job requirement here. But if you want the framed parchment for your wall, it's fine with us. Don't even have a NEWT in it myself…," Fred began.
"Fred! We all know the reason you don't have a NEWT is you bailed last spring!" Megan said. "They're parting with Hogwarts is the stuff of legend," she added for Hestia. "Not that you or George need a NEWT or a Mastery come to that. Alicia's told all of us you two were probably better at Potions than Snape could ever dream to be when you were Firsties!"
"True. The Greasy git was better than most but too set in his ways," Fred said. "That and he believes most of the rubbish in the theory side. What a load of dragon dung. Some of it is spot on, but a lot of it is just rubbish some Master came up with to justify his Mastery. They seem to add stuff that's either wrong or unnecessary to show their brilliance and nobody has the stones to correct them. Oh well."
"Um, pardon me if I sound rude, but you said this young lady is your wife?" Hestia said hoping to avoid an impromptu lecture. "Isn't she a little young? Aren't you?"
"I'll have you know I am of bonding age," Megan said sounding insulted, "and yesterday was our two week anniversary. I'm thirteen if you must know."
"My last lovely lass, but by no means the least," Fred said seeming proud. "Feisty too!"
"Last?"
"You should know that my brother George and I have sixteen wives each. Keeps us on our toes, it does. Now as for my other half – meaning George of course – he's off scouting locations on the North Coast for our manufacturing plant."
"Sixteen wives?"
"Good thing we have so many too! Without them we'd have no work force at all right now."
"How can you have sixteen wives?"
"It's all perfectly legal, if you must know," Megan interjected.
Fred nodded. "Well, it's simple really. My Alicia is my Consort and the rest joined me as Concubines at first, but they've advanced their bonds to the point where magic and law consider them wives and our families have evolved into Covens."
Hestia gasped.
"First rule here in Charenwell is you should forget just about everything about magic you were told or taught back in Britain," Fred said. "It's mostly Pureblood rubbish. Purebloods hate Covens 'cause they can't control the bonds. In other words, to have a Coven you have to be willing to accept any willing and compatible witch and they have to accept that they are part of a greater whole and will not ever be in charge by themselves. And you can only achieve one with concubines and Consorts. None of this arranged marriage nonsense and, because of the Concubine aspect, that means invariably you must accept Muggle Borns as wives. Hence the reason the Purebloods back there consider it dark as it flies in the face of their so called sense of superiority. Now, I could explain it more but that would take all day. If your curious, there's a really good book on all of it. Megan?"
"I can have a self-updating sanitized copy here by the time you're done, Fred," Megan said.
"Sanitized?" Hestia asked.
"Each family has their unabridged version," Megan said. "We have a sanitized version that excludes certain of the less relevant and more personal and intimate details."
"Right," Fred said, "so if the Coven hasn't scared you away, let's take a walk and I can show you our facility."
"You're not going to require me to …um …," Hestia began.
"Join a Coven?" Fred asked. "It's not a job requirement at all. Besides, there no more openings. Shall we?"
Fred led her down a hallway, talking the whole time. "Right then, you're probably thinking this is a rather large place for making potions, a lot larger than your place in Diagon Alley, right? Well, we're not planning to make a little of this and a little of that. This is industrial scale. The Muggels have all sorts of factories that produce a lot of stuff quickly so George and I figured why not do that for magical stuff like potions? Got lucky there in a way as Harry – the Duke, you know – owns Muggle factories and one of them is relocating here. We were able to talk to some of their people about their planned set up and it gave us all sorts of ideas which led to this.
"Back in Britain, Potions Makers make their potions one caldron at a time and the largest caldrons are only about three gallons in total capacity at most and they ladle the finished product out one vial or bottle at a time. Our production runs can be fill barrels in one go, not vials – although we'll still bottle it. We're pretty certain we can increase the quality of the potions we make in bulk and reduce the cost per unit by about ninety percent and that's without taking into account that Charenwell is already a huge producer of raw ingredients which we can acquire without having to pay the massive import tariffs Britain and a fair few other countries charge. Even if we undercut our competition by fifty percent, we're talking huge profits! It's our intention to be the best and largest supplier of potions in Europe if not the world particularly for Healing, but we can do separate runs for household stuff and specialty potions."
They arrived at a large set of double doors before Hestia could think to ask a question. They entered a huge room that had several large machines not all of which looked the same but all of which were massive in size.
"Still working through the bugs on some of these, but some are just fine," Fred said. "George designed them and we had some elves and goblins piece them together. Took about a week for them and we're now testing them and modifying them if they aren't where we want them in terms of results and such.
"This room is our Base Preparation Facility. There's no one who can supply our need for ready to use potions bases, so we do it here. We can make oils, extracts and over there we have distillers for alcohols and essences. We have top notch filtration for everything including both fresh and salt water. A lot of the stuff you get back in Britain is loaded with impurities that effects brewing. We strive to eliminate it. Anyway, when these machines are working properly, the process is real easy. You just load the raw materials in one end, turn the machine on and in time the processed base comes out the other end into a piping system that sends it to storage for later use. No worries and huge volume. The only limiting factor is the supply of raw materials. We're thinking that what we don't wind up using, we'll just sell on the market for those who want to make their own potions."
"How much do you make? How long does it take?" Hestia asked.
"Typical run is fifty gallons for now although these machines can handle ten time that and the time depends on the process but it's usually six hours or less for a run."
"Five hundred gallons in six hours?"
"Or less," Fred said, "and that's just from one line. When we're full up and running, we can run eight different lines for eight different bases. Best part is aside from quality assurance testing the entire work force doesn't need to know a thing about potions. The same's true for the rest of the plant."
He led her to another set of doors that led to another huge room. This one had far more machines, although they were all much smaller compared to the base preparation machines.
"This is our ingredient prep facility," Fred said. "We currently have eighty-two stations for preparation of all sorts of ingredients. We don't have a machine for each possible ingredient. That would be a little ridiculous. These machines are for the various preparation techniques, really, and we have at least two machines that can do the same thing: mincing, slicing, squeezing, grinding into chunks or fine powders – anything we need to do to have a ready to use ingredient. Again, simple to operate, doesn't require a lot of potions knowledge, raw materials in, finished product out into the piping that send it to a storage container. These machines can run non-stop. So long as there's an available container at the end for the finished product and the raw materials are fed into the front end, they'll just keep slicing and dicing all day long. Admittedly, they probably won't have to, but they can. Again, the only thing here that requires any expertise in potions would be quality control, although a background in Herbology might work as well."
He led her through another set of doors. She was now in an even larger room that seemed to be a forest of huge, cylindrical tanks that stretched from floor to the ceiling high over head.
"Storage and Batching," Fred said. "These bins," he added indicating the large cylinder tanks, "store our processed ingredients – up to five hundred gallons per bin. Our base tanks are at the other end of this room and they can hold up to 2000 gallons each. Right then," he added leading her to a large open area with rows of some kind of rail overhead. "This is Batching," he said. "We currently have fifty brewing stations in the plant and can, in theory, produce fifty different potions at one time using up to a hundred gallons of base per station. That's the next room. Here, workers will load the base and ingredients onto these overhead rails in special containers. They fill the containers from the storage bins and tanks and place them in order based upon what goes in at what time in the process. No measuring. The machines in the other room take care of that. Whatever is not used is returned to the bins. While the workers on the line need not know anything except where the ingredients are stored – and all the bins are labeled – we do need knowledgeable potion makers to produce the daily production lists for each line – basically the list of ingredients and order of delivery so that they know what to put first, second, third and so forth on the line and what labels to put on the transport bins on the rails so the leftover ingredients are returned to the proper storage bin."
Fred led her through another set of doors into a smaller room. There were fifty huge kettles in a row along the side they entered from, each had all sorts of strange looking contraptions next to them, atop them and sticking out from them.
"And here is the heart of our little operation," Fred said. "Everything else leads here to Brewing. Each of these kettles brews a batch of potions, up to a two hundred and twenty gallons of capacity although, naturally, it would be less when everything is reduced down at the end of the process. Naturally, we won't run all fifty of these at once. After each run, the machines are shut down and opened up for inspection and cleaning and a few will probably be down for maintenance. Still, we figure we can run between twenty and thirty at a time. We have one set up for a test run if you're interested."
Hestia could only nod. Fred led her down the line of kettles until they reached one where another young woman was waiting.
"Ready Annette?" Fred asked. "This is another one of my lovelies Annette. Annette, this is Ms. Hestia Jones. She's a Potions Maker applying for a position here."
"Pleased to meet you," Annette said. "We're set for a test run for blood replenishing potion – an eighty gallon start volume." Annette turned to a control panel by the machine and began pressing controls of some sort and the station began making a loud humming noise.
"It's already pre-heated," Annette said speaking over the noise.
Hestia watched as a large container came overhead on a rail and stopped over the kettle.
"That's our base," Annette said. "It's dumping," she added pointing to a cylindrical glass attached to the kettle with markings from bottom to top. Hestia could see some kind of fluid in the glass and it was rising.
"This is our gage glass," Annette said. "It tells us the fluid level in the kettle. Right, we're topped off for this run." She threw a switch. "We're now going to heat it to the initial mixing temperature which we monitor with this thermometer gage here," she added pointing to a gage. "It'll take a few minutes. Once it reaches the set temperature, it'll stay there until I change it."
Hestia watched as the needle moved slowly. When it stopped, she heard a whine and looked and saw another container move over the top of the kettle.
"First ingredient," Annette said. "The amount to pour and rate is already set in the controls." Some moments later a green light appeared on the panel. "Ingredient's been added and," she pushed a button, "mixing." The kettle hummed at a different pitch.
"The first mix is for a certain period of time," Annette explained. "It's been pre-programmed and will stop on its own. As you know, some mixes are until the potion turns a certain color and we can watch that on this gage glass here," she said pointing to a second glass tube, "there's a pump that keeps a constant flow of the brewing potion through the glass."
Hestia watched as Annette continued the process, adjusting the temperature from the control panel, the mix, and the introduction of ingredients and watching the various glasses as needed, all the while consulting a sheet of paper. The process took about an hour and then Hestia noted that the potion in the glass had turned blood red. Annette pushed another button on the panel and a few minutes later there was a green light.
"Brewing complete," she said. "Setting cool down," she added pressing another serious of buttons. "There're metal coils that will allow chilled water to flow around the inside of the kettle. It won't mix with the potion – unless there's a leak which there shouldn't be. This will cool the potion down until it's at room temperature then we can draw a test sample to see if it's right."
Hestia nodded. "What's that paper?"
"Operator instructions," Annette said. "Basically it's directions on how to do the run. All I need to know is the controls on the panel really. I follow these instructions. It tells me what to watch, what to adjust when to introduce ingredients, when and how I should set the mix and all that. Don't really need to know beans about making this stuff and, considering I only just finished my Fourth Year and this is a NEWT level potion… Not sure I could make it on my own."
A few minutes later there was another green light on the panel. Hestia watched as Annette took a small vial and placed it under a spigot, filling the vial with the red potion.
"You know how to test Blood Replenishing Potion for quality?" Fred asked.
This was obviously her test, Hestia thought. She took out her wand and did a few spells. "It's … it's more than acceptable," she said genuinely surprised that this system of machines actually worked.
Fred nodded as if it was hardly a surprise. "Set it up for bottling," he said to Annette and then led Hestia though another set of doors into another part of the plant.
"As you can probably guess," he said, "another job for a Potions Maker is testing the final product to make sure it's what we think it is. Once it passes the test, the contents of the kettle can be pumped in here for bottling." He pointed to a green light and pushed a button on a far less complicated panel. Hestia watched as rows of bottles arrived on a track, stopped under some machine which lowered over each of the necks and filled several bottles with the red potion, repeating the process several times. A separate machine a little further down the line capped the bottles and once capped, the track moved them off somewhere else.
"In case you're wondering," Fred said, "when we're all up and running, we'll also have our own plant that will be making the bottles and such."
Hestia was amazed at how fast everything was happening. She saw Annette pass by and through another set of doors.
"We can see the next part of the plant," Fred said, "although all that happens there is the bottles are labeled and placed into boxes for shipping. Annette's going to place the packed boxes under a Stasis Charm. So, what do you think of our little operation?"
"It's … well, it's hardly little, is it?"
Fred only shrugged. "This is just production. We also have warehousing, shipping and receiving for raw materials and finished product and a separate building which will be for research and development."
"Research?" Hestia asked for as interesting as this plant was, that sounded even more so.
"Yep. Most standard potions instructions are over done. They have too many unnecessary steps and often unnecessary ingredients that do nothing to change the quality or effects of the potions. It's those Potions Masters trying to make a name for themselves by fixing what doesn't need fixing. We're trying to pare down the processes to only that which is absolutely necessary which will probably result in both higher quality and lower unit cost. George and I also invent our own potions. We began doing it to support our joke and novelty products but while we will continue doing that, we're looking at practical applications as well. Given what I read in your General Application, you might actually be overqualified for production quality control. We will need people like you for overall production management, but we could also use your skills and experience over at R&D. It's up to you, really, where you wind up as you're the first applicant and I can see no reason not to hire you as a Master Potions Maker."
"You're not actually operating yet," Hestia observed.
Fred nodded. "As I said, we're still working the bugs out of some of our machines. We also don't have much of a work force yet. Just George and I and some of the Coven wives for now. It'll be a few months before we've hired and trained a full work force. But that test batch you saw is going to be shipped out and sold. We do that already with ever successful test run. Now, I assume you want to talk about job duties and compensation?"
Hestia nodded and Fred led her back to the "front" of the facility and to an office. A couple of hours later, Hestia left. She was hired as a Master Potions Maker and, at least at first, she would split her time between R&D and training others in the various aspects of quality control. The salary was actually higher than what she had been making and she could start at any time, but was allowed up to two weeks to "get settled in."
TUESDAY, AUGUST 20th, The Dursley Flat, Pottersport, Charenwell.
Vernon Dursley had returned from the hospital following treatment for his near fatal heart attack a week ago. The Healers had him on a potions regimen to deal with the effects of the potions he had been fed over the years by wizards unknown back in Britain. His wife was on potions as well, but not nearly as many as Vernon as at least two of them were to address his weight issues. He was told to take a couple of weeks off from work and that he would probably need to replace most of his clothing. He had already dropped almost two stones (28 lbs) and it was expected that within a month he would drop a full hundred weight or more (140 lbs). This was without changing his diet and, in fact, aside from being told to eat healthier than before with less fatty foods, he was told to continue to eat well.
Both he and his wife had suffered adverse physical side effects from what was supposed to be merely mind and mood altering potions with a "powerful compulsion factor." In his case it was obesity and hypertension which they were now managing with these potions. In the case of his wife it had been sterility which was why they could not have children while they were on the potions and, they were told, there had been a real risk that the condition could have been permanent. That Petunia was pregnant with twins was more and exception than the rule. They should never have been given those potions. The side effects were because they were not magical as magic would have compensated for the effects.
"Whoever did this to you either wanted you to die or didn't care one way or another," one of the Healers had told them.
Both he and Petunia knew that it was the potions more than anything else that had caused them to treat Dudley and Harry the way they had. While Vernon had not been comfortable with magic in general and while Petunia had a falling out with her sister years and years ago, neither of those things explained what they became. Neither of them were by nature abusive people before those potions and they both felt horrified about what they had done. Petunia had already had an opportunity to speak with Harry. That was while Vernon was still in the Hospital. Vernon was currently too upset with himself and humiliated with what he had done to ask for a meeting. He had no idea how he was going to look the lad in the face much less how he was going to explain his sister who had no excuse at all. Then again, without the potions he never would have given Marge the time of day. He never liked her before and really had no cause to like her at all.
The rest had fortunately come at a time when he could afford some time off from work. The new Grunnings ammunition plant was nearing completion but aside from managers and some technicians who had and were arriving from Britain, it lacked a work force. That was Personnel's problem and Vernon's only input would be jumping on them to hire and hire, but he knew that you can't hire unless someone was looking for work and there had been no labor surplus in Charenwell. This "evacuation" had only just begun and it was from that group that Grunnings hoped to hire its work force. But even with the work force, until the chemical plant was up and running, all they could really do at Grunnings was turn out shell casings and bullets and such. They could not put it all together without primers, gunpowder and such so, for now, there was little for him to really do.
He sat on the couch in the living room of their flat reading a paper. Early on he was surprised to learn he could get The London Times and a few of the other "normal" dailies from Britain here in addition to the local paper. He was reading a commentary on whether the Conservatives had a prayer of keeping their majority in the House of Commons following the next general election which was still months away when the doorbell rang. For what was said to be the most magical country on Earth, Vernon was still surprised at how normal it seemed. He seriously doubted magicals in Britain had doorbells or light bulbs for that matter much less television. Here it seemed you had to almost look for magic even if it was all around you. Well, except if you went to Jamestown and watched the construction, as he had done almost every day since arriving. That lot used magic at least for what Vernon thought of as the heavy lifting and such although he was told there was little difference between the finished product had it been built "normally." What was different was how fast it all went up and how few workers were needed to build.
Petunia had gone to get the door. Vernon heard some of what was said and it was all from his wife.
"Oh my! Well this is a surprise. … And thank you, they're lovely. I'll need to put them in a vase. … Yes, Vernon is here. He's in our lounge reading the paper. … That's nice. Would you like to have a cup of tea? … Right then. Come on in and have a seat and I'll get the tea going."
Someone soon sat across from Vernon, although he didn't look up as Petunia had not announced who the visitor was.
"Good morning, Uncle Vernon," the person said. This caused Vernon to look up. Before him sat someone who looked like the "freak," but this young man seemed taller and was certainly better dressed in his suit and tie and had an air of command and confidence that the "freak" never had.
"If you expect me to call you Your Greatness or some such," Vernon began.
"If this were a State occasion - and there are really few of those and fewer I'd need to invite you or Aunt Petunia to - it'd be Your Highness or, if I was willing for you to be informal, Milord. But this isn't a State occasion, so it's just Harry. Not 'Boy,' most certainly not 'Freak', just Harry."
"You're pretty dressed up to be just Harry," Vernon said. "And from what I've bothered to read in the papers here, a little too high and mighty to just pop 'round for some tea."
"As for the suit, my ladies insist on this sort of rig," Harry said. "Not that I'm a fan of it. But with the number of women I have to deal with, I suppose it's better to suck it up and wear the damned suit. As for being here? Aunt Pentunia's told me a bit and it's a bit that … well, I had to put a visit in on my schedule didn't I?"
"Hen pecked," Vernon snorted.
Harry shrugged. "If that's what it takes. I've got far more on my plate than anyone my age need ever worry about. If listening or relying upon my ladies helps ease that load, it's a small price to pay. But I'm not here about me. I'm here about you and Aunt Petunia."
"Gonna give us money, are you?"
"According to my bankers, you've been all but helping yourself to my money for years," Harry said with a chill in his voice. "The question is what do I do about it? My bankers would call you a thief and hang you and feed you to their dragons."
"It was your lot that did it! It was the damned potions!" Vernon replied in a panic. "It was than damnable bastard Dumber - what's it!"
Harry smiled. "That's what I told my bankers. They, in turn, forced the Old Man to pay me back. It was more than six million quid, I'm told."
"Six million? We never…"
"He took far more than you ever received," Harry said.
"I hope he's locked up," Vernon began.
Harry shrugged. "He effective controlled the courts and the legislature back home and because it's the legislature that appoints the Minister for Magic, it means he can control all of the government. To lock him up, it would first be necessary to remove him from all of his offices and that's far easier said than done, at least if you want to work within that system."
"Meaning he's going to get away with what he did to us?"
"For now," Harry said. "He has lost most of his money, both what he accumulated legally and what he stole from myself and others. He is politically as powerless now as the rest of his government as I have managed to deadlock them and they will remain deadlocked unless they basically destroy themselves. If they do nothing, they're powerless. They can't raise taxes or pass laws or any of that and to regain that ability, they effectively have to turn over a majority of the government to the very people they've spent centuries trying to keep out of power. Dumbledore and the others would rather let the country rot that turn it over to what they consider the lower classes."
"So you're doing nothing about those bastards who ruined our lives?"
"Did I say I was doing nothing?" Harry asked. "Right now aside from breaking them financially and crippling their government and economy, there's little I can do. I've managed to kill a few of the bastards, but to really go after them? We're not there yet. Oddly, that's one of the reasons you're here, Uncle Vernon. I think a few of my friends arranged your relocation to stick it to you, but your plant… Grunnings Munitions would relocate here regardless. And you have noticed, haven't you, that you're going to be at least doubling the production from what had been the norm in the old plant, haven't you?"
"You're buying ammunition?" Vernon asked.
Harry nodded. "Indirectly through Her Majesty's government, at least on paper. Over half of your production for the foreseeable future will go into our stores for our armed forces."
"You know that Dudley's joined up, don't you?"
"He told me," Harry said.
"And you?"
"I'm in advanced training in our Air Force for now. Once I complete it, I'll cross over the base and start my Army training. By custom, the Duke or his Heir Apparent is expected to lead our troops into battle, although that hasn't actually happened in about two hundred years. My Grandfather flew fighters in the RAF during World War II. He fought in the Battle of Britain, North Africa and Italy. My Great-grandfather was a colonel in the second regiment we sent to France in World War I. The first, led by his Uncle, was slaughtered at the Somme. His regiment saw a little action at the end just as the Germans were collapsing. Neither my grandfather nor my great-grandfather were Dukes at the time of their service. Her Majesty has asked for Charenwell's help with the current crisis and when we go, I'll be going as well."
"I would have figured your lot would've preferred fighting with that hocus pocus stuff, not with guns and such," Vernon said.
"Our enemy will use that hocus pocus stuff probably exclusively and to their detriment," Harry said. "Most witches and wizards can barely fight their way out of a paper bag and certainly are not trained to fight in a life threatening situation. It takes years to train a magical warrior. I'd be at least twenty by the time I finished that training. Now Voldemort has cut some corners on it, but as this summer has shown cutting corners basically is suicide. Dumbledore would prefer no one was trained to fight as they could be a threat to his regime. We figure they might be able to deploy 2,000 wands that we'd have to worry about.
"But here's the thing, Uncle Vernon. Wizards aren't bulletproof and it takes far less time to train anyone to fight with guns than to do so with a wand and they are trained to put their targets down. We currently have recruits for six battalions. That's 3,600 infantry soldiers and about 2,400 support troops, almost all of whom will be able to at least defend themselves properly. That doesn't include any of the new arrivals. We expect at least double those numbers in the end. A year and a half from now or so, Magical Britain is in for a rude surprise. Dumbledore, Voldemort and their ilk will face a force they cannot defeat and behind us, if needed, is the full might of Her Majesty's armed forces."
"Are you two talking shop?" Petunia asked walking in with a tea service.
"Sorry," Vernon said looking uncomfortable. In fact, Harry realized that his Uncle had been looking particularly uncomfortable the whole time.
"I'm sure there's a reason why Harry took time out of his busy schedule to visit," Petunia said. "I'd like to think it's not to talk about business."
"No, Aunt Petunia, it's not," Harry replied. "I'd like to think I might have managed to come around earlier than today, but as you noted I've been living on a rather tight schedule."
Vernon snorted. "With twenty some wives…," he began.
"Without going into detail, that's scheduled too fortunately."
"Oh?"
"It's twenty-five wives," Harry said. "The lot of them are … well … eager? I would've thought that becoming pregnant would make them less so. It seems logical to think that. Apparently, logic has nothing to do with that. When Hermione and Luna made up that schedule, I thought it was a bit off, really. Now, I thank them for it. They'd wear me out but for it and thanks to it I can say that it's not on the schedule for now."
"Twenty-five pregnant women?" Petunia asked.
"Um no," Harry said. "Twelve that we know of with at least two sets of twins involved - meaning children, not their mothers. Three others are - um - actively trying. Once their off and running that way I expect six more to begin trying. The rest are considered too young, although one of them will be old enough by year's end."
"With everything else, how do you find the time?" Vernon asked.
"Um, it has to do with that word," Harry began.
"Magic?" Vernon asked.
Harry nodded.
"It made me a little nervous at first when you came to us and before those bastards started feeding us those damnable potions. I'll concede that. But you're occasional bouts aside - and most of them were merely amusing - you were just a normal little boy. You and Dudley were thick as thieves and that was more infuriating - and amusing - than any magical nonsense. The two of you should've been closer than brothers, really. When we took you in, we swore we would not allow magic to come between you and your family as it seems to have done between Petunia and her sister. You should've known magic was real and you were a wizard for as long as you can remember and Dudley would have been raised knowing that and knowing it didn't make you better than him or anyone else. But then those bastards had to get involved. I understand I could do nothing really. But … I'm ashamed for what happened even if I had lost my control to those bastards! I won't use those damned potions as an excuse. What I did was reprehensible. I can't believe I actually came to like that bitch of a sister!"
"Aunt Marge?" Harry asked.
"She was a fucking brute to me when I was little! She was ten years older than I was and hated my very existence. Course, it was only worse that she was a total loser. She's never married and I'm pretty certain it's not because she swings another way. No man would have her. Guess that's why she's into those damned dogs although if the RSPCA ever checked her kennels, she'd probably lose the lot of them."
"We couldn't stand her, Harry," Petunia said. "We didn't even invite her to our wedding. We did invite my sister although she sent her regrets and wasn't there. Then the potions and suddenly Marge was our best relation and all the others fell by the board."
"It seems that for the last fourteen years we've been living a lie," Vernon said as he seemed to cry. "What those potions made us do to you is unforgivable. There must be a God out there because you and Dudley have grown into fine young men no thanks to us. To think on what could have been is heartbreaking. I would've loved to teach you and Dudley to play golf. I now remember thinking that once and thinking that while you two were best of mates, you both could be very competitive and I thought if you both took up a sport where you could compete against each other - and Dudders has always been physically bigger and would've been anyway - the two of you would drive each other to excel. Instead, we almost ruined the both of you."
"I do have a golf course," Harry replied. "Can't say when I'll have time to learn to play but I can offer you a membership, one which allows you to play there and gives you permissions to the Royal Course at South Farm. I'm told that the Prince of Wales and his brothers and Prince Philip love that course and play often when they are here. Apparently, it also includes a membership at someplace called St. Andrew's, although with this war thing, it might be a while before it's safe to take advantage of that."
Vernon gapped for a moment. "You didn't need to offer that…," he began.
"I told Aunt Petunia that it will take me a while to truly get over our past, Uncle Vernon. But I'm willing to try for the sake of our family and in the hope you can be what you were meant to be to me and all of that. I know you like that game and it's the least I can do."
Vernon nodded. "Thank you," he said. "And I ask only one thing from you in return…"
Harry expected a shoe to drop as it were.
"Petunia and I would like you to be the Godfather for our daughters."
It was unfortunate that Harry chose that moment to sip his tea as the sip ended up everywhere but where it was intended. "Daughters?" he asked when he could catch his breath.
"You didn't tell him?" Vernon asked of his wife.
"It was so soon and we had other things to start working through," she replied.
Vernon looked at Harry who still seemed confused. "We learned about this the day after I was sent to the hospital here. The potions we'd been given and all of that caused Petunia to miscarry. She was pregnant not long after you arrived and we lost that child and couldn't have one after - and we did try. We came here and missed our potions dose apparently and … well it seems it was the potions that kept us from having another child and we did want another, or we did before the potions. So without that regular dosing…," Vernon shrugged.
"It's twins, Harry," Petunia said. "Two girls, although we don't know if they're identical or what. But we do know they're both going to be magical children. And thank God we're here! I've made friends with some women around here and I'll have plenty of advice about how to deal with their magic and such."
"We're naming the first one out Lily after Petunia's sister and your Mum," Vernon said. "The next one will be Daisy, as it's a flower just like her Mum and Aunt."
"I…," Harry began. "Congratulations and I'm honored to be asked to be their Godfather. I can't promise I can be their for their birth…"
"We know you're busy and will be," Petunia said.
Harry waved it off. "Their due date is probably at the beginning of my own baby mayhem. But if my wives give me a break, I'll be there, Aunt Petunia."
"Thank you, Harry," she replied sincerely.
"I came here for family," Harry said. He reached into his jacket and pulled forth several envelopes and handed them to his Aunt. She gave him a puzzled look. "I know in law and by magic I am already married several times over, but it's not real for the families until there's a proper wedding. Those are your invitations. I've sent Dudley invites as well, even though I know he won't be able to attend all of them due to his training. I've asked him to stand with me when he can. I'd like you to be there as well."
"There are three just this Saturday," Petunia said.
Harry shrugged. "I can be in more than one place at one time, but that's neither here nor there. For me, it's only two weddings as one will be a double. My Luna has no surviving family and my Hermione has insisted she be a part of my first wedding as a bride. She needs someone to escort her down the aisle. I want to rebuild our family and I think you, Uncle Vernon, should escort my orphan brides down the aisle when it's their turn."
"I'd be honored," Vernon began. "But gifts?"
"They're registered or so I'm told, but I don't expect gifts. What's not given by guests I'll buy so no worries there. If you feel the need, just focus on my orphan brides as they're only three of them."
"You'll stand with Dudley if he asks?" Petunia asked.
"I hope he does, Aunt Petunia. Clara's a really special girl and I'd be honored to be a part of their day when it comes."
"We'll be there," Petunia said.
A/N: RELATIONSHIP SCORECARD:
If you didn't read the Intro, you missed that. This is so you can keep up with who's with who and how.
Key:
Names in Italics = OC
Gr – Gryffindor, Hu – Hufflepuff, Ra – Ravenclaw, Sl – Slytherin.
SG – St. George's School, PE – Prince Edward School, SA – St. Andrew's, SP – St. Patrick's, SD – St. David's.(Number indicates last year completed. No number means they finished all seven years.)
P = pregnant.
In this abbreviated version changes are for birthdays, newly bonded or changes in bonds - as in newly Love Bonded.
Harry James Potter, age 16.* HOUSE POTTER
No change from last post.
HOUSE BLACK6. Fiona Michelle (Simpson) Black-Potter, age 23 (SD).*Bill Weasley, age 25.
No change from last post.
Neville Algicyrus Longbottom, age 16.*
No change from last post.
Fred Weasley, age 18.
No change from last post.
George Weasley, age 18.
No change from last post.
Lord Mayor Remus John Lupin, age 36.13. Marie Catherine (Anderson) Lupin, age 19 (Hu-5).14. Paulette Kristen Lee, age 19 (10/12/76) (PE); Original Bond (7/25/93); Concubine Remus (8/20/96).
Frank Longbottom, age 41.12. Kristen Leanne (Hal) Longbottom, age 21 (SG-5).13. Charlene Megan (Hall) Longbottom, age 18 (SG-5).14. Nora Elizabeth Jackson, age 20 (5/5/76) (SD-5); Original Bond (8/20/92); Concubine Frank (8/20/96).
Charlie Weasley, age 23.9. Renee Christine (Richardson) Weasley, age 18 (Ra-5).10. Samantha Anne Wood, age 17 (5/15/79) (PE-5); Original Bond (8/12/95); Concubine Charlie (8/20/96).
Arthur Percival Weasley, age 46 (4/12/50).5. Anna Justine (Marsh) Weasley, age 21 (SG-5).6. Constance Maria (Marsh) Weasley, age 18 (SG-5).8. Sharon Ellen Davis, age 19 (1/1/77) (SP-5); Original Bond (8/3/93); Concubine Arthur (8/20/96).